#but i cannot look at it for another second

[vicetrevni]

I remember when I was younger, I took ADHD meds (after I had been re-diagnosed because my bitch of a mother denied anything was wrong with me - that's another long story).

Long story short, I became so 'sped up' I was near-catatonic and *always* hungry. But when I tried telling someone, they said I was a 'crackhead' or somehow lying because I was already mentally disabled and *clearly* 'didn't know anything'.

And I was THIRTEEN YEARS OLD.

Thankfully, my mom finally stopped the meds after seeing me act that way for a month. And ever since, I truly feel like it messed me up even more than I already was (I found out later that I was taking the highest dosage that they gave to ADULTS) and I have never forgiven my mom for letting me go through it for that long before stopping it.

I even had a similar experience a couple years ago, but this time it was over my heart meds. Turns out the shitty doctor on staff there upped my dosage WITHOUT PERMISSION FROM MY ACTUAL DOCTOR, and I ended up near-catatonic for a week. When I went back to complain that I was legit sick and it was their fault, they acted like I was a druggie and just put me in an empty storage room for an hour until they let me go. I even yelled at them, but they just told me to leave because they had 'nothing for me'.

And I almost forgot, I actually had a THIRD case of being treated poorly (this one was before my mom passed and long before the second one I brought up).

This one, I went to the hospital to get tested for why my back and legs hurt so bad I couldn't even walk. I didn't even see a real doctor, I saw a med student that they put on staff to deal with the 'late night stragglers'. All I said was 'I am not looking for drugs I just want to get tested because I cannot walk', then immediately I was told to go home because they had 'nothing for me'. Then, when I tried going back to get a second opinion, that same fucking med student came out and mocked me by saying 'aw did you miss me?' and I just lost it. I screamed, even saying I'd hurt myself if it'll get everyone to just believe me that I'm in pain...and NOTHING. I ended up going home after all that, still barely able to walk much for the next MONTH until it suddenly stopped.

I know none of these include anti-psychotic meds, I just wanted to point out that it does happen a lot more than people would assume or want to believe.

The disabled, even the mental cases, deserve RESPECT and PATIENCE regardless of what they're dealing with. Assuming they are 'seeking drugs' is a reason why so many end up in even worse conditions, because you are not seeing them as a person at that point.

With the amount of serious side effects antipsychotics can have, psychiatrists should always take it very seriously when their patients tell them that a med is making them worse/isn't worth the side effects. And the fact that so many psychs react to such concerns by dismissing them and insisting that clearly their patient is just too sick to know what they actually need and that maybe they need an even higher dose - even as the serious side effects of antipsychotics are very much real and documented - is straight out atrocious.

[revelboo]

Cannot believe that knockout has a HUMAN side piece and that breakdown is jealous of them smh 😔

(I love your writing sm btw I'm binging everything)

I can see Breakdown being the more attentive, affectionate of the two in a relationship once he gets over the fear of reader stealing Knockout. Any unpleasantness with the human just gets pawned off on him by Knockout, though. You’re sick? Ew. No, that’s Breakdown’s problem now.

My Favorite Accident Pt 10

TFP Knockout x Reader x Breakdown

• Heart racing as the car puts itself into gear and starts rolling, wheel turning, you dig your fingers into your thighs. There’s something seriously wrong with you for being relieved that you’re being grabbed by one of them, someone who knows Knockout and not some random, human druggie. “We race together,” you say, putting your hands in your lap remembering how weird Knockout was about you touching things inside him. “Are you his friend?” Because you really wish you’d asked Knockout more questions about his people. He’s gossiped enough though to remember names he’s dropped. And one he’d mentioned more than any other. “You’re Breakdown, right?”

• Engine stuttering for a klik at the fact that Knockout had told you about him, he growls. What exactly had the medic told you? “That’s right.” And okay, that voice of yours is soothing. Is that the fascination? Knockout just liking how you sound? Knows Knockout can be a bit funny about things he finds pretty, but aside from that soft voice, you’re just another organic flesh bag. Nothing special. Why reveal himself? “He talks to you about me often?”

• Enough to know this is his bestie and maybe something a bit more. Do alien robots do romance? Because when he’d mentioned this guy, he’d sounded almost wistful for all of five seconds before catching himself and swapping back to arrogant condescension. “He said you look after the,” you begin and hesitate as you scrabble for the word he’d used, “Vehicons. Make sure they have what they need.” Even if Knockout had sounded torn between almost admiration and annoyed bemusement by that. Like Breakdown was wasting his time.

• Engine rumbling as you fidget in his passenger seat, he vents. “Someone has to,” he mutters. It had been an insult when they’d put him over the cloned soldiers, but really, they’re Cybertronians, too. They have sparks. And he’d just shrugged it off, doing his assignment to the best of his ability. Trying to lobby for better conditions, a bit more rations for them. “Those energon mines are death traps even when we’re not at war.”

• “I think that’s what Knockout admires about you. That you care,” you say, because staying on this guy’s good side seems prudent. And you have no idea where he’s taking you, but you’re starting to get worried. “You’re not driving me out in the desert to dump my body, are you?” Because he’d left the outskirts of your little town miles ago. And he laughs, but also doesn’t answer your question. “Cause Knockout may be a little put out at losing the only real competition he has in the races.” No response. Alright then. You grab his gear shift and shove it into park catching him by surprise as he shudders and snarls, hear his startled alien swearing as you claw at the little nob to unlock the door, breaking a nail before throwing open the door and running flat out.

Previous

[hy6erion]

I am back and with another artist reader x JayVik ask!! The ask abt reader drawing em naked rly sparked some inspiration >:))

I was wondering if you could do artist reader drawing JayVik getting each other off? (Doing the do, the devils tango, uh,, sex)

I just think it’d be delicious to make them stop mid fuck cause you gotta draw em in a specific pose

Also, if u could make reader maybe more dominant that would be very appreciated!! I feel like Jayce and Viktor could go either way here (both submissive, one dom one sub, maybe both switches(??)) but I just prefer dominant reader inserts :))

𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐰𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟑 - 𝐉𝐚𝐲𝐕𝐢𝐤 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

✰⍣..𝐲/𝐧 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐮𝐩𝐭𝐬 𝐉𝐚𝐲𝐜𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐕𝐢𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐢𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐜𝐲- 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐣𝐨𝐢𝐧, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦.

⇢ 𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐲/𝐧, 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭, 𝐦𝐝𝐧𝐢, 𝐬𝐮𝐛! 𝐉𝐚𝐲𝐜𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐕𝐢𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐫, 𝐝𝐨𝐦! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐥, 𝐞𝐝𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠/ 𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐚𝐥, 𝐦/𝐦/𝐟 𝐝𝐲𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐜 (𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩𝐬)

𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟏 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐 (𝐛𝐨𝐧𝐮𝐬 𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐞)

It was obscene, the way they fit together like this.

Jayce, broad and ruined, sprawled against the pillows, body straining under the weight of Viktor above him. And Viktor-delicate but devastating, perched in Jayce's lap, thighs spread wide, lips kiss-bitten and panting.

Y/n had been content to watch. Until inspiration struck.

She stretched, lazily, dragging a hand down the sheet covering her legs before finally speaking.

"Hold that pose."

It took them a second to register.

Viktor went still first. His chest still heaving, skin flushed, but his brows furrowed, mouth parting slightly. Jayce, though-he was slower to catch up, still rutting helplessly into Viktor's body, hands tightening on his thighs, entirely too lost in it to—

"Jayce," Y/n said smoothly, her voice warm but unyielding. "I said hold it."

His body locked up instantly.

Viktor let out a breathless, incredulous laugh. "Oh, you cannot be serious."

Jayce groaned. "She's serious."

Y/n smiled, reaching for her sketchbook.

"Mm. Very serious."

Jayce let his head fall back against the pillows, looking personally betrayed.

"You're actually insane."

