#i cannot watch this without getting overwhelmed with so many feelings

[astralnymphh]

𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧. ♡

summary: ellie simply cannot dance the odette variation perfectly without you spotting her. she calls you in, and swans begin to sing.

content: ballerina!ellie, smut, mdni, dom!reader, white swan and black swan dynamic, fingering(e!rec), slight choking, slight degradation, semi-public sex, presence of risk, drabble length, had to get something of this au out before i went psycho. think of this as series teaser, almost. barely, somewhat proofread. wc: 1.7k

Ellie works against her body, and time works against her.

“Dammit—I can't get it right.”

It is February: the unfurling of the year, and she is Odette this season. The white swan had incarnated, plucking only the most graceful, most sedulous ballerina from the flock. She begins to believe herself after all the blood, sweat, and tears produced in anticipation, and training. Nothing is graceful about this loathing season, though, and save for the culmination of when she was cast her sorrowful-swan, ivory feathers, this is a tribulation that eats her down to the sore ligaments of herself. Perfection is eroding.

She tries and she fumbles. “Fuck!”

Usually, this is no issue. Ellie is inherently so given to pirouettes; the group instructor is unapologetic about that praise. But their momentum overwhelms their beauty—her instructor also claims. She must find a balance, within, and without thinking too hard.

So she ends up calling you in to think for her.

The black swan.

Tutoring, of a sort. “You have the wings of a vulture,” you broach, pacing forth and from the space behind. You only brace the front when you spot an incorrection. “Loosen up.”

She is nervous to have her heartbeat in your ears. You have this touch nobody else can give, and yet it is for a reason she wishes not; correction, not love. However, she just might love it regardless. Touchings of the arms that mean nothing to you, and many things to her. You tap her shoulder, and the muscles noticeably stiffen. With a gulp, the chafing organ inside her is a solitary song she hopes you cannot sense the thrumming of.

Tired hands fall to her thighs in a slap. You watch her lips form a question in the mirror. “Can't you just show me?” She is adamant with it. Adamant with everything, if you recall each sentence you overheard from her private sessions. Somethings of malediction, most a pained curse.

Those bruises and bumps reflect that.

“Your grace should come from within, Swan Queen.” Although an aphorism most would groan at and nullify, it is almost vital to every professional dancer. Even you nourish yourself with the saying, and you are at the top. “Just as Pavlovich would say, right?” Ellie has technique. In fact, she has a grasp on it so violent—so obsessive, not a single other picture-perfect girl in that room on the day of Swan Lake casting could bear it.

Except you.

She puffs her cheeks into apples, “Fuck,” and mumbles under her breath. This day would leave a sprain.

Nuturing her inelegance. You think of it like this, and you treat it as such. When your palms introduce two gentle pressures upon her ribcage from behind, she fears you can hear it. Her heart; its rage. She overthinks the gesture and places her hands over yours on accident.

You hear air snag in her throat. Feel her fill.

“Feel my hands?” You motion with your thumbs, rubbing them back and forth under hers.

Ellie drops her head, and a strand of auburn slips. “Yeah.” Her voice is a feather. It writhes into the abditory of her chest.

She hates catching your eyes in the mirror. Especially right now.

Because she so graciously has her hands on yours, you turn your palms and basket the tense, fidgeting things in them. Raising them heavenward as a halo. “You have to let go up here. Don't overthink it.” Your fingers downpour all around her, until they return to her palpating ribcage. “Focus on your core.”

Fuck, what has she done? She invited you in here with the strict notion that you could implement her perfection. Nothing more, nothing less. Pavlovich would replace you as her tutor if the sun shone with the littlest deviation; you don't have to be here. But you are here, and she is borderline bleeding from her precious lips trying to distract herself from the warmth crawling out below. The visceral image of her leotard stained with a wet patch.

She feels like a loser.

She does anything but let go. “Like this?” It is so achingly obvious, the sleek of her juices making it uncomfortable to lift her leg.

“No,” you huff in a heavy increment, drawing away. Ellie's impliable arms were all over the place—and not in the graceful, poised manner of a swan. The poise she despairingly needs. “You can't be this nervous on stage. Someone psych you out or something?”

She descends from pointe. This girl is a rose-red silhouette of confusion, and crackling. “Um, not really.” But she is fucking easy to read.

All she needed was your hands again.

Handling her waist, her hips. “Did you lock the door?” Eating her mouth which gushes with the same, quiet concerns. You close it with yours.

“Mhm.” Ellie is feeding on your hums: fitting her lips in the cleft of yours, opening and closing, nodding and accepting, eager to pick from your fruit again. Docile creature in caging limbs. She is sat softly in your lap, doing all this like she cannot get enough of you, regardless if you are endless.

Her skin is peeking quietly from her neckline. Shining, shifting over her collarbones.

Post-practice glow.

She tries to relieve the throes of wanting immediately. This is not the same Ellie you tutored minutes ago; someone else crawled inside of her, made a corruptive influence. “Fuckin' soaked down there,” she hints with pacing breath, flexing her pelvis up. “Gonna buy me new ones?” She mentions about her tights. Those tights that always make her toned legs look woodland-born; spry as deer, long boughs laden with white bloomage.

You chuckle. “Oh, cause it's my fault?” But your hands push for that hot gap beneath, peel her leotard aside, and she goes white-eyed. Nudging to find the same kisses.

Opening her mouth opens her heart to you.

Then, her legs.

Full-walled mirrors reflect before her. Ellie goes insane watching the muscles of your fingers work her in numbing circles over the wet patch of her tights, and sometimes, insane from the stare you give while doing it. The friction is like molasses, but it is all she needs. God, she is pulsing on you. Whining on you. Does she come to rehearsals horny?

It certainly coheres.

Warming up next to each other on the barre, beholding one another during auditions, her cascading stares when you stretch, creeping softly up your legs. Wearing sheer skirts so wispy, so mini: you get it. Those sculpting shorts she wears—you're not even going to lie—prove the pleasure is visual. It creates a vertigo of pounding, indecent thoughts.

You folded them so delicately down her lovely hips. Now they lay stranded somewhere in the room, but fuck—does your skin raise thinking about her ass flexing in them before. Picture-perfect, palmful of an ass.

Has she touched herself to you?

She still avoids your eyes when you pick up your speed. “Fuckin' slut, aren't you?” Watching what was being done to her was all the more invigorating, hoping she would ruin her panties enough and swallow up your motions. Take you in closer.

She tells you she does like it. Well, whimpers, at least, and humps your river-paced fingers.

Then, she plucks at the band of her tights with her thumb, stretching it over the knuckle. You see where your finger pins it down.

Shadows brush against the frosted door. Soothing yourselves too comfortably into primal abandon and taking every tight piece of clothing off would maturate a scandal. Risks are high; you lead her wrist back.

Dopey giggles form her smile. “Why not?”

You affirm. “You know why.”

But no secretion of articulation was coming from her lips, only confirming sounds and thigh contractions when you grope and grab her thumping crotch. It was as though she was pent-up. Panting often out of her mouth, and glancing into the hoods of her eyes with a short leaning motion—you think she is. Pent-up, religiously for you. Little ligaments in her shiver with every little tug, barely moving anything under the layers, but she loves it.

She spent deadlight mornings dreaming that her bed beheld hers and your legs interlocked, cunts rubbing each other into humiliating moans and reeking of sex days afterward in the studio. It aches that she cannot see her bare pussy, and you, inside her. She thinks she might be fucking glistening under there. How exciting: what would it feel like if you ripped the fabric and stuffed her, displayed and degraded her? Your glare already does, Odile.

She needs to take you home. She needs the veiling between you and her so eroded, it rewrites the all-encompassing, eternal-age ballet right there on the grand stage. Makes the audience mull in their sleep. “Put your hands around my neck,” she beckons, inviting more hands on her.

“Yeah?”

She gulps. “Uh-huh.”

They fill the pale emptiness. After that, she finds herself trying to fuck herself more desperately on your fingers: she rides the length of them, using what is softened of her panties to slide up her folds. The pressure indescribable. She almost forgets that you are her competition; rivals shouldn't make her come this hard.

But, it's you. You lull the filthiness out of her.

When your fingers dig in the right spot, she pierces through her lower lip. “Yes, baby—fuck!” She jolts with a whimper. The sides of your fingers are scratched by the synthetic material of her thighs, her legs impulsing, eyes pinching, and her neck stringing up in your grasp. It is a chasm full of splutters. “That's it—right there, right there. Fuck, don't stop, please don't fuckin' stop.”

You palm her through it, fingers pouring out through the heart of her thighs in the mirror. And something else. Something that sticks her to her shame: orgasm-sopping panties she may replace, and replace twice. There is subtle moisture on your fingertips.

No way she goes home and sleeps soundlessly without flicking her pussy for you. In devotion of what you could not. She feens to be properly played with.

Ellie lies breathless in your lap, her skin sweating into yours. The scene is a silent basking until she breaks it:

“Should we continue this tomorrow?”

[starogeorgina]

𝐒𝐩𝐨𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐝

The king's queen and hand

Paring: Aegon ii Targaryen × reader × Criston Cole

Warnings: Swearing, smut

Leaning back on the golden plush pillows that were neatly set up on the top of your king-sized bed, noises of pleasure leave you as Cristion starts kissing your neck. Rolling your head to the side, you smile at your husband, who was sitting on a chair beside the bed, his eyes wide with lust as he palms at his cock over his trousers.

A squeal when Criston nips at your nipple,“Oh.”

