#but are they GOOD for each other the whole time? absolutely not

[glossdebut]

everything i want (a take a bite drabble collection) | MYG

✧ PAIRING: yoongi x fem!reader (TAB!couple)

✧ GENRE: established relationship, fluff, smut, humor

✧ REQUEST: @joonary: hello my dear friend i am here to request something with dilf yoongi 😁 no other specifications go crazy and @beomcoups: I wanted to send you a request with Yoongi and you spend the day at the beach with this prompt "isn't that view beautiful"? It can be sfw or nsfw.

✧ SUMMARY: The best part of being with Yoongi, from the very beginning, was that nothing had to change for either of you. You could be married to Yoongi and to your job at the same time, build your career from the ground up and never sacrifice a thing. But this? Having a baby? It’s all going to be sacrifice. It won’t be just you and Yoongi anymore, living in your precious little workaholic love bubble. Everything is going to change.

✧ TAGS: pregnancy, different stages of pregnancy (conception, morning sickness, early labor, etc.), the smut is crazy but this is mostly soft, TAB!couple are in complete domestic bliss i fear, and they’re married!, yoongi and MC being each other’s voices of reason, TAB!yoongi’s murderous inner monologues make a comeback, rina cameo, baby penny <3, beach episode moment (warnings under the cut because… um…)

✧ WORDCOUNT: 7.6k words

✧ AUTHOR’S NOTE: blame MJ for this. and my m’lady anon for saying i’m always ovulating. *taps mic* min yoongi my womb is empty please call me.

P.S. thank you to tanni @yooniivrse for beta reading <3

P.P.S. i feel like this can maybe stand alone??? but parts of it might be confusing if you haven’t read take a bite in its entirety, so… do that, if you want!

✧ WARNINGS: vaginal fingering, oral (f. receiving), dirty talk, spanking, nipple play, hand/finger kink, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, yoongi calls reader a sl*t in bed but it is all extremely consensual, rough sex, unprotected sex (duh) (but wrap it before you tap it), creampie (double duh)

one —

Yoongi’s being a real good sport about it, but you know you’re being annoying.

Ever since both of you got home, you just… There are things that need to be done, okay? Like unloading the dishwasher. You can’t just leave that for tomorrow, that would be insane. And since you’re unloading the dishwasher, you might as well organize the kitchen cabinets. They’re a mess, and you’re putting away dishes anyway. Why postpone the inevitable?

And Pepper! Sweet, sweet Pepper. She needs to be fed, obviously. You’re not going to neglect your cat, are you? Your cat who has nobody else in the whole world aside from you and Yoongi? The two of you are responsible for a whole life—feline life! Feline life. 

This doesn’t have anything to do with what Yoongi’s eomma said tonight. Absolutely not. 

You are a grown woman. An award winning music journalist with a kickass career and a super hot, famous, rich man by your side. You’re not going to let Yoongi’s eomma get under your skin. You’re just fidgety. Who wouldn’t be after dinner with the in-laws?

You pause mid-kibble pour, staring down at the sparkly, significant thing wrapped around your finger. It’s been over a year, and sometimes you still can’t believe it’s true. Married. Husband and wife. Mr. and Mrs. Min.

The thought makes you relax, just a little. Yoongi is your better half in every sense. Your soulmate. And more than that, he has your back. There’s no reason why you can’t just tell him what you’ve been thinking. What you’ve been thinking for a long time now, really. 

As if he can read your mind, your husband sidles up behind you, wrapping his arms around you as you finish feeding the cat. 

“You wanna talk about it?” he murmurs against the back of your neck.

“No,” you huff, turning in his hold to loop your arms around his neck. “But I think we have to.”

Yoongi hums, dipping down to kiss you softly. “Okay. Let’s talk about it, then.”

With a sigh, you peel yourself away from your husband and head to the couch. This feels like a sitting down conversation. Yoongi sits next to you, pulling you into his body, your head on his shoulder.

“Y/N… You know it’s not a dealbreaker, right? Kids. You know that.”

Tilting your head up, you study his features.

Yoongi is usually so unshakeable. It’s rare that you see him truly nervous, not when it comes to you. Your relationship is so solid, you can’t remember the last time you saw him like this.

“Yoongi, of course I know that,” you assure him immediately, bringing a hand up to cup his cheek.

The two of you had the marriage-and-kids conversation not long after you moved in together. It was the logical thing to do, with how serious things were getting. The marriage part of the conversation was easy. Yeah, duh, you wanted to marry Min Yoongi one day. No shit. 

The kids part, though? That was a little harder. At least for you.

You didn’t know if you wanted kids. The cons far outweighed the pros, especially where your work schedules were concerned, and at the time, you weren’t sure if that would ever change.

Yoongi was amenable about it, though. He wanted what you wanted. Kids, no kids, whatever. You’re pretty sure those were his exact words.

“I’m not freaking out because I think you’re gonna, like, leave me or something.”

“Okay,” he says, visibly relaxing. “Then why are you freaking out?”

“I don’t know!” you groan, pressing your face into his shoulder. “I don’t know.”

“Baby,” he huffs. “This is our decision, not my eomma’s. Nothing’s changed.”

That’s the thing. That’s why you’re so restless.

“Maybe…” Fuck, you can’t sit still for this. So you stand, hoping you can force the words out if you’re pacing. “Maybe things have changed.”

It would be funny, the way Yoongi’s mouth pops open in a little ‘o’, if you didn’t feel like you were about to throw up.

“I just—” You rub your hands over your face, exasperated. And then you’re stopping in front of him, jabbing your finger at his chest. “You’re really annoying, you know. Paternal. Every time I have to watch you play with your brother’s kid I really want to smack you.”

“Paternal?” Yoongi snorts. His hands catch yours, interlaced fingers pulling you to stand between his open legs.

“Paternal,” you sniff. “Stop looking at me like that.”

Of course, that only makes it worse. He looks so fond, even though you feel more and more like you’re dying as you speak. “How long have you been thinking about this?”

“You mean how long has this been plaguing me?” you grumble, earning a laugh from him.

“Yeah, sure,” Yoongi says as he looks up at you expectantly.

You look down at your joined hands, swinging them back and forth so the warm lamplight catches on your rings. “Since we got married, I guess.”

Yoongi squeezes your hands to catch your attention, quirking an eyebrow at you when you glance up. “That long?” he asks, his voice tinged with disbelief. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I didn’t want to tell you until I was sure,” you mumble as your heart threatens to beat out of your chest.

“You’re telling me now,” he points out. He sounds a little unsteady, like he’s feeling just as jittery as you are, now that it’s all out in the open.

“Yeah,” you breathe. “I am.”

“You want a baby?”

You nod, bottom lip catching between your teeth. “I want a baby.”

Before you have a chance to react, Yoongi sits up, pulling you into a kiss with a hand on the back of your neck. Almost as soon as you melt into it, clambering into his lap as your lips slot with his, he’s pulling away. 

“With me, right?” he teases, squawking indignantly when you pinch his sides in retaliation. “Yah, I’m just making sure!”

“Yes with you, asshole!”

two —

You feel a little stupid.

Maybe it’s because you don’t know how to act now. Nobody told you that planning to have a baby would suddenly put so much pressure on sex, but now here you are, standing in the kitchen in a too-tight dress while you try not to burn dinner.

You never cook. That’s Yoongi’s job. But you don’t know what else to do with all this restless energy, don’t know how else to initiate the ‘okay, I’m ready, knock me up’ conversation.

You’ve talked about the important things. You’ve dealt with the birth control issue. You’re taking, like, vitamins and shit now. All that’s left is to… actually try, right?

Except you’re nervous as hell, have been since you woke up to the notification from your cycle tracker informing you that you’re in your fucking ‘fertile window’ (ew!), and you’re suddenly acting like someone you don’t even recognize. Christ, you wonder if Yoongi has been feeling like this, too.

Speaking of Yoongi… He isn’t home yet, and for a moment, you think it’s not too late to just get rid of all of the evidence. Do away with the self-imposed theatrics, order some takeout, and act like it’s just another night. It’s not like Yoongi would mind.

But you’ve already committed to these stupid fucking steaks. And candles. There are candles.

It is too late, anyway. Almost as soon as the thought begins to form in your brain, you hear the sound of keys jangling and a lock turning, and then your future sperm donor himself is slipping his shoes off at the front door.

At least, he’s trying to. He’s got one socked foot out, frozen in his tracks as he takes in the scene before him.

“Did I forget an anniversary?”

You scoff, eyes rolling despite the nausea building inside you. “As if you’ve ever forgotten anything in your life.”

“Point made.”  He kicks his shoes off the rest of the way, nodding his head in the direction of the candles on the table. “Wanna tell me what this is for, then?”

You shrug, poking at the steak sizzling in front of you with a pair of tongs. “I wanted to make you dinner.”

“You don’t do that,” he says, eyeing you suspiciously.

“Well, I felt like it tonight,” you huff in exasperation.

“Okay,” he says, rounding the counter. His eyes rake over your form shamelessly, now that he can see all of you. “And the dress?”

“A girl can’t dress up every now and then?”

“Hey,” he says, raising his hands in surrender. “Not complaining, believe me. Just curious.”

You know you’re being a little bit testy. Evasive. But it’s not your fault. Is there a good way to say ‘I did all of this because I want you to cum inside me tonight’? If there is, you haven’t found it.

Instead, you settle on, “I just felt like it.”

Yoongi hums, sliding behind you so he can wrap his arms around your middle. “Just felt like it, huh?” he mumbles. You can feel his lips on the back of your neck, and it’s dizzying how quickly your body reacts to his proximity. “No ulterior motives?”

“Nope,” you say. It sounds like bullshit, even to you. But how are you supposed to spin a convincing lie when your husband’s hands are on you? Hands that slide from hips to waist to tits as his mouth grows insistent at your nape, making you shiver.

“Shame,” he murmurs, nosing at the curve of your neck until his lips reach the shell of your ear. “I was hoping you wanted me to fuck a baby into you.”

“Fuck,” you breathe. Your legs are already growing wobbly beneath you, and he hasn’t even touched you. It’s pathetic, the way anxiety gives way to anticipation so easily.

Smoothly, Yoongi reaches in front of you to turn off the stove. It’s probably best that you skip dinner, anyway. Those steaks were going to be shit and you both know it.

You’re guided away from the stove, spun around so the small of your back is pressed against the kitchen counter. The room seems to shrink around you with the way you’re pinned under Yoongi’s gaze.

He kisses you, slow and deliberate, your legs growing even weaker at the way his lips slide against yours. You get lost in it for a moment, reveling in the way his body molds to yours as his tongue teases at the seam of your lips. But then he pulls away.

“Why don’t you tell me the truth?” His hands slide down your body to knead your ass roughly, causing the hem of your dress to ride up. “What does my girl want, hm?”

“Yoongi,” you whine, desperate as you reach down to palm him through his jeans.

“Nuh-uh,” he chastises, voice laced with amusement. He grabs hold of your wrist, bringing it up to his lips to press a gentle kiss against your skin. “You’ve just gotta ask, beautiful. You know I’ll give you what you need. I’m not a mind reader, though.”

Annoying. Also patently untrue, but whatever. The point of all of this—the dress, the candles, the dinner attempt—was that you wouldn’t have to say it. But of course, Yoongi never makes things easy for you.

“You already know, though,” you huff. “Don’t be mean.”

Yoongi huffs a laugh, fingers skating teasingly along the hem of your dress. “Okay, baby,” he concedes. “I’ll be nice.”

And then his hand slips under your dress, only to find that you’ve foregone panties for the night. “Shit,” he groans. “You’re gonna kill me.”

The anticipation of the day has left you dripping for him, the pads of his fingers sliding along your cunt with ease. You gasp when he thrusts two digits into you, moan when they curl against your front wall, the sensation sending you climbing up the counter.

“This?” he murmurs against your lips. “This is what you want?”

Suddenly, all of your anxiety from the day washes away. It’s stupid, you realize, to be so scared of just telling him everything you want. He loves when you tell him what you want, loves to be the one to fulfil every single one of your wishes. And right now, while your husband’s fingers fuck into your pussy in the middle of your kitchen, all you want is—

“Fuck me. Please, Yoongi. Need you to fuck me.”

“Yeah?” he growls. “Why?”

“B-because,” you whimper, cheeks flushing as you finally say the words. “W-wanna make a baby with you, wan’ you to give me a baby.”

“Fuck,” Yoongi hisses, nipping at your jaw. The pace of his fingers is slow and steady as heat crawls up your spine. You cry out when his thumb begins to circle your clit, your eyes rolling back in your head at the sensation. “There’s my good girl. I’ll give you what you need, baby, I promise. Just cum for me first.”

He doesn’t have to tell you twice. You’re so fucking wound up, and his fingers feel so good pumping in and out of you, it was only a matter of time before you unraveled for him. 

Wetness gushes around Yoongi’s fingers, the filthy squelch of his ministrations filling your ears. You don’t have it in you to be embarrassed by it. Not when you’re this close. Before you know it, your orgasm is washing over you, leaving you clenching helplessly around his fingers as he mumbles praise into your neck.

“Shit,” you breathe.

Gently, Yoongi withdraws his fingers. “Feel good?”

With a giggle, you nod, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “Mm. We really need to stop using our kitchen for non-kitchen related activities, though.”

“Nah,” he chuckles. “Where’s the fun in that?”

As you catch your breath, you start to feel antsy due to the silence that settles between you two. Everything’s out in the open now, isn’t it?

As if he can sense the shift in your energy, Yoongi presses his forehead against yours, rubbing his hand down your back. “You’re in your head again.”

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, pouting.

“Don’t apologize,” Yoongi murmurs softly. “Just tell me what's wrong.”

You take a shaky breath, closing your eyes for a moment. Better out than in, you suppose.

“I just… There’s all this pressure now that we’re trying to have a baby. I guess I’m just worried we’re not… doing this right.”

“Right?” he repeats, raising an eyebrow at you.

“Like… It’s a big deal, isn’t it?” you say, glancing at your forgotten steaks further down on the counter. “Shouldn’t we treat it like one?”

Yoongi pulls back, eyes widening in understanding. “So… The dress and the dinner.”

“Yeah.”

There’s a pause, and you can’t help but squirm as he studies you for a moment. You desperately wish you knew what he was thinking, but you know Yoongi. He chooses his words carefully, always.

“Do you want to do things differently?” he finally asks.

Huh.

“What?”

Yoongi grins, chuckling as he reaches to intertwine your fingers with his. “Y/N,” he starts, squeezing your hand. “You are the woman of my dreams. It doesn’t matter when or where or how it happens, our baby is going to be made with love no matter what.”

Your heart pangs at that, lips twisting in a contemplative frown as you consider his words. Damn him for making so much fucking sense all the time.

“If you want to do the dinner and the candles and the rose petals and everything else, we can do that,” Yoongi says, pausing to kiss your nose. “I’ll take my time, fuck you nice and slow. Anything you want.

“But I don’t want you to feel nervous about this,” he murmurs, pressing more kisses into your skin until he’s nosing the underside of your jaw. “I could bend you over this counter and fuck you right here, and we’d still be doing things right, as long as it feels right to you.”

Yoongi’s right. You’ve been building up all of these unrealistic expectations for how this night should go, and for no reason. The anxiety that had built a home in the pit of your stomach gives way to something hotter, your eyes fluttering shut as his breath ghosts over your skin.

“I’m sorry,” you sigh, tangling your fingers in his hair as he mouths at your neck. “I don’t want anything to change.” 

“Quit apologizing,” he chastises with a bite to your skin that makes you gasp. “You know what you want. Always so good at telling me, too. So tell me.”

Here goes nothing.

“I want you to take off my dress,” you breathe. It feels like a good place to start. 

Tongue darting out to lick his lips, Yoongi’s gaze roves over your body. “Yeah,” he agrees. “Bedroom? Or here?”

“Bedroom,” you say, gently pushing him out of your space so you can hop off the counter. 

You barely get a chance to steady yourself before Yoongi’s grabbing hold of your hand. You can’t help but giggle at his eagerness as he drags you out of the kitchen, pausing only to blow out the candles you’d lit earlier.