"And you're actually gorgeous like this," she countered, flipping to a blank page.

"So stop whining and let me work."

Jayce whimpered.

Viktor, the absolute traitor, smirked as he settled against Jayce's lap, rolling his hips-barely, just enough to tease, enough to make Jayce's fingers twitch against his skin. "I think she enjoys this."

Y/n smirked right back. "You're both enjoying this."

Neither of them denied it.

Her charcoal moved in long, confident strokes, capturing everything-Jayce's tension, his arms trembling where they held Viktor, the way his fingers flexed against pale thighs like he was dying to move but wouldn't dare without permission. The way Viktor's back arched slightly, hands braced against Jayce's chest, lips parted like he was waiting to be kissed.

They were a masterpiece.

Jayce shifted, barely a twitch, but enough to catch her attention. His breath hitched. "Y/n, please-"

She paused.Jayce swallowed hard.

Y/n tilted her head. "Please what?"

Jayce's throat bobbed. "Please let me move-"

She hummed, tapping the edge of the charcoal against her chin as she considered. "Hmm. I don't know. You look good like this. Desperate. Obedient."

Jayce whined, head falling back against the pillows.

Viktor chuckled, dragging his fingers over Jayce's chest in slow, taunting motions. "I think she likes us suffering."

Y/n grinned. "You say that like it's a secret."

Jayce groaned, thrashing slightly, but Viktor held him down, smirking.

"You love this," Viktor murmured, raking his nails down Jayce's stomach, watching him tremble.

Jayce's fingers twitched, his restraint crumbling. "You are both evil-"

"Oh, poor you" Y/n murmured, setting her sketchbook aside. She slid off the pillows, crawling over him, watching the way his breathing stuttered as she hovered just above him. "You love it."

Jayce's lips parted.

Viktor smirked above him. "Very."

Jayce barely had time to breathe before Y/n kissed him hard, sinking her fingers into his hair, dragging her nails against his scalp until he whimpered into her mouth. His hands twitched, but he didn't move, still obeying her earlier command.

Y/n grinned against his lips, pleased.

Then she pulled back and tilted Viktor's face to hers instead, kissing him slow, deliberate, until his hands shook against Jayce's chest. Until his hips jerked forward, unthinking, chasing more.

By the time she pulled away, they were wrecked.

And they were hers.

[suzukiblu]

Day five of February’s second weekly WIP behind the cut; “mistaken identities and interdimensional refugees”. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

Ugh, he is being such a fucking downer right now. In his own head, even, for fuck's sake. Just because, like, he's never really felt like he fit in with Clark's family and feels even less like he does since their stupid fucking reality rebooted and now maybe their stupid fucking reality is dead and might've taken everyone who he remembers ever knowing whether they remember him at all or not with it and now he'll really never, ever get to go home again and–

Kon stops thinking about that shit. Not actually fixing the problem, you realize, Cassie would say. It’s just catastrophizing until you have all the intel, Tim would say. 

We found you once, we'll find you again, Bart would say. 

Or, like, something totally stupid and ridiculous about nothing important so Kon could pretend to be a mentally stable person for just another five minutes. Whichever. 

He doesn't know what he's gonna do if they can't find each other again. If they're not there to be found. Aside from, like, continue to interdimensionally babysit the ten year-old version of a guy who doesn't even particularly care that he's alive, much less that they're both wearing the same house crest. Like–that, yeah. And only that until they find the local Clark, either way. 

Fuck, this is the worst interdimensional bullshit to bullshit since fucking Gemworld. 

Kon doesn’t think about how long it took him to get the fuck off fucking Gemworld. 

( doesn’t wonder if his reality’s Jon is out there somewhere not thinking about how long it took him to get the fuck out of the fucking volcano. )

Jon really does keep up the excited rambling the whole way out of Gotham, which Kon still cannot actually process as being a thing and still has no idea how he feels about. Just–just the way the kid’s looking at him is . . . 

Literally no one has ever looked at him the way this kid is looking at him right now, especially not any version of Jon Kent. 

He just . . . he doesn’t know what the fuck to think about it. 

“We’ll be arriving at the manor shortly, Mr. Kent,” Alfred finally interrupts as a smooth interjection when Jon’s pausing to take a breath and Kon is panicking about whether or not he’s supposed to be saying anything to the kid or what. Kon is very, very fucking grateful for said interruption and leans forward in his seat to peer ahead through the windshield. Not that he didn’t already know where they were, he’s just kinda curious about what may or may not look different in this reality’s version of the neighborhood. Like, he doesn’t know, maybe–

Wait. He does know where they are. And Alfred just said–

“Wait, you’re actually taking us to the manor?” Kon asks incredulously. 

“It would appear so, Mr. Kent,” Alfred says, raising an eyebrow at him in the rearview mirror. “I do recall saying that I was.” 

“Yeah, in front of Rita!” Kon protests. “We didn’t actually think you were gonna take us to the actual manor! What the hell, man?!” 

“Oh is Batman gonna just kill us?” Jon asks, half-covering his face with his hands with a freaked-out expression. “Are we getting killed and chucked off the ledge in the Batcave and like they’ll literally never even find our bodies?” 

“That seems a rather inhospitable welcome, young Mr. Kent,” Alfred replies wryly. “I intended to make tea, personally. Perhaps a late supper, under the circumstances.” 

Yeah, they are definitely never finding their bodies. 

[mattnottrecs]

leona, i wanna give you a big kiss on your forehead because you just gave me another masterpiece to read and another FEAST to eat (not surprised because you always know exactly what you’re doing) 🤲🏻

you don't even have time to think, not when mattheo's got you exactly where he wants you-sprawled out on tom's bed, your thighs trembling in his grip, his mouth pressed against your cunt like it's his last fucking meal.

first of all, he’s so nasty for doing this lmao, and i love it, he’s really eating his sister in law’s cunt on his brother’s bed 🏃‍♀️ this man has no decency, and i fucking love him for it lmao

second of all, i fucking love when you write smut, it’s already so fucking good, and it’s only the second paragraph 🙂‍↕️

"mattheo-" your voice is a strangled whisper, your fingers pulling at his curls,

this girl is living my dream life rn, i’m jealous and i’m not afraid to admit it (i want to be her so bad

"oh, now you remember my name?" […] "that's funny. thought it was 'tom, tom, tom' with you."

he’s such a son of a bitch 😭 i love love love that you made him so provocative. he’s taunting like he didn’t do anything wrong, and it makes me feel so ^%{%{%{ !!!

"mattheo, we-we can't-"

"we already are."

— 👙❌ i mean say less (i’m not complaining

all that talk about how much you love my brother, yet look at you." he presses a kiss to your inner thigh, all mockery, all smug satisfaction. "letting me eat you out on his bed."

"so fuckin' easy,"

I FUCKING CAN’T WITH THIS SON OF BITCH, i can’t even be mad because i’m too busy drooling over your amazing smut and his attitude 😔

i love the way you write him, how his attitude interferes with the sex and makes everything even more interesting. the way he talks and provokes the reader, letting her know she’s doing something wrong but still pushing her to do it—even when he’s in the wrong too and i love that he doesn’t care if his brother finds out—it’s so fucking good 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

he leans over you, caging you in, lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, "go clean yourself up, princess. wouldn't want tom to see you like this, yeah?"

the scene is so vivid in my head that i might need a doctor… or maybe a condom yk 💦💦💦

and just like that, he's gone, slipping out the door like he was never there, leaving you wrecked, panting, and stained with the taste of betrayal.