His lips trace against your rib cage and your stomach. He reaches the sensitive spot just above your navel and sucks a bruise onto your fresh. Criston often left those marks on the inside of your thighs, it was his way of trying to claim a part of you. Criston had become infatuated with you, or ‘cunt drunk’ as your husband put it. As per your husband's orders, the kings hand took his duty of satisfying the queen seriously. He took advantage of any opportunity he got and fill you with his tongue and fingers, but no matter how much you wanted it he never put his cock in, unless Aegon told him to.

“Stop.” Aegon suddenly gets to his feet just as Criston reaches your hip bone. “Lay on your back, Cole.”

You pout, unimpressed. Aegon kneels on the edge of the bed, firmly grips your jaw with his hand, and plants a feverish kiss against your lips. He pulls back and pecks the corner of your mouth. “Sit on his face.”

As you straddle the knight's face, your fingers entwine in his thick hair, and you lean forward, engaging in the intimate act. The knight's tongue delves deeper into your core, eliciting a moan of pleasure from you. He explores every inch of your cunt, tasting the wetness that has already gathered between your legs. His tongue delves deeper, while his nose brushes against your clit.

Argon’s traces a finger down the curve of your spine while fitting as much of your breast into his mouth, sucking roughly.

Being touched in so many places sends a thrilling yet overwhelming sensation through your body, and before long, you feel an orgasm building within you, and it doesn't take long for you to cum over the knight's face. Aegon lays down beside the knight and taps at his meaty thigh, signaling for you to climb onto his lap.

You hook a leg on either side of his hips, and you moan, feeling Aegon’s hardness between your folds. Once his cock is coated in your wetness, you sink down on him, and moans of pleasure escape your mouth. Aegon slowly thrusts into you while wrapping his arms around you, pulling you down so your ass is sticking up and your head is leaning against his chest. “You’ve been aching for cock all day, haven’t you?”

“Hmm, yes! I’ve wanted to feel you inside me all day.”

“Oh, my little queen loves nothing more than her cunny being stuffed.”

Criston moves so he’s kneeling behind you and begins groping your ass, watching as your husband's cock disappears inside you. Aegon’s thrusts quicken, then without warning he pulls out of you. You whine at the feeling of being empty, but Criston pushes his cock into your cunny. He thrusts inside you for a short time, then pulls out, and Aegon slides back inside you. They continue to take turns pounding into your sensitive cunny until Criston spills his seed inside you. As soon as the knight pulls out, Aegon thrusts back into you.

“You’re so spoiled, not only getting your husband's cock but your knights as well.”

"Fuck! Next time, I want you to take me at the same time."

It doesn’t take him long to cum as well; his head collapses back onto the pillow. You rest against his soft body while catching your breath.

Criston kisses your cheek, then whispers in your ear, “My queen, you are the forbidden fruit I cannot stop tasting.”

Aegon playfully pinches your bottom, “We’re going to need to get sheets changed. You’ve drenched them.”

[puck-luck]

i desperately need a jealous, toxic??, possessive Jack smut😭

this man is so insecure/jealous about his girl even his brothers can’t get too close to her idk im insane

Just a quick one before I embark on my 9 hour drive home (with a time difference😚!)

"Mine," Jack growls, a slap sounding as his hand makes contact with your ass.

You nod into the sheets, feeling a little lost in the moment.

Jack's been fucking you for what feels like forever. When he's jealous, it's like he turns into a machine. He stays hard, he never loses his pace, never needs to pause to catch his breath, and he's attentive. He's always determined to make you come as many times as he thinks will remind you that you belong to him.

Tonight, he's determined to make you come five times– one for each time you took a shot with his brothers. You were celebrating the release of NHL 25 and Quinn and Luke, finally single at the same time and elated that they were on the same "party mode" wavelength for once, roped you into the mindset. Jack partook with you, but he mostly just nursed a beer and watched you hop off of his lap to go join his brothers for the next round.

It wasn't that big a deal, you thought, but Jack pouted more and more with each traipse over to the bar away from him, and by the end of the night he was positively glowering.

Which is how you ended up here– your face shoved into the covers and your hips lifted high in the air for Jack to clutch as he pounds into you.

Another spank brings you back to the moment. Your skin is burning and probably stained red with how often and how harshly Jack has laid his hands on your cheeks. You don't mind. You like the marks– not being able to sit comfortably for a couple of days means that Jack will be giddy each time you wince. He loves a lasting reminder of his influence over you and his joy is rather contagious.

"Never gonna fuck anyone else, even if you wanted to," Jack spits out like a threat. It burns your heart like a branding iron. "Isn't that right?"

"Never," you agree. You almost bite your tongue from the force of his thrusts, keening and spreading your knees an inch further so that he can press deeper.

"Cuz I've ruined you," Jack continues. "You'll only ever think about me when you get off. I've spoiled you."

"Mhm," you whine. He loves hearing you respond, hearing you whimper and wail for him. He loves when your voice breaks and cracks because of how he's affecting you.

"Show me how much you love me," Jack urges, reaching up to fist your hair and bring you up to his level. Once your back is securely against his chest and your head is lolling back on his shoulder because you're boneless and spent, he brings his hand around and closes his fingers around your neck. His other hand creeps between your legs, sliding over your swollen clit.

It takes only the one calculated pass to make you come again. It's barely a reaction from you, more of an involuntary convulsion as your body tenses up from the overwhelming rush of pleasure. It's almost painful, coming again, but Jack's whispered assurances have you grinding back on him and whining for more.

You're whining for a sixth, unable to part with his cock. In a demented way, it's been inside of you for so long and has made you feel so good that you're starting to feel like you need him inside of you all the time. It's like you cannot exist without his cock inside of you– a sentiment that will have Jack turning smug and exhilarated. This was exactly his plan. He wanted to make you his, and now you cannot fathom being without him.

[shootingmorningstar]

[slides on in] well hello there fellow lucifer fanatic

could i request some hcs with luci and an indecisive reader? gn and established relationship!! ex: he asks what they want for dinner and they panic trying to pick something because they feel like they need to decide right then and there or they’ll annoy him.

please and thank you! 🫶

anon, you're just like me fr. i also can never make up my mind and love lucifer. i'd be happy to write this for you .ᐟ

thank you for my first request, by the way ~ .ᐟ now to get to the good part.

LUCIFER MORNINGSTAR X GN! INDECISIVE READER

Look at this man. This is the man who has piles upon piles of rubber ducks in his workshop. You cannot tell me Lucifer isn't also indecisive, at least when it comes to less serious things.

Seriously. You expect me to believe he hasn't looked at his own work and went 'nope, looks bad. starting over.' .ᐣ

With that being said, I think he would find it an incredibly endearing trait in you. The concentrated face you make when you're stuck between two options .ᐣ Absolutely adorable.

That is, until the unsure and conflicted look on your face morphs into one telling of your anxiety and worry.

Now, I hope you'll excuse the bird pun, but he is absolutely a mother hen type.

The second he sees even a hint of panic on your face .ᐣ He's immediately shifting all of his focus on you -- if it hadn't been already.

He's rushing over to you without you having to so much as ask -- his beloved partner, distressed .ᐣ No matter the reason, that won't do. He won't rest until he sees you smiling again.

Wrapping his arms around you in a hug, likely even his wings, too. He's suffered so many panic attacks before, he knows just how miserable they are.

He wishes you had come into his life earlier so you could of comforted him through the worst of his.

Even if your panic hasn't dissolved into a full blown attack, he is there. His touch is grounding, it helps you calm down and come back to reality.

When your heart's stopped racing and you look as if you're able to talk about it, he'll ask you just what has you so distressed.

Don't even bother trying to lie to him. He can tell when someone's hiding their feelings.

He won't force you to tell him, though. He just wants to know what went wrong so he can help prevent it from happening again.

If you decide to share your worries with him, he wouldn't belittle you in the slightest. Is it time you need .ᐣ You two have all the time in the world.

Would you rather he choose .ᐣ Because he wouldn't mind.

Or if it's something more serious, he offers to sit down with you and discuss the pros and cons of each -- maybe you two can come up with a decision together .ᐣ

His face sort of falls if you decide to tell him part of the reasoning behind your anxiety is a fear that you'll end up annoying him. Did he do something to make you think he'd judge you .ᐣ

Or maybe he got short with you .ᐣ He's so apologetic. He wants you to feel like you can share anything and everything with him.

He won't let himself start feeling overwhelmed with guilt, though. This moment is about you and the reassurance you need, not his guilt issues.

Explain to him that you know he'd never do such a thing and that it's just an irrational thought coming from worry and he's taking your face into his hands, telling you that he would never, ever think less of you, much less get upset over something as silly as struggling to make a choice.

Like he said earlier, let him help you choose. You two are stronger together and this is no exception.

He's always soft to you, but count on him being even more so than usual for the rest of the night. You two can watch your favorite show or movie -- or whatever you'd like to do to destress. ♡

first request finished ~ .ᐟ how'd I do .ᐣ i'd love to hear your thoughts. feedback fuels my writing muse more than anything else .ᐟ

i'm really hoping this formats correctly, i'm used to using the tumblr app && currently stuck on laptop </3

[punchitmrsulu]

Omg, man, Danai is an absolute, goddam FUCKING GENIUS!!! That was one of the best episodes I have ever seen on television! Just let her write everything there is!! All the movies, all the TV shows, all the books, just let her run EVERYTHING!! I don't even know where to begin!! I need to watch it like 74 more times!

God, that was perfect, that was so fucking perfect! Us Richonners have been fed so good! SO GOOD!!!! They gave us EVERYTHING!!!!

I have so many things I need to comment but my mind is going insane!!

The way he ran after her at top speed, completely desperate after she walked out the door!!