Once he gets you to the bedroom, Yoongi spins you around so you’re facing away from him. You feel the evidence of his arousal against the curve of your ass as he slowly unzips your dress.

“So fucking pretty,” he murmurs, his breath warm against the back of your neck as your dress drops and pools at your feet. His hands roam over your body, squeezing and caressing everywhere he can reach. “How did I get so lucky, hm?”

Turning in his hold, you loop your arms around his neck with a cheeky smile, your naked form pressed against his clothed one. “Through a mutual disdain for square dancing, if I recall correctly.”

Yoongi laughs at that, gummy smile in full force even as he shamelessly fondles your breasts. “You don’t recall correctly,” he teases. “I had to put in a lot of work after that to actually get you, remember?”

How far you’ve both come since then. No more tortured longing. No more misunderstandings. No more fear of taking the leap. All that remains between you now is love. Plain and simple. 

“You had me from day one,” you insist, fondness swelling in your chest. “I didn’t stand a chance.”

It’s so gratifying, witnessing the way you can still fluster your husband after all this time. With pink cheeks, Yoongi ducks his head, attempting to hide a shy smile. “Aw,” he coos, wrapping his arms around your waist. “Do you love me or something?”

Snorting, you bite back a grin. “I do. Very much. And you love me.”

Yoongi hums in agreement. An errant squeeze to your ass, as casual as it may be, reminds you of where you are. Heat floods you all over again, a delicious shiver wracking your body at the reminder of what you’re about to do. As head over heels as you may be for Yoongi, you’d really like to get his cock inside you sometime this year. 

You catch his gaze, raising a challenging eyebrow at him.

“But you can fuck me like you don’t,” you offer. 

In an instant, the softness in Yoongi’s eyes shifts into something else entirely. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, his grip on your ass tightening.

“You’re sure?” he asks, voice so low and gravelly that your cunt clenches in response. You know him well enough to know that he’s giving you one last out, that his control is likely hanging by a thread.

But fuck, you want it. Want to be fucked within an inch of your life, because who knows the next opportunity you’ll have to get it like that once you’re with child?

“I can handle it.”

Yoongi scans your features for a moment, taking in your flushed cheeks and parted lips. The way your body responds to him without a second thought, willing to take anything he wants to give you. If he’s looking for uncertainty, he isn’t going to find any. Not anymore. 

He must be satisfied with what he finds, because before you can react, you’re suddenly on your back, gasping as you’re enveloped in memory foam.

“Spread your legs, baby,” Yoongi says, his hands on your knees roughly guiding your legs to part nice and wide so he can settle between them. “Show me that pretty cunt of yours.”

“Yoongi,” you whimper, fingers instinctively threading into his hair. It’s getting so long lately, so pullable. You might kill him if he tries to cut it anytime soon. “Want your cock, you don’t have to—“

Your pleas are effectively halted when Yoongi spreads your folds with his thumbs, looking up at you with eyes that are all pupil. “You’re this wet for me, and you think I’m not gonna get my mouth on you?” 

He doesn’t give you a chance to respond, surging forward to lick a broad stripe over your pussy. You cry out, back arching and hips kicking off the bed when his tongue flicks against your oversensitive clit.

“Fucking dripping,” Yoongi groans appreciatively. “Holy shit, Y/N.”

The whine that escapes you is pathetic, embarrassment and arousal warring inside you as you rock your hips forward. Luckily, Yoongi gets the hint, dipping down again to swirl his tongue over you.

It’s filthy and loud, the way he sucks and slurps at your pussy like he’s starving for it, can’t get enough. It doesn’t take long before your second orgasm is barreling towards you, thighs trembling on either side of his head as you squirm under him.

“Yoongi, fuck,” you mewl as he laves over your aching cunt, tugging hard at the strands of dark hair caught between your fingers to keep him from pulling away. “I’m gonna cum, like, any second.”

Yoongi hums, tongue lashing at your clit at a pace that almost drives you up the bed. Everything feels so fucking good, so overwhelming, that you can’t hold back any longer. 

You cum hard, a litany of curses and moans falling from your lips as Yoongi works you through it, only letting up when your hands push weakly at his head.

“You’re so worked up, baby,” he teases, although the way he palms himself through his jeans as he climbs over you tells you he’s just as turned on as you are. “You want my cum that bad?”

Your pussy flutters at his words, silently begging to be filled. Fuck. It doesn’t surprise you that your husband knows how to read your body this well, knows exactly how to push all of your buttons, but it still drives you crazy all the same.

“You’re worked up, too,” you huff as you snake your hand under his, feeling the way his erection strains against his jeans. He’s so fucking hard.

“Of course I am,” he agrees, chuckling at your impatience. He pulls his shirt over his head as he speaks, moving to deal with his jeans next. “I’ve got my girl cumming so easily for me, begging for my cock. Why wouldn’t I be worked up?”

“Then fucking do something about it,” you whine, mouth watering when his cock springs free in front of you. You need him inside you yesterday.

In a flash, you’re flipped over roughly so you’re flat on your stomach. 

“So fucking impatient,” Yoongi growls, delivering a sharp slap to your ass that makes you moan.

You feel the heat of his hand dip between your thighs, fingers sliding over your slippery folds, and you can’t help but push your ass back against his touch, knees spreading as wide as they’ll go.

“Look at you. You’re desperate for it.” He sounds almost amazed. You whimper when he slides his fingers from your core, replacing them with the blunt head of his cock. “Well since you wanna act like a slut, I guess I have to fuck you like one, hm?”

Yes. Fucking. Please.

“Please,” you breathe, arching your back prettily for him, wiggling your hips in a way that makes him hiss. “Want it, please.”

Yoongi teases you for a moment, rubbing his tip through your soaked folds, but then the warmth of his body disappears from behind you. “Nah. I changed my mind,” he finally says, smacking your ass once more. “Turn over. I wanna see your face when I cum inside this pussy.”

Oh.

You’ve never moved so fucking fast in your life. Within seconds you’re on your back, and Yoongi doesn’t waste any time either, slotting his body between your legs with ease. You both moan when he finally slides into you, one of his hands coming up to cradle your face.

Yoongi’s always been so patient, much more patient than you. He gives you time to adjust to the stretch of him, his thumb sweetly caressing your cheek as you look into each other's eyes.

But that’s pretty much all the grace you get.

Once he’s sure you’re ready, the first snap of his hips has you reeling, your eyes rolling back in your head. And then he’s fucking you for real, setting a pace that has you crying out his name.

“Fuckin’ love being inside you,” he grunts, his eyes fixed on where your bodies meet so he can watch the way his cock slides in and out of you. “Pussy was made for me, wasn’t it, baby?”

You don’t think you could speak if you tried, too high on the feeling of Yoongi’s cock hitting that place inside you that makes you see stars. Instead, you turn your head, craning your neck until you can get the thumb that was rubbing your cheek into your mouth.

You love Yoongi’s hands. Love how strong and capable they are, love how gentle they can be even when he’s fucking you this hard. You could live and die with Yoongi’s fingers in your mouth and you’d be a happy, happy woman.

Yoongi groans, his thrusts growing rougher as you wrap your lips around his thumb and suck. “There’s my good girl,” he praises. “Fuck, you’re so pretty, baby.”

You preen at the praise, looking up at him through your lashes as you moan around the digit. But then Yoongi’s using his free hand to hitch your leg around his hip, driving his cock even deeper into you somehow, and you’re pulling off of his thumb with a sob.

“Yoongi! F-fuck, it’s too much—”

“You begged for this,” he growls. His thumb, slick with your spit, travels down to circle a nipple, your breath getting caught in your throat when he adds his forefinger and pinches. “You said you could handle it. So take it.”

He keeps fucking into you, rough and relentless, and even though you’ve been reduced to a sobbing mess, it feels so fucking good. So you do what he says and take what he’s giving you.

Satisfied, Yoongi dips down to lave his tongue over your other nipple, sucking it into his mouth as your hands fly to grasp at his hair.

“Nnnghh, Y-yoongi,” you moan. “Feels so g-good.”

With one final flick of his tongue against your breast, he comes back up to kiss you, his mouth moving against yours with an urgency that takes your breath away.

“I love you,” he murmurs against your lips, pressing his forehead against yours. His hands come up to cradle your face again, wiping errant tears from your cheeks. “Love you so much.”

“Love you too,” you sob, using the much-needed reprieve to catch your breath.

“Taking me so good,” he breathes, thrusts growing erratic as he pants against your mouth. “Can’t wait to give you a baby.”

You moan, clenching around him in response. “Need you to cum,” you pant, delirious. “Please, Yoongi, wan’ you to fill me up.”

“Fuck,” he moans, eyes squeezing shut as if he’s pained. “‘M gonna. Gonna fill you up so good, baby. Do me a favor and rub your clit for me, m’kay my love?”

You do as you’re told, slipping a hand between your sweaty bodies. It’s not going to take much at this point, not with how desperate he looks above you. He’s a fucking sight for sore eyes, lips bitten and pupils blown as he tracks the movement of your hand.

“Shit, you’re so sexy,” he groans. “Gonna cum.”

You’re right there with him, both of you moving in perfect synchrony as you chase your release. All it takes is a few passes of your fingers over your clit before your vision goes white, a sob escaping your throat as you feel Yoongi spill into you with a groan.

You cling to him, arms wrapped around his neck as he presses sloppy kisses to your naked shoulder. “God,” you breathe, thighs shaking when you stretch your legs out.

You both gasp for breath, skin sticking together from the sweat that’s been created between you.

“Yoongi?” you mumble. He hums, lifting his head to look down at you. “Thank you.”

“For what?” he asks, brows furrowing in confusion. Then, he grins tiredly. “For giving you the creampie of the century?”

“Ew,” you huff, flicking his forehead weakly. “No, idiot. For getting me out of my head.”

You know he knows what you mean. That’s what you do for each other. Yoongi knows how to calm you down like no one else, and you know you do the same for him. It’s a perfect give and take. 

“I don’t know if this will be… If this is the time that’s gonna give us a baby,” you continue, lips twisting as your eyes water slightly. “But I can’t imagine a better man to be the father of my child. I just want you to know that.”

Yoongi softens, taking in your words. Wordlessly, he dips down, eyes fluttering shut as he kisses you tenderly.

“You are the most incredible woman I’ve ever met,” he says, his voice gentle. “I wouldn’t want to do this with anyone else.”

The two of you lay there for a long time, bodies tangled together as you process everything that just happened. What it means for both of you.

The best part of being with Yoongi, from the very beginning, was that nothing had to change for either of you. You could be married to Yoongi and to your job at the same time, build your career from the ground up and never sacrifice a thing.

But this? Having a baby? It’s all going to be sacrifice. It won’t be just you and Yoongi anymore, living in your precious little workaholic love bubble. Everything is going to change. 

Funnily enough, nothing has ever felt more right.

three —

It stands to reason that you find out that you’re pregnant in the office of Look Here Magazine. Where else?

You had your suspicions this morning, when you rolled out of bed nauseous as hell. But you also had an important interview scheduled for this afternoon—surely, you were just anxious about that. But the interview went great, and you still felt like shit afterwards. 

And then you got sick. Like, really sick. In the bathroom of the store you’d stopped at to grab some ginger ale, hoping that would help with the nausea.

Instead of ginger ale, though, you watched with no small amount of shame as the clerk at the register rang up a pregnancy test for you, eyeing you with thinly veiled judgement. Whatever. Jealous bitch needs to get laid.

So here you are, locked in the single stall restroom at your office, staring down at two pink lines. Fuck.

You’re shaking like a leaf. You’re fucking giddy, of course you are, but holy shit. It’s real now. It’s real, and you’re at work, and Yoongi is at his studio, and all you want to do is call him and tell him the news. Because you’re overjoyed, but you’re also terrified, and when you get like this, he’s the only one who can make you feel better.

But you can’t. You don’t want to tell him over the phone. You want to see his reaction in real time, see the gummy smile you love so much, feel his warmth when he pulls you into his arms, kiss him stupid.

So instead, you pick your phone up with trembling hands and snap a picture, sending it straight to Rina. 

It’s five in the morning in Athens. You know she won’t see it for another few hours. But it still calms you down enough to clean up and exit the bathroom, returning to your desk on shaky legs.

★ ★ ★

You can’t wait, as it turns out.

It’s seven in the evening. You got off of work less than thirty minutes ago, and you’re already all the way across town, riding in an ostentatiously large elevator to get to your husband’s swanky ass studio. You definitely broke several traffic laws to get here so fast, but you don’t care. Who knows when Yoongi will get home? You need to tell him now.

When the elevator doors slide open, allowing you to step foot onto Yoongi’s floor, you start to feel sick again. For a different reason this time. 

You know Yoongi’s going to be just as psyched as you are, but still, what if he’s not? What if he’s scared shitless and all of a sudden he changes his mind about this? You both wanted a baby, but it sure as shit feels completely different now that it’s real.

You don’t know what you’re going to do if he has a change of heart. Fuck. Flee the country, probably.

You put one foot in front of the other, following the familiar path to Yoongi’s studio. Your heart races as you punch in the code you know by heart, gut twisting as the whir of the lock fills your ears. And then you’re stepping inside, slipping your shoes off at the door with the expression of a sighted rabbit on your face.

Yoongi spins around in his chair, eyes widening at your unexpected presence. “Hey,” he greets, visibly puzzled as he gets up to pull you into a hug. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

“Hey,” you breathe, heartbeat thrumming in your ears. But still, it feels nice to be in his arms after the day you’ve had. “I didn’t know I was. Sorry if I’m interrupting.”

“Nah, don’t apologize. I need a break anyway,” he says, pulling away to study your face. “Everything okay?”

“Um!” you squeak out, grabbing his hands to pull him towards the couch in the corner of his studio, sinking down on the worn leather. You stare down at the material beneath you. He really needs to replace this thing. “Yes? I think so. I hope so.”

“You’re scaring the piss out of me, Y/N,” he huffs, settling down next to you. Gently, his fingers grasp your chin, lifting your head so you’re looking straight at him. “Tell me what’s going on.”

Swallowing thickly, you shift your bag into your lap, digging around in it for a moment until you can procure what you need. Shakily, you hold out two positive pregnancy tests for him to see. God, pregnancy is so gross. You’re holding pee sticks in your hand.

“I’m, um…”

“You’re pregnant,” Yoongi breathes, eyes widening in amazement as he stares at the little lines. Tearing his eyes away, he gapes at you. “You’re pregnant? We’re going to have a baby?”

“I think so,” you say, chewing at your bottom lip nervously.

“Shit,” he says, grinning so wide you can’t help but return it. “We’re going to be parents!”

Before you know it, tears are streaming down your face, even as you laugh in disbelief along with him. You never should’ve doubted him, not even for a second.

“We’re going to be parents,” you sob, still clutching the positive tests in your hand as you speak through your tears. “Can I put these down? It’s so gross. I peed on these.”

Laughing, Yoongi takes the tests from your hand and sets them aside, pulling you into his lap so he can kiss you silly. “Fuck,” he murmurs, breaking away with a sniffle. “I’m so happy.”

Fuck. He can’t do that. He can’t cry, too. You don’t think you can take it.

“Me too,” you say, wiping at your eyes. Then you smack his shoulder, sniffling yourself. “You can’t cry, stupid. You’re supposed to be the strong one.”

Another laugh bubbles up from his throat, nothing but fondness and joy in his watery eyes. “I think for the next nine months, you’re one hundred percent going to be the strong one,” he says, staring down at your belly with awe.

It’s crazy. There’s nothing there yet, but yes there is.

“Yoongi,” you whimper, mouth twisting as you try to hold back another wave of tears. “We’re going to be parents.”

“We’re going to be parents,” he repeats, swallowing thickly as he meets your eyes again. “Fuck.”

“Fuck,” you agree. You’re delirious, so happy you think you could pass out. “I love you.”

Pulling you into a tight hug, Yoongi rubs your back soothingly. “I love you so much, baby,” he breathes as he nuzzles into your hair.

Nothing has ever felt more right.

four —

Yoongi is going to kill somebody. It’s only a matter of time.