TELL HIM TO BRING HIS ASS BACK BC I NEED MORE, RIGHT NOW *{%{%]%\%\%%\%\%\

i love the way you write I LOVE THIS AND I CANNOT WAIT TO READ MORE 10/10 one more time

۶ৎ boyfriend’s brother!mattheo eating you out while tom’s in the shower

boyfriend’s brother mattheo x fem reader warnings ; 18+ mdni, oral f!recieving, fingering, cheating boyfriend’s brother mattheo moodboard

navigation. au collection. m.list. bfb!mattheo.

you don’t know how it got this far. or maybe you do. 

you don’t even have time to think, not when mattheo’s got you exactly where he wants you—sprawled out on tom’s bed, your thighs trembling in his grip, his mouth pressed against your cunt like it’s his last fucking meal. his tongue is relentless, messy and eager, flicking against your clit before dragging down to fuck into you, obscene sounds filling the room with every desperate, sloppy lick.

“mattheo—” your voice is a strangled whisper, your fingers pulling at his curls, like you’re not sure whether you’re trying to push him away or pull him closer.

“oh, now you remember my name?” he taunts, pulling back just enough to look up at you through dark lashes. his chin is glistening with your arousal, eyes gleaming with something dangerous. “that’s funny. thought it was ‘tom, tom, tom’ with you.”

“you’re a dick.”

“mm. but i’m the one with my tongue on your pussy, not him.” he punctuates his words with a slow, deliberate drag of his tongue, swirling it over your clit just to hear your breath hitch. “what does that say about you, sweetheart? you know my brother’s right there.”

panic flares in your chest, your head snapping toward the bathroom door. tom’s still in the shower, the sound of running water muffling everything, but not enough. not if you keep making noise like this. “mattheo, we—we can’t—”

“we already are.” his voice is thick with amusement, fingers digging into your thighs as he tilts his head, dragging his tongue in slow circles around your clit. “fuckin’ soaked, princess. all that talk about how much you love my brother, yet look at you.” he presses a kiss to your inner thigh, all mockery, all smug satisfaction. “letting me eat you out on his bed.”

your stomach tightens, shame curling through you, but not enough to stop you from rocking your hips against his mouth when he slides two fingers inside of you, curling them just right. your back arches off the mattress, a broken moan slipping past your lips before you can stop it.

mattheo tsks, pulling back just enough to meet your gaze. his lips are shining with you, his chin dripping, and the way he’s looking at you makes your stomach flip. like he owns you. like he’s already won. “so fuckin’ easy,” he mutters, pumping his fingers slow, deep. his thumb presses against your clit, rubbing light, teasing circles that have your thighs shaking. “thought you’d put up more of a fight.”

“fuck you,” you hiss, but it comes out breathy, wrecked, and he grins.

“yeah, we’ll do that too.” he buries his face between your legs again, tongue flicking, fingers thrusting, and your hands fly to your mouth, desperate to muffle the moans spilling from your lips. but he’s not having it. he yanks one of your hands away, pinning it to your stomach, his other hand still gripping your thigh open. “don’t you fuckin’ dare,” he growls. “i wanna hear you. wanna hear every little sound you make.”

your head tips back against the pillows, your free hand twisting in the sheets. “mattheo—oh my god—”

“c’mon, princess. cum on my tongue,” he urges, voice thick with hunger, with something darker, something possessive. he sucks your clit between his lips, and the coil in your stomach snaps, pleasure slamming into you so hard you forget everything—where you are, who you’re supposed to be loyal to. the only thing that exists is mattheo’s mouth, his hands, the low, satisfied chuckle he lets out as he watches you fall apart beneath him.

he doesn’t stop until you’re squirming away, too sensitive, your breath coming in quick, uneven gasps. only then does he pull back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, his dark eyes gleaming.

he leans over you, caging you in, lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, “go clean yourself up, princess. wouldn’t want tom to see you like this, yeah?”

and just like that, he’s gone, slipping out the door like he was never there, leaving you wrecked, panting, and stained with the taste of betrayal.

© leona-hawthorne 2025. please do not copy, translate or repost any of my writing.

[mourndust]

ROLLER BABY ! ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡ ˚

sfw content — roller!derby jinx au, tons of tension tho !

stuck with roller!derby jinx who skates to relief some tension since she’s under a lot lately, drawing crosses and lines over her cloudy tatt’s with pink, purple and blue paint before every game.

she’d gave a lot of speeches to her team since she decided their coach — silco, sucks at them. each time making sevika roll her eyes when she’s all over the changing room in a short purple skirt and a black crop top saying there’s no real competition to them, skating from one side to another as the rest is still changing.

her blue braided hair would fly as she skates in circles, swift movements, controlled pace, faster than sound itself as she scores and obscene amount of points — the drops are at the #1 spot for a reason, and she’s proud of being a valued member of her team since she usually don’t feel that way.

roller!derby jinx who’s so cocky in their final game, when she know she’s competing against pilties who cannot even take a punch decently, throwing an elbow to a orange-haired girl who began nosebleeding at the first couple of rounds.

“sorry sis, cannot let you win- family or not” she grins to her sister, pouting as she scores another set of point — she cannot believe out of all people vi’s competing with them, a group of stuck up girls who are too afraid to get their hands dirty.

and the game itself is nasty, the sport has always been like that. blood, sweat and tears as she avoids being thrown off the circuit, focused on making her team win before you came into the picture.

fuck’s sake where did you even came from? you’re like an avalanche in black, velvety rollerblades, easily passing her without even touching her, faster than her, faster than the whole public who’s looking and cheering this stupid nickname over and over — stardust.

who the fuck is this star girl who’s suddenly scoring a bunch of points? purple eye you must have recieved in a previous game, a good set of bruises jinx could see when the wind lift up your skirt, “you’re sure she’s a piltie? she dont seem like one,” she would ask sevika in the ten minute break they got in half time — “who is she? is it legal to have a new member? i haven’t seen her around, this star girl- she must be new.”

thing is, she’s trapped between being interested in you and absolutely despise you, can you blame her? you’re making her sister win and she’s mad at her since she leaved the team for her rich girlfriend, so it’s a problem when the second half of the game starts and she’s decided to win at whatever cost, tossing her interest aside as the whistle blows and she’s behind a sea of competitive girls.

you have the nerve to smirk at her, scanning her as you assume your possition, making jinx’s blood boil as she takes sev’s arm, using it to be pushed further and faster than you.

roller!derby jinx who’s not afraid to push you when you’re right next to her, side to side as you two fight for a couple of points. derby is a tough sport as you’re being shoved against the iron barriers of the oval track, yet you’re quick to resume your pace again, not daring to give up.

jinx admires your way of standing up, at least she does, cause sevika’s making you fall with a discrete punch in the guts and the air is robbed from your lungs, an effective way of get you off the way as you fall on your hands and knees and the public is roaring her nickname over and over again: powder, powder, powder.

roller!derby jinx who would usually be drinking their win after, specially after a championship, beer in hand as she talks with her friends all night; yet, that night out of all she finds herself sliding in the other’s team changing room when no one’s around, most of the girls already in the bar as she’s pulled by this random force she won’t dare to give a second thought.

“you were good out there, stargirl” she would say, leaning against the lockers, arms crossed over her chest as she notices how you’re tending your own wounds, distancing yourself from your teammates — “sorry for that. can’t blame a girl for winning huh?”

she’s been crushing on ekko for a while now, so this new magnetism she feels with you? it’s a foreign one as her gaze scans your fingers pressing the cold ice against your ribs. she thinks it’s the guilt of a dirty game when she’s helping you reach the ointment for the scratches on your knee, looking at you almost searching for permission to help as she sits in the bench close to you.

“don’t want you to say sorry” you admit as her manicured fingers touch something as bane as your kneecap, pure electricity as you notice the pink and blue nailpolish she uses— “a game’s a game. and you were great.”

roller!derby jinx who’s really making an effort here to hate you, see you as competition, someone she should despise being in her sister’s team, friends with her piltie girlfriend, yet your skin is so soft, your voice is so soothing- hell.

“jinx,” she introduces herself “haven’t see you around before.”

