#and i'm even adding an extra layer of fucked up by having him fuck a proxy who he is at all times aware isn't the real thing <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[prettybiching]

Okay. Okay.

*deep breaths*

Girl (gn), the gasp I just let out terrified the ghosts in my room.

First and foremost, I love love loveeeee her scenes with the Cargyll brothers always. The way we always see her as *herself*, beyond her ailment, beyond her concerns of putting up an act, both as a Hightower daughter and/or a Targaryen wife. She's just herself, without being worried that she's disappointing Otto or Daemon.

And the way she's so playful with Erryk 😭😭 it made me sob because it was probably the first time in a long time that she was able to be that happy and cheerful, pulling pranks on a friend that sees her for who she is! (I don't even want to think about the fact that the last time she experienced something like this was probably in old town w gwayne when they were children)

I love the way you portray Otto's relationship with the reader because he's not black and white with his motives, only using his daughter to raise his House's standing. Rather, he's a complex character with layers, he's still a father - albeit a shitty one at that.

He loves his daughter, in his own twisted way. How he ensures that she's not having a fit before dropping the baby bomb on her. He worries for her, knows her ticks. But it's the way he uses his love and knowledge regarding her to get his own way and to get the reaction he wants out of her that's the most twisted.

Also, I love how we're seeing mc slowly but surely starting to stand up for herself. WE LOVE GROWTH IM SO PROUD OF HER, I COULD CRY.

Day 173822 of begging daemon to just be normal for once in his life.

Honestly speaking, I was one of the few that voted for reader to prioritise herself and not go after either gwayne or daemon but ohh!!! I loved loved loved this scene.

Her realising that she's going to have to get used to not having gwayne at every turn and stopping herself. Ugh, my heart hurts.

ALSO DAEMON YOU LITTLE RAT, YOU HAVE NO RIGHT BEING MAD AT MY GIRL FOR NOT BEING THERE WHEN YOU DEGRADED HER THE LAST TIME AND NOT IN THE SEXY WAY!!!!

Her telling him to speak what he wants and not twist his words is soooo real. YES GIRLL SET IT STRAIGHT WE DONT WANT EXTRA HEADACHES IN OUR LIVES!!

I just remembered that she still thinks that night was a dream and I'm heartbroken again </3

Pls daemon why do you have to choose aggression and rage every fucking time. Just be cute for once ugghhh.

"Please," you beg, though you knew it would not serve you well, "stay."

prettybiching.exe has stopped responding. Please try again later.

Nahhh I can't do this fam, good bye. I'm going to touch some grass.

Good night. Au revoir. Author, I love you. Thank you for blessing me with your brain and words. Please never stop <3

(ps I'd love to be added to the taglist, please and thanks!)

Tormented Spirit | 7

Part 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8

"Is it such a sin to stand up for yourself?" you mutter as tears blur your vision. The way he reacted was visceral, instinctive even. "You never have to stand up for yourself ever again," says Daemon, reaching a hand to you, "come."

Daemon Targaryen x Hightower!Reader | 5k+ | cw: fem!reader, reader has brown hair, wife!reader, twin!Gwayne, arranged/forced marriage, canon divergence, alternate universe, slow burn, smut (cunnilingus, piv, choking, degradation, slight sadism), DD:DNE, panic/anxiety attacks, daddy issues/child abuse/family problems, mentions/depictions of mental/physical/psychosomatic illness, ye old misogyny, angst, typos, etc.

A/N: again the high valyrian is internet translated so lol. please consider leaving comments/reblogs because they really help me with the fic. might make another poll for next chapter stay tuned. | cross posted on ao3

@arabellasleopardcoat

Taking you to the hidden stream was simultaneously the best and worst decision Erryk's ever made in his life. The look of you was holy. His intense focus on your form was to ensure your safety, but, by the gods, it felt sinful to behold your dark hair and light fabric ebbing in the water.

He had hoped a swim would lift your spirits, just as flower picking did, but he did not know it would draw such a tempest out of you. It was as though you were reborn. You plunged into the water and shed all your inhibitions. Your voice became brighter, as did your eyes. You were flooded with more than a dozen memories of you and your twin swimming in the river near your home in Oldtown, and you recounted all of them so excitedly to Erryk.

"Oh!' you exclaim, flipping in the water to get to your feet. You point to something behind your ward, making him turn around. In that split second, you hold in your laughter and grab something from the mossy rocks. Innocently, you say, "that reminds me of something."

Erryk turns back to you, brows knit in confusion. When you you make your way towards him, he clenches his jaw and averts his gaze. The shift you were swimming in was stuck flush on your body, leaving little to his imagination. He was glad to have the foresight to bring you a change of clothes and a towel, and, my, was the pattern on the said towel so very interesting.

"What is a frogs favorite game?" you ask so suddenly.

Erryk turns to you, brows furrowing, "pardon?"

"Tell me the frogs' favorite game, ser," you repeat as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Frogs favored game?" he repeats slowly, realizing now that your expression was mockingly innocent. He hums, "I cannot say I-"

"HOPSCOTCH!"

A frog comes leaping into Erryk's face, nearly causing him to topple as he dodges it. He's so flabbergasted by the turn of events, he calls out your name in offence. He is doubly offended by your laughter. His eyes go wide as you hunch forward, leaning on your knees.

"Villain," your ward mutters, scoffing far too many times.

You can barely catch your breath. You fan your face, "frog-ive me."

Erryk's face only contorts further.

"I could not-" you gasp for air, "could not help it."

In truth, if it was any other who did such a childish thing, he'd have shoved them in the water. Alas, you appeared only more beauteous as you made him a fool.

"Forgive me," you repeat in more serious manner, "Gwayne used to scare me this way often. I wished only to know how it felt, and now..." you giggle, "I can't say I blame my brother for constantly pulling tricks on me."

He huffs and shakes his head, "well. I'm glad to have pleased you, my ever-so-kind princess."

You offer him a guilty smile, "apologies."

Erryk shakes his head, "no. Truly. I am glad to see you in such a state."

You fidget with your fingers as a shiver runs down your spine.

He is quick to unravel your towel. He places it on your shoulders, "perhaps we should go back. The sunset is nigh."

You nod, taking your change of clothes from him next.

He turns around offering you your privacy. It takes a while, but you manage to dress yourself. Once you had your shoes on, you dry your hair with your towel and take his arm, "would you please lace up my dress?"

He nods, avoiding your gaze as he feels his face burn. He quickly laces you up then you return to the Keep.

You both had been laughing, up until you made it past the castle gates, promptly being silenced by the loud shout, "PRINCESS!"

Arryk runs over, charging for his brother. Their steel plates collide as Arryk yanks his twin, "where in gods name did you take her?"

Erryk furrows his brows, "we visited a stream-"

"The Keep is in disarray!" Arryk grits his teeth, hissing under his breath, "everyone's looking for her. Everyone."

You watch the twins huddle close and bicker. As it escalates, you try try to come between them, "Arryk. I was the one who asked him to take me outside the keep."

Arryk does not hear you at first, dead set on arguing with his twin. When you repeat your words the second time however, he turns to you, face softening a fraction. He knits his brows turning back to this brother, whispering something that makes Erryk turn to you with wide eyes, "fuck."

"Why?" you look at them in concern, "what it is?"

Arryk opens his mouth, but Erryk grabs his arm and says, "wait."

"There's no other way to say it," Arryk snaps, ripping his arm out his grip.

"Say what?" you knit your brows.

Arryk turns back to you, then lowers his gaze, "the queen... the queen has passed."

Your jaw drops. Your eyes widen. Your hand immediately covers your mouth. The three of you do not speak for a prolonged moment.

You feel your stomach roll, "w-what happened?"

"She could not deliver the babe herself. The maesters... had to intervene."

Intervene? You could not possibly understand what that could mean, and you find that you do not want to. You shake your head, "and her babe? Is- is her babe well at least?"

Arryk clenches his jaw, "she sired a prince named Baelon... he apparently grows weaker by the hour."

You feel bile rise up your throat.

"Your father and your siblings have been looking for you since news broke."

You shake your head, and gather your skirts.

"As has the prince."

Your face twitches at the thought. You do not delay and make your way inside the Keep.

As you tread the halls, you think about what the queen told you just mere hours ago. There is a sharp twinge in your belly as simultaneously remember how Aemma told you to go cheer for Daemon at the tourney and realize you will never hear a word from her ever again. The thought washes over you like water on the beach, sobering but thankfully not overwhelming.

You hadn't realized you had your head bowed until you hear your name called. You still as you look up, the twins halt behind you.

Otto marches over, brows and jaw tight as ever, "where in gods name have you been?"

You straighten your back as he stops before you, "I-"

"Your wards are double," he turns to the kingsguards, "and doubly useless, it seems."

"Father," you step into his line of sight, "do relieve your rage on them."

Your father turns back to you, expression softening a fraction at your referral. You had not called him father since your argument in the maester's office. He looks at you— takes a good look at you and your sad eyes, your knit brows, your frowning lips. Your hair was darker than it was normally, and as he reaches out for it, he found it was, in fact, damp, "where have you been?"

"I..." you gulp and take a deep breath, "went swimming."

He releases your hair, tilting his head, "with whom? Gwayne has gone."

You pull your head back, "G-Gwayne's gone?"

"The tourney is over. The road is long. He has no reason to stay," Otto says.

Your brows tighten as you shake your head, "he... he didn't... wait for me?"

Otto watches your lips quiver. He watches your nose twitch. When your chest begins to visibly rise and fall, he shakes his head, "what did I tell you?"

You stare blankly at him.

He takes your hands, "what is it I always tell you?"

You clench your jaw and huff through your nostrils, "do not waste your tears on things you cannot change."

Otto rubs your knuckles as he shakes his head again. He gives the Cargyll brothers a look before walking off with you. They make sure to keep their distance before following after.

You turn to your father as he links your arm into his. You are certain, with how he cannot look at you, that he means to tell you something grave. You look front and mimic his demeanor— distant, cold. You are his daughter, face and temperance.

"You enjoyed your swim at least?" he starts, "you are calm?"

You gulp, mentally preparing yourself for what will surely come next. Your voice still falters though, "ye-s."

Otto nods, still not turning to you, "many has occurred since your marriage to Daemon. You admitted you did not consummate your marriage on your wedding night and I was deeply concerned you would fail your duties in producing heirs, especially if your husband was not interested in you."

Your jaw clenches.

"But with the apparent... change of heart your husband has shown, you should know I've had the maesters closely monitor your state."

You knit your brows at that, "you mean my affliction?"

He speaks your name slowly before continuing, "as of yesterday, they have confirmed to me that you are with child."

You whip your head to him and pull away.

Otto does not look at you with the same sense of urgency.

"W-what?"

He sees the fear on your features. He offers a solemn expression and takes your cheeks when your eyes water, "this is good. You should delight, not tremble."

You try to speak but nothing coherent comes out.

"The Queen is dead. Go to your husband and comfort him with this news."

Your mouth goes dry and your father wipes the tears that fall from your eyes. He your name softly. Your sad face looks the exact same it did when his wife died. My baby is having a baby. He frowns and pulls away.

You try to take his hand, but he slips away.

"See her off," the Hand instructs your wards.

Erryk is quick to go to your side, whereas Arryk stares at the back of Otto's head, his lips curling as he did.

"Princess," Erryk says, cautiously reaching your arm.

You turn to him with wide eyes before scratching your tears away, "I-"

"Perhaps you should sit down first."

You pull away from him before he can touch you. The action makes Erryk pull back, an unsavory sensation spreading in his mouth and belly.

"I want to- I—" you take a breath, "I need to find-" you shake your head and begin speeding down the hall.

You were nearly about to break into a sprint, and your wards had to jog up to your side to keep up with you. You don't really know where you're going, but you're getting there, fast.

"Princess, please, slow down," one says.

You can feel your breath and your pulse in your ears.

"Princess."

You find yourself in the halls near one of the gate of the keep. The only reason why you stop is because you hear the voice of your twin. Your breath catches as you lurch towards the window. Gwayne was laughing with one of the guards, already on his horse. Your brows furrow, he couldn't possibly be well enough to be riding on horseback.

You realize quickly this is your last opportunity to go be with your brother, to pull him into an embrace, to worry on him, to tell him your worries, to kiss him goodbye. You know you have to act now and swiftly, but you cannot seem to move.

Your mind is heavy as you think about how your brother is set to leave regardless of your desire to keep close; he said it himself, his place can never be at your side. Though he is the only person who've ever relied on, you know now— you rub your belly, that can no longer be the case. There is only one person you can rely on now... yourself.

It is painful to pull away from the window, but you do, clenching your hands into fists before walking away.

You don't really walk away however, because then, you're frozen in place at the sight of your husband standing a few paces away from you, "Daemon."

He stares at you wordlessly.

You walk towards him, careful as you drag your feet.

He tilts his head and clenches his jaw, "he's leaving any moment now."

You nod, "I know."

"Go to him," he says softly.

"I-"

"Go to him!" he snaps.

You stiffen at his expression. You were adept with anger but he did not look angry. You stop in your tracks, trying to make sense of his restless figure.

Daemon watches you fidget with your fingers.

"If it is your command, I shall obey."

He chuckles dryly, pacing around his spot. He wipes his mouth then charges over, stopping just in front of you. He scoffs when you do not flinch, in disbelief of your constitution. His nostrils flare, "you know my feelings towards your twin."

You slowly shrug, "then you'll be glad to know I came looking for you."

Daemon does not move.

"You know how I feel about my brother..." you mutter, "but..." you lower your gaze, "I'm coming to terms with the fact I can no longer rely on him... it will be better this way."

It takes a moment, but Daemon chuckles. When you look up and his smirk fades. Your beady eyes make it hard to find satisfaction. "So, you will not go to him?" he asks.

You stare.

"You do not want to go to him?"

Your lips part.

He raises his brows.

"I... I do."

Anger rises up his belly, but as if on cue, the sound of horses and carriages moving is heard. You clench your jaw and lower you gaze to prevent yourself from looking back at the window. The prince cannot seem to win, for he should be pleased you did not see your brother off, and yet your sadness leaves sour jealousy in his mouth— he was your husband.

The Cargyll twins look upon you both, appalled by the cruelty of the prince to keep you here as Gwayne leaves for good. Erryk in particular feels restless, unable to stop shifting and fidgeting with his scabbard.

"Shall... shall we go?" you mutter, slowly looking up.

Daemon watches you place a hand on his bicep. He responds only by following you after giving your wards a dismissive look.

The brothers turn to each other, each as unwilling as the other to leave you, but they do anyway.

Daemon is acutely aware of the warmth of your cheek against his arm as you tread down the halls. When, you arrive at your marriage chambers, Daemon opens the door and you notice the bandage wrapped around his hand. He struggles because of this. Once you're inside, you take his arm, eyes trained on his injury, "what happened to your hand?"

Daemon's eyes are fixed on the line between your brows.

"Did you break it?" you turn to him with furrowed eyes.

He pulls away slowly. He wants to know what you'd do next.

"Did you wrap it yourself? It's badly done."

He faintly snorts, "it's on my right hand."

"I'll do it for you," you say, walking towards the vanity.

