#but especially for shit reasons/no reason

[local-magpie]

probably around when theyll do the same with banana and eggs or almond flour and wheat flour. very sorry OP, we are in the trenches together

When will someone gently take all the internet food bloggers by the shoulders, look into their eyes, and explain that coconut milk is not a neutral-flavored dairy substitute

[madamechrissy]

Girl I'm Into It

NSFW- WC- 1.4k- Request for heavy petting w/Gojo! College AU, lots of dry humping, touching, and teasing, Virgin Gojo blushing and whimpering for reasons lol <3

"Holy fuck the party's cramped." You mumble, sipping on this godawful punch in the middle of a rather insane frat party. The scent of smoke and cloyingly sweet liquor mixes with the endless amounts of men's axe body spray and cheap perfume. You look at Satoru then, shaking your head at him. "You really joining the frat, Toru?"

"Yeah, I mean why not? Suguru and Kento are."

"I know but... we play Digimon, Toru."

"Hush!" Satoru covers your mouth up quickly, looking around nervously, making you both laugh then. "You're the nerd."

"Me!?"

"You. Hey man, watch it!" Satoru shoves a dude who has bumped into you out of the way now, sighing as there are just far too many people, watching as you get nervous. "Wanna go to a room? Get away?"

"Yeah, if you don't mind?" You and Satoru had been friends forever, including now that you're in college of course, but parties weren't your thing, especially frat parties. But, you want to support Satoru in whatever he does. He leads you down the halls now, opening a room and peeking in, seeing a couple on the bed.

"Shit, sorry!" He closes the door, now opening another, grinning down at you brightly, his pretty blue eyes glittering under snowy lashes. "Got it."

"Thanks, Toru." You murmur, as he leads you in the room and shuts the door behind you both, the bed looks... questionable, so he instead sits on a big recliner, patting his long leg. You blush at the thought, hoping he can't see.

"Seat right here. The bed looks diseased." He says with a shiver of disgust, you laugh then, sitting on his thigh. You all had done this before at parties, you were good friends and it wasn't crazy but...

But Satoru's leg feels so good between your thighs.

So good you're nervous he can sense your heat, as you've both gotten older you've had more and more feelings for him. But now he's at this university, going to be in a frat, and you're over at an art school, he's right in saying you are a nerd...

"What's wrong silly?" He asks then, peeking at his phone, popping on a song, you try to relax a bit when his big hand is on your bare thigh so casually, he's leaning back to get comfortable, long legs sprawled out, pressing his thigh up even more.

"Um..." You gasp then, when your hips shift, and you feel your panties getting wet, panicking. He has on jeans thank god, maybe he doesn't notice!?

"Recharge that social battery." He teases, and you turn your head again, shifting your hips experimentally, he pauses now, lips parted, pouty pink ones you want to kiss so damn bad. "Fuck... you're..."

"Sorry, shit." You stand now, then look down in horror at the wet spot on his light blue jeans, covering your face in embarrassment. He gulps then, running a thumb over the sticky wetness, exhaling, blue eyes locked on it. "I'll leave-"

"Stop, it's normal yeah?" He laps it up on his thumb, moaning, and your pussy throbs around nothing. "Fuck it's... sweet?"

"It is?" You whisper, he nods then, looking up at you under those long snowy lashes, taking your hips carefully and spinning you towards him. "Gojo I've never..."

"Me either." You gasp at that, eyes wide, and he's blushing now, cheeks flushed pink on his perfect skin.

"How!? You're so popular, and gorgeous-"

"You think I'm gorgeous?" He asks, thin white brows drawn together, now you're between his thighs, his hands pressing into your hips, your entire body is reacting, your breaths quicker and quicker.

"Of course I do, Toru."

"Well I think you're pretty. So pretty." He says softly, and suddenly your hand is running through his silky white locks, as the other rests on a strong bicep over his long sleeved shirt.

"You do?" You manage to whisper, he nods, pulling you on his lap then, your thighs on either side, shaking as you kneel over him. "Toru what are..."

"Can we kiss? Please? Pretty please?" He bats his lashes, pouting, and you nod with a little nervous laugh. "I've done some things if you want me to show you?"

"Like kiss?" You whisper, lips pressing against his now, Satoru moans against your lips, you feel them, plush and firm against yours, his hot tongue slipping inside your mouth, you gasp then. You cling to his shoulders as your panties now brush against his lap, and you sink down, crying out at how good it feels, his hardness between your dripping folds.

"You're a good kisser." He murmurs, pulling back, pressing you down firmer now, and you're soaking your panties, ruining them completely, earning his groan. "I can feel how hot you are. She's so needy, hmm?" His tone goes husky, your lips part at it, gasping, your head falling back as you roll your hips again, grinding on his cock over his clothes.

"Satoru... need more." You whimper when he's kissing the tops of your breasts, then up your throat, licking and biting, bucking his hips up then, earning another cry of pleasure, heat pooling in your core. "Ngh!"

"Those sounds you make, fuck..." Satoru picks you up by your hips then, slipping a finger to your swollen clit over your panties. "They're soaked."

"Embarrassing... ah!" Satoru's little hum of satisfaction just makes you wetter, he's looking right at you, and you're drowning in that gaze, in the swirling blue depths of his eyes.

"Let me make you cum." He whispers, slipping past the elastic of your panties now, finding your soaking wet pussy with his fingers, you nearly fall apart at it, pausing your movements. He moans, hard cock shoving up more. "No, keep rocking on me."

"Y-you sure?" He nods eagerly, so you rock more on Satoru's cock, his finger rolling on your clit now in little circles, watching you, flushed cheeks, parted full lips. You kiss them as you cry out, grinding helplessly while he keeps rolling circles, then starts flicking back and forth. "Toru!"

"So wet, oh my god... so pretty..." He is urging you on more and more with every breath, every kiss, until you're about to fall, and he's sensing it, free hand grabbing your ass, shoving you further on his clothed cock, panties a sticky mess. You're dripping all the way down his finger as he's moaning, harder and harder between your lips. "Let go, I've got you."

"Toru I-"

"Cum." You scream out then, as if on command, shuddering as your wetness gushes all over, as you throb around nothing, making a mess of his finger, your panties, his jeans. He moans now, sucking on his finger before kissing you, grinding up more and more, gasping as you're trembling, clinging to him, wanting more and more...

suddenly the door knocks, and you both curse. "Go away." He grumbles, you giggle then, hips moving just a bit, and Satoru is now slipping down his zipper, you watch with a gulp as his cock is revealed, a sticky wet spot on his boxers as his pretty cock springs free, long and curved, making you wetter. " Can I... rub it on you?" He asks, you nod nervously, and Satoru now has slipped his pretty pink tip into your panties, rubbing on your engorged clit.

"Satoru!" You're gushing more and more, and he groans then, all flushed, clinging to your ass as he fucks your panties.

"F-fuck you're too wet, too hot I- ah- oh my god..." You feel something hot and sticky against you now, and you flush, looking down to see Satoru's cock is spurting hot white ropes of sticky cum agaisnt you. He rests his head on your chest, whimpering. "Fuck I'm sorry. Shit, shit shit..."

"Toru... it's okay." You whisper then, he is blushing as bad as you are when he tilts back, looking up, cupping your face gently. You place your hand down and lap some of it up, moaning. "You're yummy too."

"Fuck... let me..." Satoru picks you up then, taking off the panties he'd cum in, laughing a little nervously as you watch him, only for him to turn you and sit you on the seat, pushing your thighs apart. He fingers the sticky cum on your pussy lips, kneeling then.

"W-what are you doing?" You whisper, and he looks up at you with dilated eyes, kissing up your inner thigh.

"Gonna clean up my mess."

Virgin Toru is new for me aha, but he's adorableee

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

big question. i'm cis (afab) and my gf is trans (amab) and i'm sorta having a hard time reconciling something. i've been a hard line feminist since i was about 8, by 12 i was a practical library on everything and anything womens lib. i'm spending a lot more time around trans people especially my gf now and i'm sorta struggling to reconcile the trans experience with my feminism. like- i'll see trans women being like "i hate my body :(" "my voice is awful" "i need [x thing to try to pass] ugh" and like my first thought is always "NO! THATS HOW THEY FUCKING GET YOU!!! THE PATRIARCHY WANTS YOU TO HATE YOURSELF SO YOU ENSLAVE YOURSELF TO CAPITALISM AND LIVE IN A CONSTANT STATE OF NEED FOR NEW PRODUCTS TO WARD OFF THE EVER PRESENT SELF HATRED BROUGHT ON YOU BY SOCIETY" and they go "well then how do i pass/transition?" and i honestly don't know and i also don't know how far it goes before its no longer dysphoria but instead the intentional subjugation of women by patriarchy for profit. i wanna help my fellow ladies but i honestly don't know how to like- apply the feminism i was taught as a child to trans women and i want to learn as soon as possible so that i can start doing it like yesterday

hi there,

I'll be honest: if it feels hard to apply the feminism you learned as a kid to your trans friends, that's probably because the feminism you were taught didn't have trans woman in mind.

luckily, the answer to this is something that I consider to be feminism 101: what a woman does with her body is, ultimately, her fucking business.

listen: I agree with you that the beauty industry(TM) is evil. it's misogynistic, it's exploitative, it thrives by making women feel bad enough about themselves to make them spend money on shit they don't need, etc. we all know this.

now, having said that: women who like makeup or wear heels or get laser hair removal or whatever other asinine thing are not my oppressor, nor are they my enemy. dare I say, we have bigger problems.

we also need to consider that many trans women are coming to these choices from a VERY different place than many cis women are. while I think my fellow cis women really benefit from reminders that they're allowed to stop shaving or wearing eyeliner or dieting or whatever, that's because most of us have had those actions forced on us from very young ages and may genuinely need a hand to feel secure breaking out of those behaviors.

the majority of trans women are not coming from a background where they were encouraged to partake in the same personal grooming habits and modes of presentation as cis women; many of them have, in fact, been ostracized, bullied, threatened, and otherwise hurt because of forays into forms of presentation that are considered feminine. no matter how good your intentions may be, approaching your advice indelicately can, unfortunately, make you come across as no different than any transphobe on the street trying to enforce cisnormative societal expectations. it also must be said that, for many trans women, the ability to "pass" is a matter of security - for having their status as women recognized at all, and to avoid harassment and abuse in public spaces. if you live in America, like I do, politicians in power currently have an extremely explicit anti-trans agenda that can make it harrowing to be visible as a trans person, and trans women in particular are frequently targeted for violence.

there are absolutely critiques to be made the way the many trans women are expected to perform hyperfemininity. the notion that someone is duty bound to drastically change their appearance in order to transition at all is itself extremely rooted in cisnormativity, and "passing" is often contingent on being young, thin, able-bodied, reasonably wealthy, and hewing as closely to Eurocentric standards of beauty as possible. that's not awesome! but that's also not the fault of any individual; no trans person asked to be born into a world where gender norms are so narrow and failing to pass can come with a very real risk of physical danger.

also, if I can circle back to this: again, women who participate in aspects of the beauty industry are not our enemies. there are always going to be some number of women who enjoy doing their makeup or like spending time fussing over their little outfits or want breast implants or whatever. some of those women are going to be trans. my official feminist stance on this is that I don't give a shit, because I believe in bodily autonomy even when it involves things I would not do personally and the choices that individual women make about how they want to style their little meat body don't even crack the top 100 things that I'm worried about right now. it's actually kind of vitally important, politically, that trans people be able to safely pursue their preferred gender expression; while it's not particularly revolutionary for a cis woman to go outside all dolled up, whether a trans woman can do that safely is a pretty basic litmus test for how safe a given space is for queer people. it's a ridiculously low bar, and many places will still fail to clear it.

so, yeah, I don't know, dude. be there to talk to your trans girlies if they want to start unpacking some of the pressure they feel to conform to a very rigid idea of womanhood, but whether or not they can walk down the street in your neighborhood safely is a WAY bigger issue than whether they decide to do voice training or not.

if you really want to cut to the root of the insecurity and vulnerability that the beauty industry thrives on exploiting, your time is much better spent working to ensure the trans women in your life feel safe and supported and have a community where they can find support regardless of how they look.

necessary disclaimer I'm a cis girl, any transfemme folks please share your voice here and feel free to clap my ass if I've said something out of line.

[ambrosia-vinca]

There's a kind of defensive attitude towards criticism re:Lucanis' romance in many corners of the fandom that I partially understand because Veilguard gets a lot of shit thrown at it, and if you enjoy something you naturally want to defend it. But this type of attitude also rubs me the wrong way when people who loved the way his romance played out say that anyone criticizing it must just not understand slow burns/not like slow burn as a genre/not understand Lucanis' character and his trauma properly/must have been expecting explicit sex scenes and a Zevran 2.0.

Maybe some people criticizing his romance don't like slow burns, or were wrongly expecting him to be a sex god, or ignore his trauma. I've seen a few. But that's not all the criticism there is.

Personally, I love slow burns, it's my favorite genre both to read and write (I'm the type of fic writer to think up 200k words enemies to lovers longfics where they've barely kissed after 100k words). I'm also the type of ace person who's not into extremely explicit sex scenes or super kinky romances (especially with male dom stuff, which I personally dislike). And lastly, I'm the type who picks the angstiest possible romance choice.

All this to say that Lucanis and his romance were theoretically made in a lab for me. Slow burn because the character doesn't trust easily and is traumatized by his past experiences and has many things he must resolve, excruciatingly slow to open up? Unexpectedly very sweet, wet, sad man with puppy eyes? Romance scenes that are caring and romantic instead of outright steamy? Perfect, right up my alley! I keep romancing Fenris in DA2 exactly for that reason because I love him dearly, and he breaks up with Hawke for 3 whole years! Still my favorite!

But the whole point of a slow burn are the steps. It's a slow burn, which means little step by little step, the relationship slowly builds to a conclusion, from tentative acquaintances who don't trust each other, to slooowly evolve into something more, and it's precisely these crumbs that make the trope enjoyable.