“yeah- i know who you are” you say looking up to her, letting her help you clean the dry blood of your scraped skin — “didn’t play for a while.”

roller!derby jinx who’s fucked up since that night in the changing rooms, cause she know you’ll be nothing but pure trouble, and man coming from her? it’s a lot to say.

let me know if you guys would like a pt.2 since this is literally a test to know if this would flop, also if you’d like to be tagged in the next part!

[hrrtshape]

" there is no new information on here "

there is nothing new. no revelation, no eureka moment, no half-lit epiphany waiting in the wings to drape itself over you like some scene-stealing ingenue. not in shifting, not in loa. this is not a murder mystery; the butler did it, the secret was never secret, and the call is always coming from inside the house.

but then again, the debate flares up, bright and exhausted, like the end of a cigarette crushed against marble. tiktok is misinformation central, tumblr is an echo chamber, et cetera, et cetera. apples and oranges, atomic bomb and coughing baby. false equivalence. but sure, let’s pretend.

if you think the community is boring, i regret to inform you: you are looking for the plot twist in a story that does not require one. you are waiting for the second act crisis in a structure that is flat by design. you are watching water boil and bemoaning its predictability. shifting is easy. loa is easy. the mechanics are not some esoteric alchemy known only to those who speak in riddles or upcharge pdf guides. you just do it. you know and it happens.

but there will always be some industrious soul stepping onto their soapbox, announcing, with the breathless urgency of a man who has cracked the zodiac cipher, that they have discovered "the secret." as if there is some clandestine order, some walled garden of enlightenment, some ineffable password to be whispered at the gates of the promised land. but let’s be serious. it’s all one big game of emperor’s new clothes. the trick is that there is no trick. the prestige is that there is no prestige.

people will dress up the simple in filigree because they cannot handle the terrifying freedom of ease. they will spin their wheels because stillness scares them more than failure. they will reject the plain truth in favor of the labyrinthine lie because, deep down, they want the struggle. the suffering. the uphill battle. because what are we without a climb? what are we if it’s just......easy?

you don’t need another revelation, another discourse, another rearrangement of the same three puzzle pieces. shifting is easy. loa is easy. and the only real "secret" is accepting that it always was.

[koishua]

jaehyun and his frankly debilitating crush on you — part two ! (one)

★ one. myugjae (as his friends like to call him) has a problem. multiple, at that, but for now he'll focus on his biggest one. you, or rather himself, because darn it all if he isn't a mess every time you lay a single finger on him. he feels like a child all over again with this awful and incapacitating crush on you. the kicker? you're already together! you have been for over a year now and he still can't seem to calm down whenever you cup his cheeks and bump his nose with your own.

★ two. even worse, he wholeheartedly believes that he won't make it out alive until your third anniversary (if he even makes it to the second!). who ever could? myungjae feels like a mad buffoon after explaining his very real and very urgent problem to a younger woonhak, who seemed to look at him with a mixture of disgust and sheer amusement. "what if my heart collapses after another kiss i didn't expect to be given? what then? woonhak, this is a serious matter— don't laugh!"

★ three. sungho is at a loss of words. his friend is currently laying on his bed rambling about some nonsense he can't quite understand through all of the squirming and sniffling, but the few words he is able to catch are more than enough to set him off on a nice and calm walk away from the... situation. "yeppi, she literally... i mean, can you blame... kissed... i have never been... my hand!"

★ four. when hanbin walks into the room, he is greeted by the sight of a puddle on the floor wearing his friend myung jaehyun's clothes and a very casual hello from you in the kitchen, probably to grab the popcorn and drinks for your movie night party he's been invited to with a bunch of others. getting over his initial shock and resetting his facial expression from that of bafflement, he steps over jaehyun in order to help you carry the items when he asks, "did you—" to which you nod with a gleeful smile. hanbin feels a shiver running down his spine, fearing the evil overlord you have become. myungjae can never resist a good head scratch. you needed him to be docile and not jump around during the movie.

★ five. relax, myungjae, he thinks to himself. it's a nice sunday morning with nothing on the plan. he has to make the most out of the day, but with you in his arms sleeping away the exhaustion of the week peacefully, he is at a crossroad. either die of cuteness aggression or die by imploding because all of this love cannot be contained within him anymore (taesan says tomato tomahto!). being able to observe the way your lashes brush over your cheeks and feeling the soft rise and fall of your chest with your face smushed up against his side is what heaven must be.

© KOISHUA 2025, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

[totallybakedcake]

"Of course!"

You saw your friends, your only family, die in front of you.

It repeated again and again. Their deaths, the blood, the pain, and the trauma.

Everything was too tough, every single thing reminded you of the incident.

How you all crashed out in your home and how they convinced you to become a hunter.

Going on trips, shopping, eating out, being each other's emotional support, and whatnot.

It was terrifying, the monsters coming endlessly and blood being shed every other second. Your mind stopped, your body couldn't move, and everything was in a haze. By the time you were back to your senses.

Everyone dead.

It was pitiful, no one to go to, no one to call, no one to comfort you or get you back up on your feet.

Stomach pain, headache, body ache. It was getting to you, but not an inch did you move from the bed. Just replaying the scene over and over again.

But someone was watching this.

"How is she?" Jinwoo asked as he sat on the couch, he knew you were in pain, after all, he was the one sent to complete the dungeon after things went wrong.

He vividly recalls the scene. You were sitting there, eyes practically dead as there was a sea of blood and lots of bodies scattered everywhere. Jinwoo, at first thought you were dead by how lifelessly you sat there, not blinking or moving an inch.

He had to touch you to see if you were alive.

Beru, Jinwoo's shadow soldier, quickly came out to check. "She is alive, my liege, just unconscious while sitting."

Jinwoo felt angry, mad, upset, and guilty for not arriving earlier. He even can see the image of you having a panic attack over and over again when you woke up and heard everyone was dead. It reminded him of when his mother experienced the same panic attack when his dad went missing.

He wanted to check up on you, but it was weird, you both never talked, and suddenly he pops up to see your condition. Perhaps it was not too odd, but Jinwoo had his shadows, and he would much rather use them instead.

----

"My liege, lady (name) has not done anything but just lie on the bed and look out the window. She does not eat well or drink enough water. Her phone keeps going off, but she never picks it up."

Damnit, the situation is so terrible, and Jinwoo needs to help you. Whatever you think or others think, he just wants to help you.

Huff, you can do this, he encourages himself as he rings the doorbell.

One time

Two times

Three times

Four times

No answer.

"(Name), I know you are in there and are not okay, just let me come home, and I will not be trouble." He yells from outside and continues to ring the doorbell.

A loud groan escapes your lips as you get up lazily to open the door.

"Hunter Sung, please, I am not okay and-"

He barges inside and starts to work, taking out the groceries he has bought to make you a good big meal, his shadow soldiers make you sit on the sofa as they clean the mess your house is in.

"Excuse me, you cannot—" Jinwoo swiftly shushes you up, not letting you say anything as he asks you to go take a nice shower and not argue a single bit with him.

How can you describe this? Being forced to bathe and let a man you've never had a conversation with take care of you like a mom.

Jinwoo made you sit on the couch as you came out, grabbing your chin and making you eat stew.

No words were exchanged between both of you for a good while. Well, words were not needed, so why talk?

Both of you knew that this was great, you liked it how Jinwoo took care of you, and Jinwoo enjoyed taking care of you.

After chewing, you both ask at the same time.

"Do you want to stay?" "Can I stay here for a while?"

"Of course!" Both of you replied energetically.

First of all I want to give credits to @kgymz for the adorable divider. Thank you, I love this.

I actually wanted to do a valentine series (which i mentioned in my other fic) but writer's block hit and i couldnt do it but i had another jinwoo fic planned which now might take a while to upload but anyways this makes me think if im going to do an event, should i start 2 months prior so that i can upload them even if i get a writer's block in between?