The parallel the did when he told her to leave without him on the boat and she was like "Fuck, no!" And then in this one she gets trapped under the chandelier with the walkers coming and she tells him he has to leave her and he's like "Fuck, no!"

The apartment being a smart apartment and as soon as that wide shot of the two of them looking at each other happens, it goes "Welcome home!" AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA THAT WAS FUCKING GENIUS!!!!!! DANAI IS A FUCKING GENIUS!!!!!!

The way he watched her get undressed, that's how you do the male gaze, guys. Take notes.

The love making...OMFG the love making. THE LOVE MAKING!!!! I can't even begin to explain it, guys. I have no words. It was just...beautiful. It was just absolutely beautiful. I don't even know how to talk about it because it was just perfection. PERFECTION!!!

I mean, he cried, you know?! He cried in the middle of it because of how much it overwhelmed him, he had given up on feeling that happy and complete and loved a long time ago. I can't I can't I can't I CANNOT!!! It was like he was finding the way back to himself and to her and to them through it and it was just too much. DANAI IS A FUCKING GENIUS!!! I just have to say it again!

And on that note, the way they handled his trauma. I mean, this is 8 years of conditioning this man has been through. EIGHT FUCKING YEARS. He is 100% TRAUMATIZED. He doesn't know who he is anymore. I mean "I found a way to survive even though I was dead" HOLY FUCKING SHIT!!! I love how they didn't just brush past that, they showed the toll it took on him and how it's not that easy to get out of a prison even after the doors are open. OMG just, chef's kiss.

Back to the love making for a second, after he goes after her and they're able to get back to the apartment, bickering all the way through fighting the walkers (amazing), the way they did it, how slow it started. He wasn't sure he could approach her but he wanted to, needed to, so he does it carefully, he starts by gently pulling her by the waist and it's slow, almost unsure kisses and then it's full on UGH!!!! INJECT IT INTO MY VEINS!!!!

Just everything about this episode. Literally every single second. Give them all of the awards, ALL OF THEM!

[deny-the-issue]

Love Thy Nature

Summary: Set in the "Baldur's Gate 3" epic tale, you struggle with ongoing body image issues while pining after Halsin, hoping to earn a special place in his heart.

Thank you so much to my lovely beta readers @juniper-sunny and @sirenofzaun <3

AO3 link

link to divider

Thank you everyone for the overwhelming amount of interest in this fic! I hope you all enjoy <3

[MDNI] [Halsin x fat!Reader] [no mention of gender pronouns] [reader has vulva/breasts] [body image issues] [whatever height you are, Halsin is taller] [whatever weight you are, Halsin can lift you] [smut] [fluff] [angst] [happy ending] [oral sex] [vaginal sex] [teasing] [5580 words]

Chaos. Those first few hours were absolute chaos. In Baldur’s Gate shopping for vegetables one moment, infested with a slimy tadpole the next. At least you aren’t alone. 

Even if they intimidate you. 

You all have a common goal, and you wear this safety like a blanket. With companions like these, maybe you’ll have a chance to live. If you don’t get caught in between Shadowheart and Lae’zel, that is. 

Stomach rumbling, feet aching, thighs raw, the nights end with you silently crying yourself to sleep. You are distinctly unsuited for this life. The others say nothing, but you feel like you’re letting them down when you lag behind them during the day’s journey. You simply cannot keep up with Karlach and Lae’zel’s pace, and with the dismal amount of food for dinner, you’re starving. 

You’re not the only hungry one, but you are the only one that eats away from the fire, in solitude. Even in the city you preferred to eat alone. Judging eyes haunt your every bite, but you know the shame comes from within. You know you have no right to complain about being hungry when you have the most weight to lose.  

So you suffer in silence. 

Your armor consists of ill-fitting cloth and leather which you have to repair frequently. The cloth is thin and your thighs can rub it away to nothing within a single, travel-heavy day. The others have found armor that suits them quite well, and you’re happy for them. But you’d be lying if you said you weren’t envious of the ease at which they can find things that fit. 

It’s hard not to dwell on your size. How it would be easier to find armor if you were skinnier. How much easier it would be to keep up. How much more confident you would be. 

You see your travel companions flirt and cast lewd looks at each other. It lightens the heart to see, yet stirs a deep yearning within that has been your constant bane over the years. To love is something you have known many times, but to be loved is another story entirely. Truly loved for everything you are, inside and out. It seems impossible to behold when you cannot fathom loving yourself in that way. 

Maybe one of them would have given you a chance, if only you had the confidence to try. 

As the days go on, you learn more about each other, some willingly and others forced. Just when you think no one else is hiding something, another secret arises. Every single one of them has enough problems without the threat of becoming illithid, and you start to see the people underneath the mask of intimidation you assigned to them. 

Despite your best efforts to keep your distance, they start to grow on you. Their troubles become yours, and a warm feeling of belonging takes root in your chest. 

The grove is a delightful little community. Their harmony with nature is beautiful, your curious eyes take in every part and crevice. 

Maybe too curious, since you had a near scrape with the guards due to the little shit, Mol. She’s too smart for her own good–trouble will surely follow her wherever she goes.

Just as it does you.

Just as it does him, too, apparently. Breaking a bear out of a dungeon is a first for you, but watching that bear transform into the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen becomes a keystone memory. 

Already you are filled with conflicted feelings, more thankful everyday this horrible thing happened to you because it brought you to them. All of them brilliant, all of them flawed, and all incredibly beautiful. 

You cling to the hope of his companionship as you prepare to protect the grove. Halsin’s knowledge instills fear in your bones, more defined than it was before. Now you have an idea of what you’re up against, and it’s all much bigger than you can fathom. Getting to know him personally casts away the worrisome thoughts; his words a honey-sweet distraction to the storm clouds gathering overhead. 

You leave his company with a smile straining your face, but it doesn’t take long for the bite of loneliness to nip at your heels. Halsin’s answer about lovers echoes through your mind, a deep spiral into well-trodden waters. 

“Right now? I bed down alone, I’m afraid. Perhaps once I talk less of curses and parasites, my fortunes will improve.”

How foolish of you to think he might warm to you. You’re sure his fortunes will improve, only with someone else. Someone more deserving of him. 

These depressing thoughts do not stop you from befriending him. Quite the opposite, in fact. By casting aside your hopes for romantic love, you feel as though you can finally start to be yourself in camp.

And you’re surprised to find they like you. Your spirit and sense of humor return to you in troves–making some poor sod kneel for Lae’zel has everyone laughing at camp that night.

Yet you still make off alone with your bowl of stew when dinner is served, until a large obstacle blocks your path. 

“I do not pretend to know why you dine alone, but you are most welcome to join us.” Halsin smiles kindly.

“I know, it’s ok. Thank you, though,” you try to dismiss him, but he doubles down. 

“Do you not find our company agreeable?”

“No! I mean, yes? You’re lovely–you’re all lovely,”you stammer, heat rising to your face. 

“Good, then you’ll have no problem joining us,” Halsin’s eyes sparkle with amusement, no doubt from watching your mind implode. 

The prospect shouldn’t be as terrifying as it is, yet you cannot help but feel extremely uncomfortable. 

You beat down the slight panic and return Halsin’s smile, unwilling to argue your case further. What would you even say? Laying your insecurities bare to a man you just met is not on your agenda for the night. 

His large hand touches your shoulder as he makes his way to the fire, confident you’ll join him. So warm and rough with callouses–the contact lasted but a moment but you can feel it still, like an invisible badge of affection. 

“Come on, Soldier, grab a stump! I already picked the slugs off for you.” Karlach laughs at your grimace. 

“Thanks,” you walk over to the offered seat. “I’ve had enough slimy things for a lifetime.”

A chorus of agreement and various stages of grief crosses the face of each companion as you join them around the fire, a part of the pack for once. As much as you begrudge Halsin for pulling you out of your comfort zone, you never spend another night eating alone, and your heart is all the fuller for it. 

The battle for the grove was hard won, and the celebration that followed was a well-needed respite for everyone. Surrounded by friends, plenty of food, and drink, you felt more alive than you had since it all began. Whatever shame you were harboring faded away with the alcohol settling into your rosy cheeks, and you sought out the man you’ve been pining for. 

Weeks of hard living have left you as lightweight as Halsin claims to be, but the confidence to mingle in his company is a welcome boon. Oh, to see him tipsy–better still if you are the first person he sees. Is he handsy in his affections, or reserved, you wonder? 

But what does he mean by calling you resourceful? 

You’ll have to ponder its meaning after some sobering sleep. Nothing could sway your mood tonight. He may have turned you down, but he was surely flirting with you. Even with the short time you’ve known him, you know he is not the kind to lead anyone on. 

Enjoyable. A night with you would be enjoyable; the thought has you grinning for the rest of the celebration, and biting your lip later, when you’re alone in your tent with roaming, lusty hands.

You’re able to find suitable food, but with life’s ever-increasing hardships, it continues to take a toll on your body. Hiking is not as hard as it once was, though, and you are thankful for it. With a body such as yours, it would take a considerable amount of time before you’d be deemed ‘thin’, but the loss of weight is undeniable. 

Your clothes are loose, for one, and the little armor you have shifts uncomfortably, always needing adjusting. The others have started noticing as well. 

Karlach gave you a, “Lookin’ good, soldier!” the other night and you never wished to cast an invisibility spell so much as in that moment.

This slightly-slimmer body should make you happy, but the success is tainted in your mind. It’s not as if you chose to lose weight, to starve, to walk endlessly every damned day. What happens when– if-- you can live a normal life after this? The same mistakes will surely be made as before, and you’ll go right back to the size you so hate. No lesson has been learned here, not in regards to food. 