Daemon follows, watching you procure scissors and vials and other things. You turn to him, motioning to the chair. He sits down, gaze fixed upon you as you take his arm again.

Your eyes are focused on undoing his wrap, "tell me if it hurts,"

His are fixed on your focused expression, "you should sit down."

"I'm fine."

"I want you to sit down," he uses his other hand to grab your wrist.

You stop and turn to him. You turn to the chair across the room but Daemon prevents you from doing so and simply spreads legs, pulling you between his thighs. Quickly, you are sat on his lap and tense look at him. He offers you his injured hand again as his other goes around you, clinging to your hip. He pulls you in, leaning his head against yours to say, "it's a cut, by the way."

You furrow your brows at his admission. You allow yourself a moment to relax before continuing your task. You find it is, in fact, a cut, deep and ugly, "did your lance splinter very badly?"

"No."

You furrow your brows deeper as you turn to him,

"This is glass."

"Glass?" you brow raise, "how did you hurt your hand with glass?"

Daemon licks his lips as he looks at yours. He shrugs, "I broke a bottle."

You pull your head back, "on accident?"

"On purpose," he tilts his head.

You huff and start cleaning his wound, "was the violence in the tourney insufficient?"

He chuckles through his nostrils, "I did not fucking win."

You smear balm on his wound. You do not reply.

It makes him clench his jaw, "and you..."

"..."

"You were not there."

You do not tear your gaze from his injury.

He grumbles, "did you even hear me?"

You lift your gaze then raise brow at him, "you did not want me there. Do you not recall how you cursed at me?"

Your gall makes anger rise up his throat.

You continue wrapping up his hand.

"Well, you were being a bitch," he snaps.

"Why?"

His brows furrow.

"Why was I being a bitch?"

"..."

You spare him a quick glace.

He pulls his head back, "... what?"

"Did I not do my duty?" you turn to him, face blank, "I followed you, congratulated you, inquired of your injuries. I submitted to your desires. Where did I err?" You ask in earnest, "what do you want from me?"

His face contorts. Now that he was faced with such an opportunity, he finds himself unable to speak. What did he want from you?

You wait for him to reply. You prepare yourself for preposterous requirements but you are met only his silence. In that moment, you remember he was just a man. Many a man enjoyed making women suffer. You gulp, thinking about your father.

Perhaps your father was lying. Perhaps he wants you to believe you are with child to get even. After all, Daemon never... finished in you. How then could you be with child?

You secure the binding on his hand, "it is finished."

Daemon does not bother looking at his hand.

"How do you feel?"

He feels a strong urge to shake you... to pull you close.

"My deepest sympathies for the death of your cousin."

He freezes. Right. The queen was dead. He lowers his gaze.

You frown and reach for his cheek. You second guess however and bring your palm to his shoulder instead, "I am here for you, my prince."

His eyes meet yours.

"I am here to care and comfort you."

He leans back, taken by the thought.

You drink in his demeanor, the softness in his eyes, the tension that falls of his shoulders. You release a breath, "if that is what you desire, speak plainly, and do not repel me. Do not ask me to leave if, in fact, you want me to stay."

His throat tightens. He feels like he is ensnared in a bear trap. He rips at his collar, "I... I have other injuries." He pushes you off and paces around as he undoes his top. It is a struggle for him, but he cannot stop or stay still, "cuts and bruises."

You watch as he fidgets and slowly walk over.

"I don't-"

"Daemon."

He stills.

You come in front of him and undo his top yourself. You drop it mindlessly, and once he is bare, he feels conscious under your scrutiny for some reason. You brush your fingers on his ribs, making goosebumps form on his skin. He can't say that that has ever happened to him before. You notice and rub his arms, eyes locked on his torso.

He feels himself getting hard.

"Did you tend to these yourself as well?" you brush over a cut on his hip.

Oh. You were still examining him. He only hums in response.

You frown, "did no maester come to your tent?"

"I..." he starts.

You circle around him, inspecting for other injuries.

"...wanted you to come to my tent."

You come to his side. He finds the frown on your face. You take a moment before saying, "you tended to your wounds well at least."

"I want you."

You nod, "I will tend to you—"

Daemon takes your nape, lowering his head to kiss your lips. It takes a moment for you to relax, and his belly burns at the sound you make when you do. Your hands come to his sides and your nails graze faintly into his flesh.

He pushes you back until your laid on the bed beneath him. His kisses trail down your skin as he works to get you naked. He kisses your shoulder, then your sternum. He makes sure to lick your breast and leave a mark on your rib before peppering kisses down your belly.

Your breath grows heavy when he lingers by your womb, sucking kisses on your skin. Your throat tightens think of your father's words again. It makes you tense, and Daemon feels it. Of course, he doesn't know about your conversation with Otto, and thinks your tension comes from your self-consciousness.

You lift your head, pulling a pillow beneath it, and look down at your husband. You reach for him, tangling your fingers in his silver hair, "Daemon."

He hums, nipping your flesh in response.

You try to sit up, "D-Daemon, I-"

He shushes you, pushing down on your hip bone. He looks up at you, muttering something in High Valyrian.

"Please, Daemon, wait-"

"Be still," he says, violet eyes hooded, "do I not take care of you?"

Your breath hitches as he sinks down.

"Do you not enjoy my mouth?"

"I- that's not-"

"Do you or do you not?"

"I... I do—"

You are not able to speak after he buries his face between your thighs. You are reduced to breathy cries and a twisting spine. Daemon, though he continues to hold you down, relishes every second of it and feasts more ardently. He sighs, securing your thighs on his shoulders, nudging his face deeper into you, his nose brushing against your pearl.

He relishes how quickly your wetness builds, and soon, he feels your arousal dribbling down his chin. He moans, nails biting crescent moons into your skin. Your belly rises and falls in sync with the crescendo of your mewls. At this point, both your hands are tangled into his hair, and your pulling and scratching only further inspires his tongue.

You call out his name, screwing your eyes shut as you throw your head back and arch your body. Quickly, your belly tightens and you sequentially dig your heels into his shoulder blades. He squeezes your thighs enough to make them bruise, and yet the pain is what pushes you into orgasm, garnering a lewd and loud sound from your mouth.

Daemon hums, lifting his face just enough to see yours as he brings you to peak. He moans at your expression, grinding his hips into the cushion, desperate for friction.

Your body trembles, unable to settle as his burning mouth persists on your molten mound. You begin to squeak and he catches the moment you open your eyes to look at him all teary. It drives him mad. With a deep inhale, he pulls away, wiping his chin before he undoes his breeches.

You relax and catch your breath, hands dropping to your sides.

Daemon watches you, your trembling legs glistening with the pleasure he's drawn out. He can feel himself throbbing in his pants. You watch as he hastily frees himself. Though your head was hazy and your body was tried, your belly burned at sight of the sticky liquid dripping down your husband's neck.

"Fuck, Daemon," you reach for his belly. You trace his defined muscles with your finger tips. He snatches your hands when he finally pushes his pants down.

You squeak when he pushes you to your side, one hand on your shoulder, another hiking your leg up by the knee. You whine as he folds you into the sheets just before sliding his hardened cock in your wet cunt.

He hisses, leaning down to your neck. His words are hot against your skin, but you understand nothing.

Whatever tenderness he had before was gone, now he was just fucking you like a rabid animal. Daemon could not help himself, he loved how supple and pliable you were, and twists you into a form that keeps you prone. When the bed begins to creak because of his thrusts, he holds you down where your neck and collarbone meet. He puts enough pressure to restrict your breathing, but not enough to choke out your pretty noises.

At some point, he decides your leg is getting in the way and pushes you flat on your chest. He then gathers you by the hip, hiking you up enough to fuck you nicely from behind.

His thrusts are more intense now. You scream into the cushion as you find your elbows. Before you can prop yourself up though, he's pinning you down by the shoulder, saying something in High Valyrian again.

"D-Daemon," you whine, left cheek smushed against your pillow. You could feel your next climax building quickly.

He responds by rubbing your clit, drawing tears and another scream out of you because of your sensitivity.

You feel yourself helplessly clenching and unclenching around him, absolutely boneless under his vigorous intrusion. You could feel your knees slipping but Daemon's grip on you would not see you move from your position. Your toes curl. Saliva drips out your open mouth.

"Māzigon va, riña," he snorts, "sepār mirrī angotan tolī." Come on, girl. Just a little bit more."

You do not understand, so you only whine out, "Daemon."

Daemon growls and rubs one side of your ass, "you're doing so good for me."

He spanks you, but that's not what makes your eyes open.

"Milk my cock with your tight cunny, come slut."

You begin to grit your teeth.

"I want to see my seed dripping down your thighs," he groans, mind unable to focus on anything but the hot, wet slapping of your skin.

It's unsurprising that you come first, as Daemon always assures you do to underscore his control and dominance over you. He yelps out a sharp fuck, nearly coming in your cunt because of how your body seizes up around him. Your orgasm overwhelming, yet your eyes water for more than this reason. His words make you aware your husband sees you nothing more as a vessel for pleasure, and your pleasure is regretfully cut short because of how sharply he pulls out, his load spraying on your already dripping labia and pubic hair.

He strokes himself a few times, feeling his cock twitch in his hand as he watches your mixed come trickle down your legs. He sighs, "fuck," then scoops the cream in two fingers, plunging it in and out your still spasming cunt.

You squeal when he finger fucks you, body unable to remain upright. You are grateful he loses interest rather quickly and crumble into the bed as he stands.

You watch him walk over to the drawer, where he then pours himself some wine. You gulp, remembering your dream from last night. It sobers you out your high. You clench your jaw and roll over to clean yourself up. You head to your vanity and wipe yourself down, grabbing your robe was you do.

Daemon, whose thirst was now quenched, turns back to you with a towel. He is confused to see you standing. He watches you flip your hair behind you, pulling it out of your robe, which you then secure around yourself. He knits his brows as he walks over, "what are you doing?"

You turn to him, sitting on the vanity chair, "getting ready for bed."

Daemon stares, and you take his prolonged silence as an indication to proceed with your nightly routine.

The prince squeezes the damp towel in his hand as he watches you brush your hair. You catch his stillness from the mirror and turn back to him, "oh."

You drop your brush and take the towel from him, "I'll help you clean up."

Normally, he enjoyed this, but right now, he can't. He is offended when you begin to pick up his clothes, so much that he scoffs, "the fuck are you doing?"

You halt midway picking up his trousers. You stand and turn to the closet, "ah. Did you want new clothes?"

He pulls his head back, no longer offended, but hurt, "you want me to leave?"

You are caught off guard by his question. You stare at him for a moment, unsure if he was serious. You could not identify his expression, so you did not know if you tell him the truth. You would not survive being berated after confessing you wanted to sleep with him. You dodge the answer altogether, "weren't you leaving anyway?"

Daemon's cheeks tense. He huffs, stepping forward, yanking his clothes out of your hands, "no."

You are bewildered by his actions, for to you, his actions are sudden. You are petrified in fear, which is why you instinctively begin to apologize, "f-forgive me, I-I-"

His nostrils flare and his jaw sets.

"I-" you motion with a hand, "- you always leave."

His clenches his jaw, "do you want me to leave?"

"I—" your throat tightens and soon you can no longer look at him. You want to beg him to stay, but you recall how you did that with your father, and your mother, and your brother— begging does not make people stay. You whisper, "I... I'm terrified."

When you lift your gaze, Daemon shirks and decided to dress. He gulps as he pulls his trousers up, turning back to you. He clenches his fist before reaching out for you.

Your heart races as he takes your hand.

"You've served me well. If you are terrified... I'll leave you."

You whimper when he pulls away, holding him tighter than he did before your hands part. Your lips quiver. He knits his brows. You shake your head, "I- I... I do not want you to go."

He is taken off guard by how you suddenly embrace him.

"Please," you beg, though you knew it would not serve you well, "stay."

He turned to stone. He cannot seem to move at all but your arms are determined to stay around him. You begin to weep against his skin and he can feel your breath grow ragged. Only then does he manage to return your affection.

He brushes your dark hair away from your face and cradles you against him.

"Daemon."

He leans into you, enough to be able to brush his cheek against yours, "kesan umbagon." I will stay.

You sniffle then sigh. After a while, you ask, "what does that mean?"

"I will stay."

You sigh again, pulling away to look at him. You offer him a sad smile, "thank you."

He frowns, wiping your tears.

When you go back to bed, you offer him space in case you've made him uncomfortable. He stares at you, awaiting your embrace. You are mere inches apart but it feels like yards and yards.

"Good night, husband," you say before turning over.

He chuckles dryly, staring at your dark hair. He turns to the ceiling, "good night."

[maulfucker]

yeah sure you can have the whole paragraph. as a treat

[lily-onher-grave]

okay okay okay thoughts/excited ramblings about the wicked movie under the cut bc i've seen it and now i'm insane about it again

let's be real it's kinda hard to fumble the opening number of a musical especially when that opening number is no one mourns the wicked and yet i was still absolutely blown away it was SO GOOD

the lil munchkins running, the singing in the streets, the posters of the witch (side note all the artwork was insanely good and just added so much to the style of oz i feel like) it was all so awesome

NOMTW becomes so sinister and they nailed it

obligatory emotional babbling about glinda standing alone in the crowd as everyone sings 'the wicked's lives are lonely'

before i left for the theater i was like 'take your bets on if i'll cry' and my roommate and i agreed that yeah obviously i would. but what i didn't expect is for ariana's sad face to knock me out in five minutes flat. i was done for

the effigy. holy shit. and handing the torch to glinda. i want to go see the whole thing again just so i can rewatch that scene. my heart still hurts

(also nanny! sort of not really. but i liked the childhood scenes i liked that elphaba had one (1) good thing in her life before shiz)

SHIZ okay shiz honestly shiz was the thing i was most excited for bc c'mon, we don't write about our gothic magic school all the time in fic for nothing. and honestly it was so good. the shots of the whole castle! the library design! the balcony moments and the stairways and just like the layers of architecture and the way morrible could kind of be anywhere at any time. the way it felt so grand and yet so small at the same time. idk man the vibes were good and the set was beautiful

glinda arriving by boat was magical that's all

the way everything dillamond had was tailored to him was fantastic it was so good

actually i want to shout out the library set design again and how it tied into the clockwork theme that never gets fully called out even in the musical but it's still so good

where's my time dragon clock tho

also back up the scene where elphaba loses her temper in the courtyard--when she breaks the relief of the wizard, there's old artwork of Animals behind it and i gasped out loud when i saw it

and that was the first moment i thought 'this is brilliant but i still want an hbo dark fantasy political drama tv show based on the book'

speaking of the dark fantasy political drama tv shows, the Animal meeting!! i'm so glad they put more stuff like that in there

actually as a whole the movie felt more grounded and less comedic than the musical. i think they did a fantastic job of keeping the magic and silliness and charm and wonder of the show while still adding those extra bits of drama and dire circumstances

anyway gelphie fic prank wars trope is officially canon great work everybody handshakes all around. i was cackling (silently. i promise i'm a respectful moviegoer)

the ozdust ballroom being illegal makes so much sense. it being underwater was fucking cool. boq and nessa were actually really great and i usually don't care about them at all during this scene

also i love love love nessa and i cannot wait to see more of her. but showing her multiple times on the sidelines when elphie was being humiliated was such a good choice. the tension between nessa obviously caring for her sister yet always caring for herself more is so delicious and i always want to see it fleshed out more, and i think they did such a good job with her? her and elphaba have sweet moments which i love, and her wanting to be independent and only elphaba really understanding that is so so good. and having her just watching elphaba for so long before finally saying she can't watch. god i can't wait to see her be desperate and selfish and cold in act 2, it's gonna be so good

side note boq also looking upset by elphie being bullied. i miss my brotp man

but let's talk about what's most important: the gelphie dance. because oh my god i started crying all over again. so did elphaba. and glinda wiping her tears i'm dying i've died oh my god

i always get a little bit surprised when glinda seems more head over heels than elphaba. idk why. but ariana's glinda is absolutely more head over heels than cynthia's elphaba and i loved it