He was close, in that stupid fucking airport. It was going to be that bitchy flight attendant. It was. She’d been testing his patience all goddamn morning, getting testy every time he asked for updates on his flight, and Yoongi was already barely hanging on by a thread. But then he could practically hear your voice in his ear. Don’t be a jackass. It’s not her fault your flight is delayed, you’d say. Because you’re his voice of reason when he can’t keep himself in check.

So the flight attendant was spared.

Then, it was going to be the snot-nosed little brat that kept kicking the back of Yoongi’s seat the whole way home. He had booked the flight last minute, unable to upgrade past economy. Which was fine. It’s not like Yoongi’s a snob!

He was just already pissed off. He wanted—no, needed—to be with you, instead of cruising at 35,000 feet, stuck in his very own personal saw trap. But you’d insisted he go on this stupid ass work trip, eviscerating every single logical objection he tried to make. You were impossible to reason with lately. 

So there he was.

In the end, the kid was spared, too. Only because throttling a child would probably look really bad for him, considering the circumstances.

The universe just seemed to be working against him, even after the plane touched down on the tarmac. Because of course! Of course it took him forever to find his stupid suitcase. Of course it took him even longer to get an Uber. Of course there was traffic on the way! Why not? What’s one more ‘fuck you, Min Yoongi’?

And of course, when he finally makes it, when he’s panting and out of breath, suitcase in hand as he searches wildly for the room number he was texted, the first person he sees is not you.

“Well look what the cat dragged in!”

Yeah, Rina might not make it. He’s sure you’ll understand.

Yoongi appreciates Rina, he really does. He tries to be there for you when you need him, but sometimes, despite his best efforts, he can’t be. It’s just the way life works. But Rina always steps in when she’s needed. Today is a great example.

That being said, Rina also has a tendency to step in when she’s not needed. Or particularly wanted. Like the entire past month, living in his guest bedroom to dote on you even though—apart from the work trip you insisted he go on—Yoongi has literally been working from home since month six, at your beck and call. 

Yoongi gets it. Rina is your best friend. He knows you’ve been elated to have her closeby this past month. But still, Yoongi would’ve paid for a hotel room for her or something. It’s been a little weird trying to, like, fuck his super hot pregnant wife knowing her best friend is just across the hall.

“Hi, Rina,” he says, deadpan even as he’s catching his breath. “Wanna point me in the direction of my wife?”

“She’s piiiiiissed at you,” Rina sing-songs, grinning like the cat that ate the canary.

Yoongi’s eye twitches.

“Because I’m late?” he guesses.

“Because you impregnated her in the first place.”

“Great,” he says, choosing not to engage. He points at a door. “There?”

“Good luck, champ,” Rina says in response, waving him through. Like he needs fucking permission to see you. Don’t engage don’t engage don’t engage.

Huffing, he opens the door to what he can only hope is actually your room, closing it softly behind him.

“Yoongi,” you warble.

There you are.

Suddenly, it’s like none of the events that have transpired today matter one fucking bit. Not the frantic voicemail he’d woken up to, the delayed flight, the bratty kid, none of it.

You look like an angel. A very pregnant, very stressed angel, but his angel nonetheless.

“Baby,” he breathes. He’s by your side in an instant, carding his fingers through your hair. “I’m sorry I’m late.”

“How was your trip?” you ask, leaning into his touch so sweetly. Man, he missed you.

“About as pointless as I thought it’d be. Just wanted to be with you the whole time.”

“Well, you’re here now.”

“Yeah. I’m here now,” he hums, pressing a kiss to your sweaty temple. “How are you feeling?”

You huff at that, staring up at him like he’s stupid. Or like Rina wasn’t lying when she said you’re pissed at him. 

“Like my vagina will never be the same again, thanks to you,” you grumble. “I can’t believe I let you do this to me. I’m going to make you pay, Min Yoongi.”

“Feel free,” he huffs, unable to suppress the small smile quirking at the corners of his lips. He can’t help it. You can be pissed at him all you want, he’s just happy to see you. “I’ll even remind you, if you want. Do you want me to put a date on your calendar?”

“Don’t push it,” you grit out, glaring daggers at him.

“You’re the only one doing the pushing today, baby.”

“God, I hope so,” you whine. “Get this thing out of me! It’s not fair that you get to be a DILF and I have to be all big and gross.”

A DILF???

“Baby,” Yoongi coos, doing his best to stifle the laughter threatening to break free. “You’re so beautiful, Y/N. You’re glowing.”

“It’s sweat,” you deadpan.

“No, I’m serious,” he insists, taking your hands in his despite the way you try to whack him away. Despite his amusement, he’s completely sincere when he says, “You are the most beautiful woman in the world. Don’t be like that.”

“Really?” you pout.

Yoongi nods sagely, squeezing your hands. “One hundred percent a MILF.”

You groan, whacking his hands away in irritation, successfully this time. “Make yourself useful and go get me some ice chips, motherfucker.”

He snorts, backing towards the door with a little salute. “Yes ma’am,” he says. “I’ll be back in a few. I love you.”

“I love you too. Asshole.”

As he slips out of your room, he swears he catches the corners of your lips turning up, although you try valiantly to hide it. 

Yeah. You’re going to be just fine.

five —

It’s been nine months—thirty six weeks, because apparently babies are measured in weeks for some reason—since Min Penny was brought into this world. Yoongi doesn’t think he’ll ever get sick of looking at her.

She looks so much like you, it’s crazy. Every time he says that, you’re quick to tell him just how wrong he is—that she has Yoongi’s nose, Yoongi’s eyes, Yoongi’s smile—but when he looks at her, all he sees is you.

He loves it. She’s perfect.

She sleeps every night in a crib that Yoongi built, surrounded by stuffed animals that you handpicked, in a home that you two have made together.

Yoongi couldn’t be happier. 

The three of you have spent the last week or so in Daegu, and Yoongi’s parents have had ample time to get plenty of pictures and shower Penny with gifts that she proceeds to shove in her mouth at every opportunity.

It’s time to head back home, but not before a little detour. 

The weather is perfect today, giving both of you an opportunity to celebrate Penny’s half birthday the way you’ve been wanting to. A little overcast, but not so much that there’s a chance of rain. Really, it couldn’t be any better.

Yoongi’s always hated the beach, but a weekend trip to Jeju with his family didn’t sound half bad when you’d pitched it. And now that he’s here, sprawled out on a blanket on Jungmun Saekdal Beach while you shovel Jolly Pong into Penny’s waiting mouth, he couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.

When Penny grows disinterested in the Jolly Pong, you take a moment to adjust the little yellow sun hat you’d bought for her earlier and then lean back on your hands.

“Isn’t that view beautiful?” you sigh.

It’s so silly. You’re gazing out into the water, eyes sparkling as you take in the scenery in front of you. It’s beautiful here, it is. Yoongi hasn’t been to Jeju in a long time, and he’s sure the view is just as beautiful as you say. But all Yoongi can see is you. You, the amazing mother of his child. 

You’re radiant, glowing in a way that he’s never seen before. Even after all this time, you never fail to take his breath away.

“Yeah,” he hums, his hand curling around yours where it rests in the sand. “It is.”

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[witherby]

Please help a starving Anon..... I need more Mother Hen Hal from you...The way you write him and the characters are so good and perfect(idc if anyone disagrees), i am dying../silly/nf

It can have anything you wish to add, maybe a sprinkle of hurt/comfort (let's not forget the queers(BatLantern) too/verysilly)/lh

Yeah, you can absolutely have more mother hen Hal!!! This one is a little early in the relationship, pre-Flittermouse, and Dick-centric.

The Littlest Wayne: Mother Hen (Dick)

"B! Thanks for coming to get —"

Dick stops and tilts his head as the window of the Lambo rolls down. It's not Bruce, here to pick him up from a celebration at Titan's Tower he was just a smidge too drunk to drive himself home from.

It's Hal.

"Hi, kid," he greets. "Bruce was asleep when you texted. I told him to chill out and I'd get you instead."

"Oh, hi," Dick says, a little off-kilter. His grin only wanes a little. "Yeah. Okay."

He walks around the car and climbs into the front passenger seat, brows furrowed. It's the first time they've been alone together since Bruce told the boys that they started seeing each other.

"Thanks."

"No problem. Have you eaten in a while? Might hit a drive-through before we get back. My treat as long as you don't tell Alfred."

Dick nods slowly, staring at Hal like he can't quite figure everything out. Hal just shoots him an easy smile, then focuses his attention on the road.

They're quiet for a while, the radio playing some top 10 hit softly through the speakers neither one of them recognizes. When Hal pulls up to order them some food (and how curious that he knows Dick's usual) then waves away Dick's effort to pay, the man can't help but say something.

"You don't... have to do that."

"It's like thirty bucks, champ. I've got it," Hal chuckles.

"I don't mean the food."

Hal looks at Dick curiously. It's probably the fact that he's still pretty sloshed, but he feels especially vulnerable in the car with him, and can't quite keep his thoughts to himself.

"You don't have to pretend to care about Bruce's kids just because you're dating Bruce." Even as he says it, he knows it was mean and dismissive. Dick chews on the inside of his cheek and can't figure out how to take that back, so he stops talking.

Hal doesn't respond. Dick can't make himself look at Hal's face, so he fiddles with the Nightwing charm dangling off his cellphone.

"Here's your meal, sir. Enjoy," says a fast food employee. Hal thanks her quickly, then pulls into a parking lot and kills the engine. Dick listens to him rustle through the bag and sort out what belongs to whom for a minute, then gently takes his portion from him when it's offered.

"Hey," says Hal. Dick pretends he's too preoccupied with opening the sauce packet for his chicken nuggets to look up. "Okay. I'd probably be a little skittish after dropping a bomb like that, too. So, just listen for a sec, okay?"

"Kay," he mumbles through a mouthful of fries, trying very hard not to feel like he's eight years old and sitting in Commissioner Gordon's office, waiting to find out if Bruce will assume guardianship and take him home, waiting to see if he'd be accepted or rejected.

"I think Bruce is it for me."

Hmm. Okay, not the words he expected to hear, but Dick is listening.

"You've probably heard that from his exes before. Something about Bruce is just...captivating. He's got his own gravitational pull, and I'm not interested in getting knocked outta orbit."

Hal pops a couple fries in his mouth. Dick sees his shoulders shrug in his periphery.

"I'm in love with him, is the point. Have been for a few years now, but I didn't think it was reciprocal until that battle in Coast City. But Bruce isn't just Bruce, is he?"

Hal reaches across the center console to gently squeeze Dick's knee.

"He's Bruce, and Dick, and Jason, and Tim, and Damian. He's got a whole gaggle of wonderful sons I'd love to get to know."

"We've worked together tons of times before," Dick says. He's barely picking at his food, too busy trying to figure out Hal's point.

"Sure. I've worked with Nightwing a lot. But that's not all you are. I don't really know anything about Dick Grayson, and I'd really like to."

Hal pulls his hand away and picks up his burger to take a bite.

"All this to say...I know you guys are mostly grown. You're used to having one parent and don't really need another one, and, damn, I don't know the first thing about any of that. But I'm in this for the long haul, and you can rely on me. I don't want any of you believing you're just an afterthought to me. Okay?"

Oh. Oh.

In lieu of an answer, and also because his throat feels too tight to speak, Dick just nods and goes back to eating. They finish their food in silence and Hal gets out to dispose of the trash, then turns the engine again to take him the rest of the way home. As he parks and they leave the garage, Dick throws his arms around Hal. He pretends the stinging in his eyes is some weird effect from the alcohol when Hal hugs him back just as tight.

"Goodnight, kid," he murmurs. "Go take a glass of water and some ibuprofen to bed with you for that hangover in the morning."

"Yes, mom," Dick snorts, teasing, but he detours to the kitchen with a shy little grin anyway.

[volatilebrat4103]

Vi x Reader Head canons

This is the first time I have ever written HC's so I really hope it doesn't suck too badly

Request: may I request vi x nerdybutch!reader headcanons pls? (reader is super into Sci fi and fantasy genres)

(Feedback is appreciated - good or bad)

When Caitlyn suggested Vi meet a close friend of hers from another high-class family Vi was having none of it, but after way to much begging from Cait she caved although extremely wary of you and your status. She arranged for you all to meet at the last drop to make Vi feel more comfortable

Vi had already painted a bad picture of you before you even met, firstly you being late to the meet up, making snarky comments to Cait about ‘Pilties think they are too good to be on time’ and such

She had expected some stuck up snobby rich girl too prim and proper to walk through the doors of the surprisingly empty bar instead you leave her gobsmacked

Instead of a snob that she’d want to smack, she found herself a blushing mess when you walked in being the complete opposite, instead a tall handsome woman with short slicked back hair adorning a men’s academy uniform, who didn’t believe nor care about status or norms

She spent the whole day lost in your presence as you ramble on about some cool book you found about ancient lore as well as a few novels

After that day she would visit you everyday where she would sit for hours on end listening to you ramble on about all the newest novels your parents had bought for you.  Half of the time she wouldn’t even register what you were saying as she would stare lovingly enjoying the sound of your voice and your presence (you being her eye candy was a bonus)

The two of you grew closer quickly, Vi often staying the night where she would fall asleep to your voice reading out both of your favourite novel, more often then not wrapped up in your strong arms.

One day whilst you were ranting about a crappy ending to a story you were reading when Vi surged forward to kiss you leaving you stunned – ‘you’re cute when you rambling’ , After that day the two of you made it official

You would often ask Vi to tell you stories from the undercity, cuddled up to her as she runs hands through your short locks

She absolutely loves having your arms around her no matter where you are

Even though she is already feared for her reputation it gets worse with you and she finds it hard to comprehend how her cute, nerdy girlfriend is her scary dog privilege

You are both very, VERY protective over each other

You both pay attention to detail with one another.  Hear her talking about a cool jacket it’s hers by the end of the day.  If she sees you looking at something for even a minute consider it yours.  Mention how you always wanted to have a certain pastry for your birthday, done, she will make a plan and go to the ends of runeterra to get it.

You are surprisingly more stubborn than her and sometimes it causes fights between the two of you

Once you cool off from a fight and take time to reflect on it, you get her an apology gift (usually a sweet treat and flowers) and profusely apologise which more often than not leads to some ‘private time’ to properly express your regrets *wink wink*

Lets face it…she is a total bottom which surprises everyone till they see you

If she is having a bad day she will crawl into bed with you for you to read to her and play with her hair. If it’s a really bad day she will ensure she has skin to skin contact, you voice soothing her worries away.

Everyone always complains about the two of you being sappy, with her being a total flirt she always leaves you a flustered mess

She loves stealing your clothes, jackets, shirts anything as long as it smells like you

She gets annoyed with you having an abundance of books and work laying scattered all over your room and house, always tripping over said books or projects for school.  So being whipped, you use your technical skills to build shelving and storage for your stuff, and Vi being the pervert she is watched you and how your sweaty body moved around and your muscles flexed when working.

You let Vi design a tattoo for you and even get small matching ones

she was always curious to see you wearing tight and exposing clothes (Seeing as your nerdy ass is only seen in baggy clothes or your academy uniform) so one day she pulls out the puppy dog eyes and gets you into one of her tank tops which has her drooling.  From that day forward she began to change your wardrobe.

Although she is an absolute bottom…she is a total munch and you absolutely love having her on her knees for you

You are both extremely kinky which did initially surprise her as you seem so innocent

You genuinely laugh at her bad jokes, some might not like her humour, but she is perfect to you

She is a huge softie even though she is rough and tough (and will definitely knock you to next week) she also loves how you are so gentle and patient with her

 She loves teaching you about the undercity and taking you sight seeing

She is shocked how you always say the undercity is beautiful and how you explain every little detail you love about it, it makes her fall more inlove with you

She is your personal chef, even taking the time to teach you how to cook

When you get stuck on an assignment or project she is always there to calm you down, taking the time out of her day to help you solve it.  Her intelligence is one of the many things you love about her and absolutely hate when people assume she is stupid

Your family take some time to accept Vi thinking that she is just using you and the family, but once they realise she isn’t she becomes one of you with your parents always eager to have her over

Touch and words of affermaiton are both of your love languages

You always help her shave the side of her hair when it gets too long, your were nervous at first but she always reassures you

you design a necklace for her in honour of Jinx/Powder and she never takes it off

you learnt very quickly into your relationship how to read her and know exactly what she needs, whether it be needing comfort after a long day or a sweet treat whilst she is on her period you just knew what she needed

when she gets into fights you always give her a lecture but clean her up and make sure she is okay. Very seldom does she give you the same treatment (and teases you mocking your lectures)

Further into your relationship she would complain about the 'library' of books and collectables you have gotten saying its too much yes if you there was one you wanted she wouldn't hesitate to get it for you

She is the jealous type and hates how oblivious you are to people flirting with you

[kingdoms-and-empires]

Does anyone else ever just wish you could draw/paint?