To me, Lucanis' romance doesn't feel like it does little steps, it feels like it skips steps. I can see the main story beats of a good slow burn, but not the crumbs that make a slow burn. I don't want him and Rook to jump each other after 2 scenes, I want to see more of the fumbling, the hesitation, the dancing around each other. No, dragon age isn't a romance game, I'm aware, but if romance is an option, and it is written to fit a specific trope, I would like it done properly. They've done slowburns and angsty before, and they were good (even Solas', and his romance is super short). I want the evolution of the relationship shown to me, not told in broad strokes and big steps, and I don't want to have to write half the romance in my head or rely on ao3.

We get nothing between the coffee date and the almost kiss, absolutely no reaction of any kind to the flirting, not even a blink. If Lucanis and Rook were capable of having an entire conversation about coffee and kisses metaphors when they barely knew each other, then I think they can flirt a bit more in the following conversations when you pick the romantic option, dance around each other, have Lucanis fumble a little more like he does with Neve when he actually registers Rook is sincerely into him. Even just a sign that he heard Rook when they pick the romantic option in the following conversations, because as it is he immediately resumes whatever he was saying. And if his lack of reaction is because he's suddenly afraid and thinks it's a bad idea, I would like it shown on his face, or as an actual noticeable pause/hesitation. It didn't look like he thought it was a bad idea at Café Pietra, unless he just thought Rook was flirting just to flirt and wasn't serious, but again, none of that is hinted at in any way.

Then there's the almost kiss that follows and is the first actually romantic moment we get after the coffee date, and suddenly Lucanis is all smooth and confident about flirting again. With nothing in between ever since *Illario voice* he got all romantic about roasts. Was he reluctant before and that's why he didn't react to Rook's flirting/caring concern? We have no idea, because while he warns Rook it's a bad idea to be attracted to him, he doesn't seem scared, more amused at their daredevil tendencies. The first time in his entire romance we get a clear indication he's afraid and won't open up for a long time is at the end of this specific scene, when he pulls away, and the way it happens is like Lucanis himself wasn't expecting his fear to overcome him. He wants, he lets himself be pulled forward, and then he suddenly gets drowned by overwhelming terror, and he pulls away.

The beginning of the romance (the date + almost kiss) reads to me as if Lucanis was trying to forget the Ossuary, letting himself flirt and feel attraction and just simply live again as if nothing happened, believing if he didn't think about his trauma and forcefully moved forward then it would stay buried, and then the Ossuary unexpectedly caught up to him, because you don't just bury things like that, it always comes back up at some point if you make no effort to actually process what happened.

And then there's nothing again for a long while. I can imagine Rook leaving space for Lucanis because they're considerate of his feelings and they can see something is deeply wrong, but still, something big and awkward happened between them! Not even one conversation where they try to gently broach the subject and Lucanis immediately clams up? What about some mentions of how awkward things suddenly are between the two? Even through party banter? We got plenty about Hawke and Fenris' situationship in DA2 after Fenris pulls away. The other companions comment on their breakup and how it's painfully obvious they're in love still, no matter what happened, and there are a few banters between Hawke and Fenris themselves. Surely things are a little tense and awkward between Rook and Lucanis as well at that point, and their friends would notice? They don't spend as much time together as they used to, Lucanis doesn't talk directly to Rook much anymore unless he has to, can't quite look them in the eye, doesn't want to stay alone in a room with them. He is still protective of them because he obviously cares very much, but can't bring himself to have an honest talk about his feelings and fears because he's still completely locked in his mind prison and would rather deal with his problems by stabbing his enemies.

Rook being lost because they haven't been inside his head yet and they're not sure if it's because of what Lucanis has been through, or if they did something wrong to get them rejected, and they're stuck because Lucanis completely refuses to open up. There are so many little things that could have been implemented to actually serve as the little steps for the slow burn. You're telling me even Emmrich or Neve, perceptive as they are, wouldn't have noticed their two friends suddenly being awkward and sad and not try to talk to Rook about it at the very least?

And then there's the mind prison where Rook gets all Lucanis' fears and insecurities explicitly told to them. Immediately followed by the scene where you lock in the relationship as he makes them dessert.

Were they in a relationship?? When did they get together? Do they get together right there in the kitchen by the sheer power of cake (ok, relatable)? You don't know! They almost kiss, things are theoretically painfully awkward between them for a while, Rook discovers the substance of his trauma, and poof. They're a couple. Yes, I know that Lucanis' love language is acts of service, but did they communicate at all at any point about what's going on between them? Surely even if Rook helping him out of his head puts him on the road to eventual recovery, it didn't suddenly erase all of Lucanis' trauma and fears and doubts.

I liked Rook calling out the subtext of what Lucanis says in that scene (“it's nothing, or not enough”/”it is, and you are”), I did think it was sweet and perceptive of them. But still, we go from attraction to pulling away to suddenly committing to a relationship with never actually discussing exactly what goes on between them. Never outright deciding they want to try something serious. There wouldn't have been much actual flirting or sincere conversations between them after the almost-kiss, for obvious reasons, so how does Lucanis know Rook hasn't moved on/isn't angry at him after all this time, considering how they didn't communicate at all afterwards and he's not exactly the best at feelings and self-confidence? He just talks as if it's a given they're attracted to him still, and only worries about not being good enough for them. I wanted crumbs of reassurance from Rook, more than what we got, because Lucanis' probable guilt is never actually tackled in any way – he had perfectly valid reasons to pull away, of course, but considering how much he blames himself for anything and everything, I'm pretty sure he would also blame himself for hurting Rook's feelings, even if they're understanding and not actually angry with him at all.

Idk. I have a lot of thoughts, especially about the middle of his romance. The last big scene we get is one of my favorites through all dragon age games, it was so sweet, but I still felt like the entire middle part of the romance lacked a lot of slow burn crumbs, and I was still hungry when I got to the end.

[smollsmule]

Ok my queue spit this out after I saved it for later, so let me add some nuance here. Because this is a very importand issue, actually.

Of course nobody is prohibited from readin the books they enjoy. Hell, I like me some easily digestible fluff too! Some of my favourite book series are ya (and genuinely great books despite being “easy to read”).

There is something to be said however about limiting yourself to only engaging with that level of difficulty in reading. And before you come at me, I know that many people don't read at all and to many others reading is simply a hobby to unwind after a long day, where they just wanna turn their brain off and have some fun. Which is a totally fair reason to read. BUT. Reading (or more broadly, literacy) will never be just that. You live in an age of (mis)information and you WILL be confronted with texts (speeches, video clips, what have you) that are hard to dissect. Especially the ones that don't seem like it at first glance.

Media literacy is not only about how quickly you can summarise a paragraph or being able to pull quotes to show how maybe a character could be read as queer (although both of those things are a very good indicator of having advanced literacy). It's the VITAL skill of filtering and assesing information presented to you before so you can make an informed choice to internalise or discard it. It's being able to understand the information in the first place by grasping a complex thought presented to you in writing or in a speech because the simple truth is that not all truths are simple.

Media literacy gives you the ability of identifying that someone is trying to make you believe something and parsing why they're doing it by identifying the tools they are using. Which means you also need to know the tools they have at their disposal. It also means being able to connect points brought up before in the same or different texts to see if there is inconstencies or leaps in logic or if the argument someone is making only looks good because they use big words and a sentence structure that “feels” smart, but actually falls apart as soon as you poke at it a little.

Forgive me sounding alarmist, but if you can't read at that level people who have these tools WILL have power over you and you won't even have the tools to notice that they do. Even if people are not actively trying to harm or manipulate you, if you're unable to engage with their ideas you will get left behind in certain vital discussions and that not only feels like shit because everybody gets it but you, but it also again makes you incredibly vulnerable to those who do have bad intentions!

Now does that mean you only get to read Proust from now on? Of course not! I still do believe that a piece of literature can directly and fundamentally change your life. I know it has for me. However, that is a personal opinion and it doesn't mean I can force anyone to engage with deep philosophical manifestos on what it isto be human in this world. And even less that I want to do that, despite me thinking that literally ANYONE could benefit from reading that kind of thing. But you NEED to be able to read complex texts outside of your comfort zone for honest to god survival. I am so fucking serious.

And, hey! The good news is that this is not some secret mystical power you either get blessed with or not. It is a skill you can train, by reading challenging material. Books with more complex sentence structures, more nuanced ideas or arguments. Books that force you to think about them. I hate to say it but the only way to get better at reading is to read. It doesn't have to be fiction but i will be very real with you, I doubt that - if you're putting down a book because it's unreadable to you based on the chosen perspective - you'll be the type to pick up scientific essays or anything like that.

Don't cut yourself off from vital skills by locking your mind in a box. You are capable to handle those more complex texts, and I'd wager you'll even enjoy it once you find your niche (yes! you still get to have preferences!). You just need to give yourself a chance to learn.

[lila-lou]

✨Peanut✨

Summary: Stuck in a safe house with Soldier Boy is a test of patience—and nerves. He’s sharp-tongued, cocky, and impossible to ignore, pushing your boundaries just to see you flinch. You try to keep your distance, but he has a way of getting under your skin. You’re supposed to keep him in check, but the real challenge might be keeping yourself together.

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Reader

Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, Language, Nickname, Shy!Reader, MENTION!Reader was touched without consent, Ben being as cocky as ever, some kind of fluff i guess

Word Count: 10523 (long ass shit here, lol)

A/N: English isn’t my first language, so please be lenient. 💙✨

The room felt heavy, like the air itself was holding its breath, waiting for him to make the next move. Soldier Boy—Ben, as Butcher had instructed you to call him—sat at the battered wooden table in the middle of the safe house. He was grinding pills into powder with the flat of his knife, muttering to himself, the motion aggressive and precise. Every scrape of the blade against the wood sent shivers down your spine.

You kept your eyes fixed on the television, not really watching whatever rerun was playing. It didn’t matter. Nothing could drown out the weight of his presence. The way he dominated the space even when he wasn’t speaking. Even when he wasn’t looking at you.

You didn’t know why he tolerated you. Out of all the people who’d tried to babysit him since Butcher hauled him out of whatever Russian nightmare he’d been buried in, you were the only one still standing. Maybe it was because you didn’t push him. Or maybe it was because you were too afraid to even try.

Two years ago, your fear of supes had been planted like a landmine in your chest. One night, one supe, one scar across your soul. That was all it took to change you forever. Now, being in the same room as one, especially him, felt like walking barefoot through a minefield. One wrong step, and everything could go to hell. Literally, in his case.

Ben scooped the powder into a neat little line, the corner of his mouth twitching into something that wasn’t quite a smirk. “You don’t have to sit there like a deer in headlights, you know”, he drawled, not looking up. His voice was gravelly, tinged with a roughness that made you want to shrink further into the couch. “Not gonna bite”.

You swallowed hard, your fingers tightening around the edge of the couch cushion. “I’m fine here”, you said quickly, your voice thin and brittle.

“Sure you are”. He leaned back in his chair, his shirt unbuttoned enough to show a glimpse of the skin of his chest. That chest. The one that could, and had, turned entire blocks into ash. He tapped his nose twice before snorting the line with practiced ease, sighing as he leaned back again. “You’re terrible at pretending, you know that?”.

Your breath hitched, and you cursed yourself for it. He noticed everything. “Pretending what?”, you muttered, eyes glued to the TV screen.

“That you’re not scared shitless of me”, he said, his tone almost amused now. “It’s cute. Kind of pathetic, but cute”.

Your stomach twisted. The urge to snap back at him rose like bile, but you shoved it down. Provoking him was the last thing you wanted to do. Instead, you focused on keeping your voice steady. “I’m not scared of you”.

Ben laughed—deep, low, and sharp enough to make you flinch. “Yeah, sure. Keep telling yourself that, sweetheart”.

You clenched your fists, your nails biting into your palms as you tried to keep your breathing even. This was your job. This was what Butcher had asked of you. Watch over him, keep him in line, don’t let him blow anything up. Easier said than done when every fiber of your being was screaming to get the hell out of there.

Ben finally looked at you, his green eyes narrowing slightly. “Relax. I’m not gonna hurt you”. His tone softened—just barely—but it still sent a shiver down your spine. “Not unless you give me a reason to”.

That didn’t exactly inspire confidence, but you nodded anyway, not trusting yourself to speak.

He reached for another pill, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. “You know”, he said, his voice quieter now, “it’s exhausting, being treated like a goddamn bomb all the time”.

You blinked, surprised by the sudden shift in his tone. He wasn’t looking at you anymore, his gaze fixed on the table as he rolled the pill between his fingers. For a moment, he almost seemed… human. Vulnerable.

But you didn’t know what to say. Didn’t trust yourself to say anything. So you just stayed where you were, curled up on the couch, watching him out of the corner of your eye and praying you wouldn’t be the one to set him off.

Ben tossed the pill back, swallowing it dry like it was nothing before reaching for the whiskey bottle on the table. He took a swig, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and stood up. For one fleeting second, you thought he might leave the room, give you some space to breathe. But no—he grabbed a bag of popcorn from the counter, ripped it open with his teeth, and made his way to the couch.

You tensed immediately. There were at least three other places he could sit, but no, he dropped himself right beside you. Not just close—touching. His thigh pressed firmly against yours, the heat of him seeping through the fabric of your jeans like a live wire.

Your body locked up, your heart hammering so loud you were sure he could hear it. You didn’t dare move, didn’t dare breathe. If he noticed your discomfort—and of course, he did—he didn’t let on. He shoved a handful of popcorn into his mouth, his eyes flicking toward the TV screen before turning to you.

“Whatcha watching?”, he asked casually, his voice a little softer now but still holding that rough, unshakable edge.

You swallowed hard, your voice barely above a whisper. “Just… whatever was on”.

He snorted. “Riveting choice”. Another handful of popcorn disappeared into his mouth, and he leaned back, spreading out like he owned the place. Which, let’s face it, he kind of did. Every room he entered felt like it bent to him, like the walls themselves were trying to make room for him and his ego.