(they just. freaking LEFT the party. just zipped out of there as soon as they hugged. glinda was like hmmm i just realized some things and grabbed elphaba's hand and ran off while the night was young. and fiyero stared after them knowing that he stood no chance whatsoever)

also i'm like 72% sure the guys sitting next to me were a couple? and they both cried during the gelphie dance too and it was a very unexpected but very funny moment of solidarity

i say ariana's glinda is more head over heels and i stand by it but elphaba's fond little smile when glinda was pouting about sharing secrets almost made me start sobbing again they're so GOOD they're so CUTE and she is SO heart eyes for glinda immediately!!!

i need to be sedated i swear

popular was adorable 10/10 no notes absolutely nailed it i loved every second

also glinda sitting next to elphaba in class now. my heart <3

after dillamond gets hauled away (again with this being more violent and dark and those moments of drama coming through more in the movie i loveeee) glinda doesn't sit down until elphaba does

also they had several little moments of elphaba looking to glinda and glinda either shaking her head or nodding. they've been friends for 2 days and they're already having silent conversations i love them <3

the poppy spell? was sick as hell????

another seeing of wicked, another complete sense of bafflement as to why fiyero is there

i say this jokingly but the fiyero and elphaba romance really does feel like a product of the early 2000s especially now that it's on screen rather than on stage. idk maybe that's just the lesbian in me talking though

the train design is also sick but we knew that from the trailers

okay look logically yes i knew idina and kristin would have cameos. but i'd been crying on and off and one short day's magic had already taken hold so they caught me completely off guard. it was great

the wizard stuff was really sweet. and while i was hoping for more time put toward shiz and stuff, i do think those moments did a great job of 1) showing how much elphaba just wants to be loved 2) foreshadowing the wizard being her father and 3) laying the groundwork for her briefly considering working with the wizard in act 2, which is a decision that never quiteee feels right in the show

i love that they put more lore into the grimmerie btw. very cool

the hot air balloon was random but fun. i wonder if it'll come up again in act 2

every time. every damn time glinda starts singing in defying gravity i just want someone to end it right there. glinda grabs the broom, it fades to black, and they both lived happily ever after

fuck

defying gravity taking place at sunset because it's at the end of their one short day of happiness

also UM morrible coming up and hugging glinda when she's crying. exquisite emotional manipulation i'm screaming

elphie! seeing! her! inner! child! i loved the baby elphie scenes even though i prefer creepy 'horrors' elphaba always. but seeing her come back was sooooo fucking good

elphaba only ever relying on herself, in the end

glinda's final 'i hope you're happy' took me out, as it always does, as it always should. and reaching out from the balcony? i'm sobbing again

morrible dragging glinda into the darkness while elphaba flies into the sun! someone fucking help me i'm already wrecked by these two

honestly my biggest complaint is that now i have to wait for part two, i want to see the rest nowwwww

[loserboysandlithium]

A Mess: Eddie Munson Blurb

⚠️Explicit sexual content. Minors DNI⚠️

Word count: 608

*****

"Those stains are, uh-

A knowing glance is shared between you and Eddie, a slick smile plays on your lips as you remember your many nights together.

**Flashback**

"Cum for me again, pretty girl." Eddie burns deeply, his fingers fucking into you roughly, your slick making a constant gushing sound as he plunges them in and out.

"I'm gonna cum.. gonna cum for you, Eddie.." you whimper, your hands reach down gripping his wrist tightly as you roll your hips, practically fucking his hand as if it was his cock.

Eddie kneels on the bed, hooking his arm under your back, bringing you to straddle his lap as he keeps his three fingers buried inside of you.

"Fuck my fingers, sweetheart. I want you to make a mess, soak my fucking hand." he growls in your ear as you roll your hips wildly. His other hand rests on your lower back, fingertips digging into your skin as you start to bounce.

"Jesus Christt." Eddie moans as you continue using him for your pleasure, up and down on his thick fingers, your soaked pussy clenching as your nails dig into his shoulder.

"Fuuck, Eddie..." you cry, bouncing even harder, completely losing yourself in the pleasure, gasping suddenly as Eddie slips in an extra finger.

"Sh-shit..." you whine but Eddie ignores you, taking over, slamming you back to the bed. He thrusts his fingers into you, aiming directly for your g spot. His goal to have you squirting all over his hand, leaving a beautiful mess for him.

"Yes, yes, yes!" your screams rise in volume as he repetitively drives into your sweet spot causing your body to lose control. Your fingers grasp at the sheets, reaching for anything to keep you grounded as your soul seems to leave your body.

"Cum for me... come on, baby." he rasps, pushing one of your knees up so he can position his head in between your thighs, waiting for your juices to flood his sheets.

He doesn't let up and you can feel your heart pounding as he brings you closer and closer, his rings adding an extra layer of pleasure, the chill felt across your entire body.

Your body convulses, twitching uncontrollably as you feel your orgasm all the way from your head to your toes. Your pussy clamps down on his fingers, spasm after spasm as you squirt around his hand.

"Oh my fucking god..." Eddie groans, sticking out his tongue, catching as much of you as he can.

You feel your slickness cover your thighs and ass as you leave a small puddle on his bed before he yanks his fingers out, burying his face instead.

You let out a filthy moan, gripping his brown curls, pressing him into you as your thighs wrap around his face firmly.

“Holy shit, baby... oh.. ohhh!" Mumbles of praise and adoration flee your lips as he laps and sucks your drenched pussy. You grind on his face, your slick coating his chin and nose as he moans into you desperately.

He holds your hips down with one hand, pushing your leg apart with the other as he begins to fuck you with his tongue. Your cum coats his long tongue as he glides it in and out.

"So good... Eddie, you fuck me so good.." the praise comes out in a whimper.

"So sweet, god you taste so sweet. Again, sweetheart. Gonna make you cum again.” he whispers against your wet lips before diving back in.

**flashback ends**

-I don't know what those stains are..." he finishes, turning in your direction with a little wink.

[oh-no-its-bird]

Body swap through time Kakashi and Tobirama at like, ages 12/13ish

Kakashi wakes up as Senju Tobirama at the height of the Uchiha/Senju conflicts

Tobirama wakes up as Kakashi in the lead up to the Kyuubi incident

They're actually alarmingly similar in skill level and personality, so they're able to get away with the switch on a surface level, even to those who know them well. But problems very quickly arise when it comes to fighting or anything that requires knowledge of history

""Tobirama"" taking to the field with a totally different skill set and jutsus than he's ever used before (Izuna is taken so off guard, it gets bad, fast)

""Kakashi"" suddenly does not seem to respond to any ANBU signals or codes, and where as before he was a shoe in for becoming an ANBU captain he suddenly seems to be fucking up at every other opportunity. You'd think the guy WANTS to lose his job with how suddenly awful at it he is, but he's Kakashi. There is no world where that kid fucks anything up on purpose

They're both definatley in a "holy shit I can NOT tell anyone ab this" position— Kakashi would probably be fr killed as an imposter, and while Tobirama would probably be ok (especially since Minato would be in charge of his detainment n stuff) he doesn't know that?? As far as he's aware, he is in enemy territory and will act accordingly.

Kakashi doesn't know how tf to interact with Tajima or Hashirama, but especially Tajima. He probably uses the wrong forms of address for people bc Tobirama uses more old fashioned honorifics than Kakashi is used to (Anija/Chichuie vs Nii-san/Otou-san)

Kakashi refusing to kill Uchiha bc like, village loyalty fuck you. Also just in general he probably has feelings ab killing anyone with a sharingan on multiple levels. But not just not killing them but going out of his way to help— these aren't his Uchiha, yeah, but it definatley fucks him up to see ANY uchiha die when all his life Uchiha = konoha = his people

Oooo, Kakashi instinctivley channeling chakra through Tobirama's eye after a solid couple years of getting used to the sharingan, possibly accidentally doing,,, something there. Idk what tho but SOMETHING

Meanwhile Tobirama is in that stupid fucking village of his brothers (that he will not shut up about, especially at that specific age) and its???? Real??????? It worked?????????? Huh.

He's surrounded by Uchiha and can't find any Senju (Tsunade just left the village rip Tsunade) but if he investigates it looks like the Senju died out naturally? Impossible, it has to be some kind of Uchiha plot—!

Hes also struggling to come to terms with there being a STOLEN SHARINGAN IN HIS FUCKING EYE !!!!!!!! Made extra super fucked up by the difference in intense hatred and taboo of bloodline theft in modern/warring era (with it being even more taboo in the warring states, like THE ultimate evil to any shinobi)

Maybe he, as Kakashi, is supposed to go to like special Uchiha class where they teach him ab the Uchiha n stuff bc of the eye, and Tobirama is sitting there eating all this shit UP (enemy intel!!!) But also, like, lowkey brainwashed kid brought up to do nothing but kill this one specific group of people, literally being forced to at least pretend to embrace their culture. He's in such a unique position to learn from and about them, and it'll probably end with him being some kind of sympathetic.

It helps that in modern Konoha, where the Uchiha may be considered overly traditional/religious, that's actually just Tobirama's normal. So there's also this added layer of "being around the Uchiha feels the closest to home / least strange than being around literally anyone else" which just pisses him off even more tbh

I'm tempted to say that somehow Rin is still alive just so I can have that one specific Rin and Kakashi queerplatonic codependent relationship from my other post, and then Rin being the one to finally notice that Kakashi isn't Kakashi anymore

Both Tobirama and Kakashi kind of piecing together the life stories of each other, immersed in eachothers histories and paths without ever directly interacting even once. Constant wonderings ab what the other boy was like / might do here, and if they're really so similar that no one has noticed the switch and all those implications (bc on one hand, that's good!! But on the other hand uhh— has anyone at home noticed...? Bc if not, fucking ow??? But also like, probably for the best tbh.)

[wistfulforstars]

Your Medicine, My Medicine

Summary: You know how to deal with Tech’s periods of hyperfixation. He’s yet to deal with yours.

Warnings: Here there be fluff! However, my blog is not for minors - Begone! Some vague allusions to sex, teasing, reader is tired, Tech is a bad influence, the squad is hopeless, reader is afab

Part 1? This one got away from me - it was only supposed to be a quick oneshot. I haven't decided if I'm going to do a spicy follow-up.

“Oh yes, go babysit this special squad of elite clones, it’s going to be so fun!” you muttered angrily to yourself, pouring over a sea of half baked statements, equipment requests, and unpaid expenses. 

A headache began to form behind your eyes as you continued to grumble, “The tall one won’t blow you up, the one with the toothpick definitely doesn’t have an attitude problem, and their sergeant absolutely knows how to fill out a mission report!”

You picked up one of said mission reports, a mostly blank page that just said NAL HUTTA. INFILTRATION. COMPLETE. scribbled across the top in Hunter’s untidy scrawl. You tossed it to the ground and thunked your head on the table, taking a moment to lay there. You needed a drink. You wondered, not for the first time that evening, where Crosshair could possibly be keeping his stash of premium Corellian whiskey.

It had been about a year since you’d joined Clone Force 99 as their Communications Officer, and every end-of-month report analysis had gone pretty much the same way. No matter how many times you’d asked your squad to be more organized, to add more detail, to consult you on expenditures, none of your instructions ever seemed to stick. Usually your superiors let it slide. This was CF99, the Bad Batch. Nobody really expected these troopers to be great at paperwork. 

But the squad had an inspection coming up. The first since you’d joined them. And they’d wracked up twice the expenses they were budgeted for, with all receipts buried in a massive pile or half singed from blaster fire. You were about to have some serious answering to do, and the only explanation you’d come up with so far was sorry sir, excuse my Shyriiwook, but how the fuck am I supposed to control these dipshits?

You had a feeling that wasn’t going to cut it.

Briefly, your mind wandered to Tech. If there was anyone on the ship who could help you sort through this mess, to see the patterns in the chaos, it was your resident genius. But he was unfortunately indisposed.

You would be lying if you didn’t say that Tech, even from the very beginning, had always been your favorite. You had clicked on an intellectual level immediately, way back on your first mission when you’d corrected him about a tradition practiced on that particular planet. Instead of being offended or taken aback by your knowledge, Tech had swiftly asked you for points of reference that he could pour into after the mission. He’d then thanked you for your input, and began deferring to you on matters within the realm of your purview. You didn’t know if you’d ever felt such a quick, simple appreciation for your talents before. It was…invigorating.

Tech listened, really, truly listened when you spoke, and always seemed incredibly flattered when you tried to return the favor. Conversation flowed naturally, often well into the night. He was polite and kind, and you’d almost go so far as to say chivalrous in his way, especially lately. Sure, all the boys usually treated you with an added layer of courtesy. You suspected it was because they didn’t quite know what to do with a woman on board. Wrecker seized heavy things from your grasp almost on instinct. Echo was so respectful it was almost disquieting. Hunter had procured extra blankets for your bunk and always made sure you had plenty to eat. And Crosshair…well, he had offered you a toothpick on occasion, but you weren’t sure if that was an attempt at bonding or if there was just something in your teeth.

Tech though…he’d started standing or sitting up perfectly straight when you entered rooms. He scolded the others for being too loud while you were trying to sleep. He was constantly finding something of yours to “fix” and then give back to you. And just a few days ago, he’d begun this little habit of offering you his hand when leaving or returning to the Marauder. As if you needed help going out the door. You’d practically squeaked in surprise when he looked up at you with earnest brown eyes, daring you to take his offered hand. Crosshair had laughed, but Tech hadn’t cared. He’d just continued to gaze at you patiently, handsome face mostly hidden by goggles and helmet. The air charged with electricity, and when you finally took hold of his hand, you could feel his warmth seeping through his glove. It felt like something between you shifted in that moment, like an invisible string had been spun and tied. You had to admit it was nice to feel cared for. It was sweet. He was sweet.

Too bad he wasn’t here.

The only problem with your… friendship with Tech is that it was sometimes unreliable. He would have these periods where he’d “go dark” as you put it. He’d get his head into a new project or concept and tune out the world for days at a time. Not sleeping, barely eating, and totally fixed on whatever new task had caught his attention. When you inquired about his well being, he would answer in vague, single syllable sentences, or worse, not at all. Being ignored didn’t feel great, but you always knew he’d come out of it tired yet pleased, and ready to show you what he’d been working on. 