Like, draw/paint something specific.

Obviously the most obvious one will be characters for alot of people. Who doesn't want to draw the characters in their heads??

But I mean...

Specific stuff

Like, I'd love to draw animals.

And fashion.

Also landscapes and environments.

I'd love to be able to draw something like this, with blurbs of information for the animals and monsters of KaE:

And fashion!

I just love seeing how fashion evolves throughout history and how the rich are dumb as fuck in trying to out do each other in how clumsy/annoying it is to put on cause "you can afford to spend so much time on such dumb shit"

But it's cool.

I have Infinity Nikki to help cure me of that craving of seeing/experimenting with outfits (it's like, a really chill game)

But normal day to day environment stuff

That's something I can't really fulfill as a craving, beside finding artwork of what i mean.

Found an awesome artist who scratched that itch of mine recently, and its helped me describe some scenes in KaE

Jean-Claude Golvin, French archaeologist and architect!

Look at all the cool stuff he's drawn!

Because of the above, I've taken to drawing myself.

Im no good at it, but it helps me. To anyone else, it'd look horrendous, but I can see beyond what's in the paper. Cause its in my head, i just have to place it on the paper so i can like... lock it in my head, compartmentalize writing/drawing/imagination into separate boxes, and keep the flow state going as an author.

Mehhh, i'm just in one of those moods.

Introspective of myself. Which then got me thinking about something I usually think about.

Sometimes, I think about how many great writers and artists there are with no opportunity to vent that creative urge. To flex their imagination muscles. They must be like horses or birds, born to run in the plains and fly in the sky; yet caged by their economic or living situation.

And by the time they're in a position to actually do what calls to them, they're older. With more responsibilities. A career. A family. A whole set of skills and lessons already gained and experienced.

How difficult is it to overcome that initial "but im so bad right now, it'll take me too long to develop into something good" thought?

Is it not daunting to have to "start over" in a skill?

Then there's younger people than you who are by far more skilled at the "thing" than you. Isn't that crushing?

I think it's alot like exercise. It sucks at first. Sometimes you can't even do more than 30 min a day. You think, "What's the point??"

But even if you do 30 min a day for a week, that's a total of 210 minutes for that week. Three hours and a half. That's far more than the absolute zero you would have if you did nothing.

I think you can write, draw, paint, do whatever calls to you for 30 min a day in the least. Because if you keep that up for a whole year; you'll end up with 10,920 minutes, or 182 hours, worth of experience under your belt.

Oh.

Oh shit.

I went on a rant lmao

Any hopeful creatives out there, I hope you guys take some measure of solace in my words. You're not alone. It's never too late to start. The only person you're racing with is yourself, not that other person you compare yourself to. Take your time. Just don't deny yourself!

[meglosthegreat]

"It was fun, but it got a little boring by the end" is perhaps the most common review of Veilguard's combat that I've seen. No one seems to have strong opinions about it, overall. As far as things to have beef with this game over, it doesn't even make the shortlist, really. I mean, it was fine.

But hell, I'm not above being petty, especially when it comes to this game. So amidst all the other things wrong with this game, here's my hot take: Bioware doesn't understand RPG combat, and why it's useful in, you know, RPGs, as they ostensibly claim to make.

This didn't start with Veilguard, though Veilguard is obviously the subject of this post. It was apparent since before DAI that they were gravitating towards action combat, and I had a lot of problems with Inquisition's system at the time. But Veilguard took it even further, doubling down on their pivot away from RPG mechanics. And, well, I don't think a proper RPG system could've saved this game. But it could've given the game something it desperately lacks - replayability.

RPGs are long games, are driven by the premise that most players will not follow the exact same path towards the end, and above all, are designed to be played in as many ways as possible. This is why character classes exist; why there are multiple weapons to choose from, and why there are more party members to pick from than can fit in your party at once. This works when you consider the other hallmarks of RPGs: different story paths, dialogue choices, and romance options. Variation outside of combat compliments variation within it, and this makes a good RPG something you can play several times and have a completely different experience each time.

And more than that, the mechanics of an RPG compliment a game that could take anywhere from 80-100 hours to complete. You NEED that level of choice within the game mechanics to get you through that long a game, and Veilguard's problem is that it has the length of an RPG, but the combat system of your average 30-40 hour action game.

Of course, there are excellent action games out there that are also up in the 100-hour range, but what these games do that Veilguard did not, is put the majority of focus on their combat systems. Elden Ring is probably the best example of this, but of course we wouldn't want a Dragon Age that's like Elden Ring, really - Dragon Age needs to have more going for it than just combat. And if you can't build your whole game around its combat system, then you need something that has the longevity to sustain a 100-hour runtime.

Everyone bemoaning the lack of direct companion control is absolutely correct - their lack of damage output and usefulness compared to the player renders them basically meaningless in combat. But what this also does is make any kind of customization of their abilities or their gear next to pointless. Even if you could replay this game and build them differently - which you can't, let's be clear - doing so would not make a single iota of difference in combat.

And Rook themselves - well, consensus is that the game starts to get boring about 40 hours in. That's roughly the place where you've gotten enough skill points to specialize in one thing, and though, sure, you could theoretically refund all your points and try something else, by that time you've gotten enough points to acquire all the skills in the general tree anyway. It doesn't help that the gear system is such that whichever items you happen to get early will probably be the ones you end up sticking with. It definitely doesn't help that the enemies in this game severely lack variation, and once you've fought one dragon, you've fought them all.

You know what would have helped? Giving people multiple ways to approach combat. Giving us enemies that require a different approach. Giving us companions that you can build out in interesting ways. Giving us, in short, a reason to play this game again. Because if you're going to create an 80-100 hour game that has very little else going on mechanically, then the very least you can do is make sure your combat is actually fun for the full 100 hours.

[akimoroll]

crush my soul back into my body.

yoichi nagumo x f!reader—wc 2.9k—part of a series on ao3—college/uni au. fluff.

cw: reader wears a dress/ponytail.

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“You’re getting quite used to calling me frequently.” You said with your phone to your ear, you descended the steps in your building while on the phone with Nagumo.

He chuckled, watching the entrance outside, “Just wanted to hear your voice.”

As you reached the main hall and took a peek outside, you replied, “I’m on my way down.” teasing him by making him wait a bit.

“Alright. See you.” He chuckled again before he hung up the call.

He waited and waited while scrolling mindlessly on his phone. And moments after, you emerged and entered his line of sight looking absolutely stunning wearing a sundress in your beloved color. He was completely smitten at the sight of you walking towards him as you brightened the blue hours with your presence.

You approached him, stopping a foot away, “You’re unusually quiet for once.”

He leaned against the side of the car, his hands slowly making their way into his pockets with his gaze sweeping admiringly from your feet and up. He noticed the flower he had drawn on the skin of your forearm, a smile gracing his lips in the process. He let out a lighthearted sigh, “Now I wanna change plans.”

You raised a brow at him and scoffed, “So are we going or not?”

He snickered, “Just kidding.” pushing himself away from the car and opening the passenger door for you. He bowed in a theatrical manner then beamed, “My apologies for keeping you waiting, princess.”

The first stretch of the drive to the movies was quiet. Between the two of you, he had always been the one to initiate conversations but he was thoroughly distracted by your whole get up. And every time his hand reached for the gear shift, he couldn’t help but be reminded of how close his touch was to you, making him ponder the idea of taking you out more often.

“How does steak sound for dinner?” He finally broke the silence as the car came to a halt at an intersection, the traffic light on red.

“Sounds good, but I’m full.”

He looked at you with curiosity, “You already ate?”

You nodded, “Yes. There’s hardly any real food at the cinema.”

He nodded slowly. “Ah, right.” tapping his fingertips rhythmically on the steering wheel as he waited for the light to turn green.

When you arrived at the venue’s parking lot, you swiftly unbuckled your seatbelt and stepped out of the car, not waiting for Nagumo to open the door for you. He followed you silently, his eyes fixated with the way your hair and the ends of your dress danced with each step you took in front of him. A smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he observed you from behind.

The line wasn’t long but as you waited to buy tickets, someone came up to him, asking why he hasn’t been hanging out with her lately. In response, he simply said that he was busy.

As soon as it was over, he leaned closer to your ear and whispered, “Have you decided on a movie yet?”

You responded with a nod and asked, “Who was that?”

He shrugged, his hand reached out and started twirling your ponytail around his fingers, “Someone from my department, I think. Nothing to worry about.”

“I’m not worried.”

He snorted, “Of course, you’re not.” as he continued to play with your hair while you allowed him to do so.

When the two of you approached the booth to purchase the tickets, he moved you gently to the side as he paid for it. One of his hands remained on your shoulder, his touch warmer than usual, until you both entered the cinema and settled into your seats.

You leaned closer to him and whispered, “Send me the receipt later, I’ll pay you back.”

“You can pay me back in other ways.” He popped a piece of popcorn into his mouth after a playful wink, causing you to roll your eyes at him.

Throughout the whole movie, Nagumo found himself unable to focus with the way you were playing with his hand while keeping your full attention on the big screen, slightly leaning forward from your seat. He initially reached for yours because he longed to hold hands with you. Yet this was somehow more enjoyable, as he felt the soft pads of your fingertips and how small your hands were compared to his. He wore a silly smile the entire time as his eyes fixated on the way your breathing would pick up at some scenes, the way the ends of your hair would brush against your back, and the exposed skin of your neck.

And before he knew it, the credits were already rolling.

“So what did you think about the movie?" he inquired as the two of you headed out of the cinema and walked side by side towards the parking lot.

You proceeded to ramble on about your thoughts with the film, the direction, casting, the OST, some plot holes—name it, you touched upon them. It was an effective way for him to better grasp the film he had been too distracted to fully appreciate, while listening to the sound of your voice.

Upon reaching his car, he opened the door for you, buckled the seatbelt with his face so close to yours while you continued on with your chatter. He sported a sly grin as you didn’t seem to notice. However, you paused and spoke under your breath, “You’re so…hot.”

A shit-eating grin appeared on his face, “Why, thank you.”

“No, literally. Do you have a fever?”

He let out a soft laugh at the thought of being caught. He lowered his head onto your shoulder, a somber smile lingered on his lips when the realization of this day, his first date with you—if he can even call it that—has come to an end.

“I’ll drive.” you offered. “You live off campus, right?”

How did you know? He wanted to ask, his head still awkwardly resting on the crook of your neck, but didn’t want to delve further.

“I’m fine, no big deal—”

“No. It’s dangerous.” You spoke firmly as you interrupted him, causing him to close his eyes in surrender.

After switching places, he reclined his seat while explaining how to get to his place. He was feeling uneasy, unsure if you were irritated so he attempted to lighten the mood by cracking jokes and starting up casual conversation. However, the fatigue was slowly taking over him, struggling to keep his heavy eyelids open as the steady motion of the car lulled him to sleep.

Nagumo woke up the following morning feeling disoriented and overheated. His memories were fuzzy after being found out by you. He was feeling a lot better than yesterday but it wasn’t until he noticed the heaviness on certain parts of his body that he realized it was because of you, all snuggled up and practically sleeping on top of him with your arm around him, your legs tangled with his own, and strands of your hair clinging to your sweaty forehead.

He endured the conflicting emotions and the discomfort of overheating as the swelling in his chest grew and reached his lips, stretching into a wide foolish grin. He wanted nothing more than to remain still. He didn’t want to disturb you but even more than that, he craved the feeling of having you this close to him for as long as possible—not wanting for this moment to end.

He began looking around areas his eyes could reach. On the coffee table, he noticed what seemed to be a box of paracetamol and children’s fever patches. With his free hand, he quickly realized he had one stuck on his forehead. An involuntary snort escaped him a little louder than he meant it to be, causing you to stir awake.

He watched intently as your eyes fluttered open, his shy grin growing wider as your gazes met. You sleepily muttered, “Feeling better?”

A soft hum and a nod was all he could do as he was momentarily taken aback by your action when you reached for his forehead to check his temperature. And as you pulled your hand away, he was torn between the urge to follow your touch and letting you get up.

“I have to go. I have a group project and we’re falling behind schedule.” you announced, heading towards the bathroom with your dress from the night before folded neatly in your hand.

“Yeah. Of course.” Nagumo’s composure intact. However when you shut the door, he couldn’t help cradle his face with his palms from being flustered after learning you were wearing his shirt the entire time.

After a few moments, you emerged from the bathroom looking refreshed, clutching his now folded shirt in your arms. “You should eat something heavy for breakfast.”

Nagumo sat upright on the couch with a slight smile, all calm and collected. But when he noticed you were heading to the door and putting on your shoes, he finally spoke up, “Should I give you a ride back?”

“I’m fine, you should just rest.” you replied before leaving him alone with his thoughts.

Nagumo plopped his entire body back to the couch, trying to figure out what had happened and how you ended up staying the night. But as the day went on, he recalled everything gradually in chunks, feeling inexplicably giddy or nervous. Or all of the above.

///

He’s still sleeping, you mused after purchasing some items on the way to his place. This time he was truly quiet, looking serene as you gaze at him in awe. However when you checked, he was still hot to the touch and to make it worse, his stomach made a faint rumbling noise and made you think: Did he not eat earlier?

Upon reaching his driveway, it took a few minutes of grumbling before he finally woke up all groggy and flushed. From stepping out of the car to his front door, he remained quiet that it was almost as if he didn't realize you were accompanying him. You observed him from behind as he input the PIN code to his door and struggled to take off his shoes at the entryway. And as soon as he collapsed onto the couch, he immediately fell asleep once more.

He needed to eat something, so you went ahead and checked the fridge, only to find that it only had leftover rice in a tupperware, a couple of bottled water, sugary snacks and energy drinks inside. This was why you grabbed an instant miso soup on your way here, just in case. But you hadn’t anticipated it would be this bad. Chiding him in your head: This is why you got sick, Nagumo.

As you waited for the water to boil, you opened the packet and poured its pasty contents into one of the three ceramic bowls you found stacked in his cupboard. Nagumo’s apartment seemed like he didn’t spend much time in it. He didn’t have a lot of stuff based on your observation, perhaps because he lived alone. The beeping sound from the electric kettle brought your thoughts back to the present. You blew on the steam to prevent it from reaching your face as you carefully poured the hot water into the bowl of leftover rice, stirring it with a spoon until it was thoroughly combined.

He remained asleep when you made your way back to where he was resting, gently placing the soup on the coffee table. You felt bad having to wake him up but he needed to eat—at least that’s what his growling stomach was telling you—even if it meant doing so while half awake. And after feeding him, you gave him meds to reduce his temperature and decided to apply a fever strip. It was only after opening the packet that you realized it was meant for children upon seeing the cute cartoon character printed on it.

It was the one you were used to from your childhood so you grabbed it mindlessly. He’s childish anyway, you smiled to yourself as you carefully pushed his hair up and placed the strip onto his forehead. His brows twitched slightly at the contact but he seemed too exhausted to be woken up by your touch, so you continued to run your fingers through his hair and then to the side of his cheek, gently rubbing small circles with your thumb.

The hairs on his arms began slowly rising so you decided to venture into his room to find a thin blanket.

Upon entering, the chaos that was his bedroom nearly gave you a brain aneurysm. It wasn’t that messy. There was just a lot of stuff. Some odd items here and there, scattered on the floor. Some unfinished projects. A huge Lego set that was close to completion. He seemed to be fond of trinkets and silly toys as displayed on the shelves. There you saw puzzles, a 10x10 Rubik’s Cube (that you fought the urge to pick up), and photographs—a lot of them.