Even if you do somehow lose all this weight, you still will not be pleased with yourself. Stretch marks and loose skin, you could never look the way you want to. 

The frustration grinds your spirit down, but no one notices. Hells, you hardly notice. The Shadowlands dampen the mood of everyone, infecting the camp even without touching it. 

Fighting has never been easy for you, and you’ve managed to hold your ground so far. But every person’s luck runs out sometime, you suppose. One awkward move and you get a knife in your side. The armor should have protected you–would have–if only it fit you better. 

Halsin gathers you in his arms, carrying you despite your weight. A mad rush back to the Last Light inn saves your life. As you’re placed in a healing sleep, you hear echoes of Halsin’s soothing voice. You can never make out the words, but they calm your turbulent mind, keeping the nightmares at bay. 

When you wake, you are mostly healed. The skin is healed, though a scar remains, and the pain is manageable while lying still in bed. Halsin greets you with warmth and a small amount of haste.

It seems, while you slept, Halsin talked to both a tailor and a leather-worker on your behalf. What is more surprising is the light scolding you receive.

“You should have spoken up, we cannot afford such a loss in these dire times.”

“And we can afford this?” You doubt, knowing how much new, custom armor costs. 

One stern look from Halsin, and you concede.

Everyone pooled their gold together to buy you fitted clothing and armor, a gesture that means the world to you. What have you done to deserve such kind friends? Just as you took on their troubles, they’re taking on yours without a second thought. 

There is one part of their gesture that gives you pause. They need your measurements, and you need to stand for it. With abdomen muscles still healing, you require Halsin’s help to get out of bed, leaning heavily against him. 

So close to him, you breathe in his scent, take in his warmth, and relish the contact. It’s almost enough to distract you from the embarrassment of having a stranger shimmy a measuring tape around your body. You hide your discomfort as best you can, but Halsin notices.

He always does. 

He must have read it as pain, because he hastens the person along so you can lay down and rest again. Another unsaid deed that shows his care for you, soothing the stinging humiliation. 

“Let me call the healers over, I am sorry for disturbing your rest.”

You grab his hand, stilling his movements. “Wait, please.”

“What troubles you, friend?”

You shake your head. “Thank you. For carrying me back and for the clothing. Words cannot describe how grateful I am.” 

Halsin takes your hand in his gently, “This fight would not be the same without you by my side.”

You blink away a rogue tear as Halsin brings forth a healer, and drift into a deep, healing sleep with a smile on your face. 

When you wake, you’re fully restored, and your new armor and clothes are atop the bedside table. The sight should fill you with excitement, but all you feel is dread.

What if they don’t fit you? What if they’re too small?

Retreating to a corner with a privacy curtain, you hesitantly try them on, thankful that your party isn’t here. To your surprise and great relief, they all fit–as they say–like a glove. The leather armor comes with a learning curve with all the straps and strings, but after a few mistakes, you figure it out.

It’s genius, really. With overlapping leather and lacing on the side, up the arms, and down your legs, its size is fully adjustable. Up to a point, of course, but extremely useful for the days to come. You’ll probably lose more weight as the journey is far from over, and now you have armor that can account for size changes in either direction!

You choke back tears of happiness, never once having known the feel of well-fitting clothes until now. Everything has been uncomfortable in some way or another, always with minor inconveniences, and never once did they look good. 

In these clothes, it doesn’t matter how you look. You feel good in them, and for once in your life, that is all that matters. A burden has been lifted from your shoulders whose weight you never noticed before now. 

Could you truly be comfortable within this body of yours?

Later, when they all come back to the inn after adventuring, the party makes you spin for them so they can get a good look at your new attire, and although shy, your smile is brighter than it has ever been. 

Saving Thaniel is no easy task, and you probably have a few more gray hairs after that battle. With Halsin’s life at stake if you fail, you fight tooth and nail to protect the portal. 

Even though it is not enough to lift the curse, Halsin’s eyes soften whenever he looks upon you, and that is all the reward you need. 

Your love does not end with Halsin; each party member has wormed their way into your heart. So when Shadowheart embarks on her quest with you at her side, you trust her to make the right choice. 

Dame Aylin is truly something to behold. The daughter of a goddess, and a god in her own right. To be reunited with her love after so many years is a love story of the ages. You’re lucky to bear witness to it, although it tugs at the heartstrings. 

The longing for a love such as theirs does not linger on your mind, not with the battle for Moonrise Towers looming overhead. 

Is this the end? Will you be free to live your life once more? The end does not feel as near as you are led to believe. Not all of the pieces fit together yet, and the unknown scares you. 

As you suspected, Ketheric Thorm was just one head of the hydra. There is much more to be done, and the journey ahead weighs heavily on your shoulders. You try to focus on your triumphs; the Shadowcurse is lifted, the land can begin to heal, and Halsin promises to remain by your side. 

A heart full of joy can only do so much when you’re running on fumes, requiring a warm bed and a few days rest. Your friends help distract you from the wear and tear of the past few weeks, always bickering about this or that. Usually you stay out of it, but Halsin has other plans on the journey to Wyrm’s Crossing, it seems.

Freeing Thaniel, and moreso, the land, has earned you a special place by Halsin’s side. You did not expect that place to come with an honorary nickname. 

Two simple words. It, at first, fills you with a sense of kinship, but soon begins to wear on your mind. As much as you love the affection it implies, one of those words hasn’t pertained to you for a long time. 

You find him that night at camp, voice hesitant. “Halsin, can I ask you something?”

“What is it, little duck?” He greets you with a pleased smile. 

“Well, that’s what I need to talk about. Little duck.”

“Does it not please you?”

“No–it’s not that. It’s just,” you pause, crossing your arms as you take a deep, calming breath. “I’m not little.”

“Are you not?” he inquires with a hint of mirth. 

Confused eyes lift to find his hand hovering above your head, a silent judgment of your height. 

Your stoic facade breaks with a smile, then with laughter, and you nudge him with your shoulder playfully. 

“You got me there,” you surrender, grinning ear to ear. 

Halsin laughs with you, but retains a more serious composure. “As much as that pleases me, should I call you by another name?”

“Please don’t,” you answer swiftly, needing no arduous thought to decide. 

From then on, anytime he says those two words, it fills you with warmth. 

Reuniting with the refugees saved from the Shadowlands brings you joy, but not as much as a real bed and a roof over your head does. 

Freshly washed and bathed, you almost forgot what it’s like to be clean. The quest to save the city is as grave as ever, yet all you needed was some self care to feel ready to take on the Elder Brain. 

The nights in Elfsong Tavern are anything but quiet, and you feel Halsin’s attention grow with each night, like he’s working up to something.

Maybe it’s just hopeful thinking, but you feel the chemistry between the two of you. Laughter and conversation is always easy with him, and he’s been touching you more. 

Nothing serious; grazing your arm, wiping a smudge of dirt off your face, his hand lingering on your shoulder. The contact, although small, brightens your mood, and you begin to yearn for it every time he’s near, even if you still think romance is out of the question. 

It’s almost comedic, how wrong you are. 

Not a week passes before Halsin confesses his feelings for you; how he yearns to feel your skin against his in a romantic night under the stars. You barely hear his next words over your heartbeat pounding in your ears. 

His heart stirs for you, just as yours does for him. He seems so vulnerable, just now. Nervous, just as you would be in his shoes. You feel as though you are seeing a piece of him rarely shown, or perhaps you did not wish to see past the brawn. Your souls are of the same gentle nature, and just a rest away from uniting in bliss.

Fidgeting in your sheets, you try to calm your turbulent mind, but it is hopeless. Each shift calls attention to the throbbing in between your thighs, their thickness both a blessing and a curse. But your mind is still eager to race into dark territory. The night of your dreams is accompanied by your mountain of insecurities. 

You’ve been intimate with others before, but that was of a low time where you hid parts of yourself to please others. 

There will be no more of that. He will know you. All of you. Even if it means he does not want you after. 

With mind set, you find him in the clearing by the lake, his large hand upon the rough bark of a tree in silent communion. When turns to greet you, the relief and excitement in his eyes brightens the world around you both, and instills you with courage. 

All thoughts of revealing your most authentic self blow away with the breeze when Halsin relieves himself of his clothes. Standing proudly naked before you, he sweeps you up in his arms, his kiss as passionate and devouring as he promised, with roaming hands settling on your plump rear.

All of your insecurities come back to nag you all at once, and you break away from the kiss. “Wait, please.”

“What is it, my love?”

Crossing your arms, you begin to pace. The movement helps focus your thoughts, and you take a deep breath before speaking.

“I’m fat,” you begin with the simplest statement of your imagined deficiencies. “For most of my life now I’ve been various sizes of fat, and I’m probably always going to be fat. I don’t want to be. I didn’t choose it. I have stretch marks, flabby arms, back fat.”  

Your voice begins to shake as tears well in your eyes. “Yes, I’ve shrunk a bit these past few weeks, but it’s not enough! Not nearly enough. Because even if I do lose all this weight,” you pause, feeling the pressure build within–a truth so long known but never said aloud, ready to burst out of your chest whether you will it or not.

“I will still hate myself!” The first sob rips from your throat as the emotional dam is broken, shaking your entire being.

Halsin rushes to you, enveloping you in his embrace, cradling your head to his chest. 

“Beauty is not about size, little duck. Variety provides necessary balance in nature, and there is no shame in taking joy from its fruits. Your inner peace is what truly matters.”

Only now it occurs to you that he has also been judged for his size. Maybe not all negative, but that is not to say it did not have an ill-effect on his self-esteem and outward personality. 