However, it would be really nice if this weren’t one of those times. He’d gone under about two days ago, and hadn’t shown any signs of emerging since. You wished he was here to look through this pile with you, tell you how he’d tackle a conundrum like this, or hell, even just keep you company. His ability to focus and problem solve was one of your favorite things about him. It was no wonder he could get so much done by tuning out the world for a few days…

Suddenly, it hit you. Your head flew off the table, and you gazed down hopefully at the sea of papers, a wild look in your eye. Nevermind that you hadn’t slept yet. Nevermind that you were a little dehydrated. Nevermind that Echo still had you on concussion watch after your last mission.

That’s it! you thought. All I have to do is take a page out of Tech’s book, and this will be done in no time!

You lunged for your neglected datapad and got to work.

***********

Tech made his official appearance back into the world around 36 standard hours later, and he was very pleased with himself. He’d developed a prototype for new soundplugs for Hunter, and he couldn’t wait to force them upon his Sergeant. But first, he couldn’t deny his irrepressible urge to show you. You had always appreciated his experiments, and he always appreciated your insights.

Not to mention, he felt you were both… ah… growing closer. Tech had been interested in trying to initiate a more intimate bond with you for a few months now. Only after sufficient research into being a desirable partner and numerous mental exercises for practice did he feel comfortable moving on to the most logical next step: trying to see if you were interested in him in return. His test of trying to hold your hand to help you down from the Marauder had been a definite success. You’d met his attempts with brief shyness, amused puzzlement, and eventually (if he read your body language correctly), anticipation. That was most encouraging indeed. He focused hard for the next few days on getting through the development of his latest prototype, not because it wasn’t a fascinating project, but because he wanted to create more free time for himself. Free time he could use to observe, interact with, and, well, woo you.

His hesitance wasn’t only due to the fact that your affections were hard to read - though you did keep things with the squad painstakingly friendly and professional. Tech was fully aware that he wasn’t the most dynamic or exciting romantic choice amongst his brothers. Echo had a patience about him that he couldn’t hope to emulate, Wrecker was practically built out of fun and carried affection in every bulging muscle, and Hunter and Crosshair had a quality that the holonet had simply called ‘the bad boy thing.’ 

You were bright, achingly beautiful, and more endearing than you had any right to be. It was Tech’s opinion that one person should not be so utterly enthralling - it was simply unfair to the rest of the population. Particularly the occupants of this ship, who all adored you. You could rightly have any one of them you wanted. But yet, surrounded by such obvious choices to warm your bed and your heart, you chose to spend your time at his work table, chatting about nothing and everything. That alone gave him hope. Hope that perhaps, if he paid attention to his research and did not stick his proverbial foot in his proverbial mouth, you would grow to return even a fraction of the affection he felt for you. He could hardly wait so see how you’d been faring the last couple days.

Except every single one of his brothers were currently blocking his way.

“What possible reason would you four have for loitering outside the door?” Tech’s voice came out sharper than he meant it to. 

But none of them even looked back in his direction.

Echo turned to Hunter with a grin, “You lose, sarge. Tech came out of it first.”

Tech frowned, “While I appreciate being completely ignored when I ask a question-”

“The princess has picked up your little habit,” Crosshair tossed back at him through a toothpick. 

“My…habit?”

Wrecker finally spared him a glance, “Shortstuff hasn’t said a word since day before yesterday.” He rubbed the back of his neck, “She didn’t even want to raid the rations with me. I’m gettin’ worried.”

“Wait,” Tech said, alarmed. “You mean she hasn’t eaten?”

“Made her a sandwich yesterday,” Hunter replied, and Tech parsed through the gruff syllables to hear the concern in his voice. “She nibbled at it and kept right on with her paperwork.”

“D’you think she’s mad at us?” Wrecker fretted. “She yelled at us before about receipts.”

“And Hunter’s reports,” Crosshair sneered.

Hunter became defensive in turn, “I’ve told her before, command doesn’t care about reports, they care about results.”

“And that’s clearly made it through her thick skull, good job-”

“Boys, we really need to make sure she drinks something-”

“Should I pick her up, or-”

“How well did that idea work with Tech? He got so scared he tased you-”

“Wasn’t so bad, and I don’t think she has a taser-”

“Maybe if Crosshair hadn’t bought that new attachment-”

“Maybe if Hunter would learn to write the fucking alphabet and not scribble whatever he usually-”

Tech had heard enough. Clearly, something was very wrong with you, and he had missed it carrying on with his own experiments. He tried very hard not to let that thought consume him. You needed assistance, and his brothers were being anything but helpful. 

Using the controls he’d built into his vambrace, Tech commanded the door they were all lurking inside of to whoosh shut, nearly colliding with Hunter’s nose and snapping the end of Crosshair’s toothpick. All four of his brothers turned to glare at him. He stood tall, not bothering to hunch.

“Tell me exactly what happened,” he commanded, and he barely recognized the assertive tone in his voice.

Hunter, though, looked at him with a knowing glint in his eye. Echo sobered up. Crosshair smirked, the expression slightly undercut by his frayed stub of a toothpick. Only Wrecker seemed vaguely surprised.

“She said she was gonna go do her reports,” he shrugged. “We got an inspection comin’ up or something. Next thing we know, she’s got her nose stuck in her datapad and she won’t snap out of it.”

“Won’t sleep,” Crosshair grunted. “Tried to give her tea to help. She poured it out.”

“She took my spare soundplugs,” Hunter added.

“And you can only get grunts or single word answers from her, if she answers at all. ” Echo nodded in Tech’s direction. “It’s exactly how you get when you’re trying to focus. Like she’s channeling your methods or something.”

Tech crossed his arm, “She must be very worried about how the inspection will reflect on her. Did anyone tell her that half the time the officer doesn’t even bother to show up? And when they do, we pass on successful mission count alone?”

His brothers glanced at each other, silent. He sighed, “Perhaps, since these are, as you say, ‘my methods’ I can get her to snap out of it.”

Hunter brightened almost immediately, and if Tech weren’t so worried about you - had you really not slept all this time? - he would be a little wary of the snide glance his sergeant sent the rest of the squad.

“You know, Tech, that’s a great idea,” Hunter clapped him on the back. “In fact, since this is a delicate matter that you know so much about, would you mind if we left it to you?”

“That’s right,” Echo added, now also sporting a winning smile. “You’re the best man for the job, Tech. We’ve tried everything, it hasn’t worked. And we were about to go out for supplies anyway.”

Crosshair even joined in, toothpick miraculously replaced, “The town’s some distance away, so we won’t be back till after nightfall. Might have to spend the night out there. You can help miss perfect sort herself out while we’re gone.”

Tech glared at his brothers. How subtle did they think they were being?

Kind Wrecker hesitated, “Will she be alright though? Tech?”

He adjusted his goggles, clicking his teeth together, “I will do everything I can for her Wrecker.”

Crosshair snorted behind him, and Tech whirled on his squad, already heading towards the door, “Laugh all you want, but you and your discourtesy caused this, all of you! That woman has been much more help to us than we’ve ever been to her, and if you come back without copious signed and annotated receipts for everything you buy, you will not be setting foot back on this ship! Do you copy, troopers?”

Crosshair laughed his way out the door, but Hunter nodded sincerely before departing. Echo sent a salute Tech’s way with his scomp, before dragging Wrecker, who looked like he might start crying, out of the ship.

The door shut, and Tech locked it from his vambrace for good measure. Silence.

Finally, he headed down through the doorway to get a glimpse at your exhausted frame, folded nearly in two over your makeshift workstation. You didn’t stir as he approached, but perhaps that was because of the soundplugs in your ears. 

Your eyes, frantically scanning a shoddy piece of paperwork, were red and sunken. You mumbled nonsense to yourself in a voice with a slight tremor, and Tech could have sworn you had lost weight since he saw you last.

His mind ran through different possible reasons you might have ended up like this, and then twice as many tactical and complicated scenarios in which he could try and get you to stop and get some rest. But he found he was becoming too concerned for any of those. The diminished light in your eyes, the lack of luster in your hair, it was all instilling in him a less-than-dignified response akin to panic. Tech was a survivor of countless dangerous encounters, but none of them set him on edge quite in this way. 

Deciding to throw caution to the wind, he reached out carefully and laid a hand on your shoulder. No response. He frowned. 

“Meshla,” he spoke quietly yet firmly. “I am going to remove your soundplugs.”

He reached both hands out and plucked them from your ears, but aside from a waved hand and a mumbled, “I told you to go away, Hunter,” you didn’t react. Your eyes remained glued to the form.

Alright, he’d try not to be too offended by that. He, after all, was sometimes slightly confused when he came out of a hyperfixated state, and he was too knowledgeable of himself to not see how hypocritical he was being.

He leaned forward, and his mouth nearly touched the back of your ear, “It’s not Hunter,” he breathed. “It’s Tech.”

You jumped, startled, and whirled around to face him, “Tech! Oh…hi, Tech! W-when did you get, um, get…?”

“Just a little while ago,” he answered. “And imagine my surprise when I come out only to find you working yourself to death.”

At this, a little fire crept into your dull eyes, “Throwing stones in a glass ship, Tech?”

“Don’t start that,” he warned. “I am genetically engineered for more stamina, to require less nourishment, and with the capacity to-”

“Don’t start that,” you barked. “I can gauge for myself how much stamina I have and how much nourishment I require. Poor little nat-born me has months of paperwork to sort through-”

“Paperwork that does not technically need to get done,” he said, and he saw the way you furiously zeroed in on his raised pointer finger. “We will pass inspection regardless.”

But you weren’t giving up, “This is my job, Tech! It might not be a state-of-the-art invention or a new fucking discovery, but it’s mine, and I don’t appreciate you trivializing my role on this ship!”

With that, you turned back around sharply, and started tapping on your datapad so hard that Tech thought he might have to replace the screen. He stood there for a moment, assessing. Clearly, this required a little more than your usual style of interaction. You were tired, and more prone to anger than he’d ever seen you. He’d been attempting to appeal to your own sense of self preservation, but you might be needing a more emotional approach.

Fine, if you wanted to play hardball, he’d play. He smoothly invaded your space, your hunched shoulders to his front, and leaned over, placing his hands on the desk at either side of your body.

“Wrecker is in near tears with worry,” he began, low in his voice. “And I guarantee you Hunter’s having trouble getting to sleep with you up and moving all night.”

Your head jerked a little, but you didn’t answer. Tech covered the hand tapping at your datapad with his own, curling his fingers around yours. His other hand took the pad away, set it down as far as the desk would allow, and went up to stroke your hair. He could feel the tension in your shoulders loosen ever so slightly. 

He’d never touched you with such familiarity before, never felt such palpable intimacy. His heart sang as you allowed him to gently caress your hair with feather light touches. 

“I don’t think you’ve ever snapped at me like that before,” he said gently. “But then again, you’re usually well rested and well fed.”

“Not funny,” you huffed. You tried to wriggle out of his hold, reaching for your datapad.

Tech felt a surge of protective frustration in his chest. He’d never seen you this stubborn. You were taking your well-being far too lightly and he was officially tired of it, “It was not meant to be funny,” his voice was a little sharper, a little rougher. 

He seized the back of your chair, and pulled it out and around. Then he kneeled before your slumped form, and took both your hands in his own, “I can see now, that you do not understand how seeing you exhausted and neglected affects me. Allow me to correct that.”

“Tech-”

“I care for you,” he declared, words spilling from him recklessly. He had to get you to understand. “Acutely. Intensely. In a way that is often beyond my control. And I will do everything in my power, employ every skill at my disposal to avoid seeing you come to harm. Even if the one doing that harm is you.”

You blinked rapidly, surprise flooding your glazed eyes, “I-”

But he would not hear your excuses, your dismissals of his concern, “This is bad for your health, bad for my mental state, and ultimately, bad for the squad. I implore you to sleep, to-”

“Please listen-”

“No, mesh’la, there is no excuse-”

“I like you too!” you shouted, a shaking hand touching his lips to stop him from talking. 

Tech froze. Oh stars…he’d told you, hadn’t he? Kneeling on the dirty floor, both of you exhausted, in the middle of a disagreement. 

So much for his carefully curated plans to romance you.

You let out a slightly manic giggle, probably at the slack-jawed look of idiocy on his face. Your hand moved to cup his cheek, “Any ploy to win an argument, huh?”

Tech quickly laid his hand over yours, alarm rising in his chest “I assure you, cyar’ika, this was anything but a ploy. I did not intend-”

“I was teasing, Tech,” you laughed again. “Believe it or not, I’ve been thinking something was up for a couple weeks now.”

He cleared his throat, sheepish, “Ah, yes, well…I was trying to ascertain if you were remotely interested in pursuing an amendment to our current relationship.”

“You know, you could have just asked.”

He felt his cheeks heat up, “I was trying to present myself in the best possible light.”

“Oh, honey,” you smiled. “You do that every day. Though I won’t lie, helping me down from the ship was very cute.”

He sighed, relieved, “That is excellent news. The field of romantic attachments is completely foreign to me. I’ve been conducting research for weeks.”

“Oh? What kind of research?” your eyebrows rose.

“Standard romantic practices for humans,” he began listing off. “Romantic gestures in different cultures, sexual acts and techniques, common date ideas-”

“Wait, wait, wait,” the grin on your face grew wide with mischief. “What acts and techniques?”

“Sexual,” he affirmed with a wave of his hand. “And a lot of my research into romantic-”

You laid your fingers against his lips again, “Oh no, mister, you don’t get to just brush over that one. You looked into the best techniques for getting me into bed? Before you even told me you were interested? Overplanning much?”

“Actually,” he mumbled beneath your hand. “It wasn’t about getting you into bed, rather more about what to do with you once you were there.”

You giggled, rolling your eyes, “No matter how smart they are, pretty boys are all the same. Tech, that’s something we figure out together. Something we talk about and learn about as we go.”

Tech felt something very warm and light settle into his chest, “I understand what you’re saying,” he took your hand away from his mouth by the wrist, before examining it closely, reverently. He placed a brief kiss to your knuckles, and nodded to himself when he heard your little gasp. “But a woman like you, spectacular and brilliant as you are...you deserve the best in every regard. I have no experience to draw upon, so I decided to supplement that with knowledge. Carefully stored and memorized, of course”

He gazed up at your face, some of his nervousness from the past few weeks bubbling to the surface again. There was always a possibility that you wouldn’t be interested in a partner with no experience in the bedroom. But your eyes were shining, and that gave him hope.

“Tech,” you shook your head. “Did it ever occur to you that I might want to be the one giving you a memorable, enjoyable first time?”

He inhaled sharply, his heart hammering in his ears, “I will admit, it did not.”

You hummed, leaned forward, and reached for his face, drawing him up to your own, “Is this alright?” Your breath fanned over his lips, his chin. 

Tech found himself nodding, a little too frantically, and the next moment your lips were on his, and oh, this was very different from reading about kissing. His heart rate spiked, his hands twitched of their own accord, yearning to grab hold of you, and he was suddenly all too aware of his own body. His goggles fogged up. His cock tightened in his bodysuit. 