As the minutes dragged on, he kept up the small talk. About the shitty popcorn, the weather, the ancient couch springs that squeaked every time one of you shifted. His tone was light, conversational, but his eyes… his eyes were anything but.

He wasn’t looking at the TV anymore. He was watching you. Really watching you. The way your shoulders hunched in on themselves like you were trying to make yourself smaller. The way your hands fidgeted with the hem of your hoodie. The way your legs were pressed tightly together, like you were trying to disappear into the cushions.

“You’re tiny”, he said abruptly, almost thoughtfully, his gaze dragging up and down your frame. “Like, seriously. How are you even a person? You’re what, a buck twenty soaking wet?”.

You stiffened, your face flushing. “I’m… normal-sized”, you mumbled, refusing to meet his eyes.

He chuckled, low and gravelly, the sound vibrating through his chest. “Normal? Sweetheart, if I even looked at you wrong, you’d probably snap in half”.

Your stomach churned at the words, at the casual way he said them. Like it wasn’t a threat, just a fact. And maybe it was. He wasn’t wrong—he could break you without even trying. Supe or not, he was built like a goddamn tank, and you… well, you weren’t.

His gaze lingered on you, sharp and appraising, like he was trying to figure you out. “What’re you so scared of, huh?”, he asked, his voice quieter now, but no less dangerous. “You think I’m gonna hurt you?”.

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. The lump in your throat was too big, your fear too loud.

“Relax, doll”, he said, leaning a little closer, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “If I wanted to crush you, I wouldn’t need to waste my time sitting here talking to you, now would I?”.

That didn’t make you feel any better. In fact, it made your skin crawl. But you nodded anyway, because what else could you do?

Ben smirked as he leaned back, stretching his arm casually over the back of the couch. He popped another piece of popcorn into his mouth, chewing slowly, his eyes never leaving you.

“So”, he drawled, cocking an eyebrow. “Got a boyfriend, Peanut?”.

The word caught you off guard, and you glanced at him sharply, your confusion momentarily outweighing your fear. “P-Peanut?”, you stammered, the nickname so unexpected it almost made you forget how close he was.

He grinned, his teeth flashing white against his scruffy beard. “Yeah, Peanut. You’re tiny, right? Probably weigh, what, eighty-five? Ninety pounds tops? I could pick you up with one hand, and you’d barely be a snack”. He chuckled, the sound low and rumbling, like he found the whole thing hilarious. “Peanut fits”.

Your face burned with embarrassment, but you didn’t say anything. What could you say? He wasn’t exactly wrong, but hearing it said out loud—especially by him—made you feel smaller than ever. You tucked your legs up under you, trying to create some kind of barrier between his imposing presence and your body.

“C’mon”, he said, his voice lighter now, teasing almost. “You seriously don’t have some guy waiting around for you? Someone to take care of you? Feels like you’d need a bodyguard just to make it through the grocery store”.

You shook your head, your voice barely audible. “No boyfriend”.

He tilted his head, studying you with an intensity that made your skin crawl. “Huh. Surprising. A thing like you? I’d think guys would be lining up”.

His words weren’t comforting. They weren’t meant to be. They carried an undertone that made your stomach twist, a reminder of how easily he could take you if he wanted to. You shifted uncomfortably, pulling your hoodie tighter around yourself like it could somehow shield you from the heat of his gaze.

“What’s the matter, Peanut?”, he asked. “I’m just making conversation. You don’t have to look so freaked out all the time”.

“I’m not freaked out”, you lied, your voice trembling just enough to betray you.

He snorted, clearly not buying it. “Sure you’re not”. He leaned forward suddenly, resting his elbows on his knees, bringing himself closer to you. The smell of whiskey and faint cigar smoke clung to him, mingling with something sharper, something distinctly him.

“I’m not gonna hurt you. Told you already, didn’t I?”.

You nodded again, but the tension in your body didn’t ease. If anything, it grew worse as his eyes traveled over you again, lingering in ways that made you want to sink into the couch and disappear.

“Man”, he muttered, shaking his head. “You’re wound up tighter than a fucking spring”. He reached for the popcorn bag again, the casual motion a stark contrast to the intensity of his words. “I don’t know what the hell Butcher was thinking, sticking me with you. You’re not exactly intimidating”.

You bristled at that, a tiny flicker of indignation breaking through your fear. “I wasn’t supposed to intimidate you”, you mumbled, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’m just… here to keep an eye on you”.

He laughed—loud and abrupt, the sound startling in the otherwise quiet room. “You’re supposed to keep an eye on me?”. He leaned back again, throwing one arm across the back of the couch again and grinning down at you like he’d just heard the best joke of his life. “Fuck. That’s rich”.

You didn’t respond, biting your lip to keep the words locked in. You couldn’t afford to snap, couldn’t afford to give him a reason to escalate. Not with how close he was. Not with how easily he could overpower you.

Ben’s laugh faded into a low hum, almost as if he were talking to himself, but the words were loud enough to reach you. “You know”, he muttered, swirling the last of the whiskey in the bottle before setting it on the floor, “I could help you relax. You’re all wound up like a little bird that flew into the wrong fucking cage”.

The comment made your stomach tighten, your pulse spiking as you glanced at him out of the corner of your eye. His gaze wasn’t on the TV. It wasn’t even on the popcorn anymore. It was on you. Slowly, deliberately, like he was working through some kind of internal checklist, his eyes dragged from your face, to your neck, to the way your hoodie hugged your body.

“Yeah”, he said, his voice dropping lower, rougher.

“I’d probably crush you. Tiny little thing like you. But…”. He leaned his head back against the couch, as though considering something deeply. “I could figure it out. Work on my self-restraint”. He exhaled sharply through his nose, almost like a laugh, but it didn’t carry any humor. “Not sure you’d survive, though”.

Your throat went dry, and your mind raced for something—anything—to say to steer the conversation somewhere less terrifying. But the words wouldn’t come. It was like your brain had shut down entirely, overwhelmed by the weight of his presence and the dark, unsettling undertone to his words.

“I mean, shit”, he went on, almost lazily, like he was just idly musing. “It’d be a tight fit, no doubt about that. But I’d manage”. He turned his head toward you, one eyebrow quirking as though he was waiting for some kind of reaction. “What d’you think, Peanut? Think you could handle me?”.

Your heart felt like it might explode. You shifted slightly, trying to put even an inch of space between you, but the couch offered no escape. He noticed, of course he noticed, and the smirk on his face only widened.

“Relax”, he said again, though this time it sounded more like a command than a suggestion. “I’m just messing with you”. He leaned back again, popping another piece of popcorn into his mouth like the last thirty seconds hadn’t just happened.

But the tension in the air didn’t dissipate. His words lingered, sinking into your mind like oil, staining everything. You didn’t dare move, didn’t dare breathe too loudly, your entire body coiled as tightly as a spring.

Ben glanced at you again, his expression unreadable now, the grin gone. “You really gotta lighten up, Peanut”, he said, almost absently. “You’re making me feel like a fucking monster”.

You wanted to tell him he wasn’t making it easy. That his very presence was suffocating. That every word out of his mouth only fed the gnawing pit of fear in your stomach. But you couldn’t. So you stayed silent, staring at the TV and praying that he’d get bored soon. That the night would end without him pushing any further.

Ben shifted slightly on the couch, the springs groaning under his weight. He tilted his head back, staring at the ceiling as if lost in thought, but you could feel his attention still anchored on you, heavy and unrelenting.

“You know”, he started, his voice low and casual, “I heard Butcher and that cum-guzzler talking about you”. He popped another piece of popcorn into his mouth, chewing slowly as though giving himself time to savor the words that would follow. “Something about why you’re so jumpy around supes”.

Your heart clenched, and you went rigid. You hadn’t realized Butcher had told him—why would he? What purpose would it serve, giving Soldier Boy ammunition? You glanced at him sharply, trying to gauge his intentions, but his expression was frustratingly neutral, save for the slight quirk of a smirk playing on his lips.

He chuckled, low and gravelly, shaking his head. “Can’t say I blame you”, he continued. “Sounds like you had a real shitty time of it. Some asshole supe gets a little too handsy, decides he’s owed something just because he’s got powers. That about right?”.

The knot in your stomach tightened, but you didn’t answer. You couldn’t. Your throat felt like it was closing, the weight of his words pulling every horrible memory to the surface.

Ben didn’t seem to need a response. He let out a long breath, his smirk fading as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees again. “Here’s the thing, Peanut”, he said, his tone quieter now, almost contemplative. “Guys like that… they give the rest of us a bad name. Not that I give a shit about my reputation, but, you know, principle and all that”.

You swallowed hard, trying to keep your voice steady. “Why… why are you bringing this up?”.

He shrugged, the motion casual, but the intensity in his eyes betrayed him. “Just thinking out loud. If that’s the only experience you’ve got with supes… well, no wonder you’re scared shitless. That’s the memory you’re stuck with”. His gaze slid to you, sharp and probing. “But maybe I could fix that”.

“Fix it?”, you echoed, your voice trembling. “What… what does that mean?”.

He smirked again, leaning back and stretching his arm along the back of the couch, his fingers brushing just a hair’s breadth away from your shoulder. “I’m just saying”, he drawled, “maybe if you had a different kind of experience, you wouldn’t be so fucking scared all the time. Replace that shitty memory with a fucking awesome one”.

The implication in his words was crystal clear, and your stomach churned violently. Your fingers curled into the fabric of your hoodie, your nails digging into your palms. “That’s not…”. You trailed off, your voice barely above a whisper. “That’s not how it works”.

He tilted his head, studying you with a mixture of amusement and something darker. “You sure about that? Sometimes all it takes is one good memory to wipe out the bad. One moment to make you forget the rest of the bullshit”.

You shook your head, your pulse hammering in your ears. “I don’t think—”.

“Calm down, Peanut”, he interrupted, his voice dropping into that low, commanding tone again. “I’m not saying I’d do anything. Unless, you know, you wanted me to”.

Your breath hitched, and you pressed yourself further into the couch, as if the cushions could somehow swallow you whole. His gaze was piercing, unrelenting, and you could feel the weight of his words pressing down on you, suffocating.

“But hey”, he continued after a moment, his tone lightening again as he grabbed another handful of popcorn. “It’s your call. I’m just saying… I could make it worth your while”.

You didn’t respond, couldn’t respond. Your mind was racing, your body frozen in place.

The safe house was quiet except for the distant hum of the water running in the bathroom. Ben was in the shower, and you were stuck on the couch, your nerves coiled tighter than ever. It had been weeks since that first night, weeks of this strange, unbearable dance between the two of you. He hadn’t pushed things too far, but he hadn’t stopped either. The teasing, the lingering touches, the weight of his gaze—it was constant, suffocating, impossible to ignore.

And now, as you sat there waiting for him, you hated yourself for the stupid summer dress you’d chosen to wear. It was hot, unbearably so, and the safe house didn’t have air conditioning. The dress had seemed like a practical choice at the time—lightweight, easy to move in—but now it felt like a mistake. The fabric clung to your skin and you couldn’t help but feel exposed. Vulnerable.

You shifted uncomfortably, pulling the dress down as far as it would go and wrapping your arms around yourself. It didn’t help. The room felt stifling, and the faint sound of the shower only added to the tension. You couldn’t stop your mind from wandering, couldn’t stop the little voice whispering in the back of your head: What’s he going to say this time? What’s he going to do?

The shower shut off, and your breath caught. You stared at the TV, not really seeing it, your heart pounding as you heard the sound of the bathroom door creaking open.

Moments later, Ben emerged, a towel slung low around his hips and his hair damp, water droplets trailing down his chest. He was a vision of raw power and confidence, and he knew it. The smirk tugging at his lips told you as much.

“Hey, Peanut”, he said casually, like this was the most normal thing in the world. He grabbed a second towel and ran it through his hair, his muscles flexing with the motion. “Didn’t think I’d keep you waiting, did you?”.

You swallowed hard, your eyes darting back to the TV. “I wasn’t—”, you started, but your voice faltered. “I mean, I’m fine”.

“Sure you are”, he said, chuckling under his breath. He crossed the room, tossing the towel onto a chair as he made his way to the couch. You felt his presence before you saw him, the heat of him, the sheer weight of him, as he sat down beside you. Close. Too close. Again.

His eyes flicked to your dress, lingering for just a moment before he leaned back, draping his arm over the back of the couch. “Nice dress”, he commented, his tone light but his gaze sharp. “Didn’t know we were getting all dressed up today”.

Your face burned, and you tugged at the hem again, wishing it were longer. “It’s just… it’s hot”, you muttered, refusing to meet his eyes.

“That it is”, he agreed, his smirk widening. “But you didn’t have to go all out for me, Peanut. A little effort goes a long way, though, so… thanks”.

You clenched your jaw, your hands twisting the fabric of the dress in your lap. “I didn’t—”.

“I’m just messing with you. Don’t get so wound up”, his voice dropping into that familiar, teasing drawl.

You wanted to snap back, wanted to tell him to knock it off, but you couldn’t. You just sat there, frozen, your heart pounding as he shifted slightly closer, the edge of his thigh brushing against yours.

The problem wasn’t just that you were afraid of Ben anymore—though that fear was still there, lurking beneath every breath, every glance, every word. The problem was that, over the past few weeks, something else had crept in, something worse.

Attraction.

You hated yourself for it. Hated the way your pulse quickened when he smirked at you, the way your thoughts lingered on his voice, deep and rough like gravel underfoot. And now, as you sat beside him, that stupid towel slung so dangerously low on his hips, it was taking everything you had to keep your eyes on the TV.

But you failed. Of course, you did. Your gaze flicked toward him out of the corner of your eye, drawn like a moth to a flame. The towel clung to his hips precariously, the line of dark hair below his navel trailing downward, disappearing beneath the fabric. And lower—your breath hitched—the outline of him was visible, faint but undeniable.