After you stop shaking, he coaxes you to meet his gaze. Eyes red and puffy, you do as he wishes, taking in every beautiful detail of his face before settling on his eyes, as serene as the lake before you. 

“I love you as you are, stretch marks and all.” He strokes your face gently and then takes your hands in his. “Let me show you.”

Halsin guides you to the lake’s edge, and positions himself behind you, leaning both your bodies forward. The view is exquisite, but you know it is not what holds his attention. Cautious eyes follow the ripples of the water, slowly casting down until you see your reflection. 

Halsin smiles when you meet his mirrored gaze, wrapping his arms around your waist. The angle is unflattering, to say the least, but you are willing to try this for him. The heat off his bare skin is a comfort, but also a reminder that your clothes are what separates your skin from his. 

“If you are comfortable, I’d like you to undress. To look upon yourself as you do, and be comforted in my desire.”

Comfortable is not something that would describe you in this moment, but you feel ready to reveal yourself to him. Closing your eyes, you still your mind to the symphony of the world around you; crickets singing, a light breeze coming off the lake, and Halsin’s steady breathing as he nuzzles his nose into your hair. Heart fluttering in your chest, you take your shirt off with nervous hands. 

After helping you discard the fabric, he is instantly upon you, trailing kisses down the side of your face until he’s sucking at your neck. You melt into him, tilting your head to reveal more skin for him to worship with his soft lips. 

Rough fingers tickle at your waist with feather-light grazes, you giggle at the feeling and place your hands over his. Lacing your fingers in between his, you move with him as he explores your waist. 

Heat rushes to your core as you feel his cock twitch against your back. You grow impatient, moving his hands to hold your breasts. He moans into your neck, pulling you against him while gently squeezing. 

“More, please. I need to see all of you,” he pleads breathlessly in your ear, thumbs pulling down the hem of your bra. 

You pull away for only a second, the ambient temperature feels so cool compared to your combined heat. Gooseflesh prickles at your arms, and as you discard your bra, you can’t help but admire your form in the water below. Nipples hard from the cold air soon find shelter in Halsin’s large hands, and his heat blankets you in a blissful stupor once again. 

Lust pools in your mind, overpowering any insecurities still swirling within. Only thoughts of him remain, and you need no further instruction to take the next step. Your panties cling to your pants as you pull them down. Halsin provides an arm for you to balance while slipping them off, and you come face to face when you toss the unwanted clothing further onto land. 

You’d pounce on him, but he quickly turns you around to face the lake again with a playful chuckle.

“Almost, my love. Look how extraordinarily beautiful you are, just as nature intended.” 

There you are, indeed. There’s your belly that you’ve loathed, the fat thighs that have been your bane, your double chin that distracts you from your beautiful face. Yet, with him at your back, your perspective begins to change, and you can see this body as yourself instead of some ugly, fat thing.

Halsin trails one hand down your stomach, over your stretch marks, and cups the plush overhang, squishing slightly as he smooths his palm back up your body, feeling the entirety of your curves.

All of your fears dissipate with the irrevocable proof of his attraction digging into your back, and you turn to face him. This time, he allows you, his hands grabbing your ass greedily. You run your hands up his body, relishing the feel of his coarse hair covering his chest and stomach. He moans softly at your touch, but something else starts to happen. 

His eyes begin to glow as he backs away from you in haste. The transformation is something you have seen many times, but never did you see the emotion behind it.

There is nothing as flattering as a partner losing themselves so utterly in a shared moment. Changing back just as fast, he flashes you a sheepish grin. 

Halsin starts to speak, but your patience is at its limit, and you run up to him, pulling him down for a kiss before he can utter a single word. 

Having regained his confidence through your kiss, he leads you back to the tree he was initially at, kneeling at its base. He leads you down to him, laying you down on the softest grass you’ve ever felt. There is a fleeting taste of his passion-full lips as he kisses his way down to your breasts, taking his time to kiss each one before descending further. 

Halsin’s lips against your stomach tickle in a touch-starved way, adding coal to the fire raging inside your core. He slips his arms underneath your knees, bending and spreading your legs. Supporting himself on his elbows, he reaches around, parting your lips by pulling your flesh toward your belly button. 

The first soft kiss upon your exposed clit has you gasping for air, hands grabbing fistfuls of grass at your side. It was only the calm before the storm; a single taste of honey is not nearly enough to satiate the beast between your thighs, and he shows you no mercy. 

Tongue lapping at your cunt from entrance to throbbing bud, Halsin has you squirming under his touch. Just as you think his pleasure is at its peak, he suckles your clit.

Toe curling, back arching, you scream his name as you reach carnal heights you never thought possible.

You whine when he stops, but when you see his swollen cock twitching between his legs, you know exactly what he needs. He lets you push him back onto the grass, helping you straddle him with a steadying hand. Cock nestled perfectly between your folds, you nuzzle his nose with yours before he pulls you into a passionate kiss. The taste of you is intoxicating as you drink in his moans, slide your hips against him, obscenely slick.

Ever hungry for more, you explore his body with your mouth, hips never ceasing their slow but steady rock. Thick, muscled neck, tender for kissing. Pronounced pecks perfect for light, teasing bites. Sensitive nipples ripe for sucking. Veiny arms that your lips could kiss for days. The faded but still visible stretch marks around his shoulders that now hold a special place within your heart, and you kiss each one of them.

You worship him, mind and body just as he does with his burly hands ever present on your lust-driven body. His touch now bruising, he tries to push into you with each thrust, soft moans turning into desperate grunts.

He catches at your entrance, but you tilt your hips so he passes over your clit once again. You shiver at the feeling, and cannot help the laugh that accompanies the bliss.

Teasing Halsin is just so fucking hot.

With an animalistic growl, he rolls you onto your back, having had enough of your shenanigans. Your sounds of glee quickly turn lewd as his cock finally finds purchase, stretching you delightfully with his mighty girth. 

Even with a mind lost to passion, he takes your comfort into account, pushing in slowly to let you adjust. His hungry mouth kisses your face, your lips, your jaw, your neck, until your canting, impatient hips break the last thread of his self control.

Burying his nose in your hair, one hand holding your breast, hips pumping, he makes love to you under the stars. You wrap your arms around him, holding onto his back to keep from being pushed away from the force of his hips. Your voices are a sweet, rhythmic chorus to nature as you feel a fluttering grow in your core. Halsin relinquishes his grip on your breast, hooking his hand underneath one of your knees to spread you further.

He reaches new heights within you, and you feel his cock harden more than you thought possible, readying to fill you with the nature’s bounty you’ve been craving. Your hands slip down to his ass, needing all of him inside you.

Your wants ever his desire, he buries his cock inside you and ruts, massaging the bundle of nerves deep within. Your fingers cling to him, leaving red lines down back unintentionally as the chord within finally snaps. Walls fluttering around him before clenching down, the waves of pleasure overtake you both, and he is a helpless passenger in its wake. He says your name like a prayer as his hips stutter in their rhythm. 

Cradling him close as you feel his cock pulse, you whisper in his ear, “I love you, Halsin.”

That mystical night under the stars with Halsin was legendary. Its memory, as well as the man himself, helps you through the rest of your quest, picking you up when you are down. All you need to do is close your eyes, and you’re right back in that clearing by the lake with him beside you.

You do not know if you would have gotten through it all without him. By the time you defeat the Netherbrain, you are the thinnest you’ve been since childhood, and also the most sickly. Stronger muscles and better food is not enough in the face of true exhaustion, and it shows in your gaunt face. 

The celebration with Halsin that night is sweet and gentle, containing all the relief of a battle hard won. You cannot help the tears that fall from your eyes as you reach your climaxes together.

It all feels like a dream. How could you have made it through all that alive and relatively well? With him at your side? A man as loving as he is large, he still does not impose anything on you. Talking as if there could be a chance you wouldn’t be going with him to resettle Moonrise Towers. 

You depart in the morning with nine wagons full of kids of various ages, all without families or homes, and your bear at your side. 

The savior of Baldur’s Gate is a bit rich for your liking, but it does give you a certain air of respect when you have to give them time-outs.

Halsin calls them all his ducklings, and it is so very fitting with how they follow him around from dawn till dusk. 

When you receive a letter with shaky lettering inviting you to the place where it all began, you’re more than happy to reunite with everyone. The time without doom hanging over your heads has certainly made you both plump and happy. You still struggle with body image issues, but you feel comfortable in your skin more often than not. A battle that is waning in your favor, with once barren fields blooming with slow acceptance.

Your appetite for life has always been large. Giant partner, a heap of kids to call your own, and enough tall tales to last them well into adulthood; you want for nothing in the years to come. 

With Halsin you build a loving home–an ending you never thought you deserved. 

And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

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@ashrio20

[billskeis]

Heyy, I saw that you write for Tokio Hotel and I just-----

I have a request, just something I've been thinking. 2005 Tom with a female reader who broke her leg. Like she's part of a band too, and during a show she ends up falling off the stage and breaking her leg. And her fans are super worried and sad for her, but Tom takes good care of her. All fluff and such.