Then you grasped the nape of his neck and moaned into his mouth, and that was all it took to break his hesitancy. He grasped at your hips, and, utilizing a strength he didn’t usually have need for, he stood up with you in his arms. You wrapped your gorgeous legs around his waist and ground against his zipper. He gasped, and you took advantage, tongue darting inside, teeth nipping at his bottom lip. 

Tech sampled your mouth in turn, rubbing your hips with his thumbs, before slowing and gently pulling away. He stared at you, breathing hard. Your pupils were dilated with want, your lips swollen, and your fingers played with the little hairs at the back of his neck. You were completely and utterly perfect…

And you hadn’t slept in two days. 

You leaned in to kiss him again, but Tech rested his forehead against yours, still catching his breath, “This is not going any farther tonight, darling.”

He wished he had his recorder on. The pout you gave him was positively adorable, “Why?”

“Because you are tired beyond your limits, and I would be horribly remiss to have you exhaust yourself further by trying to perform for me in any way.” Not usually one for making himself feel strong or manly, Tech found he did like the weight of you in his arms, of your hands clinging to him. Depending on him. 

“And,” he interrupted before you tried to argue. “Even though you thwarted my long and meticulous plan to confess my feelings, I still reserve the right to woo you.”

You snorted a little, “Woo me?”

“Yes, mesh’la. I would like to spend some time with you in a romantic capacity before we run away with our urges.” He began walking you both back towards the bunks. 

“B-but! The boys are gone!”

“Which means we will not have to put up with Wrecker’s snoring,” he said simply. He plopped you into his bunk, but hesitated before he took off his first piece of armor, “I can take you back to your bed, if you prefer.”

But you just grinned and shook your head, “Don’t you dare. If I don’t get to break my three year dry spell, I better get to cuddle.”

He raised a brow, logging that bit of information away, but began stripping his armor and tossing it on the floor. He crawled into bed and felt his face warm at how you immediately attached yourself to his side, “I would like to take you out tomorrow.”

You yawned, the stress of everything finally catching up, “Yeah? Where would you like to go?”

“Anywhere,” he stroked your arm. “On a walk, to a nearby town if there is one. Maybe just to see the sunset.”

You hummed contentedly, “That sounds nice,” and you leaned up to kiss his cheek.

Tech, well he’d be lying if he didn’t admit to it…he melted, “How does a woman like you have a three year dry spell?”

You chuckled, “Break it for me and I’ll tell you all about the short string of losers, cheaters, and one particularly scary bounty hunter that had me swearing off men.”

“Hmm… I find myself more and more grateful that I decided to research this topic.”

He frowned, still unenthused by the idea of laying back and letting you do all the work. He would much rather be the one performing, excelling at pleasing you. Plans began to form in his head, of romance, seduction. He didn’t read through hundreds of articles for nothing, and he was determined that you would be pleased. 

“Tech,” you insisted, but your eyes were closed and your words were slurred. “I’m serious, we’re gonna… make your first time about you, whenever it happens. We’ll do whatever you want to do.”

He decided to try something small before bed. Just a taste of what he had in store for you. One article he’d read mentioned the best ways of initiating interest, and one of them was… talking to one’s partner. In a very particular way,  “But… what if what I want mesh’la… is to have you under me, limp, pliable, hoarse from screaming my name?”

You shivered at the deep voice he’d employed, and Tech waited, amused, as you struggled find words. This was more fun than he'd expected. He leaned in again, lips grazing your ear, "No more skipping meals. No more going without sleep."

"Tech-"

"Promise me," oh he delighted in the wicked, taut energy between you. He wanted to stoke it higher, hotter. "Promise me, and maybe tomorrow we can discuss all the ways you want to make my first time memorable."

Your breath hitched, and you let out a sweet little squeak, but you kept ahold of yourself enough to give a bit back to him, "Only if you promise too. That you'll start sleeping properly. I'll sleep next to you every night if you just come to bed."

Tech sucked in air through his teeth, heart pounding against his rib cage, "I will...try, mesh'la."

He kissed your ear, satisfied when he felt you quake again, "Then get some rest, darling. We're both going to need it."

"Thank you. So will I."

[sun-undone]

okay so i'm rereading the poppy war for the sole purpose of trying to squeeze all the chaltan content i can get out of it and my god is it delivering already

this first one is something that i completely breezed past in my first reading cause i didn't even know who tf chaghan was yet but on a reread????? GAY (pg. 226):

you're telling me that chaghan and altan just happened to be together when chaghan felt tyr's death? in the middle of the night??? mmhmm yup for sure

now as willing as i am to fully chalk this up to a late night chaltan tryst, i will be fair and admit that i'm not super clear on how exactly chaghan got the tyr info here. it kinda seems like he's doing his monthly meeting with the hexagram goddess (in the dialogue he literally says "there has been a hexagram" and then he interprets 3 things from it), but first off, it seems too coincidental for him to just happen to be doing that at the very moment that tyr dies, and also why tf is he doing it in the middle of the night?? is he just being extra dramatic and making up some "we have to do it at midnight" bullshit to see what he can get away with (a la the infamous kitay horse piss incident) or is there an in universe explanation for that that i've completely forgotten?

OR is it a secret, gayer third option: altan and chaghan were already together when he felt tyr's death, which then prompted him to convene with the goddess and get the hexagram. and we just don't see the full process or really get much of a proper explanation cause we're in altan's pov and it's all mysterious and shit at this point in the book. that's the one i'm going with and i cannot believe that this is their first scene together. the intimacy is already so palpable and we don't even know chaghan's name at this point in the book.

and then of course there's THIS (pg. 227):

absolutely fucking bonkers i'm spinning on my head

is anyone else this gentle with altan ever????? i'm genuinely asking. who else in the cike would even THINK about pulling a move like this? also the added layer of chaghan originally being next in line for commander before altan took him out to the fucking valley for THREE WHOLE DAYS and then THIS is his reaction to altan officially inheriting said title??? we know from a later conversation that chaghan has with rin (pg. 337) that he's very aware of how unprepared altan was to assume leadership over the cike, which just makes this gesture from him even more meaningful and tender. "we are yours to command. i am yours."

this next one just made me giggle and idk if it's just my brain being broken from scouring source material for gay crumbs or if it's actually intentional but (pg. 285):

i mean. i mean. if anyone knows the extent of chaltan, it's most definitely qara, and a lot of these crumbs involve her so i'm taking it as more evidence and no one can stop me

speaking of qara being an icon (pg. 317):

i actually forgot how much she's in this book i am so sorry queen

so unegen also has a strong reaction to ramsa's dialogue, but if i may be incredibly nitpicky about it, i'd argue that qara snorting implies a sense of "yeah right now that's funny", while unegen spitting out his wine implies more pure shock than anything else. i'm sure the cike have some idea about chaghan and altan's relationship going deeper than meets the eye (if it's this obvious from the crumbs we get over the span of a handful of scenes i can only imagine how sick and tired they must be after an entire year of it), but once again, qara is likely the only one who really KNOWS. for obvious reasons.

then we have the iconic dramatic entrance where chaghan is officially introduced, and even before zooming into a specific piece of it to prove my chaltan agenda, just the very existence of this scene is so fucking insane to me. rebecca could've chosen any way to properly introduce us to chaghan, and this is what she decided on. you could argue that it sets up chaghan's dramatic and obnoxiously proud personality, and that him being hurt is so we can see how it affects qara (and also just to up the tension and stakes) BUT how coincidental that on top of achieving all that character and narrative stuff, it also succeeds in showing us a completely different side to altan. one that is specifically brought about by chaghan.

would altan rush out into a sea of federation soldiers to help any other member of the cike? yes. but rebecca chose to show him helping THIS member of the cike. in THIS dramatic of a fashion (and it's literally on a horse like that is so fractured fairytale romance of her actually). and it's also the aftermath that really clues us into something deeper between him and chaghan in particular (pg. 373):

along with qara, who is SOUL BONDED TO CHAGHAN BY THE WAY, altan is screaming at him for being reckless and how he could've gotten himself killed. intentionally or not, rebecca is clearly aligning altan and qara here, and i LOVE how it's shown in the way their dialogue is formatted. you don't even know who is saying which fragment. they are one in the same when it comes to the level in which they care about chaghan's wellbeing. and also when it comes to yelling at him for being an idiot! and if that's not love then idk what is

[dimonds456]

Transfem Stan Thoughtdump

Okay so @/abyssalzones made a pretty good post that sums up a lot of my thoughts as well, but I have a few extra ones I'd like to add to this discussion, as well as elaborating on one of the post's points. I've been thinking about transfem Stan for a couple of weeks now and at this point I'm like "fuck it we ball" and throwing it out there. 

For one, it warms my heart whenever there's an older character who was raised in the mid-1900s/older times who realizes they're queer, or comes to terms with their identity in old age. You're never too old to realize you're part of the community, and never too late. Adding this on top of the many, MANY identities that Stan has had to take to survive in her life, it'd be like really turning over a new leaf for her. She'd get to really step into an identity that she aligns with completely, and not something else given to her or that she took to protect herself. 

Not to mention, everything regarding Ford. The fact that she had to pretend to be Ford for so long, she more than likely never had the chance to even think about taking on any other identities. She had to keep this one as intact as she could. Otherwise, she could risk loosing the Shack, and with it, the portal- her brother. No way that was happening. 

It was briefly touched in the post, but when Stan was watching that one movie and she was like "JUST LIKE ME FR", obviously the writers intended that to just be a joke since this was as far and away from Stan's identity as they could get. But we're gonna ignore that and take it at face value for a second. 

The channel introduces itself (jokingly) as the boring old lady black-and-white channel, clearly something that a manly-man like Stan wouldn't be into, and he reacts like how you'd expect. But once it gets going, he gets fully sucked into it, leading eventually to the scene where the main character, seemingly about to complete a Character Arc™, tells her mother "I'm not just a dutchess, I'm also a woman!" and Stan cheers for her, saying the "just like me fr" line. 

Without any transfem headcanons, again, this is a joke. Or you could interpret this in hindsight as Stan feeling a similar way about his father, since lines like "I'm a woman!" declared like that usually means "I'm free to make my own choices," which is a message resident make-my-father-proud-issues Stanley Pines would relate to pretty hard. Even though this isn't a conclusion Stan comes to in the show, we could easily see him coming to a conclusion like that in the future.

Now let's add the transfem headcanon back in. With that new layer to it, Stan (whose egg hasn't cracked yet) would be confused as to why she relates so hard. After all, she's a man who was raised to shove feelings down and be a manly-man man by Filbrick. She's more than likely gone her entire life trying to conform to that idea of toxic masculinity that her dad pushed on both her and Ford. Stan was always the one who resorted to punching, after all. That's a manly-man trait, so surely this goes no further right

There's a part of Gravity Falls that I feel doesn't get discussed enough, and that's the underlying misogyny of it. There's not a ton of it, but there are quite a few jokes about how men are stronger than women and the like. Stan has quite a few lines like that herself. So she would be subscribing to a similar mental state, the idea that if you like punching, CLEARLY you're a guy. Cuz that's how it works. Obviously. 

Introducing Mabel Pines, someone who is VERY much a girly-girl. She likes pink and unicorns and rainbows and makeup and sleepovers, stuff of the like. Now I could make a whole other post about my headcanons for Mabel and her queer journey, but one thing she can definitely do that "girly-girls" DON'T? Punching.

Mabel can punch. And she punches a lot. 

It's a small thing, and something I think Stan has just kinda accepted without question over the course of the series, but if she were to stop and think about it, she'd be like ".....wait a minute." and it could very well be the first piece that cracks the idea of manly-man masculinity vs just. existing as a person and what that actually means. 

Once Stan finally starts to break away from toxic masculinity and all those lessons she got thrown into her head, then her egg would finally be able to start cracking. 

As for why it even matters, first off, it just makes for an interesting interpretation of the character I haven't really seen before until VERY recently. Like, within the past 2 days recently (and maybe once like a month ago?? idk). 

But secondly, for her character, it would be a good, healthy step into really taking back her identity. Who IS Stan Pines? She's spent so long being other people, either as a form of self-defense or pretending to be her brother so she can help save him from the sideburn hell dimension, that I don't think she's really allowed herself to connect to who Stan is. 

This is true regardless of gender headcanon, but I think the transfem angle makes it so much more interesting. Who is Stan? Not even she knows. And she's starting to feel VERY confused about the whole thing. 

As for Ford, I think he'd be more than willing to support an identity journey for Stan. After all, he's traveled across dimensions and more than likely had all his teachings questioned as well. I am willing to bet money he's encountered trans people before. And, knowing Ford, he'd be open and curious to the idea, not close-minded, no matter what their father tried to teach his kids. Honestly, I could see Ford pestering Stan with questions long into the night regarding the whole thing, and taking up the whole identity mystery for himself as something the two of them can "crack" (heh) together. Just another adventure for the crew of the Stan'o'War II! 

There's SO much more but I don't wanna re-say things that the og post already said, these are just the big ones that stick out to me and what I wanted to elaborate on. 

TL;DR Stan goes on a journey of realizing that toxic masculinity Is Bad Actually and honestly so was his father, and once he accepts that and starts actively challenging his own beliefs about gender, her egg cracks and she realizes that maybe she isn't a guy at all. The rest of the Pines- but Ford especially- are supportive, and although Stan has a LOT of self-reflection to do and I could see her getting frustrated, flustered, or even embarrassed of her newfound realization, ultimately it makes her happier like this. Cuz it's her identity. She's not pretending to be anyone else anymore and she can just wholly be herself.

Thank you and goodnight

[bellaturner]

Hi! I am loving the writings at the moment! I was wondering if you could write something where reader is dating Alex and also an interviewer and she has to interview him. So its all flirty and if their relationship isn’t public yet Alex constantly nearly gives it away.

I just kinda had the thought and thought it would be cute and I have no time to write atm and honestly you could probably write it better anyway lmao

Alex sat across the sofa from you, and you attempted to maintain a professional demeanor despite the playful tension in the room.

"So, mister Turner," you began, but before you could continue, he playfully interrupted.

"Oh, you sound so sexy calling me 'mister'," he teased with a mischievous grin.

You couldn't help but roll your eyes at his antics. "Come on, Alex," you said, raising your hands to your face in mock annoyance. "I'm trying to do my job here," you sighed, a hint of amusement in your voice.

"Sorry, babe," he apologize, but moved his hand up your thigh at the same time "I'll behave myself," he promised at the same time he fixed his sunglasses on his face.

"Al, please," you asked, once again, "I'm gonna get fired if you don't cooperate." you were practically begging this time.

"Sure, love," he said, removing his hand from you. "Ask your questions, but i'm gonna fuck you so hard after we get home." he winked at you.

You took a deep breath, attempting to regain your focus. Your boyfriend's flirtatious behavior was undeniably distracting, but you needed to continue the interview professionally. "Ahem," you cleared your throat and made another attempt. "So, Mr. Turner," you said, maintaining direct eye contact, "your band's latest album is titled 'The Car'." You pointed out this fact, well aware of the answer to the upcoming question. "Could you enlighten us on the reason behind that choice?" You asked, attempting to appear genuinely curious, though you suspected you weren't doing a great job of it.

You had been actively involved in the entire album composition process. You'd even assisted Alex, your boyfriend, and the rest of the band in brainstorming some of the song titles. You were aware that certain songs were inspired by your relationship, which added an extra layer of complexity to your professional life.