You quickly looked away, your cheeks burning, your heart hammering in your chest. What the hell is wrong with me? you thought, biting the inside of your cheek so hard it almost hurt. This was Soldier Boy. Ben. The same man who teased you relentlessly, who could crush you without a second thought. A damn supe. And yet…

“You’re quiet, Peanut”, he said suddenly, his voice breaking through your frantic thoughts. His tone was casual, but you knew better than to believe it wasn’t deliberate. He always knew how to needle you just enough to get under your skin. “I mean, you’re always quiet, but today? What’s the deal?”.

You didn’t respond, your throat too dry to form a coherent excuse. You tried to keep your eyes locked on the TV, pretending to focus on the images flickering across the screen. But you could feel him watching you, the heat of his gaze sliding over your profile, lingering far too long for comfort.

“C’mon”, he pressed, his voice dropping an octave, rich and deep enough to make your stomach do an unwelcome flip. “You’re the only action I’ve got in this shithole they’re hiding me in. Least you could do is talk to me. I’m bored as hell over here”.

Your hands twisted in your lap, gripping the fabric of your dress like it was the only thing anchoring you to reality. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, not with the way his words made your skin flush and your heart pound.

“I don’t know what to say”, you mumbled finally, your voice barely above a whisper.

Ben leaned back against the couch, his towel shifting just slightly. “You don’t have to say much, Peanut”, he drawled, his smirk audible in his tone. “Just give me something. Anything. Hell, even a complaint about how much you hate being stuck with me. I know you’ve got those”.

You glanced at him for just a split second, and that was your mistake. He was sprawled out, all lazy confidence, the towel still clinging low on his hips, the light from the TV casting faint shadows over his chest. The sight made your stomach twist, and you quickly looked away again, your cheeks burning.

“I don’t hate you”, you blurted out, immediately regretting it.

He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Don’t you now?”. His smirk deepened, and he leaned in just slightly, the arm draped over the back of the couch brushing your shoulder. “Could’ve fooled me with the way you can’t even look at me half the time”.

You swallowed hard, your fingers knotting into the hem of your dress. “I just…”, you stammered, unsure how to explain without giving away too much. “You make me nervous”.

Ben tilted his head, his smirk softening into something almost curious. “Nervous, huh?”, he repeated, his voice quieter now, like he was mulling over the word. “Why? You still think I’m gonna hurt you?”.

“No”, you said quickly, though the fear still lingered at the edges of your mind. “It’s not that”.

“Then what?”, he asked, his tone deceptively gentle, but his gaze was sharp, unrelenting. “What is it about me that’s got you so wound up?”.

You didn’t answer, couldn’t answer. Your silence only seemed to amuse him further. He let out a low chuckle, leaning back again, his fingers lightly drumming against the armrest.

“Shit, Peanut”, he muttered, shaking his head. “You’re like a puzzle I can’t quite figure out. Makes me want to push, see how far you’ll bend before you break”.

His words sent a shiver down your spine, but you forced yourself to keep your breathing steady, to keep your focus anywhere but on him. You didn’t know how much longer you could keep this up, this fragile pretense of calm, but you knew one thing for sure: he wasn’t going to let this go. Not tonight.

The tension in the room was suffocating, and you couldn’t take it anymore. Your hands trembled as you placed them on your thighs, pushing yourself up from the couch. “I… I need some water”, you mumbled, not daring to look at him. You didn’t wait for his response—if he even had one—and walked quickly toward the little kitchen tucked into the corner of the safe house.

Your footsteps felt too loud against the worn wooden floor, the tiny kitchen offering no real reprieve from his presence. You grabbed a glass from the cupboard, your fingers trembling slightly as you filled it from the tap. You told yourself the sound of running water would drown out the pounding of your heart, but it didn’t.

The quiet click of his footsteps behind you made you freeze.

“Thirsty, huh?”, Ben’s voice came from far too close, his tone casual but laced with that ever-present teasing edge. He was right behind you now—you could feel him, his heat radiating like a furnace, the space between you barely a breath.

“I just needed some space”, you said, your voice quiet and shaky, gripping the glass like it was a lifeline.

“Space?”, he echoed, like the word was foreign to him. You heard him shift, his hand brushing lightly against the counter as he leaned against it. “Still can’t handle being near me?”.

You froze, the glass trembling slightly in your hands as you felt him step even closer. His body was right behind yours now, close enough that you could feel the faint brush of his chest against your back every time you shifted.

“You look really pretty today”, he murmured, his voice softer now, quieter, but no less unsettling. His words sent a shiver racing down your spine, and you gripped the glass tighter, your knuckles turning white.

He reached out, his fingers brushing against your hair, playing with a loose strand like it was the most natural thing in the world. The movement was slow, deliberate, as if he were testing your reaction.

“Didn’t think a little dress like that could make someone so…”. He trailed off, his fingers gently tucking the strand behind your ear from behind, his touch warm against your skin. “Sweet. You do surprise me, Peanut”.

Your heart pounded, your breath catching in your throat. “Ben, please…”, you whispered, barely able to get the words out. You didn’t know what you were asking for—for him to stop, to step back, to leave you alone—but your voice carried the weight of your unease.

“Oh c'mon now”, he murmured, his tone dipping into that low, velvety register that always made your stomach twist. “I’m just saying you look nice. No harm in that, right?”.

His hand lingered for a moment longer, brushing lightly against your shoulder, before he stepped back just enough to give you a fraction of space. But it didn’t feel like enough. The air around you still felt heavy, charged with his presence.

“You don’t take compliments well, do you?”, he asked, the faintest hint of amusement in his voice as he leaned casually against the counter. “What’s so scary about me telling you you’re pretty?”.

“Nothing”, you mumbled, your voice barely above a whisper.

Ben’s gaze dropped, shamelessly traveling down your body. You could feel it, the weight of his eyes lingering on your legs. His tongue darted out, wetting his lips, and you caught the faint movement out of the corner of your eye. It sent a fresh wave of heat through your face, your stomach twisting into knots.

“You know”, he murmured, his voice low and teasing, almost contemplative, “it’s been quite a while for me.” He leaned a little closer, his arm brushing lightly against yours as he rested it on the counter beside you. “And with you here, looking like that, acting all shy and innocent…”.

He trailed off, his smirk widening as his gaze dragged back up to meet yours. “It’s really hard for me, Peanut”.

The words hit you like a punch to the gut, and your breath caught in your throat. Your grip tightened on the edge of the counter, your knuckles white as you fought to keep yourself grounded. “Ben, stop”, you said softly, your voice barely audible, but there was a tremble in it you couldn’t hide.

“Stop what?”, he asked innocently, though the glint in his eyes betrayed him. He wasn’t innocent, not even close. “I’m just being honest. You don’t want me to lie, do you?”.

You turned your head to look at him, your heart pounding as you met his gaze. His smirk was maddening, equal parts charming and infuriating, and the way he was looking at you—like he was sizing you up, deciding just how far he could push—made your pulse race for all the wrong reasons.

“I’m not… I’m not doing anything”, you stammered, your words tumbling over themselves. “I’m just—”.

“Just standing there, looking all sweet and pretty”, he interrupted, his tone playful. He straightened slightly, his height and presence towering over you as he leaned a little closer. “You have no idea, do you? How hard you make it for me to keep my hands to myself?”.

Your breath hitched, and you stepped back instinctively, the counter digging into your lower back as you put as much distance between you as you could in the small space. But he didn’t move closer—he just stayed there, watching you, his smirk softening into something almost… curious.

Ben’s smirk deepened as he watched you, his eyes narrowing slightly, like he was peeling back every layer of your defenses. “You know”, he murmured, his voice soft but still carrying that teasing edge, “I think you actually like me, Peanut”.

Your eyes widened at his words, and you shook your head quickly, your back pressing harder against the counter. “That’s not true”, you said, your voice trembling with the effort to sound convincing.

But he didn’t seem fazed. If anything, your reaction only amused him more. His hand darted out, slow and deliberate, resting gently on your hip. It wasn’t forceful, wasn’t threatening—it was almost careful, like he was testing the waters, giving you a chance to stop him.

Your breath hitched, and your body tensed under his touch. The heat of his palm burned through the thin fabric of your dress, the weight of his hand grounding you and overwhelming you all at once.

“You’re not pushing me away”, he said softly, his voice dropping lower, more intimate. His fingers flexed slightly, not enough to hurt, just enough to remind you he was there. “That’s gotta count for something”.

You opened your mouth to say something, to deny it, to tell him he was wrong, but no words came out. You were frozen, caught in the weight of his gaze, the closeness of him, the way his presence consumed every inch of space around you.

His other hand came up slowly, brushing against a strand of hair that had fallen into your face. He tucked it behind your ear, his touch featherlight, his green eyes locking onto yours. “You keep telling yourself you’re scared of me”, he murmured, his tone quiet, almost tender. “But I think you’re scared of something else”.

“Ben, I…”. Your voice cracked, and you trailed off, your hands clutching the edge of the counter like it was the only thing keeping you upright.

“Shh”, he whispered, his hand on your hip shifting just slightly, his thumb brushing against the curve of your waist. “You don’t have to say anything, Peanut. Not if you don’t want to”.

For a moment, the only sound in the room was your uneven breathing, the faint hum of the refrigerator in the corner. His touch wasn’t rough or demanding, but it was firm, grounding, impossible to ignore.

And then, slowly, he leaned in, his face close enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin. “Just… Push me away if you want me to stop. Promise I won´t be mad”, he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, his lips so close to yours you could feel the ghost of their presence.

Your heart pounded, your mind racing with conflicting emotions—fear, confusion, and something far more dangerous bubbling beneath the surface. You hated how much you craved his attention, hated how much his touch made your body betray you. But even as you stood there, frozen, his words echoed in your mind: Push me away.

Would you? Could you?

The choice was yours.

Bot you didn’t push him away. You stayed still, your breath hitching as Ben’s smirk deepened. He took your silence as permission—or maybe just a challenge he was eager to win.

Without a word, his hands slid more firmly around your waist. Before you could even process what was happening, he lifted you effortlessly, like you weighed nothing. The glass of water slipped from your fingers, landing with a dull clink on the counter as he set you down atop it. The cool surface against the back of your thighs made you shiver, but it was nothing compared to the heat radiating from him.

He stepped closer, pressing himself between your legs, his movements deliberate and unyielding. Your legs opened instinctively to accommodate him, the fabric of your dress sliding up as you shifted. The hem bunched high on your thighs, and your stomach dropped when you realized how exposed you were. The little triangle of fabric between your legs was on full display, and Ben’s gaze dropped to it immediately, his lips curling into a wolfish grin.

“Well, would you look at that”, he murmured, his voice low and gravelly, the faintest edge of amusement making it all the more dangerous. His hands trailed down to your knees, his thumbs brushing against the inside of your thighs, sending a shock of warmth through your body. “Peanut, you’ve been holding out on me”.

You squirmed, your hands gripping the edge of the counter as if it could anchor you against the storm of his presence. “Ben…”, you whispered, your voice trembling, unsure if it was a plea for him to stop or to keep going.

“Shh”, he said softly, his hands sliding higher, spreading your legs further apart. “I told you, I’m not gonna hurt you”.

But the way he looked at you—the hunger in his eyes, the possessive way his hands claimed your body—made your pulse race for entirely different reasons. He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your neck as he pressed his hips against yours, his body firm and unyielding.

“You have no idea”, he whispered, his voice rough and thick with desire. “No idea how hard it’s been. Watching you, waiting for you to stop running, stop hiding. But now…”. His lips brushed against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. “Now I’ve got you right where I want you”.

Your heart pounded, your mind spinning as his hands continued their slow, deliberate exploration of your body. You hated how your body reacted to him, how the heat pooled low in your belly, how your breathing quickened despite yourself. Hated how much you wanted him, even when you knew you shouldn’t.

And Ben—he knew it, too. You could see it in his smirk, in the way his eyes burned with triumph. He was in control, and he knew it. You wanted him, and that he sure knew too.

Ben’s smirk deepened as his hands slid higher, his thumbs brushing teasingly against the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. His touch was firm but not rough, as if he were savoring every moment. He leaned back slightly to get a better look, his eyes darkening as they locked onto the little triangle of fabric barely covering you.

“You know”, he murmured, his voice low and full of heat, “I’ve been imagining this for weeks. But it’s even better than I thought”.

You opened your mouth to respond—to say something—but the words caught in your throat once more as he hooked a finger under the fabric. His gaze flicked up to meet yours, a wicked gleam in his green eyes as he gave you - again - just enough time to stop him.

But you didn’t.

With a sharp, controlled movement, he ripped the delicate material apart, the sound of tearing fabric echoing in the quiet kitchen. The force of it sent a jolt through your body, but it didn’t hurt. It was more of a shock—both from the action itself and the way his eyes devoured the sight before him.

Your breath hitched as the ruined panties fell away, leaving you bare to him. His hands stilled for a moment, his gaze fixated on your glistening, perfectly shaven lips. A low growl rumbled in his throat, his fingers tightening ever so slightly on your thighs.

”Fuck peanut”, he muttered, his voice rough with desire. “Look at you”.

Ben’s grip on your thighs tightened as his eyes darkened, roaming over every inch of you like you were something he was about to own. He let out a low, gravelly chuckle, shaking his head with that familiar smirk—cocky and unapologetically lewd.

“Is this what chicks are doing these days? All shaved, all fucking spotless?”. His thumb traced lazily along your inner thigh, teasing just close enough to make you squirm. “In the ’80s, everyone had a damn jungle down here. Didn’t matter who you were, movie star or some chick at a dive bar—hair everywhere. But this?”.

His thumb slid lower, brushing over the seam of your closed, glistening lips. The slickness made his touch effortless, his rough hands stark against your softness. “This is a whole fucking upgrade”, he murmured, almost to himself, his tone filthy and raw. “Smooth as hell… fuck Peanut, you’re like a fucking dream”.

Ben’s eyes stayed glued between your legs, completely enthralled, like he was witnessing something unreal. The pad of his thumb pressed further, parting your slick lips with almost lazy confidence. He slid it down to your entrance, where he paused, testing the way your body reacted to him.