Thank you <3

˖ ࣪ ⟢ a broken leg & nurse tom

it was going well, super fucking well. the venue was overflowing with fangirls and fanboys as tokio hotel’s world tour boomed internationally. the crowd was going wild, as everyone got their groove on, shrieks and screams echoing, sweat and tears were shared. the night had always been young when the five of you performed.

pressing the mic into his lips, bill smiles at you and crowd during the encore, “thank you, berlin! for an amazing night!” waving to the hundreds—no, thousands of people presented before all of you.

he turns to you for a speech, expectance as it was rehearsed, but you were too busy looking behind you to tom, who was already watching you, with the same expression as your twin brother. he signified to you that it had went silent and everyone was now waiting for you to say something, “oh—OH! i just wanted to say.. you guys were amazing, and the whole reason we are here today, we love you!!!”

as you ran, you ran across the stage with bill, waving a goodbye to the many fans that you adored as much as you adored them. however, the adrenaline seemed to have gotten the best of you, a turn for the worse.

losing your footing, your body had unconsciously expected you to take another step upon the platform, only to be meet with the absence of a foundation, leading you to fall at least a metre down, hitting the ground with a significant impact.

pain. pain is all you could feel, your vision now blurred as your head spun from the unexpected crash. hazy, you skim around your surroundings to then avert all attention to your leg. it’s broken, it’s. fucking. broken. you wanted to scream, scream so loud that could break glass miles away, but you didn’t. it just, wouldn’t come out. gasps and voices concerns exchange through the crowd from your sudden collapse. everyone was worried.

“y/n!?! Y/N!!—oh my gosh, tom!!” bill screamed as he made it down to the platform first.

you winced, tears streaming down your face as you bit your lip, chewing so hard at the muscle blood threatened to bleed. balling at the grass beneath your body, you do everything in your power to distract yourself from the pain.

tom jumps off from on the platform, quickly followed by georg and gustav who all surrounded you. immediately, he scooped you within his arms, a tight grasp on your body to ensure your safety. he held you with no struggle, as if you were light as a feather. pressing you closer to his body, all tom could do was breathe. he couldn’t speak, he didn’t know the right words to say. obviously he wasn’t going to ask you if you were okay, that’s ridiculous.

with how close he shoved your body into his, you might as well be one body altogether. the pain was excruciating, overwhelming, and you could feel your consciousness blacking out, eyelids becoming heavy to hold, all you heard before you passed out was ‘i got you y/n. you’re with me now—someone get me a fucking ambulance!”

okay. now let’s get to the aftercare! tom, is crazycrazycrazy overprotective of you now. he BABIES YOU. even after being put in a cast, he literally would not let you get up to anything, even if it was as simple as going to the washroom or changing your clothes. he 100% would do it for you without hesitance.

“y/n. i will tell you once more and continue to tell you again. you cannot get up from this bed.”

“but tom..!”

“no buts, now lemme get you those snacks that you like so much ‘kay?”

*a month later*

“lemme get that for you schatzi,”

“tom. are you serious?” as the item you reached to grab was set beside you on the table.

spoils you fucking rotten. during your recovery, he stays every night to watch over you. again, he cannot take his eyes off you for one second or you’ll try to do something of your own accord again! c’mon now, let the man do his thing :3

cause every morning, he will go and get you flowers.

“you bought me flowers?”

“you didn’t think i’d buy you flowers?”

*your room is filled to the brim with bouquets of them*

every afternoon, he will go and put on a movie that you know he hates but you like because you deserve it.

“since when did you like the notebook?”

“i don’t.”

“then why watch it?”

“because you like it!”

“you don’t HAVE to watch it because i like it,”

“there’s nothing i wouldn’t do for you, y/n.”

every night, he will bathe you, soothing the water over your body as he gently washes you, soft touches of his hand on your skin to put you at total ease. would also 10/10 trace his fingers over your cast, and draw on it. stupid silly little doodles of you and the band, and your initials put in a heart together >\\\\<.

“feeling better baby?”

“mmhm! thank you tomi, i really appreciate it.”

“yeah? where’s my kiss :D??”

he found you crying one night because the pain of your leg, on top of not being able to do anything involving the band and helping with music just became oh so overbearing. so when he saw tears fall down your face as you wept quietly, swipes them off with his thumb, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead as he looks to you with total admiration.

“i just—i feel so useless!”

“you’re not a burden. this isn’t your fault.” as he pats your head, now running his fingers through your hair, “let’s worry about this stuff after your leg is fixed hm?”

“but..”

“baby.” he looked at you with a stern but gentle look. he just wanted you to know that you’re his girl and he and the band would NEVER think you were bringing them down.

“okay..”

“that’s my girl.”

your fans were so concerned. from the incident to your recovery journey, many would constantly ask on any social platform how you were doing. however, tom was on top of it all. it’s so cute, he would constantly post selfies of you and him together, either watching a show, sitting around the house, at some point the healing was going well that you were able to go back to the studio to record.

the fans ate that shit up, knowing them, they definitely read into the pictures too much that they examined and noticed EVERY. SINGLE. LITTLE. DETAIL there could’ve been in each update photo. from your casted leg being propped up from within his lap, the hand holdings, how in the photos it’d just be the two of you. a new ship was set sailing that’s for sure!

*comments under tomkaulitz’s post*

“oooohhh i see u tom 😏”

“they’re so cute! glad to see y/n is healing well <3”

“i wanna be tom so bad”

— tomkaulitz replied to _ “you could never be me :D”

“tom! that was so mean!” as you leaned over the shoulder, watching as he typed out his reply, smirked, and pressed the ‘post’ button to send his comment reply.

“what?? it’s true, and you wouldn’t have it any other way 😁.” laughing at his phone as he kissed your cheek.

now i need a boyfriend so badly to take care of me WHO WANT ME???? btw he looks so cute here

whipped this out of my ass lowkey highkey and i hate it but :3

[xiexiecaptain]

The biggest thing I've learned to help manage my ADHD in regards to getting things done is to Follow Those Impulses

(I'm not saying this will work for or is even a good strategy for everyone, but in my own situation it's helped me.)

I'm like allergic to consistency in schedule and cannot enforce one on myself so all it leads to is self-loathing and failure. Trust me, I've been attempting to will-power, shame-fuel my way through it since I was a preteen (I'm currently almost 30.) It does not work for me.

Obviously medication can give me a huge leg up on stuff. But beyond a certain point my brain is simply not wired for long-term sustained consistency.

As in many of my issues, I've found that working with myself gets better results than fighting myself.

When I follow those sudden impulses of interest and motivation, I get things done.

To the outside, I look absolutely haphazard. I'll pause a show I'm watching mid-sentence, stand up, and go empty the dishwasher because my mood/brain/chemicals *ping*ed that it was suddenly do-able and not a huge overwhelming task. Or I'll be putting away laundry and that *ping* will go off and I'll spend three hours re-organizing my closet.

To a neurotypical, this looks like distracted and disorganized behavior.

To me, it's following the way my brain naturally works in order to accomplish tasks.

My ADHD manifests in that I experience very small and unsustainable windows of motivation and interest. So when I feel that window crack open, doing the Thing right then (when the situation enables me to) can mean the Thing actually happens. Even if it's not the thing I'm "supposed" to be doing.

With a neurotypical in that situation, they might be putting away clothes and think: "Oh, I should organize my closet. I have time this weekend, I'll do it then," finish putting away their clothes, and then organize the closet when they had free time that weekend.

I used to try to do things that way too. Because it was how I was taught that "responsible, real people" did it, and had "finish one thing before you start another" drilled into my head. But I'm literally not wired to work that way. And I've been working on undoing that internalized ableism of believing one way of doing things is better and I need to change to adhere to it. I don't and shouldn't be expected to to my own detriment.

For me with the closet example, the weekend would come and I would spend 5 hours screaming at myself to stop working on whatever did have my interest in order to go organize the closet. Sometimes I might ended up doing it. More often, I would not be able get myself to do it even after all that. I would just sit there, yelling at myself, hating myself despite my brain literally not having the chemicals to initiate the activity (let alone follow through) and nothing would get done. Not even the thing I wanted to focus on instead.

The only thing I did accomplish was hating myself for not being able to do "simple" things like other people (read: neurotypicals.)

This is basically how I spent the majority of my schooling; doing simple tasks felt like running in sand. And I internalized all the messages that told me it was my own fault I couldn't run as fast and in as straight a line as those running on pavement.

The past few years, I've been trying to follow impulses more. And its honestly been really helpful.

I get more done even if it isn't a "consistent" amount or I can't always count on having a specific thing done by a certain date.

But the big thing is that I spend less time hating myself for not doing what I "should" be and more time actually doing things when I have the motivation for them. More shit happens, I'm undoing some of that self-loathing.

tl;dr: My advice for fellow adult ADHD-ers is:

Try to learn what your natural rhythms are and, where possible, try leaning into them. Without judgement, try working with your natural tendencies rather than battling them at every moment. See how it feels, see what you accomplish (and not just in the capitalistic "productivity" way--spending 3 hours hyperfocusing on researching the history of wheat germ counts!) See how your brain and body feel.

Your brain is wired different, let yourself operate different.

[strawberrystepmom]

but how does that first time with Umemiya actually go? 🤔

honestly? he’s more intense than you expected. you’re too used to his jovial nature, his grins and his big hand always wrapped around your shoulder to keep you close to him. you never doubted he’d make you feel good but it is pleasantly surprising to see how bad he wants to the first time.

“just one more for me?” he asks, fingers crooked with expert precision inside of you, rubbing that spot that has your toes curling against his sides. his tongue laps at your clit. he backs his face away to kiss your inner thighs, leaving traces of his front teeth behind in the form of tiny love bites, thumb replacing his tongue to toy with you.

“but i wanna cum on you,” you whine breathlessly, back arched, elbows propping you up. his hair falls in his face and you do your best to lean up and push it away from his eyes.

(those honest, beautiful eyes you can’t believe look so different from how they usually do when glancing up from between your thighs.)