[burningcheese-merchant]

"You and I... We are meant to be together." okay everyone pack it up. go home. it doesn't get worse than this. I fear all other ancient x beast is #cancelled forever because how the utter fuck do you compete with that. My god. Dark Cacao would die on the spot, his old fucking heart would give out processing a sentence that romantic. Golden Cheese would choke and die from the physical manifestation of her own pride and ego before she could ever utter a sentence that open and honest. Hollyberry is choosing to laugh it all off and pray she can drink away and not think about it. White Lily would fall into another witch pot of bubbling goo before confronting said feelings. Only Pure Motherfucking Vanilla is that clincally batshit and unburdened to spout his feelings 1000% unfiltered to a guy who just killed his friends and got his rocks off psychologically torturing him.

Mystic Flour being utterly repulsed by such naïve, meaningless sentimentality, still clinging to the remains of the apathy she so cherishes and champions even as it slips through her fingers like flour through a sieve; hating herself to her very core because somewhere within it, she KNOWS her heart beats and aches for that ridiculous man, but she would end her own suffering before she allowed the truth to poke its head out from the shadows of her subconscious for even a single second

Burning Spice knowing how he feels for Golden Cheese, reveling in it, LIVING for the way his heart thunders in his chest and his breath hitches at the mere thought of his little bird. Never being afraid to tell her so, to pour out the contents of his dark heart without any filter (and Witches know he needs one at times...), either through his mouth or through the blade of his axe. But... still knowing that it isn't quite enough. Not for her. Because there's still something missing from his confessions. That soft, sugary sweetness that took away enough of the edge to his overwhelming spice that even he himself noticed it. That raw honesty - a different kind than he's used to, not quite what he employs. The kind that well and truly leaves him vulnerable and open to judgment; things he hates himself for fearing, even if it's only in relation to her and no one else. The kind he simply cannot have, that he cannot carry out. He tells Golden Cheese how he feels for her the way he WANTS to, not the way he NEEDS to. For that, he must change. And damn it, he can't handle any more change. It'll kill him, and he doesn't want to die anymore. Not while she's there to make his life fun again

Eternal Sugar sighing, rolling her eyes before letting them flutter shut again, because she knows this song and dance. She once helped countless others perform it; such was her lot as Happiness. And she chooses to ignore it, tuck herself back into bed and retreat into the world of dreams once more. Letting laziness govern her actions, like always. Running away from everything again - including her feelings for Hollyberry, and the fears and doubts that shroud them. Choosing to do nothing with the fact that Hollyberry is a runner and a quitter just like her, instead of taking initiative with her life and emotions for the first time in ages and telling Hollyberry point-blank that they could run away from the world together if she truly wanted

Silent Salt secretly lamenting his condition more than ever before, for now more than ever can he truly say that it is a hindrance, a curse, a stain on the tapestry of his life. Because no matter how well he's trained himself to express his thoughts and feelings through his actions, he knows that there are times where words really DO speak louder - and he can't speak them at all. He can never look White Lily in the eye and open his mouth and allow his praise and adoration to leap freely from his tongue. She will never feel the warmth of his tone as his words embraced her. She will never shiver and swoon at the joy and passion that dripped from every single letter - and there would've been many, there would've been more than could ever have been recorded, for he would've sung his feelings from every rooftop on earth until his lungs gave out. But he can't. He never will. Does he try to pretend it's better this way? Does he try and fail to cope with his lovesickness like his comrades do with theirs? Or does he accept the bitter reality for what it is, no ifs, ands, or buts, only hiding the gloom and doom he knows is written all over his face behind his helm just so he doesn't have to see it for himself?

And, above all of these things, bundling up the other 4 Beasts' feelings and tucking them away... Above all else, they are angry. They are angry at Shadow Milk. Because he achieved what none of them could. He got everything he wanted. His Ancient admitted his love for him, with all of the raw sincerity one could possibly afford another. The other Beasts would do ANYTHING to hear their Ancients speak to them in such a way. To acknowledge and embrace their connection, to confess to loving and longing for them; for their countenance, for their voice, for their touch, for their very souls. Shadow Milk got to reunite with his other half - who chose him willingly, wholeheartedly.

And Shadow Milk chose to throw it all away in the end. Let it all go to waste.

If any of them ever see him again, they're going to let him know EXACTLY how they feel about it all. Maybe it can count as practice towards crafting a proper heartfelt confession.

[ceoofglytchell]

Fear not

Summary: Aegon walks in on his new wife having an anxiety attack.

Pairing: Aegon II Targaryen x Wife!Reader

Word count: 1301 words

Warnings: TW: anxiety attacks! , heavy angst, hurt/comfort, talks of dying, fear of death, probably ooc aegon, good husband aegon <3, no description for the reader, no mention of Y/N

Notes: This is short and self indulgent, but I needed to get this out of my drafts. The next fic is gonna be the winner of the poll! Enjoy 💛

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Nothing feels real. Your mouth and lips are numb, your ears are ringing and you feel like you cannot breathe.

You gasp desperately for air, trying to force some oxygen into your lungs, while you press your hand against your chest, which feels tight and strange. The stinging pain between or under your ribs does not make things any better.

You hold on to your armchair with your other hand, which is in front of the lit fireplace in your and Aegon's marital chambers.

Aegon... Two weeks ago you were married in the Great Sept and became husband and wife.

At first you had your doubts, but so far he has done nothing to make you regret this union. Yes, he is a drunkard and yes he takes his nightly duties as a husband very seriously, but you like that. You like him.

And in return you know that he values ​​you just as much.

But how would he react if he saw you now? Weak, frail, gasping for air, shaking all over and with tears running down your cheeks?

Weak.

That is what your father always called you when you had another of those attacks. The maesters assured you that it was from all the stress a young woman like you must be feeling - or just the general fact that you are a woman - but nothing helps you fight it.

It feels like you are dying.

And all the questions that are going through your head are only making it worse. The voices in your head are screaming at you that there must be something wrong with your heart and that you will collapse at any moment and no longer be there, or that it must be something with your head.

It frightens you terribly and you cannot escape this vicious circle of bad thoughts.

Not far from the fireplace and the armchair you are leaning against, the door opens and Aegon comes running in, a grin on his face, as he is happy to finally be alone with his beautiful new wife.

But then suddenly his eyes fall on you and he immediately realizes that something is very wrong.

"Wife?" he asks you carefully, whereupon you sob even louder. It breaks his heart.

He approaches you with quick steps and gently puts a hand on your shoulder. "My beloved... what is wrong?"

For the first time in what feels like hours, you look up and almost feel relieved, were it not for the shortness of breath and the feeling of pulling in your chest, as well as the fear of losing your life.

It is your greatest fear. You do not want the Stranger to come and get you. You still want to experience so much. You still have your whole life ahead of you and you want to spend it with your husband and give him heirs and raise them. You want to be a mother, a grandmother. You cannot die yet.

"Darling, talk to me," Aegon begs, taking your face in his hands so that you have to look into his beautiful amethyst colored eyes.

The sight of him and his obvious concern for you touched you to the core and you can't do anything but cry even harder, tears rolling down your flushed cheeks.

"I-I can't breathe," you finally answer him, whereupon his eyes widen and he strokes his thumbs soothingly over the soft flesh of your cheeks.

"Then we breathe together, do you hear me?" he assures you and takes a deep breath.

You try to imitate him, but you can't. The panic grew. What if there really was something wrong with you? What if you were to die in his arms right now?

"Listen to me, darling. Look at me and breathe with me.”

The prince takes a long breath, holding the air for four seconds before slowly letting it out again. Criston taught him this one evening when he was suffering from something similar. He had been so afraid back then, which his grandsire kept shouting at him for, but since then he has learned that fear is not a weakness. On the contrary. It makes you strong.