Nagumo’s bedroom walls were also adorned with drawings, posters, cut outs and even more photos. And in the process of looking around, you spotted some sculpting tools along with various references placed on his desk as you imagined him cooped up in his room. This corner of his apartment and its mismatched items were reminiscent of the intricate tattoos that decorated his body.

Focus. Must. Find. Thin blanket.

Unfortunately, his blanket was too thick and it didn’t seem to be a good idea to cover him with it. You grew impatient and didn’t want to search for an alternative so you hatched another idea.

Pulling the first drawer of his cabinet, you quickly realized his undergarments were predominantly dark in colors.

This is noted—a thought crossed your mind.

Shaking your head, hoping not to find anything weird, you pulled the second drawer. There you found his t-shirts and after carefully going through them, you found something with an incredibly soft texture. You wasted no time and quickly swapped into it, noticing the subtle scent that reminded you of him.

When you returned to Nagumo, you saw how he was still experiencing bouts of shivering and realized that he was still in his outside clothing. It’d be impossible to change him into something else considering how big he was. So instead, you carefully peeled him off his short sleeved polo amidst his grunts and gibberish protests, leaving him in just his tank top and pants.

With caution and care, you snuggled beside him. It was cramped and his skin felt hot to the touch, yet you found comfort in his arms. In an effort to provide him with as much warmth as possible, you lied almost on top of him hoping to keep him from trembling.

Nagumo suddenly murmured, his words sluggish, “I swear these fever dreams are getting out of hand.”

Your brows furrowed, lifting your head to look at him with curiosity. “What do you mean?”

One of his eyes cracked slightly open, peeping at you before closing it once more. “My baby’s lying on top of me.”

“Baby? Who could that be?”

A smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you observed his reddened face, noting his slight frown. He replied, “You… Duh.”

“What’s my name then?”

Your name slipped softly through his lips with his eyes closed. It took all your effort not to laugh at how endearingly cute he was being, so you responded, “I see. Do you dream of me often?”

“Mhm. Although most of them are bad.”

“How bad? Tell me.”

“Don’t wanna.” He whined as he wrapped his arms around your waist.

“Fine.”

He fell silent for a few more minutes as his arms loosened around you, his eyes rapidly flickering beneath his eyelids while his body twitched occasionally.

Nagumo suddenly spoke his mind again, “I think you should kiss me better.”

“Can’t. I might get sick too.”

“I don’t give a shit…” he whined again with a scowl spreading across his face. “I can take care of you.”

“Take care of yourself first and we’ll talk when you’re better.” you said as you poked the tip of his nose.

“Promise?” He asked, his voice sounding child-like, causing you to soften your already tender gaze at him and repeated, “Promise.”

Silence enveloped the room once more with him dozing in and out of sleep. You gently traced the tips of his lashes and the arch of his brows, causing him to flinch slightly.

Nagumo whispered, “She scares me.”

“Are we still talking about your baby?”

He nodded in response to your question, you whispered to him, “Why is that?”

“What if…she won’t like me back?”

Like you “back”?

Tracing the bridge of his nose with your fingertips, you paused, “Maybe she’s still trying to figure you out. But she did mention you’re cute…and a great kisser.”

He giggled breathily in response to your words which led you to smile in return. He fell silent once again, but you still wanted to say something while he was in this state. And with utmost gentleness, you pushed his bangs back and in the softest tone you spoke of his name. “Yoichi?”

He responded with a soft breathless hum, and you went on, “Just say it. I’m not a mind reader.”

Voice thick with drowsiness, he murmured, “You’re not? I was hoping you were.”

“I kinda wish I was.”

“That’s a shame.”

“I know.” You sighed and reached for his flushed cheek, tenderly rubbing tiny circles with your thumb. “Sweet dreams.”

@cjafjatkstke <3

[siriuslysapphicmoony]

First dance — word count: 809

tw: references to period typical homophobia

@wolfstarmicrofic

Sirius is the person who cries the most at the Potters’ wedding. More than Euphemia, more than Lily’s mum, more than Mary, even more than James.

And yes, it’s because they're perfect for each other, it's because they're so happy they're glowing, it's because there’s a war going on and this is a very much needed reminder that good things exist as well.

Sirius is sobbing because of all of that, but there's also the other reason. The one he can't even fathom saying out loud.

See, the moment his sobs are at their worst is not when his sight is on the happy couple. Sirius sobs the hardest each time his gaze finds Remus.

It's a kind of sorrow that is hard to describe, that one can only understand if they experience it themselves.

It's that excruciating, all consuming longing, of craving the same thing for himself and the person that is currently sniffing at his side, trying his hardest to hold back tears.

It's that harrowing, loud void that had taken place in his chest the moment he had realised (when James had proposed to Lily) that the only reason he had ever thought he hated the mere concept of marriage had been because of what it meant for his family. It's the sudden, startling realisation that he would absolutely love the idea of marriage if it was something he could have with the person currently standing by his side.

“Do not despair, sweetheart. He's just getting married, you're still his platonic soulmate.”

Remus’ joking attempt at soothing him sends him over the edge all over again and more sobs break through.

Great, now all those attending the wedding will know he's not as badass as he wants them to believe. How is he ever going to survive that?

“‘s not that,” he mumbles anyway between sniffs.

He feels Remus’ hand graze softly against his. Sirius grabs it like an anchor. Not caring about who might see, what might they think. He doesn't care. There's so much he isn't allowed. He at least gets to have this.

By the time the first dance comes around, Sirius has recovered just enough. He has fixed his eyeliner and he's determined not to cry anymore.

Then James and Lily step on the dancefloor, they swirl to their favourite song and Sirius is once again ruined.

He can't help the sob that escapes him. The unreasonable grief where there should only be joy for his friends.

His mind goes miles away. He imagines himself slow dancing with Remus, at their own wedding, at their own first dance, surrounded by their friends and families, celebrating their love. And he wants it. He craves it. Oh, he so desperately wants it.

Remus is at his side once again and this time he's the one silently reaching out, subtly embracing him, surely thinking he can pass it off as a friendly embrace.

“Are you alright, love?” he asks in his deep, concerned voice.

Sirius considers lying, but opts for the truth. He shakes his head meekly, another sob shaking him.

“I want this, Remus,” he confesses. “I hadn't fully realised it until today, but I want this. All of this. Marriage, a house, kids. I want the whole deal.”

Remus frowns a bit. “What are you saying…?” And damn, he looks scared now. He thinks Sirius wants to leave him for a traditional marriage.

“No, silly,” he sobs once more, a breathy laugh escaping him at the absurdity, a sad smile on his lips. “I don't mean it like that. I want it with you, but we aren't allowed and it's bloody destroying me.”

“Oh.”

It's almost comical to see all of the emotions that go through Remus' face. It goes from surprise, to adoration, to sadness and everything in between.

“I love you so much, Sirius,” he vows, gaze focused on him, the rest of the world forgotten. “Me too,” is what he says next. “I also want it all. With you.”

And that's the saddest thing, isn't it? They want the same thing for each other and yet they live in a world that won't let them have it. It's a crushing realisation. Discovering something you've known all along, but have never fully realised the whole weight of it, just how much it defines your life, that something someone has arbitrarily decided long ago has the power to determine the whole course of your lives. It's painful, it's unfair, it's soul-sucking, it's enraging, it's rubbish.

For how powerful his magic is, he feels completely powerless in front of the way the rest of the world sees their love. All he can do is hold on to Remus and silently promise himself that he'll do everything in his power to get them what so many couples have the luxury of taking for granted.

[penvisions]

zest {chapter 4}

Pairing: Chef! Joel Miller x Professor! Reader (formally known as Bartender! Reader)

Summary: Time is a funny thing, isn't it? You and Joel traverse the ups and downs of the pregnancy, doing your best to keep up.

Word Count: 5.1k

Warnings: canon typical language, reader is canonically mid-size and of hispanic origin, adult content, smut, oral (f receiving), use of daddy, age gap, utter filth between two infatuated people, p in v, unprotected p in v, pet names (darling, baby, love), teasing as a form of flirting -they're insufferable your honor, serious conversations, confessions of feelings of inadequacy, mentions of family trauma and drama, reader is in her own head in this, talks of pregnancy and childbirth, slight angst, road trip vibes, slight time jump(s), the photos used in the header are only a rough head cannon of what reader looks like and mostly for the ~vibes - nothing is set in absolute stone, i think that's it!

Fic Notes: this is a sequel series; the previous fic can be found here -> {garnish}

A/N: so proud of myself for not forcing this chapter, letting it sit and my mind wander about them as a whole for a few months really helped me to find my way back to them. special shoutout to @tuquoquebrute for sending in an ask ages ago for a baby shower scene, i hope it's everything you imagined and more

ao3 link || series masterlist || navigation || ko-fi

The hotel room is bathed in soft pink sunlight that glows through the drawn curtains, closed in the wake of your slight headache. But it’s the last thing on your mind as you let out a low, drawn-out moan. Your back is flush with the soft bed, unmade and the sheets are tangled and falling off the edge of it as Joel is nestled in them. Using them as a cushion for his knees atop the plush carpet of the room, just for an added comfort as he firmly holds your hips in place lavishes his tongue in swooping swirls over your clit.

You’re drenched, slick coating his lips and face as he buries it between your thighs. His grip tight around your thighs as he holds them open, ever so effortlessly keeping them from snapping shut around his ears as he practically makes out with your core. It’s messy the way your arousal seeps from you, coating his face, his saliva mixed in and running in thick drips down to soak the white sheets of the hotel bed.

The feel of his warm tongue tracing over your puffy lips and swollen nub, his thick fingers curled inside you and hitting that perfect spot that makes you clench tightly around them. The feel of his proud nose buried in the thatch of thick curls that sit right above it all, soaked too from the devotion he’s giving to you as the sun begins to peek up above the horizon.

The swell of your stomach prevents you from seeing anything other than the sweaty curls plastered to his forehead, the heat in the room and between your humming bodies stifling in the best way.

“My sweet girl, always taste so fucking good.” He pulls pleasure from your body like it’s his sole purpose in life, gently moving his fingers in and out as you throw your head back to shout out his name and clench tightly around them. His tongue replaces them as he licks up the release that smears across your inner thighs, scruff tingling over your skin in an overwhelming way.

“Ah, Joel, ‘s too much, baby.” He moves you up into the center of the bed, crawling over you. The heft of his cock drags over your thighs, smearing glistening precum as it does. And you whine, as he takes himself in the thick curl of his hand and taps the swollen head against your clit. Your hips jerk, you clench around nothing and his dark chuckle

“I think you like it,” He’s dragging himself through your slick folds, head catching just slightly against your entrance each time he does.

“F-fuck off,” You can’t help but slur, the empty threat cut off in a sharp gasp as he suddenly fills you, hands gripping around your knees to wrap them around his waist. He throbs where he’s nestled, and it makes your head swim.

“That’s such bad language, momma,” He tuts, teeth glinting as he smirks down at you. “Why don’t I work it all out of you before the baby comes, hmm?”

"Y-yes, daddy."

All you can do is dig your nails into his shoulders and hold on for dear life as he begins to snap his hips into the cradle of yours, pushing you both up the length of the bed with the force of his movements. In the back of your mind, you’re sure the people on the other side of the wall must hate your guts for being the annoying couple who can’t seem to keep their hands off of each other.

But honestly, you couldn’t care less. You’d take being the annoyingly smitten couple over being the one where sex becomes a routine, choreographed dance that takes place Tuesday nights with no lights on and underneath the covers. You’d take Joel at his most feral and spilling filth from sinfully delicious lips to the soft, slow and syrupy mornings any time, any day, for the rest of your life.

“Joel, I just really wanna go home, take a nice hot bath and get into bed before I have to start planning out the summer semester syllabus.” You feel the fatigue of the trip catching up with you, no matter how much fun it had been. The perfect little getaway has drained you as you enter your second trimester, body working overtime now, but thankfully the nausea seems to have worn off.

Beside you, Joel reaches out a hand to palm your thigh, understanding and concern wafting off of his focused frame in such an easy way. His brows furrow as he glances down at his phone in the cupholder when the screen flashes with a notification.

“C’mon, just lemme stop at the restaurant to grab somethin’ real quick. Check on Ellie, she’s been blowing up my phone about when we get back.” His voice holds your attention more than his words, it’s dipped low, almost a deep whine as he takes your hand in his and raises it to press a kiss to the top of it.

Your new ring catches the sunlight and softens you just as much as the man’s words. He’s such a good father, to the two kids he’s raised all alone. He’s a good man, who even if he prolongs the return to the house, who only wants to look out for those in his care.

“Joel,” You can’t help the whine of your own voice, lips pouting as the man turns a conflicted expression your way as his fingers tighten where they tangle with yours.

“I’ll make it worth your while, darlin’, please?”

“Fine, but I want truffle pasta for dinner.” You jostle his hand in yours, setting them atop your thigh.

“Done.”

Half an hour later, he pulls up to the front of the restaurant, parking the truck on the curb outside the public entrance. He rolls the windows down and you do a double take. There are colorful balloons floating in the gentle breeze, bouncing against each other. They make you smile even as you remember what a hassle parties were as a member of the food industry. You only hope that those on shift were adequately caffeinated and compensated for the hell they were about to endure.

Joel disappears through the front entrance, little bell dinging happily and he’s not gone but one second before he’s at the passenger door. He’s pulling it open from the unlocked handle, looking at you with a small smirk through the lowered pane of glass as you enjoy the breeze through the open window.

“Sweet girl, need you to step in for a second.”

“I’m all road tripped out, dios mio, Joel.” You groan out, really just wanting to be back him and swaddled in clean, fluffy blankets. “I need a bath and some serious skincare.”

He only raises a thick brow and you motion to the slightly wrinkled sundress you’re wearing, the slight bump of your stomach visible beneath the flowing fabric and the seatbelt over your lap. Your hair is pulled up into a haphazard clip in the back with the grown out fringe you had cut over the holidays framing your face. He promises that you look good, the light face of tinted lotion and mascara you put on alongside a natural lip good enough for what he wanted to show you.

Grumbling, you retrieve you phone from the center console beside his. Both phones are pushed into the hands that help you to step out and down from the taller cab.

“Better not be your way of getting me to-“ Your thoughts of helping to check over a liquor purchase fly out the window as soon as your eyes catch the bright scene laid out before you.

Your mouth falls open as you walk through the door being held open by Joel. The entire dining room is done up with sage green tablecloths, more balloons, and fresh flowers are everywhere from the center of the tables to the ledge of the bar. There’s a giant banner over the wall that houses the door to the kitchen. Donning the words ‘CONGRATS ON GETTING KNOCKED UP’. Below it is another slightly smaller one that says ‘AND GETTING ENGAGED TOO, I GUESS’. You snort at the phrasing, knowing that it had to have been a battle at the printers to get it done. And when you breathe air back into your lungs, the smell of fried food makes your stomach growl. Your face breaks out into a wide grin when you see Sarah and Ellie approaching you with their own wide smiles.

They’ve got a crown of flowers, you favorite. Sarah fixes your hair, loose from the clip it had been in and Ellie fastens it in place with a few bobby pins.

“Ready to celebrate, cause we sure as hell are!” Ellie exclaims while Sarah jumps up and down in front of you both, buzzing with energy she seems to have endlessly.

It’s a blur of greetings and photos, of laughter and mocktails. Your hunger from the drive forgotten as you just enjoy the time with your friends and acquired family. Maria and Tommy are floating around alongside the girls to ensure everything is going smoothly, soft music playing over the speakers and presents are placed on their own table. There are so many and you feel choked up over the outpouring of love and support from the community you found in a city so far away from the one you come from.

A lot of the staff from the restaurant are here too, the tightly knit group of about twenty or so from the kitchen staff to the servers. All showing their appreciation and excitement for you and Joel as you navigate this part of your lives. It means so much to you that they didn’t judge you for leaving them to do what you wanted, for focusing on yourself and landing the teaching job you always wanted.