“Fuck me”, he muttered under his breath, his voice gravelly and thick with lust. “You’re soaked, Peanut. Look at this. Look at you”.

Your breath hitched audibly, your chest rising and falling as his thumb pressed lightly against your entrance, his other hand tightening its grip on your thigh to keep you exactly where he wanted you. His touch was slow, deliberate, like he was savoring the moment.

“You’re fucking perfect”, he murmured, half to himself.

Ben’s thumb dipped just barely inside you, and the moment he felt how tight you were, he froze. His breath hitched, a low, guttural groan escaping his lips as he pulled his hand back. His grip on your thigh tightened, grounding himself as he muttered under his breath, “No fucking way. Not with my fingers. I’m not wasting this on anything but my dick”.

His green eyes flicked up to meet yours, filled with a dark hunger that sent a shiver racing down your spine. He took a deep breath, his smirk returning as he dragged his hands up the outside of your thighs, pushing the fabric of your dress higher as he went.

“You’re something else, Peanut”, he growled, his voice thick and unapologetically filthy. “This body, this tight little hole… it’s all mine”.

He grabbed the hem of your dress, tugging it upward with slow, deliberate movements, giving you every chance to stop him. But you didn’t. Instead, you lifted your arms instinctively, your breath catching in your throat as you helped him pull the dress over your head. The fabric slipped away easily, pooling on the floor beside the counter, leaving you bare except for your trembling body beneath his gaze.

Ben stepped back slightly, just enough to take you in, his eyes roaming over every inch of your exposed skin with raw, unfiltered desire. He let out a low whistle, his lips curving into a grin that was both predatory and approving.

“You’re even better than I imagined”. His hands moved back to your waist, firm and possessive as he pulled you closer to the edge of the counter, positioning you exactly where he wanted you.

“You don’t even realize, do you?”, he muttered, his hands trailing over your hips, your stomach, your thighs, like he couldn’t get enough of touching you. “How fucking perfect you are. How fucking lucky I am”.

He leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear as he growled, “I told you, Peanut. You’re mine now. Every inch of you”.

With one swift motion, Ben pulled the towel from his hips and tossed it carelessly to the side, revealing himself fully. Your eyes widened the moment you saw him—huge, heavy, and impossibly intimidating. A gasp escaped your lips before you could stop it, and you instinctively pressed your hands against his chest, trying to push him away.

But he didn’t budge.

Your heart raced, panic and uncertainty flooding your senses. You weren’t a virgin, but this… this was different. The sheer size of him made your stomach twist with both fear and something else you didn’t want to name.

“Whoa there, Peanut”, Ben murmured, his voice low and teasing, but there was a glint of smug satisfaction in his eyes as he glanced down at himself, then back at you. “Scared already? Thought you said you weren’t afraid of me”.

“I just…”, you stammered, your palms pressing harder against his chest, but he didn’t move. He stood there, unyielding, his muscles firm under your touch as he watched you with that same maddening smirk.

“Relax”, he said again, his tone dipping into that familiar mix of amusement and raw lust.

Your voice came out in a shaky whisper, your eyes wide and fixed on him. “This… this won’t fit. No way”.

Ben’s smirk deepened, the gleam in his eyes turning even more smug, like your fear only fed his ego. He let out a low chuckle, his broad chest rumbling under your trembling hands. “Won’t fit, huh?”, he repeated, his tone dripping with amusement. “You really think I’d let that stop me?”.

Your breath hitched, your fingers curling slightly against his chest as you tried to pull back, but his hands on your hips held you firmly in place. He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear, his voice a low, gravelly whisper. “Don’t sell yourself short, Peanut. You’ll take it. You just need a little… encouragement”.

Your stomach twisted at his words, a mix of fear and heat flooding your senses. “Ben, I—”, you started, but he cut you off, his hands sliding slowly up your sides, strong and possessive.

“I’ll make it fit”, he murmured, his voice low and dripping with confidence.

One of his hands moved between your bodies, and your breath hitched as he grabbed himself, his cock heavy and intimidating in his hand. His green eyes flicked up to yours briefly, watching your reaction.

“Just.. relax, Peanut”, he said softly, almost mockingly, as he positioned himself. “This is gonna feel real good. Trust me”.

You bit your lip hard as you felt the tip of him slide through your slick lips, the slow, deliberate motion making your body jolt with unexpected pleasure. The contrast of his roughness and your softness was overwhelming, your hips twitching instinctively as his thick head dragged against you.

“Fuck”, he muttered under his breath, his eyes locked on where your bodies touched. “You’re already soaking for me. You feel that, Peanut? That’s your body telling you it wants this. Wants me”.

A shaky whimper escaped your lips, and you hated yourself for the sound, for how much you wanted him. The warmth, the pressure, the way he moved—it was too much, too intense, too consuming.

Ben chuckled, his thumb brushing over your thigh as he kept guiding himself against you, letting his tip tease your entrance but not pushing in just yet. “Look at you”, he muttered. “Already whining, and I haven’t even given you the real thing yet”.

You bit your lip harder, trying to stifle another whimper. His free hand slid up your side, gripping your waist possessively as he leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear.

“Don’t hold back now, Peanut", he growled. “I want to hear every little sound you make. Wanna know how much you’re feeling this”.

The heat pooling low in your belly was unbearable, your body trembling as he continued his slow, torturous motions. He wasn’t even inside you yet, but the weight of him was enough to leave you breathless.

Ben’s cocky smirk softened just slightly as he began to nudge himself inside you, his movements surprisingly slow and deliberate. He pressed forward an inch at a time, giving you room to adjust to his size. His hands gripped your hips firmly, keeping you steady as he worked himself in, his gaze locked on your face.

“Fuck, Peanut”, he muttered under his breath, the usual arrogance in his tone giving way to something deeper, rougher. “Tight as hell. I knew you’d feel good, but this? Fuck”.

You winced at the stretch, your body instinctively tensing around him as he pushed in further. The sensation was intense, overwhelming, and you couldn’t help the soft whimper that escaped your lips.

“Shh”, he murmured, his voice low and almost soothing as he paused, letting you adjust. “I know, baby. It’s a lot. But you’re doing good. So fucking good”.

Your hands gripped his forearms, your nails digging into his skin as he slid another inch deeper, the burn of the stretch making you gasp. “Ben”, you whispered, your voice trembling, your chest rising and falling with shallow breaths.

“I’ve got you”, he said, his voice steady and firm, his thumbs rubbing small circles against your skin in a rare gesture of comfort. “You’ll get used to it. Just breathe”.

You tried to focus on his words, on the way he moved so slowly, giving you time to adjust to every inch of him. The stretch was still intense, still bordering on too much, but as he eased in further, your body began to relax, the pain giving way to a different kind of pressure.

“That’s it”, he murmured, his lips quirking into a small smirk as he watched you. “See? I told you you’d take it, Peanut”.

You couldn’t form a response, your breath hitching again as he pushed in another inch. He groaned softly, his head falling forward briefly, his self-control evident in the way his muscles tensed under your touch.

Your body trembled, the overwhelming fullness leaving you unsure whether to push him away or pull him closer. He stayed still, his hands firm on your hips, his gaze softening just slightly as he gave you a moment to adjust.

“You’re doing so good, Peanut”, he said, his voice low and almost gentle, though the hunger in his eyes hadn’t faded. “Just a little more, and then I’ll make you feel real fucking good. I promise”.

Ben pushed in further, inch by inch, until he finally bottomed out, his hips pressing flush against yours. The sheer fullness, the stretch, was almost too much, and a breathless moan escaped your lips, mixed with a high-pitched whine that you couldn’t suppress. The sound seemed to drive him wild.

“Fuck”, Ben groaned, his head dropping forward to rest against your collarbone as his hands tightened on your hips. His breathing was ragged, and his entire body seemed to tense as he fought to keep himself in check. “You feel… Fuck, Peanut. You’re so fucking tight”.

You trembled under him, your hands instinctively clutching his broad shoulders as you tried to adjust to the overwhelming sensation of him filling you completely. He was so big, stretching you to your limits, and every inch of him pressed against places you didn’t even know could feel like this.

“Ben”, you whispered, your voice shaky, unsure if you were pleading for him to move or to give you more time to adjust.

“I know, baby”, he muttered, his voice gravelly and low, muffled against your skin. “I know. Just… fuck, just give me a second”. He groaned again, a deep, primal sound that vibrated through your chest, his hands gripping your waist like you were the only thing keeping him grounded.

“You’re perfect”, he murmured, lifting his head slightly to press his forehead against yours. His green eyes burned into yours, dark with lust and something deeper, something almost reverent. “Fucking perfect. You don’t even know what you’re doing to me”.

You let out a shaky breath, your body slowly relaxing more around him as he stayed still, letting you adjust to the fullness. His hands moved to cradle your thighs, spreading you wider as he groaned softly again, his lips brushing against your jawline.

“Breathe, Peanut”, he said, his voice softening for a moment as his thumbs rubbed gentle circles into your skin. “Just breathe. You’re taking me so damn well”.

The praise sent a rush of warmth through your body, making you shiver against him. Slowly, he began to pull back just an inch, testing, watching your reaction with sharp, hungry eyes. The drag of him against your sensitive walls made your breath hitch, and his smirk returned as he groaned again.

“Yeah”, he growled, his voice thick as he leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear. “You’re gonna love this, Peanut. I’ll make sure of it”.

Ben groaned deeply as he began to move, the drag of his length against your tight walls slow and deliberate. He pulled back just enough to make you feel every inch before sinking back in, his hips pressing flush against yours once more. The stretch still made you wince, but the intensity of the sensation was quickly mingling with something warmer, something almost unbearable.

“Shit”, he muttered against your collarbone, his breath hot and ragged. His lips grazed your skin, his teeth scraping lightly as he fought to keep his pace measured. “You’re squeezing me so damn tight. Like you were fucking made for me”.

A breathless whimper escaped you as he thrust again, a little deeper, a little harder. The fullness was still overwhelming, but with every slow, calculated movement, your body started to adjust, to mold to him. Your nails dug into his shoulders, and he smirked against your skin, clearly enjoying the way you clung to him.

Ben’s thrusts grew harder, his hips snapping into yours with more purpose, more force. The sound of your bodies meeting filled the room, raw and intimate, but you bit your lip, desperate to keep quiet.

But Ben noticed. Of course, he noticed.

“Peanut”, he growled, his voice low and commanding, roughened by pleasure. He angled his hips just slightly, hitting a spot that made your back arch involuntarily. “Don’t you fucking hold back on me”.

A soft whimper escaped you, and his smirk returned, wicked and dangerous. “That’s more like it”, he muttered, his hands gripping your hips even tighter as he thrust again, harder this time. “I want to hear you. Every. Fucking. Sound”.

You clenched your teeth, your nails digging harder into his shoulders as you fought to keep quiet, but it was no use. His pace was relentless now, each movement deliberate, dragging pleasure and desperation out of you with every stroke.

“C’mon, baby”, he murmured, leaning in close, his lips brushing against your ear. “Don’t be shy. I want to hear how much you love this. Want to hear you beg me for more”.

You shook your head weakly, trying to resist, but when he thrust again, deeper than before, a moan slipped past your lips, raw and unrestrained. Ben groaned in response, the sound rough and guttural as he rocked into you harder.

“Fuck, that’s it”, he growled, his teeth scraping against your neck as he buried himself to the hilt again. “That’s the sound I’ve been waiting for. Knew you couldn’t stay quiet forever”.

Your breath hitched as he moved faster, each thrust driving you closer to the edge. His hands moved up to grip your waist, holding you steady as he claimed every inch of you, his lips grazing your skin as he spoke again.

“You feel that?”, he muttered, his voice thick with satisfaction. “Feel how perfectly you’re taking me? That tight little body of yours was made for this, Peanut. Made for me”.

You couldn’t hold back anymore, your soft moans turning into desperate whimpers as he pushed you further and further. His words, his touch, the sheer intensity of him—it was too much, too overwhelming. And Ben—he soaked in every sound, every tremble, every gasp, his grin widening as he kept driving into you like he couldn’t get enough.

“That’s my girl”, he murmured, his hands sliding up to cup your face as his eyes locked onto yours. “Now stop holding back and let me hear it all”.

Ben could feel it—the way your body tightened around him, your walls fluttering as you approached the edge. His pace didn’t falter; if anything, it became sharper, more deliberate, each thrust angled perfectly to drive you closer to unraveling completely.

“You’re close, aren’t you, Peanut?”, he murmured. “I can feel it. You’re squeezing me like you don’t wanna let go”.

You whimpered, your nails raking against his shoulders as the pressure in your core built to an unbearable intensity. Your head fell back, your breath coming in short, desperate gasps, but Ben wasn’t about to let you hide from him.

“Uh-uh”, he said sharply, his hands gripping your hips harder as he slowed his thrusts just enough to regain your attention. “Don’t you fucking look away”.

Your eyes fluttered open, your gaze hazy and unfocused as you tried to meet his. His green eyes burned with intensity, dark with hunger and something possessive that made your stomach twist. He leaned in, his forehead pressing against yours, his movements deliberate and unyielding as he pushed you closer and closer.

“When you come”, he growled, his voice rough and commanding, “you look at me, Peanut. Got it?”.

You nodded weakly, unable to form words, your body trembling as you teetered on the edge. He thrust harder, deeper, his rhythm relentless now, each motion pulling soft cries from your lips that you couldn’t control.

“That’s it”, he muttered, his gaze locked on yours, unyielding. “That’s my girl. Let me see it. Let me see you fall apart for me”.

The final thrust sent you over the edge, your body clenching tightly around him as your release crashed through you. Your eyes locked onto his, your vision blurring with the intensity of it, and Ben groaned deeply, the sound rough and raw as he watched every second of your undoing.

“Fuck, Peanut”, he muttered, his voice strained as your walls gripped him like a vice. “You’re so fucking perfect like this”.