You can feel how slowly but surely your lungs are filling up with air again and the dizziness is also subsiding. The feeling in your right side, it is strange and inexplicable, remains, however. As always.

Sometimes it seems as if you are dazed or not the same person.

“I don’t want to die, Aegon. Aegon, please, I can’t, I-“ you beg in sheer panic.

Your lord husband mmediately shakes his head and gently wipes the tears from your cheeks. He can’t bear to see you like this. And your words? What has gotten into you? What is going on?

"You will not die, my love. I am here. I am with you and nothing can happen to you. I promise you that I will fight the Stranger with my bare hands if he comes to take you away from me," he promises you and nods his head gently to show you that he means it.

"As long as I am here, nothing can happen to you."

Slowly you feel yourself being able to breathe again, the pain in your chest subsiding and the dizziness slowly fading, although you can still feel it lurking in the background.

The feelings are always there. They lurk in the depths of your mind and suddenly burst out of you.

During the last few days they have not been so strong and you almost had the feeling that the gods finally had compassion on you and took them away from you. Apparently that is not the case.

And now your beloved knows about it. About your shame.

"Better?" Aegon asks you gently, whereupon you nod hesitantly, but you can immediately feel new tears forming in your eyes. Tears of exhaustion and relief.

"Yes," you sob quietly and Aegon cannot help but hold you close and stroke your back with his hands.

"Oh, my poor darling. I did not know you were suffering so much. You should have told me," he whispers, pressing a few gentle kisses to your hair.

You buried your head in the fabric of his tunic, which was soaked with the salty water of your tears. Neither you nor he was interested in that right now.

All he wanted was for you to get better. He can't bear to see you like this.

"I did not want to look weak in your eyes."

Aegon immediately shakes his head and presses a few more kisses to your pretty head.

"You are not weak, wife. You are anything but that. You are so strong," he murmurs, kissing your forehead lovingly.

Your body is still shaking and you can feel the tiredness overcoming you. Your anxiety attack has completely overwhelmed you and left you even weaker.

"I love you. With all my heart. And I will always be here for you, do you hear me?"

His words melt your heart and a new wave of sadness overwhelms you and tears fall down your face again.

"Shhh, my girl, I'm here," he whispers before gently lifting you in his arms and carrying you to the bed.

He lovingly lays you down on the soft sheets and lies down next to you and immediately takes you in his arms. Your head rests on his chest and you listen to his calming heartbeat and enjoy the warmth of his body.

"Sleep, my love. I'll be here when you wake up."

The uncomfortable feeling is still there, but your eyes are heavy and you have slowly closed them and are falling into a dreamless sleep with your beloved husband by your side.

And you know you are safe with him.

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Taglist: @bey0nd-1he-stars @sassypain

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Aegon x Twin Sister!Reader comes next week (since that looks like it’s gonna win the poll so far)

[nymeriane]

I keep thinking about what does MDR do. It's first presented as sort of a joke in season 1, the company has data that needs to be refined, it looks like incomprehensible numbers because there are office jobs irl that deal with numbers that look incomprehensible to outsiders. Then you learn that there are scary numbers haha what a curious way to refine but at that point in the show it's not the weirdest thing.

And yet with mammalians nurturable, you realise that this is the second department with OTC that has been told horror stories about MDR attacking people. Clearly Lumon doesn't want others departments interacting with MDR and they don't want MDR interacting with others. They want MDR focused on their jobs. In fact they have many, many incentives for it.

It could be what expected of any company. If not for project Cold Harbor. Which is directly linked to Gemma and Mark. They go to great lengths to get Mark back to complete the project, meaning he is the only one that can do it. Why? What is he truly refining? What are the scary numbers that they are refining?

What if severance is not enough? If the whole thing of Lumon is brainwashing people, especially people that have been declared dead officially, it means the process unlike severance cannot just be medical, it needs refining, it needs a human refinement. What if the scary numbers are bad experiences of negative emotions (or 4 tempers) that are eliminated in the brainwashed people/ Ms Casey for example. Such emotions that can only be recognized by another human brain and translates as "scary numbers". What if Lumon is seeking a workforce of severed people truly obedient to the principles of Kier and devoid of any rebellion.

[haifoct]

Your tags kill me every single time.

Li Lun is not just there every time ZYC reconnects the parts of himself - Li Lun is the driving force behind the reconnecting. Starting with the moment when he takes the water demon's scale out of ZYC and allows him to finally dream, and see his long dead brother, and to face his fear of becoming a demon head-on.

Li Lun is the one who triggers the Blood Moon and possessed!Zhu Yan and forces ZYC to face the trauma and overcome it, finding forgiveness inside his heart.

Li Lun is the one who forces ZYC to research his past and find out about Bing Yi and Ying Long.

He is the one who triggers the final transformation and sets ZYC on a path of becoming a demon himself.

He is also the one who forces ZYC to look into the darkest parts of his soul and decide what kind of a human/demon he wants to be.

He is the one who, through sacrifice and by literally nourishing ZYC's body, gives ZYC a chance to become stronger and win against all odds.

While ZYC is the one who forces LL to learn how to let go and move on. How to forgive. He's the one who brings LL back from the edge of abyss and gives him a chance to redeem himself, to fulfill his promise of protecting the Wilderness. In the end it is ZYC, and not the "friend of 30k years" is the one who reaches out to LL and saves him.

Their violent symbiosis is painful and vicious, but in the end it's the driving force behind both of their evolutions.

They do fit perfectly together, like two pieces of the same puzzle, and they do belong together, because for every piece of damage they might do to each other, they help each other come out stronger and more relisent. And what's more, once LL is brought back from his despair, his influence and effect over ZYC stops being so painful and destructive and instead turns into pleasurable nourishing. I do believe that given time, they would become unstoppable and form an unbreakable bond together.

It’s not just my tags but also my friend’s tags. BUT YEAH! Ngh, Li Lun is awfully curious about Xiao Zhuo. Enticed by him. The entirety of Zhuo Yichen — potential that Yichen himself cannot see, Zhu Yan cannot see, Wen Xiao cannot see, hell even Zhuo Yixuan couldn’t, see his human part, his demon part — Li Lun wants it all. 

My brain genuinely shut down the second I read "nourishing Zhuo Yichen’s body", though.

The nurturing love that Xiao Zhuo talked about with Bai Jiu has been on my mind for a while now.

"There are many kinds of love. People like roses. When they pass by a rose, they'll praise it. So fragrant. So beautiful. Then they’ll pick it and place it in their hair, on their sleeve. When others see it, they all will feel envious. Do you think it’s love? It is. But there's another kind of love, which is, watering it everyday, removing insects, watching it flourish and sway in the wind, becoming more and more beautiful."

Zhuo Yichen and Li Lun (Wen Xiao and Zhu Yan also, my beloveds, my dearest, how much these two love each other) they represent the second love, in its full glory, in its all consuming tenderness. They loved each other as they are, wholly. And they did not give up on each other when the rose fell sick, when insects invaded its roots, when leaves withered. They healed each other, made each other stronger, and watched each other flourish. Zhu Yan and Wen Xiao are very gentle about it, Li Lun and Zhuo Yichen are very violent about it. They’re mirroring each other and telling the same story. 

They’re not each other’s curse or inevitable death; they’re each other’s hope, their will to live.

They can only belong together.

And I love that Yichen doesn’t offer us an answer, which love is better. He experienced both of those loves, and both are precious for him. But we as viewers, can watch these two couples, and make our own decision. 

[crowsofdarkness]

1940's Bucky has an offer you cannot say no to.

18+ CW's underneath the cut(oral with both male and female receiving)

Bucky always wanted to take care of me, it was in his nature to protect and make sure everyone close to him was taken care of. I was stubborn though, never wanting to have the help because I wanted to prove I can take care of myself. 