"Well," Alex began, avoiding direct eye contact with you, "we wanted it to have that perfect 'road trip' sound, you know?" he explained, trying to maintain a casual tone.

"Interesting choice," you responded, a sense of frustration creeping into your voice. You were beginning to feel exasperated with the interview, and you hadn't even reached the halfway point yet.

You decided to press on with the interview, determined to maintain your professionalism despite Alex's distractions. "I see what you mean," you replied, shifting your focus back to the questions. "The album definitely has a vibrant, on-the-road feel to it. Can you tell us more about the creative process behind it?"

Alex leaned back in his seat, appearing more relaxed as he delved into the band's creative journey. He began to share insights into their writing sessions and the stories behind some of the songs. You listened intently, trying to keep the conversation on track.

As the interview continued, you couldn't help but notice the way Alex's foot subtly brushed against your leg under the table. It sent a jolt of excitement through you, but you had to remain composed.

Throughout the interview, Alex managed to toe the line between playful banter and professional discussion. It was both exhilarating and maddening, knowing that he was purposely teasing you while you had to maintain your facade on camera.

As the interview was getting near the end, you couldn't help but exchange a subtle glance with Alex. It was a silent acknowledgment of the playful dance you'd been engaged in throughout the conversation. He smirked ever so slightly, and you knew he was eager to continue this game behind closed doors.

You wrapped up the interview with a final question about the band's upcoming tour, and Alex provided a thoughtful response.

This would be a tough one to edit - the viewers were none the wiser about your romantic involvement - but you were proud of your ability to mostly maintain your professionalism.

Once the cameras stopped rolling, Alex wasted no time. He leaned in closer, his arms trailing your body and his lips dangerously close to your ear. "You were amazing, babe," he whispered huskily, sending shivers down your spine.

"Thanks," you replied, your voice trembling with desire. "Are you taking me home now?" You asked, turning to pack your handbag.

"Oh no, cutie pie, I'm having you bent over the very table you were using to interview me." He said calmed, collected and demanding, getting out of his seat and towering you.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Hihiiii 💕

Felt like doing this one today, it's been long forgotten on my askbox, sorry, my love.

I hope you enjoy it anyway ❤️ (it was wrote while I has high on sleep meds and not prof read)

Lmk if you'd like to be tagged in my posts s2

As always, love you 💕

~ Bella

[kelloggsenthusiast]

requesting a fic about our physics teacher😍😘 ;) extra smutty!!!!!!!!! can he also say something a long the lines of "I don't see effervescence but you are definitely about to combust" thanks xxx

_sports Capt.

I am so sincerely sorry.

After hours

Teacher faceclaim: Cillian Murphy

Cw: atrocious smut.

A/N: don't go fuck your teachers guys.

This is the point of no return.

The tensions in the lab was palpable. You had come to him for help on one particular physics question that you had been struggling with for the longest time. You needed to cover all grounds with finals around the corner.

Or at least that's the excuse you gave everyone. The truth is, you've had a crush on your physics teacher since the tenth grade.

You knew it was wrong- he was you teacher. He had a wife and a daughter in the grade below.. but you'd be damned if you were graduating without doing something about this uncontrollable desire for him.

"are you paying attention?" He asks when he notices that you've zoned out.

"yeah, of course," you lie without stuttering. Your eyes flicker to his and you notice him looking at you with lust. But it's gone so quickly that you doubt that it was even there in the first place.

"so it works on the principal of thermionic emission..." He says before your mind trails off again. You stare at his lips as he explains. You wondered many times how they would taste, if you could just-

"y/n," he calls. "You and I know you're not here for me to teach you anything. At least nothing school related."

You smirk. Took him long enough.

"so will you teach me what I came here to learn, Jacob?" You ask. Without hesitation, he grabs your neck and presses a heated kiss to your lips.

"this will get both of us into so much trouble," he says between kisses. "But I can't help but want the trouble that comes with you."

You let out a breathy moan as his free hand grabs your breast and starts massaging it. You grip his shirt and kiss him back with all your might, tasting your own cherry flavored lipgloss on his lips.

His hand trails lower and goes under your gray skirt, crumpling your uniform. His fingertips brush against your pussy, sending a jolt of pleasure though your body.

"you're not even wearing panties? How long have you planned this out for?" He mocks as his fingers slip between your folds, stroking your warm, wet cunt. You moan.

"you're trouble y/n," he growls before turning you and bending you over the table. He lifts your skirt to reveal you glistening pussy to him.

"look at how wet you are, you needy slut," he growls as he pushes his middle finger and ring finger into you. The cold metal of his wedding ring causes your body to jolt with an additional layer of sick, twisted pleasure.

The headmaster could walk in at any moment, or his daughter. But that only added more fuel to this fire in your stomach.

His hand suddenly comes down on your ass with an Almighty smack. the pain quickly vanishes, leaving pleasure in its wake.

"please sir," your whimper, like a bitch in heat.

"please what? What do you want me to do for you, y/n?" He asks as he begins to glide his fingers in and out of your slick pussy.

"fuck me, please," you moan. "Need you inside me, right now."

"anything for my best student," he says before taking his fingers out of you. You hear him undo his pants and the next thing you feel is his long, think member pressing against your full ass.

He lines his throbbing member up with your soaking entrance and presses the tip against you, making you release a needy moan.

"please, sir," you beg. "Fill me up, please."

Your wish is his command as immediately the words leave your mouth, your pussy is filled balls deep with his thick, girthy shaft.

Without warning, he begins to pound relentlessly into you. You begin to moan out loud,not caring about all the noise you were making.

"if you don't shut up right now, y/n, I'm going to stop immediately," he grunts into your ear as he adjusts his angle, hitting you g-spot with every thrust of his hips.

You begin to gyrate your hips against his with every thrust of his cock, tightening the knot in your stomach.

His ruts get faster and he brings one of his hands to your front to flick your clit, adding more and more pressure with every thrust.

That is what send you over the edge.

You feel your orgasm from the crown of your head to the tips of your toes. You had been holding back for so long that it felt good to finally cum all over the cock you had been dreaming about for the last three years.

He came soon after you did, pumping your pussy full of his white, heavy load. Some of it leaked out when he pulled away from you, but he quickly scooped it up with and fingered it back into you, making you shiver at the sensation.

"this never happened, y/n, am I clear?" He says after fixing himself up.

"yes sir," you whisper, still discomposed.

Like you would ever tell.

Sorry iwas unable to use the prompt. It was already unserious as it was😭

- sadie

Taglist: @pepsfootstool-69 @rockstarnk

[texasthoughtsaboutnothing]

The Stranger and my thoughts on where each LCB Sinner is at (Long)

Hey, I actually sat down and read L'etranger, Meursault's source novel. I've got some fucking feelings about it, especially relating it to Limbus Company and what it might mean for his Canto in like 2 years.

Firstly, you should read or listen to this book. It's short, surprisingly punchy, and easy to follow. I (probably) don't have autism but I can absolutely see a read of this where the character does or is neurodivergent in some other way; beyond his relationship and evaluation of social queues and norms he also seems to deal with sensory issues. There are better people than me who should talk about this and I'm probably not adding a lot to the conversation but keeping this reading in my head for the climax added an extra layer of discomfort (intentional discomfort for the benefit of the story's message, I should say) to the whole book. But It's worth experiencing even if you disagree with that reading or have a different one.

Limbus Brainrot/Spoiler stuff from here on in.

There's always the question of where exactly each Sinner is in their story as they're on the bus. Their stories have been reinterpreted and/or jumbled in ways that make it fun to guess, so to go over each Sinner and where they are based on what we know or my theories:

Yi Sang - I'm not gonna front, I don't really get The WIngs, but this seems like a Good End AU for him. He already escaped his "Wife's" control and the sunless room and is now flying again (metaphorically, or maybe literally? i dont know help me).

Faust - Likely in the middle of the part where she's using Mephistopheles' power to do good in the world and prior to her being damned to hell. Side note, she's last to get a Canto and I bet it's not a coincidence that (afaik) she and Dante are the only two with Hell in their stories directly. My long shot call is that Faust is also Beatrice and there will be so much DantexFaust ship art in 2026.

Don Quixote - The biggest enigma. La Sangre de Sancho has gripped the imagination of the fandom and I am no exception. She's next after Heathcliff so we'll get her some time in August at the latest and I can't wait. My best guess is she's currently gallivanting and will be forced home in her Canto, assuming Don is Sancho theory isn't true. Praying her Canto is called The Impossible.

Ryoshu - In Hell Screen, the reason the painter is obsessed with torture is that he can only paint what he has seen and is trying to paint the Buddhist Hell. In his quest for his art he destroys his life and those around him, and ends up committing suicide over it. But there is a villain in the form of the Lord who beyond driving the story by requesting the screen in the first place is guilty of SA and murder. I'm expecting we're post story; the Lord is related to the five fingers, the daughter might be recast as a friend or something, and the sword Ryoshu carries is likely the screen. Nothing revolutionary in my guesses here, but it's either going to be that straight-forward or insanely abstract, where she's the lord and the painter and the daughter and the screen and the sword is the monkey or some shit.

Hong Lu - I have not yet read Dream of a Red Chamber, it's next on the list. Forgive me!

Heathcliff - Oh boy. Like many, I expect he is post-spurning by Catherine and is on his journey for his fortune on the LCB. So, his Canto will be about coming home to a beloved who is with someone else. Yes, the beloved blorbo will suffer for my amusement. Let's go 3 hours Heathmael sex scene!

Ishmael - We now know her story already kinda happened, as many expected, making this a bizarre sequel to Moby Dick. I think it gave PM a lot of room to do whatever they wanted to while still sticking to the themes of the story. Already wrote about what I loved about this and the recontextualizing of Ahab as a whale unto herself (which I don't actually know if it's in the original novel, but it wouldn't surprise me).

Rodion - A weird one. Her inciting incident happened, the murdering of the landlord/pawnbroker, but the unintentional death of the innocent sister was shifted to the entire damn block. So if I had to guess she's in the period after her crime trying to avoid being caught, but no police officer allegory has really been introduced yet. I read Crime and Punishment years ago so I can't say for certain but it feels the most loosely adapted and suffers a tad for being part of the intro. Rodya's story is in no way finished so it's up in the air. Praying for a Petrovich just so people can meet the OG Columbo.

Sinclair - Still need to read Demian, but I have a rough understanding of the plot. Also unfinished in his story, Sinclair has a long way to go to his self-realization. This feels more intentional however, I remember someone made an observation of Cinqlair as representative of his drunken college years where he's popular but unfulfilled, and I think we can extend that to all of his IDs. He seems to have the most potential of all the Sinners, so much so that I wouldn't be surprised if there's a mirror world where he's a Color unto himself. I digress, the point is he's pre Frau Eva (who if she turn's out to be the Purple Tear I will lose my mind) who is also called Beatrice at some point so what's up with that PM?

Outis - Another big mystery, especially as she isn't Odysseus but Outis, a name referencing a particular part of the Odyssey with the Cyclops. I have to imagine she's on the Odyssey, journeying home after the Smoke War (which might have some parallels with the Trojan War beyond the obvious). It's interesting all the Greek myth named Abnormalities are Hospital themed, might be something there but nothing I can parse from my limited knowledge of Greek society and folklore. While she' might be a traitor, I'm thinking she's joined Limbus Company to hide while on her journey; she might be wanted dead by something and is concealing her identity after what happened in the war.

Greg - Again, a character post-story. He was locked in a room, he metamorphized, and... well he's alive? So we've diverged from the source novel, as it's taken the allegorical meanings and made them more literal, but Hermann is still around and a major player so who knows where this will go?

Meursault - I have so many thoughts. Meursault could be anywhere in his story, but I'm going to guess it's one of two places. First guess, we're completely pre story. His Canto opens with him getting a message that Maman died today, or maybe yesterday, he doesn't know. So the whole story plays out over the course of the Canto. But more likely, and my prediction, is that he's currently in "jail" awaiting his execution or acquittal. He has already murdered a man (or done some other crime) and instead of being tried for that, he has been tried and sentenced for his peculiarities of character. Bound in the chains of others, the multitudes have tightened their hold (I'm very clever and not cringe at all).

So I have to wonder what light blinded him, overwhelmed him so much that it led to his crime? The Bright Nights and Dark Days are an obvious choice, and I'm not the first to suggest it. Perhaps he distorted? Anyway, his story ends with him having given up on acquittal and instead hoping for a crowd of people hating him as he approaches the guillotine. I'm super interested in how this will play out in Limbus, especially as he must survive for gameplay purposes.

Also, Meursault is so horny. Like, oh my god. Half of his thoughts are of Marie, specifically of wanting her and all the connotations that contains. He spurns God in the face of a Chaplain, saying that He is worth nothing compared to a single hair on a woman's head. Meursault is not a romantic but not just some horndog either, his desire for sex and women and their bodies feels like an extension of his worldview centered on the immediacy of life and not just debauchery or hedonism. It's a part of the idea life is lived as today, yesterday, and tomorrow, and there is joy and happiness in that simplicity. I feel like this will get cut for Limbus but I hope it isn't, I want Meursault to casually admit he desires every Sinner on the bus carnally (yes the men and NB too, probably just a HC but I do believe that the City is a binormative society based on its already loose relationship to gender identity).

So uh, that's the thoughts so far. Merry Christmas, I guess.

[pumpkin-patch-chronicles]

Leg Day

By: PumpkinPatchChronicles

Jacob: "Nuh...and...FIVE!"

The leg press came down with a hard thunk, Jacob having just finished his leg day routine for the night. His quads, calves, knees, ankles, everything below his waist was feeling the burn of an intense workout...and Jacob loved it. While he regularly worked out every part of his body, his legs were by and large his biggest pride. His body worked in a way that it put more mass in quicker time on his legs than any other part of him. This used to embarrass him, but now in his early 20's he loved it, and loved the envy he'd get from others on his leg's massive size.

Chad: "Damn bro, I could only dream of getting legs as yoked as yours."

John: "What do you feed those things man, they're massive."

Troy: "Bro says leg day every day, frfr."

Jacob: "Heh, thanks guy. I'm just lucky I guess."

Jacob being the attention hoe he was would wear the shortest shorts he could get away with at the college gym to show off his massive hairy tree trunks. They were thick in every way all around, covered in a layer of light blond hair that was silk soft to the touch. He'd flex his legs constantly at the gym even if it wasn't leg day, slap them while flexed as hard as he could get them, he was even flexible enough to sit on the ground and rub his face on his thick calf muscles, teasing his friends (and any on-lookers giving him the attention he wanted). He really did embrace his monster thighs with full vigor, and the constant compliments and praise only increased that embrace even more.

As he left, he said his usual goodbyes to his gym mates and walked back to his dorm. The Summer air was still and humid, adding to the sweat that'd built up on his thick muscles and hair. To many it'd probably feel gross or uncomfortable, but to him it felt amazing. It was the sign of a good lifting day and the promise of more size to gloat with to his peers. Smile on his face, twilight greeting the night, he made his way through the courtyard, into the main hall, up the four flights of stairs and down the end of the hall to his dorm.