Sure, the timing isn’t right. You’ve only done two semesters, going into a third summer one in a few weeks, but you will make it work. Either offer an online course once your maternity leave is up or even take Joel up on his offer to cut his hours to weekends so he can look after the little one during your proposed class times once you decide to go back to work. Who knows? All of it needs to be discussed, and you’re slowly wading through the conversations as they crop up and thoughts are had.

No pressure, he said. To talk about things unless you wanted to and you pressed the same assurance into his skin with your whispered words.

After the first hour or so, you’re seated with Millie and your best friend at an empty table. Both of them gifting you cards with promises to babysit and bring you takeout any time you needed it as you traverse the remainder of your pregnancy and once the baby is born.

“Look at you, hot momma. Landed the head chef and a baby all in one move. You guys are going to have the cutest fucking baby.” Nia caresses a hand over your shoulder, her nails a light scratch over your skin that feels really good as small waves of anxiety begin to wash over you. She knows, she can see it. Has always been able to see it, you lean into her, resting your head on her shoulder as she pivots to wrap her arms around you. “You deserve it, you deserve everything.”

“Do you know what the gender is yet?” Millie is smiling at the casual intimacy you both display, thinking back to all the nights you two displayed the same after a rough shift, all the smoke breaks and nights out that you shared. Friendship melting her heart, your happiness melting her heart after seeing what a rough year you had endured before this.

“We find out later this week, my blood work came back a little funky last time so instead of an ultrasound, they hooked me up to an IV and told me to rest for a bit while they monitored some stuff.”

“It’s the stuff from your dad’s side, isn’t it?” Nia’s arms tighten around you, worries spoken knowing the things you don’t like to share.

“Yeah, but it’s nothing to worry about. I’m pretty sure it was just elevated blood pressure which for me would be a normal reading and my blood sugar was a little high. They worry about diabetes, but she said my body is just trying to figure out how to process things and find a new balance with this little one taking up so much room now.” You hold a hand to your stomach, gently rubbing at the hardness you feel there now. Soft curves make up your frame, but your stomach is swollen a little more than typical for your physique, giving away the pregnancy now.

“He looks so grumpy.” Mille giggles around her sip of tonic water with grenadine. You follow her gaze and see Joel standing over the table covered in dishes and desserts. His hands are on his hips and he’s frowning as he dissects all the offerings. He almost seems lost in thought with the way his lips purse and roll, pulling a giggle from you too.

“That’s the ‘there ain’t nothin’ here I wanna eat’ look.”

At your stage whispered words, he looks up over at you and his brow furrows even deeper. You haven’t wandered over to the table yourself but he quickly looks back down at it as your trio breaks into a full on fit of laughter. He begins making a plate before heading your way and you try to school your expression even as your heart picks up a tick.

“Gonna make you that pasta you wanted, but here’s a few things to tide you over, momma.” And he’s setting the laden ceramic down with a wink before moving back across the dining room to disappear through the swinging door into the kitchen.

“He calls you momma? Oh my god, swoon.” Nia fans herself with her napkin as she looks your way.

“Do you ever call him ‘daddy’?” Millie’s question is conspiratorial as she leans in, as if afraid he might hear her even through the walls and light hum of conversation that fills the room.

You quickly help yourself to the food he brought over, avoiding both their eyes as you do so. Heat flares high in your cheeks and down your neck, the word bringing up memories that glitter across your skin.

“Oh. My. God. You do.” Nia sets her drink down and stares at you in awe.

“I mean, I would call him daddy if he asked me to.” Millie whispers as she sneaks a chocolate covered strawberry from your plate.

“He didn’t have to ask me.” Is all you say around a mouthful of food at the same time Nia exclaims that’s her boss.

“He started off as this one’s boss too!” She defends, her reprimand falling short as her expression cracks and giggles erupt into the air.

“Yeah, that was part of the fun.” You smirk, remembering the first time it slipped from between your lips as his body moved in tandem with yours. It had only made him growl and pick up the pace, you feel the shock of pleasure at the memory lights you up and you excuse yourself to cross the room with your plate in hand.

“She’s so gonna go make out with her daddy in the kitchen.”

“Girl, I would to if that was my man, fuck I need to get me some of what she’s obviously having. Minus the baby though.”

“Hey, momma, ready to get going?” Joel is gently wiping the excess gel from your exposed belly from the ultrasound you just had. He’s quiet, mind whirling at the news of having a boy. Something that had made your heart swell when you pictured a little toddler version of the man with unruly curly hair and a gap-toothed smile so wide you had gasped when the technician had made the announcement.

“I don’t know anything about boys.” You blurt out, worry and excitement swirling around in your chest and heart. You would’ve been happy with any gender but you find yourself so enthralled at the realization of having a boy. A baby boy. Pudgy cheeks, scraped knees, strong little hands, and then a harsh kick has your hand flying to sooth the ache as it prickles low in your stomach almost like a cramp.

“Oof, felt that one. He’s a little spitfire like his momma, ain’t he?” The vibration of Joel’s chuckle is heartwarming, he’s over the moon. His brown eyes glitter as he looks up at you and you realize he’s got unshed tears in his eyes.

“Joel, I don’t know anything about boys.” You admit in a low voice, worry striking up and beginning to wright down your limbs.

“That’s okay, we can figure it out together.” And his smile is dazzling, teeth glinting in the fluorescents and the dimple in his right cheek is visible beneath his stubble. Even as a few tears brim over and race down his face.

The rest of the day is spent picking out a pastel green and honey gold combination for the nursery. The cart is full of supplies needed for painting and a bulky box of baby proofing effects for the house. He steers it around the garden section of the hardware store as you drift among the plants, trailing fingers faintly over the leaves as you inspect them. It’s a little late for any planting to be done, but he’s agreed to grab a few ferns to place in the room to give it some life until the one it’s being decorated for comes along.

Paint-stained hands wander over ruined clothing as chaste kisses turn heated. Joel licks into your mouth as he pins you to the last white wall of the room across from the one you share upstairs. Your moan is loud and unfiltered as he slots a knee between your legs and grinds it up into the seam between your legs. Your dress doing nothing to shield you from the movement against your core, the rough denim a heady feel through the fabric of your underwear.

“Love the sounds you make, sabrosa.” The timbre of Joel’s voice vibrates through your chest and you sneak your nails underneath the collar of his shirt to dig into his bare shoulders. “Fuck, you sound so fucking good, you drive me crazy.”

“G-good.” You wheeze out just as one of his hands pulls the thin strap of your dress down off your shoulder and kisses the exposed skin around the smears of pain he pressed there. His teeth nip and suck all the way to your chest, where he pulls one of your breasts over the fabric. He swirls his tongue around your nipple, his eyes dilating at the sight of how it hardens and perks up under his attention. When his teeth clamp around the sensitive bud, a yelp sounds into the air as your hips buck against his flexed thigh.

“F-fuck, Joel,” You pant, unable to think with the heat of pleasure scorching over every inch of your body.

As soon as he draws a blinding release from you, he carefully guides you to the floor and smothers kisses all over your face, tongue tangling with yours as you open up for him. Letting him devour you as aftershocks tingle all over your skin. And when he finally frees himself from the jeans that are now stained on the leg to slide inside of your fluttering core, you sigh.

It quickly turns into a squeal as you feel thick, cool paint glide over the tarp you both lay on, tangled together in more ways than one. Shocked laughter springs into the air as he reaches out to press a hand into the liquid and presses a palm in the center of your chest. The giggle you let out cuts his rumbles off into a harsh gasp. The feeling of you clenching around him as you do so tightening around him so tight.

“Fuck, your laughter is the best sound.” His hips grind into you, the tip of his cock hitting that perfect spot and all laughter cuts off, turning into deep grunts and wonton moans as he begins to thrust against you.

As the days winds down, Joel busies himself with transferring the laundry over into the dryer and cleaning up the kitchen while you wander back upstairs into the finished nursery. The tarp laid out over the hardwood shows strange streaks and handprints while you sip a freshly made tea from a ceramic mug that was a present at your shower.

You try to hide the tears when Joel’s steps ascend the stairs but he senses them all the same.

“You okay, sweet girl?” His arms wrap around you from the back, one wide palm flattening in the center of your chest. Reaching out to place your mug on a newly assembled dresser, you place a hand over his and wheeze in a deep breath. The other reaches up to thread your fingers through the hair at the back of his head and you nod.

“Just happy tears, I promise.”

Four months ago if someone had told you where you would be, you would’ve laughed in their face.

You never expected to be laying out on a large towel atop warm sand underneath a large shade and four months pregnant. Joel is in one of the many chairs he brought along, resigning to sit in it when you all but shooed him away from where you settled in the sand. It was formed just right underneath your back and neck, giving you the relief of the weight you’ve put on in your belly. The swell of it was still small, something you brought up at a doctor visit but were assured it was normal with the weight you already carried.

Joel’s hand in yours in that moment made you feel a little better paired with the doctor’s soft words, they weren’t reprimanding you for being mid-size, simply explaining the differences it would cause in your pregnancy from an unjudgmental perspective. It still bothers you, just a little. Eating healthy and trying to maintain a good balance always the goal, but school and work and being social and exercising- well, frankly it was a lot to handle on a good day. Let alone a bad one.

Now, though, you’ve got a good reason to stick to a better diet. The baby boy you’re nurturing is of the utmost importance. Joel makes sure to cook you anything you’re craving, the meals he provides from the restaurant or whips up at home are balanced. He’s been amazing, Sarah and Ellie too. They’ve all pitched in to help where it’s needed.

Hell, they packed and loaded up the truck and then let you take the front seat beside Joel late yesterday afternoon before the drive down to the coast was made. The hotel was nice, a suite booked for the family. Three rooms, a living room, a small kitchenette, a balcony overlooking the beach from the fourth floor. It was nice. It was perfect.

The sun is glinting off your ring, held up as you admire the way it looks settled nicely on your finger. A wave of guilt rises and washes away in tune with the waves crashing softly on the shoreline. It was expensive, it’s such a nice piece of jewelry. You told Joel he didn’t need to get a wedding band to go alongside it, that the engagement ring was enough. But you suspect he already has one hiding somewhere.

When Joel suddenly stirs behind you, you shift your head to peer at him in an upside down glance from beneath your sunglasses. He’s reaching into the bag at his side, the one that he was adamant about carrying himself even though it contained all the things you would both need during the day out at the beach. He’s murmuring under his breath, camera suddenly in his hand and you scramble up as you realize he’s aiming it at you and the red light is on- displaying very clearly that he’s recording.

“Hey! No, no, no. No videos!” You try and cover yourself with a nearby towel, two piece doing nothing to hide much of anything. It was enough to feel secure walking around the shallows and to lay out, but to be filmed- nope, not enough.

“C’mon, darlin’, you look amazin’. Glowing like a goddess in the sun and decorated with that pretty ring.” His deep voice makes your skin tingle, your stomach dip, a tightening pull behind your hips.

“Shut up, you’re just horny, old man.” You deadpan, turning away from the camera and beginning the task of rising from the ground. You make sure to not aim your back or front at the camera, not wanting to give him the chance to record your chest or ass as you manage to stand. Bringing a hand up to look out at the rest of the set up from where you now stand outside the protection of the shade.

Sarah and her “coworker” are splashing around in the shallows, Ellie and her “friend” are building a sandcastle with the youngest member of your group, and Tommy and Maria are enjoying the small break of entertaining a one-year-old.

“You got me there.” And his grin is blinding, his face lit up with happiness and affection.

“Mhm.” You just raise an eyebrow at him, taking in the way he looks as he stands now too, in his red swim trunks. It’s criminal how good he looks, all broad shoulders and thick thighs. Fuck, he looks good and you feel yourself grow slick the longer you aim an unimpressed expression his way.

“Gotta pee.” You break the staring contest gracefully, pulling on the sun cover you brought along with you, it had been your makeshift pillow while you lay about.

“Alright then.” And then he presses a few buttons on the camera and wraps an arm around your waist.

Half an hour later, with twin ice cream cones held in tight hands, you share giddy chuckles and giggles with him as you make the trek back across the sand toward your set up.

There are flowers everywhere, balloons, and everyone is standing up the moment you get closer.

“Joel…” You trail off, seeing that Tommy is now wearing a graphic shirt with a tux printed on the front paired with his own board shorts. The girls also have their sun covers on, pale green to match the deep olive of yours.

“Alright, so, I know it isn’t the courthouse like we agreed…” Tears well up in your eyes, warm in comparison to the cold sensation of the ice cream you just swallowed a giant lick of. “But, I figured you would like this a little better.”

With barely held back tears, you let him take the last few bites of your napkin wrapped waffle cone and toss it into the trash bag underneath the folding table. And you marry the man who captured your attention some two years ago guide you to stand in the middle of your found family to exchange the vows you never thought you’d get the chance to at the guidance of his brother who learned the monologue online specifically for the occasion. The man who you love and loves you back, sharing sticky sweet kisses to seal the deal.

It’s better than you ever imagined, better than a courthouse and the formality of standing in front of an officiant that’s done it countless times in the same day. Your heart is full as you feel his arms snake around your body and pull you close, his smiling face and crinkled crow’s feet one of the best views in the whole world.

As the sun begins to dip low, you hold his hand tight as you walk with him through the waves crashing around your ankles, another beautiful ring stacked alongside the one he gave you when he proposed to match the simple gold band he now wears on his own finger. They glint in the warm sunlight and you wish that everyday could feel like this, that you get to spend every moment with the man who holds you tight and sways with you in the water to a song in his head. Twirling you carefully, away and then back to him for your body to lean into his with his hands wrapped securely around you.

“Love you, sweet girl, so fucking much.”

“I love you too, Joel Miller.”

The summer semester starts today, Ellie acting as your teaching assistant alongside a young man who you’ve never met before. Only his name on a file and a long list of recommendations. He’s got another two schools listed under his education, both ivy league in name. They’re both due in your office any second now, you realize as you glance at the clock ticking away on the wall. The papers in your hand, copies of the syllabus and the reading list are warm from the printer. The papers need to be organized and stapled into packs for the students to receive once you mid-morning course begins.

Right now, you’ve got a hot tea and a few crackers paired with cheese and fruit in front of you to keep your stomach from lurching. Nausea still rises up but nowhere near as badly as it had during your first trimester. A snack every three hours between meals helps, though you know you need to work on consuming more liquids. The excessive peeing is something new as more pressure weighs down on your bladder and you are not a fan.

You’re about to text Ellie and see if she’s okay when the door to your office suddenly swings open.

No knock, no voice announcing their arrival- and you’re met with the figure of someone familiar.

He recognizes you when his eyes finally land on you at the desk, a sweep of the office taken in first.

And it’s the guy from the coffee shop in Dallas that shoved you so hard you fell to the ground.

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t the woman who swings a pretty mean right hook. Should you be working in your condition? Because if I remember correctly, your boyfriend seemed pretty concerned about you being out and about.”

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[pebblesandpotatos]

Per my last post, this is how I think the LU boys approach/handle drinking.

Time: He mostly only drinks at social events or in celebration. Him and Malon will get totally hammered though on a rare occasion and Oohhh boy they are a riot to be around when that happens.

I do personally think Time had a drinking problem at some point. And while I'm not exactly sure when or for how long, let's just say it's why Lon Lon Ranch doesn't offer alcoholic milk...for the moment.

Wars: He is the most normal when it comes to drinking. He's a soldier. Of course he drinks and gets totally slammed now and again. I actually DON'T think he had a problem though. When everything was going down during the war I think he actually avoided it like the plague in case someone tried to poison him, or just because he couldn't didn't want to let his guard down that much.

It's a fun bonding thing for him so whenever the chain gets to a village he always offers to buy the older boys at least a round of drinks. It actually takes quite a bit to get him drunk but if you can it's kinda hard to tell. He's one to just get a little over dramatic about things when drunk which...isn't that far off from his normal.

Twilight: He is such a lightweight. He definitely didn't start drinking till after his adventure and the first time he got drunk was a doozy. The guy is a total mess, can't walk, and his country accent gets really heavy when drunk. Is definitely starting an arm wrestling contest and probably winning. That being said it's gotten better and he can have a few drinks now but he's not as good as Wars about knowing his limit.