Your body trembled as the waves of pleasure coursed through you, and even as you came undone beneath him, Ben didn’t stop. His movements slowed just enough to let you ride out your high, his hands firm and steady on your hips as he kept you exactly where he wanted you.

“Fucking beautiful when you come. Told you I’d make you love this”, he murmured, his smirk returning as he leaned in to brush his lips against your ear.

Ben wasn’t close to being done with you—not by a long shot. After a moment of catching his breath, he scooped you up effortlessly, carrying you to the couch and sitting down with you straddling his lap. His hands gripped your hips firmly, guiding you as he eased you down onto him again. The stretch made your breath hitch all over again, but your body had already molded to him, making it easier this time.

“You’re not done yet, Peanut”, he murmured, his voice low and smug, a crooked grin tugging at his lips. “Not until I’ve had my fill”.

You didn’t know how much more you could take, but your body responded on instinct, your arms wrapping around his neck as he thrust up into you, slow and steady. Every motion sent shivers through you, the pressure building again despite how spent you already felt. His hands roamed your body, gripping, caressing, holding you steady as he moved beneath you.

Time blurred. You lost count of how many times he made you come—how many times your body tensed, shook, and fell apart in his arms. Ben took his time, alternating between hard, commanding movements and surprising moments of gentleness, as though savoring every second. His voice was a constant in your ear, filthy and possessive, coaxing every moan, whimper, and gasp out of you like they belonged to him.

By the time you collapsed against his chest, your body spent and trembling, you couldn’t even think straight. Your breaths came in soft, shaky gasps, your cheek resting against his chest. Ben’s hands moved to your back, stroking gently now, his touch grounding as you slowly came down from the overwhelming high.

“Shh”, he murmured, his voice softer now. “You’re done, baby. You’ve earned your rest”.

His arms wrapped around you, holding you securely against him as he leaned back into the couch. The tension in your body eased, and you felt your eyelids grow heavy, the steady rhythm of his breathing and the warmth of his body lulling you into a daze.

Surprisingly, Ben didn’t push for more. He simply held you, his rough hands surprisingly gentle as they traced lazy circles on your back. His cocky smirk had softened into something almost content, his head resting against the back of the couch as he watched you drift off.

“Guess I wore you out”, he muttered, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest as he shifted slightly to make you more comfortable. “Can’t say I blame you, Peanut. You did good”.

You didn’t respond—couldn’t respond—as sleep overtook you. Completely spent, your body went limp against him, your soft breaths warm against his skin as you passed out in his arms. And for once, Ben didn’t press or tease. He just stayed there, holding you close, his gaze lingering on you with something almost resembling pride.

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰

-

Taglist: @blackcherrywhiskey @baby19sthings @suckitands33 @spnfamily-j2 @lyarr24 @deans-baby-momma @reignsboy19 @kawaii-arfid-memes @mekkencspony @lovziy @artemys-ackles @fitxgrld @libby99hb @lovelyvirtualperson @a-lil-pr1ncess @nancymcl @the-last-ry @spndeanwinchesterlvr @hobby27 @themarebarroww @kr804573 @impala67rollingthroughtown @deans-queen @deadlymistletoe @selfdestructionandrhum @utyblyn @winchesterwild78 @jackles010378 @chirazsstuff @foxyjwls007 @smoothdogsgirl @woooonau @whimsyfinny @freyabear @laaadygisbooornex3 @quietgirll75 @perpetualabsurdity @pughsexual @berryblues46 @deanwinchestersgirl8734 @kr804573 @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing

[cherry-pop-elf]

Kiss it Better Pt:3

Curly x Reader

AN: I am just speechless. All this support is making me tear up. Like holy shit. Thank you. Don’t worry! When this finishes(god idk how it will I’m making up as I go since yall want more chapters) I’ll make sure to post it to AO3 for easier access! Just thank you again! And uh. Don’t forget I have a Kofi and Wishlist if you wanna like tip or something. NO PRESSURE! Just a reminder to anyone who WANTS and CAN! You come first! Just. Thank you again!

SUM: You couldn’t sleep, so you try and remember things with Curly to lull you to sleep. As you do, you remember things that are important for a captain to have. Very important, and you are gonna be certain to find them

Warnings: Jimmy, sexual assault, mentions of abortion (it’s a rather calm chapter really. Take it as a pallet cleanser because the next chapter imma really show you how fucked up Jimmy is))

You just couldn’t sleep. It felt criminal to right now. So much was going through your head. So much has happened and now you had time to let it all soak in. The crash, Anya, why there was a crash, Curly’s condition, it made sleep impossible. Especially alone in that big bed that was meant for you and your husband.

You tried to take in deep breaths, and just let the thoughts wash over you. There was responsibility as the Captains Spouse. You weren’t just ‘eye candy’ like Jimmy said. You had worth, and were just as much important to the team as everyone else.

Such as learning a thing or two about what Captain should do in case of an emergency.

Curly was in no state to help, and Jimmy sure as fuck won’t help either. He was the reason everyone crashed after all. He’s a loose cannon and you needed to tip toe around him. Who knows what he might do next. You weren’t even sure if telling Swansea and Daisuke about what’s going on was smart.

Swansea has little girls of his own after all. He won’t react well at all. Then there’s Daisuke. Barely nineteen and thrown into this mess. He might panic or maybe even do something crazy like confront Jimmy. There was just to many what ifs.

So you were left on your own.

You would wrap yourself up in what was once Curly’s sleep robe and grab his spare ID card. The very thing that can unlock any door, and be the one thing that can lock your bedroom door. Definitely should have Anya sleep in here for a while. She deserves to be able to sleep soundly.

While you were waiting for everyone to sleep as well you would explore the bedroom. Looking into nook and cranny to see if there was anything of use. The Captains always were given a bunch of extra shit after all. Even Pony Express had to meet some safety protocols. Curly was their best after all. Even went as far as to try and help him fine work else where. That’s what he explained to you.

Shame. Was just a normal bedroom. The only thing that made it special was it was bigger, and had a lock. Dammit all to hell.

That’s when you tried to think back on past memories of you and your husband. To try and recall any kind of special thing the ships carry. Oh how you felt so guilty for never paying enough attention. Made you feel stupid and useless, but you weren’t.

At least not in comparison to Jimmy.

With a deep breath, you managed to recall something. Something not long before the crash even. You had knocked on the cockpit door to enter it, and was greeted to your husband and Jimmy working. Curly was rambling on about something, while Jimmy kept eyeing the locker suspiciously. As if he wanted to get inside of it for some reason.

That’s your best lead now. God dammit was it a shitty one. The cockpit was stuffed to the brim with foam. But then again that’s the front of the cockpit. If you were careful, and cut the right spot, maybe you can access the locker.

It’s something. Something is better than nothing.

With the robe tossed aside, a change into your jump suit, gloves slipped on, and beanie pulled on to keep your head safe you would make your way to the kitchen. Card key tucked securely inside of your jumpsuit compared to a pocket.

Jimmy can’t know.

Can’t know that you were stealing the only knife that the ship had.

Was going to be a pain in the ass to cut that foam but you really had nothing better to do. So, you unlocked the cock pit and focused on remembering its layout.

“For Anya, for Curly, for Swansea, for Daisuke, and all our families back home.”

You would start the slow and agonizing cutting. Little by little. Just chopping away to try and reach the right side of the pit. To get to that locker and see what was inside. That locker was in the cockpit for a reason. It can only be accessed by the pilots for a reason. There was a reason.

Any time you felt like your arms would give out you thought back to Curly. How he didn’t really have arms anymore to begin with. How Anya was busy throwing up right now. How they needed you. They both needed you.

It had been well over a hour, but you managed to reach the locker. You allowed yourself a breather at the sight of it. Damn was that a pain, but it’ll be worth it. Right?

With your breather over you would use the key card to access the locker. Inside was….Honestly junk. That had you very disappointed. You were honestly ready to cry out of frustration, only to see there were a few locked cabinets inside.

Ones that needed codes.

Codes you knew.

Curly made you memorize them in case of an emergency. He just said to memorize them. That it’s meant to just unlock pin pads. That Pony Express never bothered to change them.

You went to the lower locker and typed it in.

Strange, there was nothing inside. Suppose whatever was inside was taken out. You wondered what could have been in there. Was a very small locker so maybe it was some code scanner or universal unlocking device. Just wasn’t big enough for something you hoped for.

A transmitter.

He prayed it was near the front of the ship. That a transmitter would stuck in the heart of the foam, or as far as just shatter on contact. They had to have a spare communicator. Pony Express had to follow SOME rules after all. Imagine the ship being discovered and the people who found it saw it was missing something as important as that.

So you typed in the code for the larger locker. You were kinda afraid of opening it. To be met with another empty void of metal and dust.

You took a deep breath, and opened.

There really was a god.

There was what you were looking for. A real deal communicator. It was real, it looked untouched and even had dust on it to show that Jimmy never reached it.

Before you grabbed it you made sure to close the door behind you. Just to be sure. Was the dead of night, well from what the clocks say, and everyone should be asleep. Even Jimmy had to sleep. You had to make you move now.

Remain calm, and focus.

You can’t fuck this up.

You snuggled yourself into the corner of the pit, with the communication device in your lap. You hooked the head phones onto your head, and turned it on.

As you waited for it to boot up you made sure you were positioned so that if anyone came through the door, for some reason, you’ll notice. As far as anyone was aware though this room was basically a wall. No purpose to enter. You should be safe, but you had to think ahead. Jimmy was unpredictable, and so full of himself.

Better to be over prepared than see what happens if Jimmy finds out what you are doing.

Couldn’t help but give a squeak of surprise when someone finally spoke to you.

“This is the Emergency Spaceship Retrieval Sector. What seems to be the problem?”

A woman, through the static, spoke to you. Tears of relief fell down your face but you forced yourself to remain focused. You can’t mess this up now. No way no how.

“This is Tulpar for Pony Express. We have suffered a crash about a month ago. From what I can recall we had been a little over four months into our twelve month journey-“ You immediately explained, as to best help them get an estimation on how far the ship had traveled.

“Alright, who may I be speaking to at this moment?”

Deep breaths.

“I am the Spouse to Captain Curly. It is me, Jimmy the co-pilot, Anya the nurse, Swansea the mechanic, and Daisuke our intern.” Deep breaths, keep things quick and to the point.

“Are you all in any immediate danger?”

You had to think about that a moment. Jimmy is a dangerous man. Who knows what he might do next if you don’t play along. So, you had to be honest. You felt guilty for telling the operator what happened. That Curly suffered greatly and needed immediate medical attention, how Anya was a victim of assault and required an abortion as soon as possible, and that the reason for it all was because of Jimmy. He crashed the ship, he raped Anya, he destroyed Curly, and god knows what he will do next.

“Estimated arrival time will be about a month. We have your exact location thanks to the communicator. Remain calm, and know that help is on the way. We have logged this down in the report. Take care of your crew the best you can, Captain.”

And she would log off. You would let your head thump back, and simply cried. Cried in pure relief and joy. That a real person heard you, and was aware of what’s going on. That if anything did go wrong that at least someone knows. Someone will know what happened.

There was hope.

Now was a matter of survival.

One month.

You all needed to survive one month.

One Month Until Rescue…

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@dinkyzoop @danart501 @spudfromspace @niyamamiya

[staticymaticyyourlifeisatravesty]

Can we please Acknowledge that Sanguinius looks like the Emperor in a wig here

I have more of Sanguinius looking like Big E in a wig

Like Sir, why do you look that!? Who told you not to brush out your curls with your fingers???

[1920sladydectective]

Hey i saw requests and had to ask, ambessa x reader for a wounded reader. I mean like a well executed plan goes to shit and Reade gets hurt much to ambessa's suprise. Passed and frustrated, ambessa traces readers old scars and stews on the new ones.

Hello my lovely! Thank you for your request! Very awesome and fun idea, I hope you like what I’ve done with it 🫶🫶🫶

I’m always happy to take them, especially with Ambessa if anyone is wondering! I shall try to get to them all.

This may not be quite what you wanted, I wrote it at half three in the morning and it’s a tad sillier than I’d intended. I’ll probably rewrite/add to it, but here it is for now!

Some mentions of blood etc - reader is hurt after all ❤️

Hurt Reader x Ambessa Drabble -

It was a shock, the warm slice sinking through your abdomen as a tall knight appeared.

This plan had been ridiculously simple and after ten years working under and loving Ambessa Medarda, you were notoriously difficult to surprise.

That being said, you were currently bleeding out as you stumbled away with the stupid bastard’s blood covering your front. You couldn’t let him live, but you did hope you didn’t die in the process.

Nearing the Noxian camp, you allowed yourself to cry out, spluttering slightly as everything blended into one.

Ambessa was discussing land division with Rictus, eagerly awaiting your return so you could retire to bed and then finally leave this back water hellhole.

Cries and clamouring had her dashing from her tent. You were there, unconscious, dragged along by shaking rookies.

The physician was already running to you, a loyal and efficient member of Ambessa’s staff, had it been anyone else her worries would have ended there.

She could tell all the blood was not yours, but it did nothing to dissuade the bile in her throat. This was impossible. This couldn’t be right. Part of her, foolish and soon to be carved out, had mistaken you for invincible. Despite the war wounds you wore as proudly as she wore her own, you were faster than her, always less risky. You were her sly fox, and the stab of fear she felt at you being caught made her snarl.

Hours seemed to drain into nothingness, her large hand stroking your serene face, muttering your favourite pet names and telling you stories. You had always hated the silence of rest, a feeling that only dissuaded with Ambessa. Her feelings were a muddle of thick, pulsing anger and desperation. Her fingers traced against the most faded of your marks, a melancholy filling her. Your story was mapped here, your journey with her visible in each gash and cut. It had seemed beautiful to her before. It still was, but as the cuts grew newer and fewer an uncharacteristic reservation filled her.