We were in the apartment he shared with Steve and Bucky invited me over for dinner tonight. He wanted me to move in with him and of course Steve. But I didn’t want to be a bother for both of them. Of course, he tried talking me into it more because he wanted to make sure I was taken care of in case he had to go off and fight in the war. 

“Please, doll. Let me show you how much I want to take care of you,” Bucky breathed in the crook of my neck, locking me into place against the couch. 

My eyes widened when his long fingers hooked into my pants, pulling them down to my ankles, and then made me sit on the armrest, spreading my legs wide for him.

“What if Steve comes home?” 

He tore his hungry eyes away from my pussy and up to my eyes. “Give him a show, Y/N.” 

I gaped down in shock at him which caused him to give a curt laugh. “I already locked the door with the deadbolt. I’ll have to unlock it if Steve comes home.” 

Soon his tongue flicked over my already sensitive clit and my nails quickly found his scalp, yanking him closer to me. 

“I fucking love the way you taste,” he groaned seconds before completely devouring me with his mouth. 

My mewls of pleasure sounded disgustingly loud in the small apartment. Bucky knew exactly what to do with his tongue to make my body ignite for him. His hair was a mess thanks to my fingers running through it, bucking on the ends to keep him in place. 

“Oh, fuck,” I shook when a finger slipped inside, pumping in and out of my pussy with such speed it made my head spin. 

“Do you want to be a good girl for me, doll?” Bucky broke away from my clit to look up at me with wide pupils. 

My arousal coated his lips and I let out a small whimper when I nodded. 

“Then move in with me,” he ordered before diving back in to enjoy his meal. 

I wrapped my legs around his head as another way to keep him close to me as my orgasm began to build and build. It teetered on the edge of the cliff and with one piercing cry of his name, I came apart. Bucky lapped up my arousal like a man who had just found water after trekking in the desert for days. 

When I blinked through the haze that danced at the edge of my vision, I noticed Bucky was standing in front of me now, lips and chin covered in my wetness, and he held up a finger; a silent command. 

I brought it to my mouth eagerly to lick it clean, humming at how delicious I tasted. 

“You’re such a good girl for me, doll. Fuck,” Bucky hissed when my teeth grazed along his finger as he pulled it out of my mouth. 

“My tun” I said with doe eyes while raking my nails down his bare chest.

In one swift motion, we switched positions so he was sitting on the armrest and I was standing in front of him; his large hand resting on top of my head. 

“On your knees, Y/N,” he demanded while pushing me roughly to my knees. 

His cock sprung free when I pulled it out of his pants  and I wasted no time licking up the precum at the head before swirling it over my tongue. I took his entire length in my mouth and bobbed my head up and down in fast strokes. He always had a tangy yet sweet taste and I purred when the head of his cock hit the back of my throat. 

“Shit!” He hissed and gripped the back of my head. “Right there, doll. Fuck, I’m gonna-.” 

When my hand began playing with his soft balls, I knew he wouldn’t be able to hang on for much longer. With a grunt, his warm cum shot down my throat and I dug my nails into the skin of his thighs. 

“Every.” 

Thrust. 

“Last.” 

Thrust. 

“Drop.”

I did. 

My mouth popped off his dick and I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand before tucking his cock away. 

“Yes, I’ll move in with you,” I smiled brightly. 

[atsadi-shenanigans]

FSBE 13 - Gods Ain't Shit

You learn some things.

On AO3.

“Oh my gods!” Karlach all but squeals. “The Jaheira! Like, the actual Jaheira!”

Good news: y’all found the harper hideout.

Bad news: they almost shot you’uns.

Thank fuck for Wyll and his buckets of charm. He’d been out front as an older lady came out to meet y’all. So he’d been the first up when the old lady pulled a Poison Ivy and lifted vines outta the ground to grab y’all. He was able to stall her long enough for one of the druid grove tiefling kids to run out and recognize y’all.

“Who’s Jaheira?” you say as Astarion fusses and pinches bits of vine out of his armor.

“You never heard of Jaheira?” Karlach says. Girl ain’t modulating her voice down at all. Couple of people look over. Then she blinks. “Right. You’re…she’s a hero. A real, proper one. Fought down a Bhaalspawn back in the day…oh. You don’t know about those either. Bhaal is the god of murder, you get me? And he apparently likes sprouting out kids—don’t ask, I don’t want to think about it. But they’re wicked dangerous. Whole ‘god of murder’ as your dad, yeah?”

You blink. “Y’all got a god of murder?”

Hope the what the fuck ain’t showing.

“You don’t?” Karlach says.

So there’s a whole readjustment of everything you ever known. A sharp ache chisels in behind your right eye.

“We don’t got gods,” you say. “Not real ones, anyway.”

“I’ve been meaning to ask you about that,” Shadowheart says.

Gale already made a beeline over to a woman standing in front of what looks like a ramshackle merchant stall at a ren faire. Wyll is already heading towards the inn, pausing to talk to a group of harpers gathered around a bone-dry fountain.

Lae’zel…she’s just standing there looking bored.

Shit.

You put on your best polite-interest (and not at all judging) face. “Yeah?”

“You’ve said you have no gods several times,” Shadowheart says. Behind her, Karlach makes a yikes face and tiptoes her way outta the conversation. Goddamnit. At least Astarion lingers. “Yet the concept isn’t foreign to you. How is that?”

She’s a cleric. Which means she’s some sort of, what you done put together, a battle nun for her god. Who sounds like a dick. And this one heals y’all.

You really don’t wanna get into it. Astarion knows about your background, and you told Wyll enough he might be suspecting some stuff.

“Some people,” you start. Pause to try to find safe footing. “Some people where I come from do.”

“And you think them, what. False? Liars?”

Fuckshit. She’s way too damn perceptive.

“Ain’t nobody ever seen one. Different civilizations had different pantheons, hundreds of them, and ain’t no physical evidence of any of it being real.”

Shadowheart arches an eyebrow. “So you think your entire people wrong?”

The anger rises hot and fierce like a steam explosion. Pressure spikes up the sides of your neck. You hold your breath a second to keep from saying nothing. Gotta keep calm. Breathe out. Snapping at her ain’t gonna solve shit. Biting somebody’s head off don’t change their mind and usually makes them dig in deeper, like a starving tick.

You ain’t her mama. And though her goddess sounds like she sucks, you ain’t gonna change her mind. She’s a grown ass woman who can make grown ass choices with her grown ass life.

You suck in another deep breath. “I cannot speak for nobody but myself. I don’t know much about y’all’s world; we don’t got magic in mine. But y’all very clearly do. So hell, I might have everything ass backwards. I’m just trying to figure everything out.”

Shadowheart presses her lips thin. Nods once. Don’t seem satisfied, but she don’t seem all huffy, neither. Thus go all shitty compromises.

(Part of you chafes at that, as it always does. You ain’t never been sure if that’s a reflex against your upbringing, or that upbringing manifesting itself into a new variety of self-righteousness. You wonder if you’ll ever know.)

“Do you think they have bathing facilities?” Astarion says. “I, for one, am tired of this filth.”

You should kiss him. But Shadowheart rolls her eyes and disengages, and you don’t want her staring you down any more than she already is.

Gale still talks to the trader or merchant or whoever. Pulls something outta his bag while Karlach pokes around a couple of shields propped against the booth. Lae’zel follows after Shadowheart as the two start across the courtyard. You assume she’s done some Jason Bourne surveying in her head. And Wyll…

Wyll stands at the door of the inn, arm lifted, waving y’all over.

“Oh, what now,” Astarion says.

“Maybe we got rooms?” you say.

“Ugh, I hope so. But with so many vagabonds—”

Who even says that?

“—traipsing about, I doubt they have any room to spare. Still. An honest bed would do wonders.”

He ain’t wrong.