Sky: Sky rarely drinks. It's not a big thing on Skylof and it's practically non existent on the surface currently. I also get the vibes that Sun would be someone very anti-drinking and therefore Sky doesn't do it and is very okay with that. When he goes out for drinks with Wars and Twilight though he somehow is not the first one to get drunk (*cough Twilight cough*) but is a total messy, love sick sap when he does.

Wild: Does. Not. Drink. At all. No amount of teasing or pleading will get him to drink alcohol. He has gotten drunk once since waking up and the experience was awful. He woke up the morning after and struggled to remember what happened and it made the poor boy panic. I also think it makes his memories/flashbacks worse. So Wild is stone cold sober and will stay that way.

Legend: Ahhh, the one that started this whole thing (as it often does cause this man is permanently on my mind). Legend is more like Time in that it's more of a social/celebratory thing for him but probably does it a bit more often. He doesn't like getting drunk though so it's rare for him to drink that much.

If you do get him drunk? Ohh boy. Oh have fun with him. Legend is basically an entirely different person when drunk. This boy is making friends with everyone. He's telling stories, cracking jokes and just being the friendly traveler he was born to be before all the trauma. He will break out into song if given the chance and try to get everyone to join him. And he will succeed. He drips charisma when drunk and its almost as intoxicating as the actual alcohol.

Hyrule: The desire to say he doesn't even know what alcohol is would be an absolute lie. Hyrule definitely drinks to the shock of the others. (Mostly Wars). Can absolutely out drink basically all of them except Wars and Time. Is the most likely to start a bar fight. Not for himself, but on behalf of his brothers. And if anyone dares try to spoil Legend's cheerful mood? Bro better start digging his own grave cause Hyrule will be out for blood.

Four: Not a big drinker. More than Sky but only barely. Each of the colors handle it differently so unless he splits it's gonna give him the worst hangover/migraine. You also never know what you're gonna get, it'll depend on which color is coming through the most. Vio turns into the biggest little shit and is probably gonna be the one getting punched for saying the wrong thing. Green is probably the one who punched him, red is passed out in the corner and blue is eating everything he can get his hands on.

Wind: Has he had drinks before? Yes, duh he is literally a pirate. Does his grandma know? No and it will stay that way if he has any say about it. However he lies through his teeth about how much he actually has/does. It's his way to make the others not look at him like the child he is. He also just loves how horrified the others are when he drinks from a flask. (It's just his grandma's soup). The only ones that have figured it out is Legend and Wild who help him keep up the facade cause they too think it's hilarious to see the others flip out

[utilitycaster]

Hi!

Outside of the obvious issues within the Campaign, One point i haven't seen talked about was how 4sD wasn't really a good way to find out why characters did certain thing or thought a certain way, the what the fuck is up with that section was the closest because the players and Dani would talk and ask eachother, though i believe that they also do that outside of the game, or talked about it on cooldown, but the questions selected for the tower of the deep dive often leaned into a fanfic-y narratives (mostly Tower, but sure i guess we need to know what their favourite ice cream flavors would be, for fun i guess)

I think cooldown is the closest to what i would have rather liked from 4sD but that's behind a paywall.

Do you think the format affected the way the audience engaged with the characters? or would it be like with Molly in C2 where Tal said that he was absolutely not a good guy but the critters insisted he was just misunderstood and actually a saint (hyperbole)

Hi anon,

4SD definitely impacted how people engaged with the characters, but if it hadn't existed the sort of person who cherrypicks out of context lines from 4SD would have just made things up whole cloth to support whatever they wanted a la Campaign 2. I also don't think 4SD is like, a problem. I agree there were flaws in the format, but also...I didn't ever watch Talks for Vox Machina (I did for Campaign 2 but as I binge-watched C1 I didn't have time and I didn't bother) and I understood the story just fine. I think that if you need a talkback shows to understand a character's motivations, either that is a flaw of the text for not showing them, or you are a stupid person. A great example is Bowlgate: Talks addressed explicitly why this conflict happened, but if you had, perhaps, watched the show, you would already know that Caleb had issues with abuses of power and massive problems with trust that often manifested as control issues, and Beau had control issues from the opposite direction that were no less explained by her past, and they understandably clashed, and while I personally agreed with Beau's assessment here neither of them expressed themselves very well, and it was a great moment of conflict in a game where conflict is interesting, and I also at no point was like "oh my god Liam and Marisha hate each other" because I understand the concept of acting. I actually, as someone avoiding the fandom at the time but watching Talks each week, was stunned to hear this had even been a controversy when I tuned in.

I think there are two much bigger factors in how the fandom engages:

social media and especially algorithmic short-form social media creating echo chambers. Like, obviously I am biased but I think the reason why so many of the most rancid and incorrect opinions from this campaign are from Twitter and so many of the most rancid and incorrect people are as well is that on Twitter, saying buzzwords tends to get eyes on your post, and it's all very short so you don't have to explain yourself, and it's based on instant gratification and if you say something stupid in the past it's easier for people to move on because it's hard to find, whereas like, on Tumblr, people have longer memories and if someone doesn't explain themselves they can't point to a character limit. I think without like, Twitter, bowlgate would have been much smaller a phenomenon. I think a major flaw of 4SD is that they've addressed things brought up on Twitter that aren't even a controversy but are actually just incredibly fucking stupid (Relvin not saying the exact words "I love you" is the one I'm remembering off the top of my head but this has been a problem for a WHILE).

The biggest one: I have mentioned blorbo-centric morality and you alluded to how people thought Molly was a saint and I just think for whatever reason Campaign 3 attracted a MASSIVE number of people like that. 4SD doesn't even enter here; if it exists they'll use it but if not they'll again make shit up or cherry pick or misinterpret. The core of all C3 discourse, at this point, is that some people will defend literally anything Bells Hells do no matter what. This is why you are seeing people who insisted the gods were, as someone said, tall kings who needed to be dethroned (killed) and were colonizers and murderers suddenly pivot praising a plan that lets them live and oh how compassionate Bells Hells are. You got people who defended indecision on this topic earlier; who said there were no good options but were too squeamish to actually explore that if their are no good options their darling little angels will get their hands dirty no matter what. The No Agency crowd. It's utterly spineless and amoral; they will abandon whatever argument they had to pivot to the aimless whims of Bells Hells. So 4SD gives them more material in their endless pivoting but they'd do this anyway.

So the format was like, fun as a hangout show but not great as a talkback at times, but it really wasn't a major factor because idiots are gonna be stupid no matter what. With that said while there were things about 4SD I liked I kind of wish they could go back to a more Talks-esque format, obviously with like, a better host. I also think that it might be better to permit fan-submitted questions in real time and air the episodes a few months later, particularly since as mentioned the crew often asked questions from a while ago. I also think doing this as a big thing monthly might be easier on the schedule but meant that we heard a LOT from cast members who were frequently available even if if their characters weren't doing much that was interesting. I would ideally like to go to like, every other week, shorter and more casual, with fan-submissions through a web form collected during the week following an episode so that like. we wouldn't get Talkback Show For 119 for maybe a month but it would actually be about that.

[mud-castle]

What would your Lion King prequel be like?

Funny you ask that considering I was actually thinking about it in the shower earlier. Girl, buckle up, cause I have soooo many thoughts.

I had some personal rules that was mostly to adhere to the story they were trying to tell, not the story I personally would've wanted. So that includes keeping Mufasa and Scar as unrelated, Kiros as the villain, the whole Milele plotline, etc. So let's get to it

Spoilers Obviously:

First thing I'd do is change Taka's name. Taka means "trash" which is a fucked up name first of all but second of all doesn't make sense since both of his parents love him. I'd name him either Askari, as a mild nod to The Lion Guard and because Scar could easily come as a nickname from it; Inkosi which also means "king"; or Takasa meaning "to purify."

Secondly, I'd make Taka worse. Not evil yet, but a very spoiled, manipulative brat with a soft spot for Mufasa. Taka suddenly becoming a master deceiver because his father once told him that kings have to lie sometimes makes no sense. So he's just like that. I actually imagine he gets it from his mother since she needs more character than just being good. I'd show him getting into trouble with the animals within his father's territory because of his entitlement with Mufasa often having to act as a mediator.

Taka desires and expects to be king. Full Stop. No "oh I wish I was normal and could hunt with my mother." Would he be an atrocious king? Absolutely, but that doesn't matter since it's what he's owed for being a prince. There would have to be a balancing act between Taka's better and worse traits to keep him somewhat sympathetic.

With that in mind, he never falls in love with Sarabi. He honestly doesn't care much for her. But he wants her as his queen since he's a prince and she's a princess so that's just kind of how it goes. I imagine a scene where Mufasa is trying to see his logic and he's like "but don't you think you should...idk...love... her?" And Taka just raises an eyebrow. Sarabi genuinely can't stand his ass.

Speaking of Sarabi, I'd give her some actual character. I want her to be Mufasa's opposite but also compliment him. So I'd make him very open towards new things and other animals from his experiences wandering with his parents as a cub and push Sarabi's pride and pragmatism up to 11. Sometimes he's right, sometimes she's right, but they learn from each other. I'd like a scene of them together near the end plotting and putting together everything they've learned from each other, working as a unit. I'm removing the weird super senses Mufasa had.

Mufasa dearly needs a character arc, so i'm just gonna go the simple route of him learning to stand up for himself and against Taka sometimes. he's very submissive considering he's lived most of his life under Obasi and tends to be very lenient as a result. He still acts as mediator even after the two have to run and often ends up in the middle of arguments while trying to keep the peace. Keeping his head down has kept him alive. He learns that that will not fly sometimes and someone needs to take a stand and that someone has to be him.

Also I'd keep Kiros as a cannibal, cause God knows he needs something interesting going on. He's a character who loves to play with his food. Instead of being frustrated, he's having the time of his life tracking them down to take care of loose ends (Taka and later Sarabi too). I'd move his son's death to later in the film so we have some time to see their dynamic and really understand why he's so enraged by his death.

Most major change I'd have though is adding more lions to the traveling group:

I don't like how there were already lions at the Pridelands when the whole point was that it was a fairy tale story to give hope. It's kind of weird that there were lions already chilling there, makes the end of the journey feel less impactful.

So I'm taking those lions and making them refugees of Kiros's destruction (he also has a LOT more lions than in the movie) found along the way. This includes Sarafina cause why not. Taka is fully against taking them along as some of them are injured and will slow them down. Sarabi, hating to agree with Taka, is also hesitant, especially since they're being tracked, but she's sympathetic. Mufasa says he'll take the blame if anything happens and helps them, showing his compassion and leadership.

Rafiki joins them as a healer. He's still completely unconcerned with being eaten when they meet, but he has enough of an initial use for them to be given an actual reason to spare him. I imagine Sarafina was one of the injured lions picked up and he simply says she won't make it if they eat him. Her wound is infected and she's growing slower and weaker by the day. Mufasa decides to believe the questionably sane baboon and Rafiki helps her which cements his place in the group.

Taka needs something to do too, so I'm gonna let him be the brains of the outfit. He has 0 leadership skills, but he does have a lot of good ideas. But he often needs Mufasa to actually execute it. Or worse, he needs the other lions which means he needs Mufasa to convince them on his behalf since he cannot ask nicely to save his life.

He doesn't turn into an incel when Sarabi chooses Mufasa cause wtf, but he does feel his authority slipping day by day as Mufasa shows himself to be more of a leader. He sort of "allows" Mufasa to have Sarabi and tells him as much in a bid for some control.

He doesn't betray them to Kiros cause wtf. Instead Mufasa, for the first time, gives him a firm no about something. Taka is stricken, then gets angry and careless and storms off in a blizzard where he trips and falls down a snowdrift near where Kiros is. He panics and runs, unable to cover his tracks as the snowstorm ends and leading them to where the group is heading. Taka knows it's most likely his fault they got caught but like hell he'll admit that.

Throughout the movie, Taka gets worse. More argumentative, more irritated, more angry, more insecure. He loves Mufasa, but that love only seems to be present so long as he's subservient to him. There are moments where Mufasa breaks through to him briefly, showing that he could change, but he just doesn't want to. Taka never really sees Mufasa as an equal, even if he never calls him a stray or anything like Obasi did.

Taka also gets the unfortunate experience of being pummeled and toyed with by Kiros in the battle for the Pridelands until Mufasa slams in, allowing Taka to run. Then it's Mufasa's turn to get beaten. It's up to Sarabi, with her having to convince Taka to help her, to save him. This is the singular time the two manage to work together. Putting their heads together, they manage to save Mufasa.

After the fight, Mufasa sees Taka, there's relief and gratitude in his eyes as he starts to limp to him. We see Taka's eyes soften just a bit and it seems like maybe he'll close the distance. Then the rest of the lions come to praise Mufasa for leading them this whole time and convincing them to get rid of Kiros. Taka slips off somewhere unnoticed, his pride more wounded than ever.

Mufasa shakes off the group as quick as he can, but not quick enough to see where Taka went. He finds him eventually in a cave and is wary about the whole king thing and confides in him. Taka never quite faces him, but in a nutshell he tells him that he might as well accept the title (it goes unsaid that they wouldn't give the position to Taka anyway, but it's very implied). Mufasa moves to make another attempt to connect with his brother. Taka promptly shoots him down, saying something like "you should run along, you wouldn't keep your subjects waiting."

Mufasa reluctantly takes the dismissal and leaves. Taka stares after him in the dark, his eyes brighter and greener than ever with pure envy. Then Mufasa roars and all is good.

Also Mufasa's mom is dead dead. I don't see the point in her being alive.

Also also, take out Timon, Pumbaa, and Zazu. I could not stand them.

[azazelsazaleas]

Set a course...for home

So I just finished Voyager. And I have thoughts.

Endgame, like the series, was good but felt like it could've been so much more. I'm not the first fan to point out that it's weird that the last thing we see is Voyager flying towards Earth, with no coda or montage or anything showing each of the crew when they get home. What really surprised me on this viewing (I saw it once back when it first aired, but it's been over 20 years and I barely remembered it) was how slow the pacing was until the last 20 minutes or so. I kinda feel like the writers could've trimmed a bit out of it so we could have a more satisfying denouement. Oh well. They got home, Janeway thoroughly wrecked the Borg, and I'm not going to lie - I got a little choked up when they fly out of the exploding Borg Sphere and Janeway says, "We did it."

With that said, may as well go through the good, the not-so-good, and any other random thoughts I have in retrospect.

The good :

Captain Kathryn Janeway.

I'm sorry, that deserves to be written thusly:

CAPTAIN KATHRYN FUCKING JANEWAY

Oh my god, I love this woman. I think, at this point, she's my favorite Star Trek captain and easily one of my favorite characters in the franchise. She absolutely radiates an aura of "I am in charge here, and this situation is going to go how I decide it goes," and she delivers every damn time. Strong-willed, controversial, authoritative, intelligent, creative, and just damned incredible. Janeway alone is a major reason to give this show a watchthrough.

Not to mention, Kate Mulgrew is a fucking INCREDIBLE actress. She brings 110% to every episode, and I swear to god, she basically carried the first two or three seasons.

And speaking of amazing actresses, Jeri Ryan was incredible. A lot of people loved her performance in Body and Soul (and yes, watching her channel Robert Picardo was delightful), but seeing her constantly changing personalities in Infinite Regress two seasons earlier was the big "Holy Shit" moment for me. Even beyond that, she was brilliant as Seven of Nine (and say what you will about ST:Picard, I loved seeing her step back into the role). It also doesn't hurt that Seven is one of the most interesting characters on the show, if not on Star Trek.

In general, the show had some great characters on the main cast. I found I really liked Tuvok and B'Elanna as well. Tim Russ nailed that "annoyed Vulcan who secretly cares" thing, and I thought B'Elanna's struggles with her identity were generally well-handled, at least for mid-late-90s TV.

I'm honestly surprised how fine I was with Tom/B'Elanna. I was not expecting that relationship to work as well as it did.

Speaking of "didn't expect that to work," Naomi Wildman was genuinely endearing as the "kid on the starship" character type that Star Trek seemed adamant on having in the 80s and 90s. I"m glad the writers learned their lessons post-Wesley Crusher.

Oddly enough, I also found I enjoyed some of the "bad" episodes - Threshold, Tuvix, etc. Voyager got pretty weird, so some of the more questionable creative choices were just damned entertaining. Not all of them, though. Which brings me to...