Entering he was greeted with his usual sight; a small entry hall with two small walk-in closets flanking either side, opening into a large singular room with two beds and desks opposing each other. The massive singular window (which was the only source of natural light to the space) had it's light-out curtains fully closed, leaving the warm light of the desk lamps to bring the space to life. The AC was on full blast, and as soon as it hit his legs, he felt a rush of cool relief, Jacob letting out a sigh of satisfaction.

Jacob sat his gym bag in his desk chair and looked around the room. His roommate was nowhere to be found, and looking back at the entrance found a note taped to the other side of the door.

-Hey man, I'll be at Malissa's for the weekend, enjoy the room big guy. Malcolm.

Jacob: "Sweet, looks like I get a whole weekend of fun time."

In accepting his legs, he also grew a fetish to the size and feeling of them. His routine (when he could get some alone time) was to strip down to everything but his socks and sneakers, get his 8 incher good and hard, and bend himself to rub it on his thick hairy tree trunks until he unloaded all over them, licking up the warm seed off with dazed pleasure. Tonight would be extra sweet, considering his legs were still sweaty from the workout and Summer weather.

In no time Jacob stripped completely down, laid up on his bed, flexed his legs and began massaging his meat.

Jacob: "Fuck yeah, I'm gonna smother you guys in cream tonight. God I can't wait to lick you guys clean."

Jacob worked his cock intently for nearly half an hour before it was fully primed and ready to go.

Jacob: "Alright, time to feel these powerful hams up!"

With that Jacob began rubbing his flexed legs, feeling the sweat and hair run through his fingers. Jacob's face fell into a dazed pleasure as his cock twitched to the feeling of his massive flexed quads and calves, his toes curling in his socks and shoes. As he flexed he noticed his legs were locking up quite a bit, which wasn't really unusual, it was just happening more frequently than usual.

Jacob: "Uh, shit guys. Don't tell me you're already maxing out before we get to the good part."

Despite the unusual behavior of his best attributes he kept going. More and more his legs flexed harder and stiffer, Jacob rubbing them with his hands and cock intensely. He wasn't close to climaxing, but his pre was already starting to leak and mingle with his sweat. Jacob's legs began to spasm, something Jacob had not experienced before, but it didn't slow him down. His legs kept flexing, and spazzing, and flexing harder, until in a moment of close-eyed pleasure Jacob heard two loud pops.

In moments Jacob no longer felt his legs, not in the fact that they had disappeared, but in the fact that he couldn't register the feeling of his hands or cock on them. Puzzled he looked down at them only to discover that his legs, twitching and flexing as hard as they could, had come completely separate from him, revealing flaps of skin surrounding a singular hole in the center of each.

Jacob: "H-HOLY SHIT! THE FUCK HAPPENED?!?!"

In fear and concern Jacob lifted his pelvis to see if he was in danger of bleeding out, but found that just like his now separated legs, the ends of his legs (now stumps) were covered in a flap of skin with a singular hole in the dead center. Still shaken and nervous Jacob registered that he wasn't in danger, then stared down at his once connected beast thighs, still flexed hard and twitching as if trying to move on their own. The more Jacob looked on at his separated legs, the more his nerves relaxed (and the more aroused he became at the sight of them). After a solid ten minutes Jacob was fully calm again and now contemplating his current situation.

Jacob loved his legs, so much so that he'd contort his body to get closer to them. Now detached, his mind raced with fantasies of sexual conquest against his hairy giants...his eyes widening at the prospect, mouth watering with intent. Throwing all caution to the wind he went to grab his left leg (arguably slightly bigger than his right). As his hands grabbed at the massive slippery hairy quad he felt the solidness of his muscles, the soft grunge of his sweaty leg hair, maintaining it's flexed position, twitching all the while.

No longer being attached, his leg was intensely heavier than when attached. He struggled to pull it closer, but once he had his quad leaning against his shoulder his sex drive took over. He immediately rubbed his face hard into his inner thigh, the thick muscle and sweaty hair commingling with the stubble on his chin and cheeks. His right hand took his cock and forced the now plump and leaking shaft into his massive flexed left calf, his erection twitching hard at the feeling of his lower leg's power and masculinity. He was now lost in pleasure of his own detached leg, raptured in the sensations of his own power, fantasizing it as another man's leg he was worshiping.

As he licked, rubbed, and squeezed his left giant, he looked to his right giant, still laying in the bed flexing and twitching away and got an idea. He positioned his crotch and erect cock square with the hole on the nub of his right leg, pulling the flexed beast closer to his now constant leaking shaft. With some positioning and careful coordination, he inserted his erection into his right thigh, taking his left leg flipped over in his hands to show the back of it, thrusting into one while licking and rubbing his face into the other. His face was red and drooling with passion as his saliva built on the hairy, sweaty, flexing unit of a left leg, his cock mastering his flexing unit of a right leg.

Jacob lost in his ecstasy went at his legs for nearly an hour before he was finally hitting his point of climax. Tongue fully embraced in his hairy left calf, he thrust his thick 8 incher in one final time, releasing shot after shot of hot, thick cum into his right hairy thigh. Through the moans and fidgeting, he unleashed his full force into his detached legs until his balls heaved in conclusion. Jacob sat leaning against his bed header, his face resting against his left flexing calf, his cock twitching runoff into his now cum filled (and over leaking) right flexing thigh. He was truly sexually liberated, his once most undesired, now desired above all attributes living toys for his pleasure. After five minutes off coming down from his high, he pulled himself out of his right beast, his mind already on ideas for round two.

Jacob: "I think the two of you and I are going to have an amazing weekend. I love you guy."

With that he kissed his left calf and began shifting the positions of his detached worship tools for a second round of wild, aggressive, unrestricted sexual debauchery. He was (for the weekend and God knows how long) in true bliss.

[maplleaf]

"Snow and Stars"

Dainsleif x gn!reader

{cw: Dain pining harder than when Khaenri'ah got destroyed}

BRO I HAD THIS IN MY DRAFTS FOR LIKE 2 MONTHS AND NEVER GOT AROUND TO CONTINUING IT 💀

You sighed, the calming warmth after hours of walking around the cold mountain that is Dragonspine finally hits you. The curse that the Gods gave hurts as hell sometimes, but it does ive an extra layer of resistance to the cold.

Surviving the Cataclysm as a Khaenri'ah citizen seems more like a curse than a blessing. The literal curse that the Gods inlaid upon you is a sore thumb. Not wanting to gain attention from people; and possibly Gods, you retreated to Dragonspine. The barren snowland making it easy for you to blend in, it's been like that for the past 500 years.

Unfortunately someone at the Adventurer's Guild decides it would be great to start using Dragonspine as the 'peak of an adventurer's strenght', causing many adventurers to come here.

The sudden interests of adventurers made you uneasy. They pop up unexpectedly in Dragonspine when the only reason you're here is to avoid people for fuck's sake!

You swear to your long-gone homeland that the adventurer would get frostbite.

Just as your legs were starting to feel less numb, you hear footsteps coming from behind.

"Shouldn't you be resting somewhere more safe?"

Ah yes, that deep and recognizable voice. "Dain, you need something?" Just as you looked back, you realized how Dain isn't looking the best as usual, "abyss fight again?"

"You could describe it as that," Dainsleif sat besides you. It's common to see the Twilight Sword alongside you. As the few Khaenri'ah survivors of the Cataclysm who still has their humanity left, the both of you got along well.

You both stayed quiet whilst looking at the corrupted dragon's heart in front of you two; the heavier air doesn't affect the both of you but it does give warmth around the cave. "It's really unsettling that the heart is still beating..." you commented.

Dainsleif chuckled, "then look for another cave to seek warmth, a fire would suffice."

You disregarded his idea with a scoff, "with all the adventurers running around? No thanks. They'll end up dragging me to Mondstadt as a new species of hilichurl or something."

You leaned back against the red ground you're sitting on, feeling much more at ease with the calming warmth and no sounds of anyone else nearby, and of course the added safety from Dainsleif. "So, are you here to regain some energy or just to comment on my life decisions?"

"I wanted some companion, that's all," Dainsleif answered truthfully. After seeing his past soldier back at the Chasm, he wanted some time to be with someone from his past again; even if the two of you didn't know eachother back then.

"A companion," you couldn't help but laugh, "worked out well last time." Dainsleif's lack of words made you feel guilty for the jab, "but I'm glad you came to me, the snowy mountains started to feel lonely."

When the traveler's sibling joined the abyss, Dainsleif devoted his next hundreds of years to prevent them from destroying Teyvat. He expected it to be a long and lonely path; to which his expectations are broken when he finds himself befriending someone with the same curse as him within the snowstorms of Dragonspine.

"It is much safer at least," Dainsleif glances at you; the last person he knows from his homeland that, like him, prefers the peace that reigns over Teyvat now.

He doesn't remember the exact moment when he fell for you, his feelings more like raindrops than a hard pouring rain that comes out of nowhere. Your presence brings him comfort he thought he didn't deserve anymore, sometimes he feels that he doesn't even deserve you.

Even with all those thoughts, Dainsleif still finds himself getting closer to you, and he's scared.

Dainsleif have lost too many things; his homeland, his people, his companion. Thoughts about you leaving him when he's vulnerable, or some kind of disaster taking you away makes him scared.

The Twilight Sword would rather distance himself away than to see you in danger. Chances are is that Dainsleif himself is the person who would endanger you with all the enemies he made.

You couldn't help but glance at the former knight. I's rare to see Dainsleif look so, for the lack of a better term, absent-minded. You've seen him focused before, yet it's the first time he has this expression.

Your hand subconsciously start to move as you fall into temptation.

Poke

The twilight sword held the cheek that you poked with your finger, a small hue of pink shades his face; it's almost invisible if you're not looking at it closely, "What're you doing?"

You couldn't help but smile at his adorable reaction. It's probably the first and last time you'll see him flustered, so it's best to savor the moment.

"Nothing," Dainsleif didn't seem too convinced with your answer but brushed it off anyway.

You wonder how long it'll take for him to realize that you know about his infatuation towards you.

[sunlightandsuffering]

Lys, what's the deal with frat boy Eren and feminist Mikasa's past? I know they met at least in high school and are neighbors, that their friendship took a turn for the worse. Did Eren take Mikasa's virginity in high school or college?

omgomg, okay this is getting added to my drabble doc lol, so don't be alarmed if I copy and paste this and ur ask appears again on another post lol!!! But honestly I think I have to figure them out, I really like them being like chilhood friends first, like it jsut adds a fun extra layer to their dynamic! Bc they can drive back home from school together and u have their moms conspiring to get them together and Mikasa is like I HATE HIM!! And u know they do Christmas Eve together and shit lmfaoooo and it causes MUCH chaos !!! BUT i think i wrote a drabble that sort of explains it already, don't know where it went tho lmfao.

But basically, at some point in high school, Mikasa goes Feminist Ultra TM and it becomes part of her personality, and Eren is all for it at first. AND THEN, it begins bc men are awful and Eren is like hOW AM I SUPPOSED TO COMPETE WITH THIS!?!?!? Bc all of Mikasa's friends start getting boyfriends and as occurs in high school relationships, drama ensues and jealousy and it all just poisons Mikasa against men further. And there is Eren, her best friend, 'only man she trusts' AND HE'S BASICALLY BEEN COCK BLOCKED MY FEMINISM!!! She's like I'm never dating, ew men. And Eren is sitting there like 😦😧🧍🏻 I AM A MAN??? I found the drabble tho i'll paste it at the bottom and u can sort of see what I'm going for? Idk if it makes sense tho lol!! Essentially tho, Eren is kind of hopeless bc Mikasa is always hating on men, and he's like a little kid, any attention is good attention, even if it's bad. And so he become MENINIST EREN !! Just bc it gets a rise out of her, and at the very least, she's looking at him now as more than just her wholesome best friend who doesn't count as a man lmfao.

As for the virginity part, as much as I'd love for it to be in high school and have them like have a more solid history, I think it happens in college purely bc that's just where their relationship really sparks ! But idk i gotta get my thoughts together before I write a HARDCORE drabble for them, this was just me spitballing i think

It’s not that Eren hates women. He doesn’t, he really doesn’t, he actually loves women, adores them. 

Mikasa, his childhood best friend turned enemy, well she just brings it out in him. 

He loves watching her get riled up, the fire in those beautiful silvery eyes of hers, it was intoxicating. Fighting became foreplay, and before he knew it, he was a glorified meninist, whatever the fuck that is. 

He can still remember the day it started, the tenth grade probably, Mikasa merrily stomping into class, armed with new knowledge: the wage gap, benevolent sexism, implicit gender bias. And Eren had watched, with horrified eyes as his tender spark of romance with the world’s most beautiful girl, the love of his life was crushed, lit aflame right in front of him… by fucking feminism of all things. Because how was he supposed to compete with a concept, even attempt a relationship when there were limitless facts about how awful men were? How was he supposed to compete with the faults of mankind? Thus, Mikasa didn’t date, she was waiting for a boy so perfect, that he could combat sexism itself, a feminist ally she said. 

Newsflash, they didn’t really exist, at least not in Eren’s experience, and thus, Eren became the very antithesis of everything she represented. And well, here they are. 

He’d been intrigued the first time it happened, an accident at a frat party when she was too drunk to remember much of anything at all. They’d made out a little before snuggling in his bed and Eren had slept contently for the first time in years.

He’d woken up the following morning to a scowl on her face and a hand on his dick, demanding he teach her what all the fuss was about. They’ve been enemies with benefits ever since. 

And Eren finds that despite their rabid dislike of one another, that he quite enjoys their new dynamic.

[unfortunate--moth]

Okay- Meiko I'm getting VBS Meiko vibes- like she killed someone in the past and then went into hiding as a cafe owner.

Rin I want to say Empty Sekai, but I have no idea how she'd even access another person to kill them-

(I am going to say we are going to have OOC these guys. A little bit. A smidge. If we want some of this killer stuff.)

Rui, I want to say- I could totally see him killing someone who broke into his house, like as a sort of self-defense thing. He has so many metal, heavy objects and machines so it wouldn't be hard. The guy didn't necessarily threaten him, but Rui was scared, so he preemptively smashed something against their head. I like to imagine him as having a bit of a sadistic streak, so I'd like to think even though he didn't set out to kill someone, he didn't exactly hate it.

Kanade, I can see a fit of anger thing, maybe. Like Mafumom is speaking with her, and she feels a sudden rush of adrenaline and anger and she pushes Mafumom, and she ends up cracking her head on the floor - something like that?

Airi, I'm thinking sort of opposite to Kanade, a rabid fan lunges at one of the other MMJ members, maybe with a knife or something, and Airi intervenes and the attacker dies in the scuffle. Out in public, maybe, for the extra added layer of "Oh shit that idol just killed someone".

(Can you tell I love self defense law and how far it can stretch)

Akito, I really want to go full murderer. His ego gets bruised so hard that he just has to take it out on something, and he snaps and kills someone. He fully hides the body afterwards. He feels horrible, but he intended to do it in the heat of the moment.