The other people—harpers, you assume—all carry weapons and that light armor. Not metal; maybe leather. Must be more used to ambush attacks than full on assaults. Those kinda tactics tend to work pretty good against armored or heavy ass baggage trains. Ask the French what they thought about the English-allied Cherokee during that war. Before the English fucked over the Cherokees, as they did everybody, eventually.

These guys look fucking tired. Scared. It’s in the way their gazes don’t settle. One man shakes his hand, but when he grips the handle of his spear, fine tremors shiver up and down his fingers.

There’s some kinda low building to the right. A stable, you think. You catch the sound of metal clanging from that way. But then y’all are at the inn doors and ducking into what should be light and warmth. A plush rug and maybe a fish tank. Marble counter tops and a receptionist with a Karen haircut and a shiny name tag.

Instead, wood creaks underfoot and you look deeper into the building to what’s clearly a bar. Several people slump over it. One’s red, another blue. More tieflings.

“Hey, you! You look an enterprising sort!”

A small voice from down low. Tucked up into the corner is a red tiefling kid. He’s scrawny as hell, clothes patched and frayed, and…weirdly familiar.

“Oh no, not this little deviant,” says the biggest deviant you know. To the kid, Astarion says, “You’re lucky we’re not in any civilized place. They tend to punish thieves.”

Right. Kid from the grove. The one hawking stuff while his friend picked your pocket.

You still give Astarion a look. “How’d you get all them pillows outside your tent?”

“Through charm and wit.”

“Aw, it’s you,” the kid whines. “Don’t suppose you got more coin than pocket lint this time?”

“Nope,” you say.

The kid runs a clawed hand through his hair. Mutters something in a raspy language.

“Excuse me?” Astarion says.

The kid blinks, but don’t look any kind of mollified. Just tired. “Move along. If you can’t pay, you’re taking up room for someone who can. Where’s the funny man with the purple robe?”

Gale, who probably just dumped all y’all’s group money on a pile of sausages.

“You can speak his language?” you say to Astarion, still glaring like a kicked cat.

“That wasn’t his language, unless our tiny friend here is very good at shape changing. Though I am curious as to how he might have learned the language of the Abyss.”

“Oh.” The kid smirks. “You get called that enough to recognize it, then?”

Okay, fuck no.

You step between the two. That’s a nice thing about your size. If you wanna make yourself a problem, you are hard as fuck to ignore.

“Y’all made it this far, huh?” you say. And win, when the kid looks away from Astarion to you.

But his face goes eerily blank for a second before he smiles. Or tries to.

And you seen that before. The younger kids on the farmstead looked like that sometimes after a worship session. After a holy cleansing. Because being loud brought the Aunts, and crying brought the other kids, and it was hard sometimes to tell which was worse.

“Some of us,” the kids says. Give a one-shouldered shrug. Acting all cool and unbothered.

Being very, very bothered.

“What happened?” you say. You almost kneel down to his (her?) level, but you’ve cracked their armor now, and calling attention to it like that, reminding them how small they are is just gonna crack that deeper.

“What always happens,” the kid says. “We got attacked. Lost some people. The lucky ones made it here.”

The inn is awfully empty. Some of them tieflings looked ready to fight. Might just be outside with the harpers. Or up in rooms somewhere. But this place—trapped beneath a glowing, silver dome—ain’t that big.

“So are you gonna buy something or not?” the kid says. “Cause my crew is still looking to set up a business once we reach the city, and we need to start a principal.”

It takes a second for that one to translate. Principal, as in…chief? Top? School?

Astarion leans in. “He means an investment fund.”

Right. Sure thing, dirt potion.

“What’cha selling?” you say.

And that pipsqueak gives you the most incredulous once-over you ever did see. “You said you didn’t have any money.”

“I don’t.” You turn. Find Astarion glaring over your shoulder. Give him your most wide-eyed smile. “But he does.”

“Don’t you dare,” he says.

“You heard him. It’s an investment. Wouldn’t hurt to get on the ground floor of a promising new venture, huh?”

The worm in your head shudders. Shivers. Reaches out so you can press into him the ice-cold iron of “not abandoning a traumatized child.”

His worm shies away. His frown twists into a narrow-eyed scowl. And then he lifts up a coin—copper. You look at it. Look at him. Hold that gaze.

He sighs. “Suit yourself. But I expect repayment in full, darling.”

And pulls a gold coin out of thin air to toss at you.

You manage to catch it. Just. Sigh yourself as he pivots and heads over towards Wyll, standing further in.

You thought you was getting into him a little. He’s eased up around you, just a bit. Hasn’t threatened to eat either Scratch or Sweetums in a while. But asking him to show the tiniest sliver of empathy towards anyone but you—and even that’s pushing it—and it’s like trying to get a cat to swallow a pill. A cat who don’t like you all that much.

You press your lips tight as you watch him go. Finally turn back to the kid. Hold up the coin. “Let’s see your wares, huh?”

[qoldenskies]

same anon!! i feel validated so yes to everything you said. it was “Taking Care of your Brothers: A Two-part guide by Mikey and Donnie” by Calliopes_Anon that really made me change my perspective on how these two might act, particularly the mikey chapter simply because we get to see him look out for donnie as much as don looks out for him

and i think the fact there even was a mikey pov, much less one as thoughtful and detailed as that one is, helped a lot. because like. i can’t think of another fic envisioning this pre-movie state with a mike that isn’t constantly scared. kinda eye-opening for me lol

and yeah i do like the sorta ‘i don’t know if it can be fixed’ vs ‘i don’t know how it can be fixed’ mindsets from them and gosh i wish they didn’t take such a backseat during the movie bc i would’ve loved to see them have more of a reaction to the other two than just mild concern. i’d like to explore a version of the movie where they are frustrated, dare i say resentful, with their older brothers because ‘yeah raph can argue how much leo’s new attitude and its consequences are affecting the team. but does raph even understand that extent?’ it’d prob be a whole movie rewrite due to the fact it’s so raph and leo heavy, but isn’t that the beauty of fanfic

oh and yes to your point about donnie’s neurodivergence bc as sweet as it is to see him in fics gifting mikey his own noise blocking headphones, mikey would probably yell at them to shut up for five seconds before putting dons on his head for him

would love to see that pre-movie fic of yours one day!!

yeah with the neurodivergence thing i do genuinely feel like it would go the other way around cause like ,,, donnie is SO jumpy in canon. unexpected loud noise will even make him fall over sometimes, which means he's particularly sound-sensitive. and as a person with a trait exactly like that, i cannot handle shouting. at all. even when i expect it, it completely throws me off my game and scares the shit out of me. like i usually write it so donnie already struggles to handle getting yelled at, but i could see being in the proximity of it freaking him out too.

i do think that'd be one of those things that would piss off mikey in particular because as much as they make fun of each other and get fed up with each other, it's such an obvious and easy boundary to respect in his eyes. mikey can definitely handle yelling, even if it upsets him to see them arguing, but he would hate it because donnie very much cannot. he'd probably at least snap at them to stop or go do it elsewhere lmao

and resentment towards something like this kind of depends on just how bad raph and leo's dynamic actually was, because while its pretty heavily implied they've been arguing like this kind of continuously (especially based on their talk before they go on that mission that has them lose the key), raph's "i have to look out for you or you could all end up dead" talk feels like something that's ,,, new? considering how leo reacts to it initially before pretending to brush it off. maybe leo just normally derails the conversation faster, or normally they dont have arguments like this in private lmao

definitely what fic's for ,,,, raph and leo kind of going back to the dynamic they had in bug busters (but reversed, and likely more intense) while donnie and mikey kind of pair off together is a really interesting thing to play around with, especially with how they naturally they just go and stick close to each other in the movie (easy way to connect that to them gravitating towards each other with everything going on), ive just never really seen it in the exact Flavor that id want to see so maybe ill check out the fic you recc'd ,,, gotta expand my tastes fr