The Bad:

Oh my god fuck the Kazon. They are easily the worst recurring villain race I've seen on Star Trek. They don't even seem like ST villains, they seem like the kind of thing you'd see on a b-rate late night 1990s crappy sci-fi action show. They're like an attempt to make Klingon copies but without literally anything whatsoever that makes the Klingons compelling.

Speaking of which, fuck Seska, too. I still have a hard time buying that any self-respecting Cardassian would look at the Kazon and go, "yep, I'll throw my lot in with them."

The whole Neelix/Kes thing was...gross. I'm sorry, there's no way around that. They had no chemistry, no compelling reason to be in a relationship, and the whole thing with Kes's age felt like a variation on the theme of "she may look 12 but she's actually a 5000 year old dragon." Whichever producer came up with that needs to have something solid thrown at them.

In general, Neelix was just the worst character for the first couple or three seasons. He got a lot better, but early Neelix was...yikes. I got genuinely frustrated with how much time was focused on him.

I also have mixed feelings about Chakotay. Sometimes he was pretty great, but the whole behind-the-seasons thing with the "cultural advisor" made for some pretty bad early character building, and after they gave up on that, he felt kind of flat. And now that I think of it, inconsistent. It seems like the writers (at least in the early seasons) couldn't decide between making him a tough hardass who'll punch you if you don't get in line or the more calm, measured, cautious voice in contrast to Janeway's bullheadedness.

Seven/Chakotay was just...no.

Other random thoughts:

I have mixed feelings about the EMH. Robert Picardo was great in the role, but as the character progressed, I feel like he got away with crossing lines he really should not have. The entire episode Renaissance Man just pissed me off. Can't say I was thrilled with some of his behavior in Body and Soul, either. The whole running gag of him having a giant ego seemed to swing between hilarious and painful to watch, as well.

The show was good, but it felt like it could've been so much more. Part of it was Paramount's insistence on not having anything serialized, but part of it was also how actionized it got. There's a number of episodes that felt like they could've done something more interesting but instead the producers wanted phasers and explosions.

I have very mixed feelings about how the Borg were handled. On one hand, Seven is an amazing character, the Scorpion 2-parter is probably my favorite pair of episodes in the show's run, and there are a couple other Borg-relate episodes I liked. On the other hand, I thought the Borg as a direct threat got stale quickly, Dark Frontier nerfed them way too much, they felt underwhelming as an enemy in Endgame, and (yes I know this is more of a criticism of First Contact, but still) the Borg having a Queen ruins a lot of the creepy mystique they have. No matter how you slice it, I think the Borg as a recurring enemy were pretty much spent by the end of Voyager.

Favorite episodes (off the top of my head): Scorpion 1&2, Equinox 1&2, Bride of Chaotica!

Final score: 7 out of 9 (you were expecting anything else?)

[4lexnilsen]

“you’re being ridiculous,  helena.”   alex can only roll his eyes and dismissively wave his hand,  trying to understand what it is that she’d want him to do when his friend is under constant scrutiny for simply existing.   “she’d never lay a hand on you!   and if she did,  i surely wouldn’t just sit by and praise her for it or excuse her behavior.”   he doesn’t allow anyone to speak poorly about helena in his presence,  so why would he allow helena to belittle his other friends?   he puts down what’s left of the churro that he’d been munching on and wipes his lips with the back of his hand,  trying to ignore the spectacle that she’s putting on.   the tears that he’s glimpsed in her doe-like hues must be fake —   this spoiled brat isn’t used to people disagreeing with her or talking back.   still,  his heart aches but he’s too angry to feel much sympathy.   who gave her the right to play freud and analyze his life choices?   project her own insecurities onto him?   “ohhh,  helena wayne said her first bad word.   what would daddy think about it?”   he cruelly taunts,  figuring two can play this game of blatant disrespect.   

“who’s been treating you like shit?   name one person.   sarah?   she avoids you like the plague!   poppy?   that’s all in your head.   she doesn’t have any personal agenda against you.   she just wants to make sure that i’m not replacing her!   for someone who constantly talks about feelings and tries to pick apart every single one,  you have no empathy for her.   how do you know they talk behind your back?   see?   you’re doing it again!   putting words in people’s mouths.   i’ve never heard them say anything rude about you.   period.   again,  sarah doesn’t know you and poppy isn’t hellbent on making a villain out of you.”   he’s reaching for the door,  ready to just get out of her car and remove himself from this insane situation before she begins to throw other things at him.   all because he’s a good friend.   “which one of us are you talking about right now?   a professional guilter and manipulator with a victim complex.   that’s all you,  helena.   oh,  look at me,  i’m so friendly and sweet and i’ve convinced myself other girls just hate me.   do you even hear yourself?”   he zips up his jacket,  shaking his head because she sounds psychotic.   absolutely psychotic.

“a guy with a whole lot of issues?   jesus christ.   you really are crazy.   i’ve got issues because i go on vacation with my best friend who just so happens to be a woman?   i don’t know what misogynistic bullshit you’ve been taught in private schools,  but men and women can be just friends.”   if he only allowed himself a glimpse into the darkest parts of his soul,  he’d know that she’s right about everything —   he does have plenty of issues and trauma that has never been fully processed.   but something that his consciousness refuses to acknowledge.   “sharing a bed.   oh,  how evil of us that was.   right,  because sleeping in one bed means you’re fucking,  yeah?   i have back problems,  helena.   it was an honest mistake during the booking process,  not some great scheme to get into each other’s pants while sarah’s waiting at home.   we slept in one bed because i couldn’t sleep on the floor or the tiny sofa because of my back,  and i sure as hell wasn’t gonna let poppy take the floor.   just like i wouldn’t let you do it.”   he can’t believe she’s actually stalked those pictures,  read the captions.   that’s obsessive behavior.

“unlock the door,  i’m going home.   i can’t handle more of this bullshit.   you’ve offended me enough times for one day.”   but just as he says it,  the car roars to life and he’s squished back into the seat,  fingers digging into the leather beneath.   suddenly,  the temperature reaches a hundred degrees as his heart begins to race.   “what are you doing?   this is crazy.   you’ve lost your mind.   pull over.   i said PULL OVER!”   he doesn’t raise his voice often,  but he’s losing sanity and can’t help it.   is she planning on crashing the car?   he wouldn’t put it past her.   “helena,  slow down.   there’s other cars in the street!   slow down.   what the fuck?!”   he generally hates being the one in the passenger’s seat,  but now…   he’s certain this is how he goes —   all because he got in the car with an insane person.   “give me that fucking thing.   pay attention to the road!”   he unceremoniously snatches her phone,  his left hand grabbing the steering wheel because he doesn’t trust her one bit right now.   “pull over,  i’m getting out.   PULL.   OVER.”

"and it's crazy how you really are the poppy wright DEFENSE attorney." a dry laugh emits. "if she slapped me in the face, you'd have all sorts of defenses even then... 'oh, judge. it's just because she doesn't trust easily!'" mocking him, he makes her head absolutely ACHE and her stomach twist and turn deeply in disgust acting like this. "of course i'm going to talk things–" trying to fight back the urge to curse as angry tears well in her eyes– quickly swiping them away, but forget that, he just gaslighted her ONCE again. the pulse in her neck quivering, throat hardening, before exploding, "of course i'm going to talk shit," forget trying to hold back and saying 'THINGS', "when someone treats me like shit! i don't need to be revoltingly guilted by you for not being a 'girls girl' once it gets to that point. i won't let anyone treat me like shit, whether you like it or not. whether you accuse me of bullshit like that or not. and you... you're such a liar. when i know for certain they say things. you're trying to guilt me all while LYING, alex?!" what kind of terrible game is he trying to play with her? it's flabbergasting and insulting, how STUPID he thinks she is. to play like these girls are so innocent, trying to make her the villain while he in fact is aware he's lying. it leaves her staring at him wide eyed, angry and shocked like she doesn't even know who he is. it's no wonder her instincts had a funny idea about him, he's not that quiet nice guy he portrays so well. he wears a mask. "good idea. i should switch career paths all in order to diagnose what kind of mental illness i'm witnessing. you being a professional guilter, manipulator and a liar."

"doing what? sitting in my car? listening to you talking like a guy with a whole lot of issues? at least we're not on a vacation, sharing a bed right now." like in that picture his friend posted of them on instagram she caught a long time ago. "i told you that you project and now you go and repeat it like a toddler learning a new word because it MUST'VE hit a nerve. and now you entirely misuse the word so often, that it's criminal." rolling her eyes at how ignorant he sounds. "it isn't your POINT of view when it's just you being an accusatory ASSHOLE."

the fourth curse word spewing from her tonight, sounding foreign coming from her voice but who cares about being polite and put well together when inner fury and rage is boiling her blood. no one has ever pushed her so far off the edge like this. heat slithering up her back in hot waves, pooling in her cheeks– temples throbbing. unable to take all of these accusatory and untrue comments, being twisted like she's the one in the wrong from his clique to him making her feel like it's her FAULT why harry treats her the way he does. all at the wrong time he's offering they go visit sarah and harry... of course her ANGER thinks first before anything else. "fine!" mustang is already started and humming, all it takes is helena's right hand to fly to the gear shift and her foot stomping the acceleration to make it growl alive as the car takes off. "two things at once?" how twisted is he to say something like that to her? "i'll show you three things at once then." how to drive chicago like a speed demon without getting caught. let's see who needs control now as the speedometer climbs to 45, 55, 65... let's SEE WHO is controlling. picking up her phone while she's driving and speed still races to the next digit, going to a specific app while she's at it. typing in sarah's name to get her address since she's going to need it.

[novelconcepts]

Hi! I love the way you write Taivan, just out of curiosity, do you ever imagine them in a no break up universe? What are your headcanons about Taivan post willderness together?

Thank you! Tbh, I don't usually visualize a no-break-up universe for them, because their relationship has soooo many dark corners in which trauma can hide. They don't communicate. Like, famously, do not talk to each other about the problems they're having. That, on top of eeeeverything else the crash brings, can't end well--or, at least, can't be one smooth, continuous ride.

In the event that they ever did stay together for the entire run of the show, I feel like it would be...savage. They'd sharpen each other's edges. Bring out the worst in one another, even as they formed an unassailable wall against the world. I don't think they'd have kids. I don't think they'd be the gay Kennedys. I think they'd be hard, intense, passionate, and ultimately kind of terrifying. Since both of them used the years apart to build a life looking firmly at the past (Taissa fulfilling ambitions she probably outgrew in the woods, Van quite literally living inside a shrine to nostalgia), it's hard to imagine them building a gentle future together in their late 20s-early 30s. I certainly don't think either of them would ever get bored, but I don't think it would be healthy, either.

I think after the wilderness, they do stay together a while. I think it's passionate and intense, a roller coaster of a relationship. I think they break up and get back together a lot. I suspect there's a lot of sex and not a lot of conversation about anything real. Until canon corrects me, my estimation is that they continue on their on-again, off-again thing through Shauna's wedding in 2001. I suspect they split up soon after that--possibly because Tai's so obsessed with her future, possibly because the weight of their combined trauma cracks something in them. Taissa says she's flushed a fifteen-year-marriage down the drain, so I assume she sleeps with a ton of women, and then launches herself at Simone, marrying her by 2006. And Van...just...seems like she's done letting people in. This screams of two people needing very different things (or, at least, convincing themselves they do), so I am rabid for any post-rescue scenes with them together. I really, really want to see (re: am terrified to see) how sad that might have gotten. I think they don't know how not to protect each other. I think they don't know how to not give in to the gravity between them. And I think, ultimately, they never learned how to melt down the knife they made of themselves in the woods. Their love was literally shaped by a violent near-death experince. What choice do they have, but to draw blood?

[spacedlexi]

the way the ericson group were at the outbreak just a bunch of troubled kids who made various mistakes or committed crimes and were judged by a system that punished and abandoned them instead of giving them the support and love they needed, are then nearly a decade later put into a situation where now they must judge a troubled child for the mistakes and crimes hes committed against them. and 5 to 3 vote them out 😭

[specialgradefckr]

AWHHHH ty for the tag!! i know i've got soooo many wips i wanna see from you heheheh... omg god i STILL have to check out some stuff XD life really does get away from you sometimes

i'll pass on the tag to @eevwrites and @infinitatis-ink i know you bitches got stuff in drafts. show us the goods. gimme. sample.

hhhhh... the forbidden texts... some of which have gone untouched for like. an entire year almost.

but i have some BESPOKE lines in some of my drafts. i swear to god. some of these are absolutely WILD sjhdflghdg i still love them even after months and months~

from my final heatwave fic, omega!gojo getting sex ed entirely from porn:

Satoru had always liked the idea of getting knotted. Like, what omega didn’t? You were his best friend, and you could confirm you liked the idea, too. The two of you had talked all about it – about everything, once you’d both presented and helped each other out through your first heats. The moment you’d reluctantly shown him your collection of knot toys, he’d ordered some for himself. You had to wrestle with him to keep him from borrowing one to try out, complaining that you didn’t trust him at all to sanitize it properly, and then there was that one time you and he were both in heat at the same time- Anyways, Satoru knew he wanted to get knotted. He just hadn’t found the right alpha to do it with yet. But now he has one, and now he’s finally going to get knotted, like he always wanted. So why, when Suguru finally grinds against his ass, does he feel ice in his gut? He tries to hide how he stiffens up but Suguru notices. Fuck. Didn’t it hurt if they didn’t fuck when they got hard? Like, in the porn, the alpha stepbrother always begs his omega stepsister to help him out just this once, and she agrees because she knows that his knot will be painful and hard for hours if he doesn’t cum inside some hot omega pussy. (Listen, he’s not proud of that one. He’d only clicked on it in the first place because the stepsister looked like… someone he knew.)

this fic i started in like. may of last year or something wild. it's such a fun idea, it's SO full of funny moments:

“This is what I looked like in high school. We dated a whole year, you know, I can prove it. The pictures are still up on his profile.” Piercing, bloodred eyes dart from the picture, and back to you. Fair enough. You looked like crap in high school, and you definitely look a lot better now. “I must have had a pretty fun personality, no?” His mouth opens up, but before he says anything, you put your face right up in front of his, eyes locked, smiling deviously. “Or I must have been a complete fucking freak in the sheets.” He barks out a laugh, and you know you’ve got him. Foot in the door. “You’d suck my dick to get a date to this stupid reunion?” Sukuna didn't take you for that sort of woman, but the teasing question falls from his lips so naturally. “I would suck your dick to make Satoru Gojo feel inferior,” You correct. Where have you been all of my life?

and this one is another super fucked up delicious wip of mine:

“Yo! Suguru!” He calls out cheerfully, dragging either twin by the hair. Their mouths are duct taped shut. “These are yours, right?” “Which one do you love more?” His eyes shine a painful white-blue. Like glacial ice in the sunlight. Suguru's breath leaves him. “What?” “Nanako and Mimiko, right? Which one do you love more? You can keep that one, and I’ll kill the other.” Ice in his lungs. His breath. He had never. Never imagined that Satoru would. “They’re innocent – they’re just girls – ” “Your girls killed two women. They’ve got two lives to pay for their crimes with, but out of respect for our long friendship, I’m letting you keep one. Isn’t that nice of me?” “Two monkeys?” He snarls helplessly. “Monkeys to you. To me, they were women. And I say that killing a woman is a crime worthy of death. Choose now or watch them both die.” It’s not a bluff. Suguru can feel him gathering his cursed energy, he can curse faster than Suguru could even dream of stopping him.

silly wip tag game!◝(ᵔᗜᵔ)◜

show us a paragraph, line or dialogue out of context from your current wip[s]. if you aren't a writer, feel free to share one from the last fic you read! ♡

these are from three different wips, the last one is something i wrote in december 2024 (those who remember me talking about nanami and a desi reader...yea), and the second one is something my aashi (@fushitoru) has been asking for since the beginning of time [hint: salaryman choso]

— npt: @gojocon @norikuna @sonnytoru @starmapz @aishi-toru @baepsays @gojosoups @indiewritesxoxo @madamechrissy + anyone else