You were too precious to lose, and this had been your worst brush with death. The reason was inexcusably stupid, as Rictus had found out. A knight leaving his rotation slightly late because he was chatting up some maid, meant you’d been caught mere seconds before you would have fled. Ambessa felt hypocritical wanting to suddenly bundle you in furs and lock you in your chambers, but as she traced the crimson bandage on your midriff the plan seemed more and more plausible.

It took two days for you to wake and she never left your side. Murmuring all the while, her voice growing hoarse, Ambessa brushed your hair and ensured you stayed warm. The physician had said you would be fine and that she could benefit from some rest herself. Ambessa had nearly killed her, for some reason.

That, it seems, was what woke you.

“Do stop being stupid,” Your drug addled lips slurred, glassy eyes looking between the physician and your imposing wife, “She’s right, you look like shit,”

“Hello, Dear,” She muttered, dropping her blade and kneeling at your side.

“That was a tricky one, eh? What happened was-”

She let out a relieved sigh, kissing you tenderly on the lips, “We are not debriefing right now you fucking idiot,”

It took five months, eight hours of continual sex and a trip from Mel, but Ambessa finally seemed to mellow at the idea of you returning to her side in combat.

In the end you think it was your constant gasping and fawning at her own scars that did it.

Overreacting to your lover’s aged scars as if they were fresh was irritating apparently…

It was nice to know you were loved

[salemlunaa]

Can I be your😎 anon

So in july this year I got into LOA and got in a vicious cycle of overconsumption for half a month but then I saw a taylor tookie's video and manifested my desired grades within a week just by robotically affirming and the other one in 4 days even after reacting to 3D like I was literally crying but then I could not manifest anything for a month but then I found out about void and tumbler and again got into thus vicious cycle of overconsumption and cried a lot but then I again saw taylor's videos that she posted this month and I swear I manifested The shit in hours

We are in law of assumption community but it doesn't seems like we are in it but in the methods like here on tumbler,youtube it is all about methods like if you do this you will get this and all the shit.

I don't even resonate with having it in 4D because I follow LOA that suggests what we assume to be TRUE is TRUE and we make assumption by simply saying we are going to have it or we have it now without contradicting ourselves literally it is just that simple

And if you doubt me then go to TAYLOR TOOKIES channel and read the comments under her videos that are uploaded this month and you will belive me

I wanted to share this with someone who is well known in this community so that my message can reach the greater audience as I am not a blogger that's The reason I send this to you because you give one of best advices to people on this community and I personally love your posts and you as a blogger

Bye bye ❤️

yes 😎 i agree, the law isn’t transactional, it’s not “do this method and get this” you have it already!!! although you should be resonating with your 4d as that’s what manifestation is all about

i feel like all communities on each app ESPECIALLY tiktok (in my opinion, you shouldn’t be there for advice on anything loa, void or shifting i just go on it for fun), are so method obsessed it’s crazy

assume you have it in your 4d it’s done, your desire appearing in the 3d is just a byproduct, the cherry on top if you will. Methods don’t help you get to your destination, you’ve already reached your destination, methods just help remind you that you’re there.

[animeyanderetalker]

I think this will be a Gojo/Geto/Sukuna thing. If the Darling is insecure about her looks, they will fuck her infront of the mirror/s and forcing her look at herself. Maybe even fuck her, when she is leaning on the window or even Infront of their followers/minions.

Tw: Nsfw, non-con, dub-con, mirror sex, humiliation kink, power display

I 100% agree with Sukuna for the point of fucking his darling in front of his minions. It's just such a power display for him, knowing that he can bully his cock inside of you and have others watch as he rails you into the ground all whilst knowing that no one dares to speak up or voice their uncomfortable feelings with the situation.

I take it one step further and say he'd even fuck his darling in a bloody battlefield of his enemies or even other women who threw themselves at him, offering themselves in hopes of mercy, protection or simply to seduce and use him. If he were to consider you ugly and worthless you would have ended up like the dead bodies around you, dismembered and severed with limbs scattered in all directions.

By all means, sweet-talking and Sukuna are two words that do not belong together and he would certainly degrade you verbally just as much. However, if he tells you that your looks are alright you will stop moping around like a bratty kid and if he has to fuck you to hammer that into your brain he will gladly do it.

Mirror sex I can see most realistically see with Gojo. He would never expose his darling to the eyes of others, especially when she's naked and vulnerable beneath him. Now, considering that Gojo attracts people left and right it is not unsurprising that you might start to get insecure about your appearance because you realise that theoretically Satoru has a lot of choices besides you.

Gojo, as a response when noticing your insecurities, would amplify his affection tenfold. That's when mirror sex probably comes in and with the shit ton of money that he has I wouldn't even be surprised if he designs an entire room filled with mirrors and then makes love for you for hours in that room and no matter where you look, your reflection will always look back at you.

Whilst he wouldn't ever let anyone see you naked I can imagine that in case someone attempts to seduce him and convince him that they're better he makes an audio the next time he makes love to you and then plays it to the other person, clarifying that they could never elicit such sounds from him like his darling.

Geto is kind of tricky because he really struggles to accept the fact that he is in love with his non-sorcerer darling. Similar to Sukuna he isn't the kindest with his words either as he actively tries to put you down so that you feel like the worthless monkey that you are. As his followers share his beliefs I do not believe that he would fuck you in front of them.

There could be a point made for him doing the dirty deed with you in front of other non-sorcerers because to him they are disposable and even more worthless than you are. However, even that is rare and would most likely be used when he really wants to humiliate you or punish you in which case the non-sorcerer being forced to watch might be someone far too close to you for his liking.

At one point he would switch his feelings as he is forced to embrace his feelings more and more. He still is far away from a Prince Charming for obvious reasons as he will never view you as an equal to sorcerers but you are no longer in the same category as the humans he views as monkeys. Then he would be more confrontal if you were to harbor insecurities because he still chose you, meaning that you should at the very least realise that you are more special than other non-sorcerers.

[your-resident-boat-person]

Also, kinda prophetic considering how many people acted like any kind of endorsement of the cannon ending makes you a bad person + genocide enthusiast.

Like, "Wow! This show for children which consistently had prominent themes of redemption and forgiveness REDEEMED the big bad at the end?! Who would have expected this?! They should have killed them to death! SURELY they're not trying to say that THE REAL LIFE ADOLF HITLER can be redeemed, right?! Kind of problematic, actually."

Like, this also ties in to people's lack of understanding of nuance too. Is the big bad of SU comparable, if not worse, than many real-life dictators? Yes. Are the showrunners trying to impart the moral that being kind to genociders can and will make them stop genociding? Absolutely fucking not. You need to understand that this is a show for CHILDREN. Children encounter lots of people on a daily basis, especially other children, who they earnestly believe to be completely irredeemable and evil for extremely benign reasons. Children are not fully developed emotionally, and this is meant to prime them to try and handle these situations that they PERSONALLY encounter with some level of empathy and understanding. Steven universe is not making a statement to the president of the United States that they think evil dictators just need a hug. People need to understand the intended context of who the show will be watched by, where, and when. A show for adults like Bojack Horseman MIGHT be trying to make a statement about society at large, and geopolitics, and things that concern adults. But shows for children are not. Steven Universe contains some pretty heavy shit for a kids show, but again, these are typically in relation to a given persons personal relationships, and not politics. For example, Steven Universe tackles lots of different kinds of abuse. This is useful for children and adults alike, twice as much for children who will grow into adults. I think part of the problem is that people were primed by the discussions of serious themes like this into expecting more "realistic" handlings of other things. Like space dictators.

Like, I just can't help but think of this meme.

Like, the sentiment of "I am angry that [children's show] was written with children in mind in terms of both theme and execution" will never cease to baffle me, in regards to any show. Some of my favorite shows are made for children. There's no shame in enjoying media for children, but expecting it to cater to adults merely because adults enjoy it is just unrealistic. Teaching children that some people just have to be killed and can't be redeemed just isn't a good idea. Most children, even once fully grown into adults, won't be dealing with Hitlers on a daily basis.

So anyway, yeah, I thought Steven Universes ending was fine.

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[kill4luvina]

First Time

Dealer!Sukuna xlnnocent!BlackReader

Summary : Your somehow childhood best friend is one of the biggest dealers in your city, he’s always pressing you when you ask to try smoking. Until one day he finally lets you, and while completely under the influence both of you end up in the least expected position

"I'd roll out of bed Say 'bout 2:30 mid day Hit the blunt then,                                                                                           hit you up to come over to my place"

You and your boy best friend were almost always together. When you'd go out to buy things for the new apartment you two had moved into, he'd be right next to you. When he was out dealing with a few orders, you'd be right next to him.

The only time you weren't with him was when he was dealing with more "dangerous" clients or when you or he were hanging out with your own friends. You didn't mind those reasons at all, but you hated when he'd leave to go smoke.

You'd always watch him roll up to leave, and when you'd ask to come with him, he'd shake his head and say something about wanting you to keep your innocence and not to worry about drugs.

You'd always tilt your head to the side in confusion as he left, leaving you with mixed emotions on the subject. You've never seen him smoke, drink or anything especially when you went to parties he'd be completely sober just to make sure you got home safe.

As you stared at your best friend, all these thoughts ran through your head. Both of you were on the couch, and he was on his phone, scrolling through messages. "What?" he asked, looking up for a moment.

Sukuna wasn't very nice, but when it came to you, he tried his best to give you everything you deserved—and so much more. You moved closer, grabbing his arm as you tried to find the right words.

"Sukunaa! Please let me smoke, even if it's just once with you! I want to try!" you begged, your voice trembling. His eyes glanced at you for a moment.

"No-" he'd start to say, but you cut him off, listing why he should let you. Your eyes watered as you tried to convince him.

He shook his head again, refusing, and then started to ignore you as you continued pleading.

"Okay... then I'll ask somebody else," you said, your frustration building. Sukuna looked at you momentarily, his eyes rolling, before he got up and walked to his room. You'd watch him come back with a pre-rolled blunt and a lighter.

You'd watch him light it, excitement and fear running through you as you sat watching him in awe. "Okay, for starters you can only smoke with me." He'd say seriously making eye contact so you understood.

"Alright, so just inhale. uon gotta inhale it u can let it sit in ya mouth for a sec then inhale into ya lungs, and then exhale." He'd explain showing you, you'd watch a little confused as he did it another 2 times passing it to you.

"You got that?" he looked a little concerned as you stared at the blunt a little scared. You'd hesitate before nodding your head putting it to your lips as you inhaled it straight into your lungs not completely understanding how to hold it in your mouth.

"woahh," he'd pull the blunt from your mouth realizing you were trying to take long inhales like him. You'd blow the smoke out and start coughing, Sukuna would pass you a bottle of water as he watched you try to catch your breath.

You'd look around wondering when they high would hit, nothing feeling different as you hit it another 2 times but each inhale not being so long as the first.

"Wait til that shit hit." You'd hear Sukuna say, you'd look at him tilting your head a little disappointed as you watch him hit it. "Yk, i heard fuckin while high feel good asl."

You found yourself sitting in Sukuna's lap, making out him in-between hits. This wasnt unusal, the both of you liked eachother but kept it on the low not wanting the title from fear of losing a good friendship. Lost in your thoughts you'd almost miss him putting his that was once in his waist-band to the side.

Then it hit, you completely forgot everything about yourself, where you were and who you were for a moment. You'd pull away for a second, your eye focusing on Sukuna before you remembered a little and went back to kissing him.

Subconsciously rubbing into the tent in his pants, everything you felt feeling so much more enhanced and so much stronger. "Mamas, you high?" he'd ask as your looked up at him nodding your head softly. "You wanna keep going?" he'd add.

"S-sukuna!" You'd moan, your pussy swallowing sukuna's dick whole, your eyes rolling back as you moaned. Your pussy would throb at the slightest movement everything felt so overwhelmingly good. "You're alright mamas.." He held your hips, helping you move up and down his dick.

Your head would drop to his shoulders, your eyes crossing as the feeling in-between your legs became stronger. "S-sukk." you'd babble as he started to speed up his pace. He'd slap your ass bringing you back for a moment as you gasp in response.

"Your okay.." he'd whisper in your ear, pulling your cropped top up and over your head tossing it to the side where your panties & shorts had been completely forgotten of. "I swear, the way you be walking around nipples poking through that shirt.. You've been begging to get fucked."

He was absolutely right, you were, and had no shame about it. Like he didn't come out of the shower in just a towel asking for absolutely nothing. Just yapping to you at the door of your room, v line on full display like it the towel wasn't ready to just fall off. "Y-you too!" you'd say after minutes of looking for the words in your fogged brain.

Staring at Sukuna, you'd hear him speak but his mouth wasn't moving, everything delaying. You couldn't even speak as you felt sukuna start to slam you up and down his dick roughly. "Too-good!" you'd cry out as you rested your head on his chest moaning non-stop.

"Mamas, your creamin' s-o much.." you'd hear him say as he brought a hand to your neck, moving you to give him a kiss. "aww.. your fried." he'd laugh seeing the fucked out expression on your face, you'd look up at him softly smiling. "wanna cum."

In moments you found yourself getting fucked up into, both of your legs being held up to your the sides. As you felt Sukuna from behind your biting your neck, as he continues to fuck the senses out of you.

Your pussy creaming around his dick from how fat it was, your eyes rolling back at the enhanced feelings you couldn't take it anymore. Your legs starting to shaking as your eyes quickly went white and you came all over his dick, squirting.

"didn't know she could do that.." he'd say.

He'd quickly take a hand and rub against your clit to prolong the orgasm. You'd rush to move his hand the overstimulation too much because he was still fucking into you now at a sloppy pace. A few more thrusts would have your eyes rolling and back arching as he filled you up completely .

"Suk-" you'd fall back on him, your head rolling to the side to make eye contact with him. "Yes mamas..?" He'd look down at your dripping cunt for a moment, and looked back at you after not hearing anything for a moment. You were completely knocked out and sleep.

"Wake up, wake up, bake up Gotta heat the vape up Let's get faded"

[nowimjustastranger]

Not a fic request; I just recently discovered and binge-read your Somebody to Call My Own Au and I was struck with an idea I'd love to share.