“you’ll get to once you give me one more,” he teases with a raised brow, leaning back down to sloppily kiss your drenched cunt, tongue softening while he drags it through your folds and tensing when he presses the flat of it against your clit. your eyes flutter shut, chest heaving, and he knows he’s about to get what he wants.

you shiver gently, another orgasm shimmering through your body, and he laps at your droplets of release. sweeter than anything he could’ve imagined. he groans, low in his throat and deep in his chest.

“hajime.” his eyes flit from your pretty, shiny pussy to your face when you say his name. “please, please fuck me. i need to feel you.”

no longer a mere want, he’s a need. something you can’t live without. umemiya’s eyes drift down your body and back to your pretty cunt that clenches around nothing, all thanks to the mere weight of his gaze. your body is so tense and taut despite the three orgasms he has already pulled from you using his tongue and lips and fingers and you are overwhelmed.

“please,” you beg again, the word far more high pitched at the end than at the beginning. every part of you needs to feel how well you’ll stretch to accommodate him.

he smirks and rises to his knees, heavy cock bobbing with every scoot upward onto his bed, nearer to your spread thighs, your soft skin, your unapologetic beauty. obsessed feels like too light of a word for how he feels about you.

you gasp softly when he grips his cock and bounces the flushed head of it against your sticky, sensitive folds. his hips grind and you watch him slip through them, frustrated whines you cannot stop spilling out every time he grinds against the spot that is most sensitive. your face contorts in impatience and pleasure and when he’s certain you’re going to open your mouth to ask him for a third time, he slips in.

just the tip. just enough that you can really feel how you’ll have to stretch for the rest of him to be buried inside of you. you moan and it’s a symphony, music to his ears he wants to hear constantly, pulling his tip out and slowly sinking it back inside of you. he leans over you, one strong arm holding him up, holding you close to him with the other.

“i’ll let you cum as many times as you want as long as you tell me you’re about to, alright?” he commands against your cheek. you wanna argue, to tell him the way your body is going to grip him and pulse around him will be enough to warn him, but you nod. you’re too relieved to be full to put up too much of a fight.

he sinks deeper inside of you and you gasp. “fuck…” you breathe out and he chuckles, kissing your cheek gently.

“what did i say?”

you open your eyes to look at him, hand cupping his face to keep him close to you.

“i think i’m gonna cum, hajime.”

he sinks just a little deeper and you further tighten around him. another sweet, smooth chuckle leaves him.

“you think?” he raises a brow, sinking even deeper, torturously slow and methodical. “i know you’re about to cum again.”

hand sliding from cradling your shoulders to the backs of your thighs, he pushes them upward toward your chest, that little glimmer of intensity in his eyes flowing through his body and driving his movements. he pins you beneath him with his chest and his thighs and his hands and all you’ll be able to do is cum.

just for him.

[muldermuse]

please can we see more of jealous gator and maybe a pregnancy scare in two sinners?

i fuckin love these crazy kids

jealous gator is coming!!! i promise!!

pregnancy scare drabble below the cut

warnings: mentions of morning sickness, pregnancy terminations, slut shaming etc

part of the two sinners works

You’d been ill all week, unable to keep any food down and feeling a level of exhaustion that had settled deep in your bones. Gator had text to ask to meet up nearly every day but you honestly couldn’t think of anything worse than having a man near you right now. You’d called in sick and spent the week feeling very sorry for yourself whilst lying on the couch watching whatever trash was on the TV. Whenever you glanced in the mirror; you were taken aback by how awful you looked. Your eyes were dull with dark bags underneath and your skin was pale. Your stomach rumbled but the thought of food made you retch. A pang of raw pain struck your stomach and your nausea doubled as you thought, when was the last time you had a period?

Was it this month?

The month before?

The past few weeks had been a lot, your job becoming overwhelming and life had begun taking steady, yet hard, digs at you. First, you got a flat tyre, then you dropped your phone and smashed your screen. Later the same week, your favourite jeans ripped at the thigh seam and to top it all off, this new guy you’d been speaking to had got back with an ex. 

So yeah, it was fair to say that your focus had not been on your menstrual cycle.

Without getting changed or bothering to make yourself look more presentable, you grab your keys and head to your local store to buy a test.

***

Gator was bored. This was the kind of day shift where usually he’d drop by your place and grip his hands into the fact of your ass as you rode him. He’d been desperate to see you all week but you’d been too ill. The thought of your body and the things you could do to make him feel good plagued his mind. He’d spent every night this week fisting his cock in the shower to thoughts of you whilst Glenda was crocheting in the next room. A trill ring snaps him out of his thoughts and he groans before answering- it’s Glenda.

“Hi hon, everythin’ okay?” he sounds exasperated but he knows that Glenda won’t pick up on that. Sometimes, he thinks that Glenda calls him just to hear her own voice.

“Yeah yeah, all good hon. Hey, guess who I saw buying a pregnancy test at the store?”

He knows that it’s you before she even says your name.

He feels the blood drain from his face and Glenda’s voice fades into static in the background.

This cannot be fucking happening. 

When was the last time you had slept together? Would you keep it? Is he going to be a dad? He thinks that you’d be a great mom but before that thought can even embed itself further in his brain; he pushes it away.

He tunes back into Glenda’s voice as she continues to talk to herself, “well y’know hon it’s like I said, with that many guy friends she has- somethin’ like this was bound to happen, dontcha think?”.

“Yeah hon, listen I gotta go alright? I’ll uh- I’ll see you at home” She tells him that she loves him before he hangs but he doesn’t say it back.

He puts the sirens on the car as he races to your home. The thoughts in his head are spinning that quickly that he’s beginning to feel numb, becoming too overwhelmed to focus on anything but driving. He dumps his car on your front lawn and tries hard not to run into your home. He tries to take deep calming breaths with each step, he thinks of his father and how Roy would kill him if he ever found out. The door is unlocked so he lets himself inside.

***

The test is face down on your bathroom counter and so is your phone screen. The package promised instant results in ‘just three minutes’ and you’d set a timer on your phone. You know Gator’s footsteps, they’re always urgent and stomping on your stairs. His face is white as he walks through your bathroom door and makes eye contact with you.

You're sat on the rim of your bath, “Glenda?” you ask as he nods; his eyes wide in panic. You huff, “I fuckin’ knew I saw her at the store”.

He’s silent as he sits next to you, anxiety radiating off his body and his breath quick. Neither of you look at each other until the alarm rings out, you stop it with one tap and take a deep breath as you hold the test in your hand. It’s still turned face down so you don’t know the answer yet. 

Your voice is shaky and you can feel tears threatening to pour down your face, “I don’t wanna look”.

Gator’s warm hand settles on your knee, his thumb rubbing in a  calming motion; you don’t know if he’s doing this for you or for himself. “We don’t have to look yet”.

You’re both in limbo; unsure how much time has passed. It could be five minutes or it could be an hour. The sun is still high in the clear sky and shining through the small window in your bathroom. It’s becoming stiflingly hot but you feel paralysed with fear. You’ll have to research clinics where you can have a termination, are you going to have to travel out of state? You and Gator could never be a family but, maybe you could keep the child a secret. Maybe you could move out of state together and raise your baby together. Maybe, in another town, you could both start afresh. You could be young lovebirds who are looking forward to starting a family together. No one would have to know what you’d both run from. The baby would never have to know about their psychotic grandfather. You have options and you feel a wave of calm wash over you. 

Before you can overthink it; you turn the test in your hands.

Negative.

Not pregnant.

Thank.

Fuck.

You both let out a shaky breath of relief.

“I’ve uh- I bought a few more, just in case it’s like a false negative or whatever. I’ll probably do two more now and then do one tomorrow maybe” you can feel the confidence returning to your voice. 

“Yeah, of course, I’ll go sit downstairs just y’know- do what you gotta do” you both exchange a quick smile before Gator heads downstairs. 

His heart is still pounding as he sits down on your couch, he isn’t sure if he’s relieved or upset. What the fuck is he thinking? Of course, he’s relieved. The two of you having a baby is completely out of the question. Maybe this scare should make him more concerned about sleeping with you and he considers that it could be time to stop this. His daddy is starting to pressure him more about proposing to Glenda and she’s dropping hints about marriage basically every day at this point. All these thoughts evaporate when you walk into the room holding three negative pregnancy tests. You straddle him and his hands grab your hips. You both spend the rest of the afternoon making out and trying to push the fear of the past few hours to the back of your mind. 

He can’t stop this.

He can’t let go of you.

[oldpeculier]

had more thoughts about honeyphos

a little bit of writing set before the skyhold trials

---

Not for the first time amidst the chaos of their travels, Xephos finds that he cannot sleep. Honeydew is snoring easily in the bed to his left. The cradling motions of the Skyhold no doubt carried him to a peaceful rest - just the faintest sway, as the buffeting winds at this height push them back and forth, whistling over the walls far above. And it isn’t that Xephos isn’t exhausted. He is. In a series of long days, this has been a very long day.

It’s not the nerves of first flight keeping him awake, even though his hands still cramp from clutching at the airplane joystick with white-knuckle grip. As if that could save him from his own poor aviation. It’s also not the gory vision of Baako’s death, maybe the worst sight of their travels thus far. Hard to begrudge Honeydew’s loss of lunch there. Xephos had only just kept his own food down, and then felt even worse at the prickle of taint underneath his own skin, held off only by the occasional golden apple or, more effectively, a death, resetting that perpetual timer created by proximity to the sands. The sooner they get rid of that shit, the better. He flexes his hands beneath unfamiliar bedsheets and grimaces. His knuckles are tight and coarse.