- Milgranon

OOOOOO

milgranon continues to amaze me with their brilliance and how they can think of things so easily. genuinely though you come up with these so fast i struggle so much with this stuff lmao. i love coming up with ideas! really bad at expanding on them and writing them

im really obsessed with these sorry i seem like low energy though i just got back from work and im so tired but ough the airi one specifically is so delicious to me like literally a murder seen by millions of people. thats fucking wild. i love the idea of that. youre so fucking smart and your brain is huge

[byullielle]

Spoiled Rotten // Lee Know x Han Jisung

Certain situations where you'd simply think, "Minho really is in love with Jisung, isn't he?"

Tags: Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Minsung, Cuddling, Mentions and Discussions of Anxiety, Light Angst, Est. Relationship, No Reader Involved,

disclaimer: if talking about mental health affects you negatively the more sensitive part is right under 'A Bad Day,' if you don't like discussions of mental health and mild angst, scroll down to 'The Masterful Cat'. i am in no way putting words into jisung's mouth, this is fictional and may inaccurately depict how he's feeling these days.

The Twitter Incident

"You don't follow Minho hyung's private twitter?" Seungmin raises his head from the couch as Jisung furrows his brows at him, "He has a private twitter?"

"Dear god," Jeongin groans and flops a pillow on his face, making Jisung recoil in confusion a bit. "I'm...sorry?"

"No no not you, hyung," Jeongin exasperatedly sighs while furiously scrolling through his phone, "Minho hyung needs to though cause what I know now is infuriating," he starts to ramble on, Jisung still confused about what the fuck was even happening. And before Jeongin could pull it up Seungmin is shoving the phone into Jisung's hand, Minho's private Twitter account opened.

"I was about to ask where you ate yesterday," Seungmin explains, "Because of the recent post,"

"Oh god," Jisung could feel his cheeks heat up as he scrolls, it was the same pattern; text tweet, cat retweet, and three Jisung tweets with the sappiest, cringiest captions known to man. It wasn't a surprise that Minho loved silently doting on Jisung but this was a whole layer he had yet to grasp from Minho's cold dead hands. "Honestly, it's like following a Jisung fansite except it's all lovey-dovey and gross," Jeongin mutters before Minho enters the room, "What's gross and lovey-dovey?"

The three jolt up in shock, a startled noise escaping Seungmin as he grabs his phone from Jisung while the latter lets out an embarrassed squawk. The older man looks at the three of them with suspicion, his cat eyes scanning each of them one by one before Jeongin decides to speak up, "Seungmin hyung, let's get a drink?" he gently nudges, shooting an apologetic look towards Han who looks absolutely betrayed. "Traitor," he mumbles under his breath, still embarrassed with the current information he has now.

"What happened?" Minho raises a brow, slightly accusatory towards Jisung before he stammers and scrambles around for words, "You have a fansite of me?!"

"What?!" Minho replies in shock back, the two of them staring at each other like they've grown extra heads.

"Y-Your private twitter!" Jisung points at him, "W-Why's your private twitter so...full of me?! And why am I not in it?"

Minho takes a while to process it before it connects. "Kim Seungmin," he deathly growls out and Jisung scrambles up to his feet to delay Seungmin's further demise. "Calm down,"

"No. You've found something I have to take someone to the grave for,"

"I-" Jisung blocks his path, a cute pout on his lips, "I'm not mad about...you posting me," he finishes as Minho's brows quirk up a bit, mildly surprised before shrugging like he wasn't livid the other minute.

"Is that so," he hums

"But lessen your posts about me, geez hyung," Jisung shyly mutters before Minho chuckles and pinches Jisung's ear between his fingers, gently cajoling his face closer, "Your ears are red,"

"So are yours," Jisung frowns and Minho places a soft and chaste kiss on his jutted-out bottom lip, "For the record, nobody can stop me,"

Jisung groans and pushes Minho away playfully, his face still steadily heating up as he covers his ears. "Fine, play it your way,"

And after Kim Seungmin's funeral—Jisung kicked Minho out of his own private twitter. Unless his boyfriend added him, he could post all~ the Minho pictures his little quokka heart so desires.

Cheesecake (and how to bait a boyfriend with it)

Minho sighs in relief as he removes the lock around the freshly refrigerated cheesecake. Felix helped him throughout most of the process, even borrowing the utensils he always used to make pastries and to say he was proud of himself was quite an understatement. He excitedly pulls his phone out and takes a picture, immediately sending it to Jisungie. Basically throwing the line into the water.

And before Minho could even close his phone, Jisung replies. After the quick exchange, he inputs a pod into Seungmin's coffee maker, ice into the glass it dispenses it into before making a mental note to pay him back after. In 6 minutes tops, Jisung knocks on their door before letting himself in, Minho's back turned to him with the kitchen sink up and running.

"Ah you're here," he looks back to see Jisung dressed in the biggest hoodie (assuming he stole it from Chan's laundry), making him look way smaller than he already is. "Go take how much you like, I made cheesecake," he instructs while rinsing off the spatula he used.

Jisung's brows rise up in pleasant surprise, "You made cheesecake,"

"I made you cheesecake, don't get it twisted," Minho clarifies which makes Jisung giggle as he walks up to the kitchen counter, Americano to pair with the sweet treat. "Thanks hyung," Jisung shyly thanks him before observing the perfect slice, seeing the entirety of the cake by the corner, "It looks and smells great," he mutters while placing the plate close to his nose.

"I didn't want to mess it up by adding extras so soon so you have to deal with a plain one,"

Jisung beams up at him with all his heart-mouth glory. "If hyung makes it it's immediately my favorite thing," he gushes before taking a forkful and pops it into his mouth. Minho stops washing the dishes momentarily to look at his reaction. He doesn't quite hum the way he does if extremely likes a cheesecake flavor but his eyes light up nonetheless, hand held up to his mouth and his brows shooting for the skies, "Tastes healthy," Jisung beams after he finishes the one bite before immediately taking another.

Relieved rather than pleased, Minho turns to the dishes and takes a mental note to make it a bit sweeter next time. Maybe add a few berries so that he doesn't go into a sugar crash.

Wiping his hands dry, Minho notices that Jisung has taken the liberty of picking up another slice. He sits beside Jisung, watching him stuff his face. Contentment floods his system, simply satisfied with watching and being around Jisung. Safe to say his main reason for making the cheesecake was successful.

He suddenly finds himself face to face with a fork loaded with a piece of cheesecake. He looks up at Jisung with a confused look until he gets the message to 'just take a bite hyung'. He shrugs and figures it's useless fighting it as he opens up and takes a bite.

It does taste "healthy" as Jisung describes, which to Minho is not overly sweet and just right but knowing his sweet-tooth of a boyfriend is going to be a little bit lacking. He finally verbalizes it, making Jisung beam up at him sweetly—"I'll make it sweeter next time,"

Lego Flowers

Either way, Jisung sends the link with a victorious smile on his face, knowing damn well that Minho wouldn't pass up an opportunity to say yes to his request. Jisung wasn't demanding by any means, usually gifts given by Minho are unasked yet greatly appreciated. But this time Jisung personally thinks it'll be such a cute idea if he and Minho built flowers together since he has long disproved of Minho sending flowers to the 3RETCHA dorm because they die off too quickly.

"Why are you smiling at your phone like an idiot?" Hyunjin lightheartedly chastises, making Jisung stick his tongue out before locking it and setting it face down on the table. "Why bother asking, you know why," Changbin comments, wiping sweat off his forehead due to his post-workout sending Jisung a look of, 'Question is what did Minho do to make you smile,'

"It's a secret," Jisung answers the wordless question.

Needless to say, he was extremely excited.

The moment Seungmin calls Minho for one Amazon express delivery, he haul-asses to Jisung's dorm���iced americano and lego set on hand. "Oh you're here," Changbin flatly greets while opening the door, making Minho roll his eyes at him before the younger's eyes drift towards Minho's loaded hands, "Ah so that's what he was giggling about 3 days ago," he mindlessly spews out before moving aside for Minho.

He couldn't deny that there was a sense of pride and joy hearing that Jisung was giggly about the entire ordeal. But he kept his mouth shut either way. He makes his way in and Jisung comes bolting out his room with a wide smile on his face, "Hyung! You really got it for me!" he happily saunters to him and takes the box, observing it closely.

"What would you have done if I didn't," Minho sets the Americanos down with a smile, Jisung's excitement very infectious. "Hm? I dunno, I'll buy it myself," he answers before leaning against Minho's shoulder, looking up at his boyfriend with his renowned baby girl eyes. "Thank you hyungie," he smiles, genuine and sweet which makes Minho's heart squeeze up.

"You're welcome Jagiya," he reciprocates the smile and kisses his forehead. "Now help me assemble it!" he excitedly detaches from Minho's shoulder, grabbing both his hand, the lego set, and the coffee into the living room. He pulls the coffee table closer before setting everything down. Minho lets himself be whisked away, weak to Jisung's whims.

In an hour, they've finished three flowers, the other remaining parts on the coffee table while Jisung's legs are comfortably propped up against Minho's legs, his knees turning into some sort of leaning table as they softly talk and bicker while forming the bouquet.

Changbin might've taken a picture of them both should he want a favor from Minho but that's an entirely different story.

A Bad Day

Minho pants out, hands on his knees as he struggles to catch his breath. Once he gets his bearings together and wipes his sweat off, he rapidly knocks on the door to see Chan with relief washing over his features. "He's in his room," he simply supplies, "Get him to eat something too please,"

"I will," he nods before stepping in. He darts to Jisung's room before softly knocking, twisting the knob, and peering inside to see a lump of blankets on the bed. Jisung's head pops out with a small frown etched on his lips Jisung lets Minho in.

"Sorry it's messy," he softly apologizes, barely audible if Minho's proximity wasn't close. It was one way to put it—his bed was undone, expected since he was 100% sure Jisung never left the bed before he came, there were undiscarded cups and three bowls on his desk, and his make-up and skincare were cluttered all over his small vanity and the 'clothes chair,' was already full, a few items on the floor. 

"Go lay down jagiya, I'll just take care of these a bit," Minho slots his hand between the hoodie and Jisung's soft cheeks, caressing the skin with fervor and absolute gentleness before running his hand through his hair quickly.

Jisung just quietly nods, far used to Minho cleaning up after him on bad days. He felt guilty but his boyfriend would make sure he does the job with a smile just to ease the negative feelings off him. 

He starts picking the unused utensils and kitchenware out, pacing around the 3RETCHA dorm to dispose of them quickly. It was relatively quiet–none of the others attempting to ask about Jisung just yet. 

He goes back and sees Jisung cuddled up beneath the sheets, watching his every move as he folds up the clothes piling up on the chair and makes every toppled-down toner or ointment on his vanity stand up straight in an organized pile.

"Thank you," he speaks up from the sheets before Minho approaches and slumps down towards him, making Jisung airlessly gasp and giggle, "Ah hyung," he softly whines while Minho jostles him to the side, sitting up against the headboard before placing Jisung's head on his trusty thighs.

"Hello cutie,"

"Hi hyung," Jisung greets, smile not as wide as he'd prefer but for now it would suffice.

"Bad day?"

"Bad month," he mutters, closing his eyes as Minho cards his fingers through his hair, gently patting it under his white hood. Minho frowns, "Do you want to talk about it jagi?"

Jisung knows that even if Minho is supportive, he couldn't quite word it in a way that would make sense for a person who doesn't regularly go into monthly slumps and bouts of anxiety. Alas, he tries.

"I feel so sucked out of energy hyung. Like not even eating or drinking one of those energy tonics could help," he sighs putting an arm over his eyes as Minho's ministrations halt, "I just wanna lay down all day and not head out but at the same time my subconscious is yelling and fighting me to get up and work. I'm guilty I feel this way," he quietly rambles, voice starting to get a bit shaky, "I thought I could push it down further. I really did, but I just can't," he squeaks.

Minho hums, knowing better than to say anything as he feels Jisung tremble under his touch, a soft sniffle escaping him before sobs wrack his body. "It's okay jagiya," he lovingly loves his back, leaning forward to kiss away the tear streaking Jisung's cheek, "Cry it out okay? I'll be here," he softly whispers as the younger man grasps his hand, just keeping it there for stability as he cries his worries away.

It was hard for Minho to witness Jisung breaking into pieces, and he also carried the knowledge that it'll forever be harder for Jisung. He was so ready to steal the moon and stars for his little quokka, the love of his life and he just so wishes that he could easily kiss every single anxious thought of Jisung away. Although it wasn't as possible as he'd like, there would always be moments like these, and the best he could do is stay.

Petting his hair as Jisung dozes off with tears lining his eyelashes like constellations, Minho sighs out and presses a soft kiss to his lips, leaning back into the headboard before taking his phone out to text Chan, to bring water and a light snack; maybe crackers or rice cakes.

The eldest then peers his head into the door after 5 minutes, food and a drink in tow before setting it down on Jisung's nightstand, mindfully moving carefully so as to not rouse the tired man from his sleep. "He okay?"

"He will be," Minho assures, "He just needs a while,"

The Masterful Cat

With a bag of convenience store snacks, Jisung inputs the code into the Minho + Maknae dorm, not bothering to knock since BokSeungAri were all out, leaving the dorm all to themselves. Minho was already setting the living room TV up when Jisung arrives, their Crunchyroll subscription finally put into good use for a while. "I come bearing gifts!" Jisung lifts the bag up proudly, making Minho softly smile before patting the couch down, "Get comfy, I'll just throw the trash then I'm all yours,"

"Ah, I hope my body pillow would hurry with the chores~" Jisung singsongs while airing out the properly folded blanket. It was fluffy and smelled fresh out of the dryer which makes Jisung somehow extra happy. "Bold of you to assume I'm the body pillow," Minho rolls his eyes before heading out to dump their daily garbage.

Getting himself comfortable, Jisung leans back against the cushions, cradling one of Jeongin's couch pets into his arms while Minho washes his hands and then, dramatically plops himself onto Jisung. A soft 'oof' is knocked out of him before he reaches over for a snack, opening it as Minho presses play on the remote.

They watch and concentrate on the show, Jisung occasionally feeding Minho some chips and quipping about how the cat is so much like Minho, a coy malewife with the penchant for perfection and being a menace. "The animation is a bit too grand," he mumbles as Minho hums, his head on Jisung's stomach. Ever since falling behind on gym, his stomach has gotten way more softer, and he loves it so much.

When the episode ends, Minho groans and stretches, never detaching from Jisung's body before burying his face in Jisung's tummy, reaching behind and giving his ass a comforting squeeze. The younger male just giggles at the slightly ticklish contact. "Hyung~ what are you doing jagiya?" he tilts his head as Minho looks up, "Healing time," he simply supplies, sending blood to Jisung's ears and cheeks. "W-What else do you wanna watch hm?" he reaches for the remote before he makes eye contact with Minho again.

And he couldn't help it, not when his pretty boyfriend is lazily lounging on his stomach just staring up at him with nothing but adoration, does he lean down and capture Minho's lips into a kiss. It isn't heated nor deep, but it made their hearts full, souls happy. SO happy that Jisung couldn't help but smile against his lips before pulling back.

"Something funny?" Minho furrows his brows before the latter shakes his head. "I just love you,"

And Minho smiles, pressing another kiss up his cute lips, slotting together like they were molded for each other to hold, "I love you too, jagiya,"

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