I love your post about stcmo!Ford meeting the Canon Grunkles, but I got to thinking, "Why would he need to go to dimension 46'\?" And the most obvious answer is, Grunkle Stan almost died.

So picture it, the sea Grunks have been living their shared dream for close to a year and have been steadily making their way back to Gravity Falls for their niblings second summer there, when 46'\ Ford detects an anomaly that's not too far off course. He convinces Stanley to go investigate it as one last hurrah before they turn in for the summer.

However, in an attempt to document it, they ended up angering the creature and now have to fight it or risk their boat capsizing. Stanley ultimately ends up falling overboard, and while Ford is concerned, he is rational enough to know that Stan's wearing a life jacket, has fallen off the boat before (and knew how to pull himself back up by now) and always turned out fine, save for falling ill for a bit.

But while Ford's busy making sure the boat doesn't turn over, he realizes Stan is taking a lot longer than he should to climb back up.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, he catches a flash of blue light and a dark figure landing on his deck. It takes him all of two seconds to realize who it is, and in that time, the guy has already dove into the water. Motherfucking Stanford Pines from dimension 419"3.

So now Ford is pissy because this edgelord version of himself, who beat him up once over having a shit take years ago, just showed up for no reason and will probably make his day even worse.

And then he comes to the chilling realization that 419"3 Ford only shows up when a Stanley is at risk of dying.

In the meantime, 419"3 Ford kills the monster and ends up having to unhinge it's jaw in order to drag Stanley out of its mouth. He's unconscious, but alive.

The boat settles and Ford 419"3 drags Stan onto the deck to perform cpr, make sure he does get hypothermia, y'know, standard procedure. Ford 46'\ is instantly glued to his brother's side and is insistent that once he is breathing clearly and conscious, Ford 419"3 has to go.

Frankly, he's knee-deep in denial that Stan was even going to die. His Stan isn't like the other Stan's that need help. He's tougher. He beat Bill Cipher for crying out loud! He doesn't need help, especially from 419"3 Ford!

He's always fine.

Of course, 419"3 Ford disproves that claim, saying that's a very naive way of thinking. That 46'\ Ford had believed Stan was "fine" for ten years, when he very clearly wasn't. In fact, there was a 100% chance that Stan would die in that fish's mouth because Ford had prioritized the boat over rescuing Stan.

419"3 Ford says he's going to stick around to ensure that Stan is healthy and he might even stay until they reach land because he doesn't trust 46'\ Ford to not get distracted by some other big fish.

46'\ Ford is appalled by the idea that he'd put his brother’s health even further at stake and is pretty insistent that they get Stan to a hospital asap, which they both can agree on for once. (I like to imagine Stan's in the background very much not wanting to go to a hospital because he's still legally dead and would honestly like to keep it that way, but he's being ignored in favor of his health.)

Still Ford 46'\ wants 419"3 gone. He knows his methods, he knows his MO, and he does not trust him with his brother. He does not need to be tested. He's learned the lesson already. The thought of losing Stan again kills him inside.

And yet the thought lingers. Stan would've died, barely a month before their first shared birthday in forty years. He'd have to return to Gravity Falls alone. He'd have to break the news to Dipper and Mabel.

Their hero was gone and it would've been his fault.

But he wasn't. And Ford wouldn't admit it out loud, it was all thanks to Ford from 419"3. That asshole saved his brother.

But we all know how much Ford struggles with saying "Thank you".

Anyways, that was just something my angsty ass came up with because your Au is so compelling and inspiring. I'd actually write a fic of it, if I wasn't already committed to a long fic rn. Hope your days going well☺️💗💗💗

Omg... why do y'all keep giving me the brainworms??? You know I'm gonna have to write something for this now, right?

[solar4seekstron]

TFA!Soft!Controlling!Blurr x Cybertronian!Femme!Reader Oneshot: Wife

(I’ll do a more wholesome and tooth rotting fluff for our blue speedy boy! Ugh I love him! Why is every mech in this series so fine?!)

TW/Tags: 18+, bit of a dark content, Ultra Magnus basically adopts you, Jazz is your older bro, manipulation, baby trapped, implied dubcon, sort of sad ending.

You were once an archivist. You worked alongside a few bots and femmes. Long before joining the elite guard. You were just a good friend of Ultra Magnus. Your sire was his best friend before dying during the wars against Megatron years ago. In a way he was like an uncle to you.

He has tried many times to ask you to join him. Go to the academy and be a part of his team.

You know he’s doing this to protect you. It was your sires dying wish when the two were in battle together. One day one of his guards Jazz asked you if you’d like to go to a race with him. He thought, maybe you can join him.

Thinking you can leave that dusty and dark library for once. So you agreed.

Jazz was like a brother to you. At time protective when other guys try to flirt with you especially in front of Ultra magnus.

During the race you sat with some energon popcorn as Jazz cheered. Apparently he knew of the racers….. Blurr.

He was good pals with him back in school and although the two separated. They do catch up every now and then..Fun how that’s so how for most people when their own ego gets in the way.

So during the race as you ate your energon you watched as Blurr was on the screen. You’ll end it he’s pretty cute. Talks pretty fast. Adds a lot to his character.

Blurr is soon to claim victory as he cheers on his crowed. Waving to his fans as confetti and music plays. Everyone cheered along with Jazz. As they continued Jazz would then get up and gently grab your cervo. Taking you with him.

You both made your way to where the racers went. Jazz telling you to stay close by.

As you did. A few readers noticed you and even flirting with you. Both femmes, bots, and GN Cybertronians who were in the race.

You’d pay them much mind. It’s one of the reasons why you stayed where you were.

Eventually Jazz pulled you closer and put his arm around your shoulder. It resting as he leaned a bit on your as he smiled at his friend. “Hey Blurr! I want ya to meet Y/N! She’s like my lil sis! So be nice.”

You’d gently elbow his on his side as you chuckled. A smile on both your dermas as you glanced at him. Blurr only watched you for a moment as you and Jazz looked at each other. Things seemed to stop for a moment as he stared at you. Before it returns to not gain suspicion with the other bots around him.

He’d make conversation with you. Jazz staying there with his arm around you. Blurr tried really hard to not smack the shit out of Jazz the whole time.

You giggled a few times at Blurrs jokes and his funny personality as Jazz did the same. Eventually Jazz is called for something and has to step back. “You’ll be alright if I step out?” You’d nod as Jazz then fist bumps Blurr before leaving. Blurr glances at you then smiled.

”Would you like to go out?!” You stared at him as he looked like he was panicking.

The others bots and femmes not paying much attention since the cheering died off after a few hours. You’d just looked at him and just smiled. You’re not completely sure. But you suppose it shouldn’t hurt.

He was fast to grab your cervo and bring you to a corner close to the exits. No one noticing ou as his cervos gently held your arms. You both out of shot.

He would then whisper into your audio sensors. A few of his words making let out of a soft sigh. You’d have a small smile on your dermas as your cervos rests on his shoulders. Him pulling your frame against his as he wraps his x arms around your waist. He’d then speak of a date and time before kissing the side of your neck.

Before you knew it he was gone. Leaving you by the exit and soon Jazz shows up. Blurr telling him you here.

You both would then walk back to Ultra Magnus. You have been meaning to pay him a visit.

———————————————————————————

After a few days it was your and Blurrs date. The date went well. You were a bit nervous since the restaurant was very fancy. You only just lightly polished your armor before making your way there.

The date went…well. Blurr was polite but. Mostly flirtatious. You gave him another shot with a few others dates. One night you thought it wouldn’t hurt to be in his arms, as least for one night. And so…you laid with him…and then you did again.. and again. And again. You always told yourself you were swooned with him. The way he would compliment you and hold you close after each date.

But you would always have this strange and off feeling in this gut as he’d always give you rough kisses and the glances and looks he’d make when others got too close to you or even spoke to you at times.

One night, after another ‘lovely’ date. You were on your back. Blurrs load leaking from your valve after going a few rounds. He was next to you.

His arm supporting himself up as the other was around your waist. You both having a small make out session as both of you let out small moans and sighs. Your cervo moved to press against his chest as you wanted to speak.

You can tell he was a bit annoyed but compliment.

You’d then tell him the important news. “I’m going to the Guards academy. I wish to join Ultra Magnus team.” You said it point blank as Blurr just stared at you.

His smile then returns as he chuckled. “Then I guess I’m joining in the Elites the…”

He’d say with you a grin. Why did that make you nervous…He’d return to place a kiss on your dermas. Your cervos moving to hold the side of his helm as you returned the kiss. But…you held back from making your cervos push him away from you. You’re not really sure why you were going to.

You’d both stay there for a while…until he decided he wished to go another round.

Years went by as you both attended the academy. You still stayed on your birth control. To avoid getting sparked with a sparkling from Blurr. Once you all graduated. Manus was fast to having you join his team. Magnus would accept Blurr but say his place is on the planet unless he calls for him.

Blurr was not too happy about the order.

After some time when finding Optimus and his team. Blurr was aloud to join you and the team to come to earth. Eventually after everything. You and Blurr decided to go on a small vacation. You have been thinking for a good while about your relationship with him.

It’s just…not healthy. So one day as you both were having dinner. You spoke.

”Blurr I’ve been thinking.I It’s just not working out with us. I can’t go anywhere besides work and you always wish to be with me and yet I cant do anything when we go out. And I-“

“Y/N…” You looked at him. He almost seemed sad as he looked at you. A small frown on his dermas as he looked at you. He never looked at you like this before.

”Please…I’ll do better…just…give me a chance! Please! I’ll do better promise!”

His optics pleading for a chance ou’ve always been sympathetic and it wouldn be truly cruel to deny him one….would it? And so you sighed and slowly nod. A smile soon appearing his dermas.

Later that night the two of you watch a movie together. And before you both knew it you both laid together. You just…couldn’t hold yourself back from him. You loved his touch. His kiss. How gentle he can be with you. How he would whisper sweet nothing in your audio sensors as he made you feel special.

But…you forgot your birth control….

Before you knew it.You were with sparkling. You found out when you returned to the ship with Jazz and Ultra Magnus. You can tell Ultra Magnus aand Jazz we’re trying to hold in their excitement since they saw their self as your family.

Ultra Magnus seeing himself as a soon to be grandpa and Jazz as a soon to be uncle. But the whole time…You forced a smile.

After months went by, Ultra Magnus gave the order that you go on leave for some time until you’re better after the birth of your sparkling.

You had a small boy. He was so small but so healthy. Having so much life im his optics and even in his strength as he always made it a point to grab at your digits.

Blurr was over the moon when he held his little sparkling. Gently keeping him resting on his chest as he smiled down at the little sparkling..You could feel it through the spark bond….

Ultra Magnus looked like a proud grandfather when holding the young sparkling.

The little one looking like a mix of your and Blurrs armor. His color palette being similar to yours. But is just as bright as his. Having Blue optics and a large grin whoever he smiles.

Before you knew it…You had two more little sparklings running around. Jazz always visiting when you weren’t at work as the academy’s teacher.

But….Blurr never changes…If not became more controlling. He wanted more sparklings. But you’d always dodge his question or his advances…

Even now..you’re unsure on how much longer you can keep this up. All you ow is… You must keep your little ones safe…No Matter What.

I hope you guys could somewhat enjoy this! I swear I’ll make a more wholesome one for our sweet blue boy. As always a repost is appreciated and please have a good rest of your day!!!!

[dykedvonte]

I saw your earlier post and you mentioned how people say things like "Curly is a grown ass man", "Curly is bigger than Jimmy", "Curly is Jimmy's boss", "He just needed a backbone" and you're so right cuz it drives me insane the way people want to hate Curly as much as Jimmy so they start saying really concerning stuff. Like is that not just victim blaming? Is saying "Curly is a grown ass man" not just rephrasing "why didn't she fight back?" It feels like the fandom think they can just say vile shit because his abuse wasn't physical (at first, and don't even get me started on anyone saying he deserved to be abused as if any kind of abuse can be justified) and he's a guy. Makes me wonder if people would bother seeing Curly as another victim if he was a woman or if discussion would be equally as insufferable because he's still not the "perfect victim" compared to Anya

It's crazy the way people say "I would've fixed everything unlike Curly" and then continue brushing off a victim and saying they deserved it. Even Curly acknowledged Anya's suffering even if he failed to help her in the end, and yet the fandom acts like this without any self-awareness (sorry for ranting like this but I'm just very tired of the fandom recently)

What worse about those comments and the sentiments is it’s often used when people are discussing him as a victim. Like acknowledging the abuse he also faced with Jimmy and that it shouldn’t matter or have an effect because he needed to “man up” and deal with it due to his position.

He needed to deal with it more effectively yes, but it is really victim blamey in the sense he should’ve just been able to. I talked about if Curly was a girl people would probably still judge her on the basis of being more experienced and accomplished and also needing to know better. The problem is that every is trying to treat what Anya and Curly went through on a comparative level. The game does not try to do that but instead tries to have their abuse parallel each other and be metaphorical, along with show the subtle and explicit ways abusers treat their victims.

People see how Jimmy and Curly parallel each other and create the idea “they deserved each other” in some weird ironic penance stance on both their parts. It’s just so odd because the game clearly shows that not a single person was deserving of their situation and especially the treatment under Jimmy at any point for any reason. The game centers around everyone paying for callous actions he commits and refuses to take responsibility for and yet the conversation center around one of his most tormented victims being questioned on how deserving he was of it/how it shouldn’t have effected him that badly.

I know you can be mad at Curly but making it out that if he was a real good man than he just would’ve had the balls to stand up to what was likely years of emotional and mental degradation still perpetuates the idea if a victim really didn’t like the treatment they would’ve just fought back harder or not put themselves into that position in the first place.

It goes back to the idea that there’s always a way to stop it and it’s on you if it happens. It’s again taking focus off the perpetrator and putting it on other aspects than the ever present source. Idk man but it’s like people are trying to make so many slightly different think pieces on MW that some just loop back to harmful rhetoric we were just moving away from.