What Xephos is thinking about is maybe more foolish. Embarrassment. The urge to hide a poorly-kept secret that ended as it deserved to. Given the circumstances, it was a bit ridiculous to pretend that Jasper and Lysander’s relationship was anything other than patently homosexual, but Xephos just…

He sighs, and rolls over in bed.

As if acknowledging their relationship would draw attention to himself. Not that it matters. Not that Honeydew would give a shit. They’ve been together for as long as Xephos can remember, in a very real sense, right back to those fleeting moments on the seashore when he had awoken with sand in his coat and hair. If he tries to think back any further, all he gets is an overwhelming sensation of dread. So he doesn’t. And when he looks at Honeydew, he thinks ‘friend’ with the powerful certainty of an absolute truth, pre-sensory, pre-existential. He also feels guilt. He doesn’t know why. If the dread and the guilt are connected, then Xephos can only fear the worst.

Xephos turns to watch Honeydew sleep. A round, freckled face has turned pink with the warmth of the heavy skylord bedding, and he’s snoring. It’s a funny thing. Honeydew is quite effete for a dwarf, sweet-looking. He’d once confided that, back in his old mining home, he’d been the son of the chieftain. Pampered by virtue of birth. It’s still visible in his looks.

Finally Xephos can feel his brain switching off, watching Honeydew’s chest rise and fall in the darkness. His thoughts grow careless and detached. What would I be without you, he wonders loosely. He doesn’t take the time nor have the wherewithal to examine the warmth in his chest. It’s just the duvet. But when Xephos falls asleep, he dreams of a night many, many years ago, where he’d kissed Honeydew after having one gin beyond his tolerance. He’d sat in the Yoglabs office for several hours afterwards, clutching his head in silence. And then he’d wiped their memories.

[kanmom51]

JM's Production diary Documentary

And Live 23 October 2023

So, I don't know how to do this.

Write about JM's documentary separate from his live.

Write about the two without being all over the place.

Because not too much happened, and yet so much did.

So, where do I start? How do I get through this?

At this point I have so many ideas running through my head for posts, so much so that I'm not sure just yet how this post will work out, given that everything intertwines.

I still have JM's previous live to work on as well. Yeah, kind of overwhelmed at the moment.

I guess I will just get on with it, but I do think that more than likely there will be things I will either save for another post or two or three, or forget something (that I can guarantee) or just post on repeat, cause some things we just cannot get enough of.

Let's talk about the documentary a bit.

We got to see the process of JM creating his songs. How they would start with the idea, the narrative. Then the melody, instruments and the vocals and then the actual lyrics.

JM's musicality, his talent, his creativity all showcased.

We also got to see just how nice Pdogg is. How much he loves JM, how respectful he is to him, not to mention how talented he is himself. As a matter of fact, the whole team that worked with JM were super nice and talented and they just all seemed to be having a good time, even while working to the bone.

Oh, and how none of them actually knew English, lmao.

In the documentary we were shown how JM and Pdogg chose the quote from the movie to use in the song. Only that it wasn't the one they actually used in the song itself. And that is because, as JM revealed to us in the live, they picked it without knowing what the characters were talking about, picking a convo between the characters that sounded nice to them at the time, something that would suit the song. All while the two characters were actually talking about a visa, lol. And JM, well, he found that super funny (which truthfully, it really is), so he repeated it a couple of times.

We also saw RM in the documentary sitting down with them talking about writing lyrics. Only for JM to share with us that:

Which JM found to be very funny. I guess now it is, but back then... not sure he shared that same sentiment, lol.

He kept on laughing about him being an idea bank, lol. It's ok to acknowledge your genius, man!!!

Hobi and then Jin show up in the comments while JM is watching the documentary. And I was surprised at that point, given that I really did think JM wouldn't be doing this live, that it would have been pre-recorded. But it wasn't, and thank god for that, cause we all know what happened later on. Less than 1.30 minutes out of an almost 2 hour live, but gosh, what a 1.30 minutes they were, lol.

Anyways, Hobi shows up and JM goes all shy and even stops playing the documentary telling him to leave, that he won't continue playing until he does.

Guess who won that fight, lol. Hobi, of course. JM gives in and continues, once in a while saying they will go away at 9 pm (Jin came in to say that there is some kind of something military related, lol).

Letter

Yes, let's actually start with the name of the song.

Cause for some reason, although they all talk about the song using the word pyeonji (Letter), all while the translation is Dear.Army. Like what the actual fuck? Why would they do that?

Well, we kind of know, don't we?

Someone (cough Hybe cough) is working super hard to cement the song is for the fans.

Please tell me, if this was a song completely meant for the fans, why this incessant need of the company to sell this to us? Why change the name of it in the fucking documentary, while JM and the others are literally saying the word "letter" translating it to "Dear.Army"? There is only one answer I can think of here. And you know exactly what that answer is.

I'm not going to go back to all the reasoning as to why this is way more than a song for fans, I feel like we've discussed this ad nauseam. I will only say that NOTHING we saw in the documentary contradicts what we think about Letter.

You can see, throughout the process how emotionally tasking the song is for JM. And yes, a song for ARMY could be emotional, I mean both JM and JK have immense love for ARMY, and we've seen JK burst into tears talking to army or about army, JM getting very emotional himself. But this, this was more. There are moments there when you can see the anxiety just bursting out of JM.

This song was just MORE.

Especially when you take everything you see in the documentary, JM's state of mind, his words, his behaviour, and add it all up with the lyrics, even more so the missing lyrics. Would be hard to explain how "dongsaeng" fits into "this is a song for army"... Add it to the hidden track. But not only it being a hidden track, it's a hidden track only on the physical CD. Not the digital CD. So, no streaming. A track for Army, for his fans, that not all of his fans get to hear freely? A track for Army that, hmm... maybe wasn't supposed to even be in the album?

We got more than 2 seconds of JK. That's worth a mention too, no?

When I saw this I was: fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

Cause, no way under the sun, yes, pun intended, that this was about ARMY.

Army was NEVER REFERENCED AS THE SUN BY ANY OF THEM.

NEVER.

You know who was?

The level of emotion we see from the two of them throughout the process... this was so personal.

I rewatched it again today before writing these lines. It's JK's body language, it's JM's body language, it's JM going in to cup JK's face when telling him he wrote a fan song, and JK's reaction.

Dare I remind you that "Still with you" was classified by JK as a "fan song". Dare I remind you what our sentiments about that song are? Yeah, a fans song.

And I will remind you, not that you need the reminder, who happened to state for all of us to see that he was JM's fan. Happening to do so during JM's promotions of Face and before JM's Face Live, which I do not think was a coincidence AT ALL.

They are just precious. What else can I say?

There is this as well.

Also, I don't think I'm the only one seeing this. JK at the end going in for a hug, but JM, reaches out for a hand shake and a bow.

He bows.

Twice.

Now, the not going in for a hug could be one of two with JM. The first could be that it was too emotionally charged and that hug, in front of the cameras, will just be too hard. Too hard not to show the emotions. Too hard to break off.

Or, the second could be that by doing this, bowing the way he did do JK, he was showing us, the spectators, just how profoundly thankful he was for JK, and for his participating in the song.

Now that I think of it there could be a third reason. Which would be the combination of the two.

You know what I also noticed there?

That JK didn't bow back.

So, that's more or less what happened with them in the documentary. Not too much talking, when there is it's subdued, understandably so, given this is all done in front of the cameras. But, there is an undertone of emotions there.

Oh, and did I mention we see JM wearing the very important, at the time, necklace throughout the documentary? On that day of recording as well.

And happy little coincidence them wearing the black and white bucket hats? Lol.

Ok then. By now we all know that JK joined the live. And he does it exactly when they started letter. Quelle surprise. Quelle coincidence. Or was it?

Observations:

JK is too skinny. JM thought so too all while grabbing his tiddy.

JK is really tired. Said he was practicing. Eyes red. He needs to eat and sleep.

JM was genuinely surprised by JK's appearance. Th way he lights up, he was surprised and giddy and excited, his whole body movement, practically dancing in his seat with glee.

JK walks in holding his right hand in place. At first I thought maybe it was injured or hurt or unable to move, a cramp maybe, like the ones JM suffers from at times. But later on it looked like there was nothing wrong with his arm. So was that his way of holding himself back? Restraining himself? Containing himself?

JM signals for JK to talk into his mic,

Pulls the mic up forward away from his chest, and as JK comes closer he lets it go and leans back for JK to move in.

And JK, well why? The mic is right there. Why does he lean in lower? To say hello to Army? Talking to JM's what? Not the mic, that's for sure...

There did not seem to be a chair there next to JM when the live started, and when JK was leaving JM had him take a chair with him. So, as JK came into frame were the staff assuming he's going to be joining JM for the rest of the live? Also making sure to hand him a mic?

And then, JM asks JK "why did you lose so much weight?", all while reaching out his arm, and JK moves forward towards him, and you can see JK's eyes moving down to JM's arm all while JM just goes for JK's chest. Just going straight for the grab.

And JK, he loses it for just a second.

Sniff, gulp, giggle...

And we are back.

JK laughingly tells us he just practiced. But kind of still dumbfounded I guess.

And then I think JM came to as well (you know, awakening from the aftershock of his own actions, lol) and tells JK "time to go", or more so "get the fuck out of here as fast as you can and take that chair with you while you're at it, cause if you don't leave now I'm going to jump your bones right here right now".

Ok, so maybe he didn't say those words exactly, but that was the sentiment, lol.

JM apologises. Thrice.

For sending JK on his way.

And we get the hug. One of those Jikook in front of the camera hugs.

And again JM rushes JK to leave, smacking his butt while he's at it.

JK grabs the chair, tells JM to enjoy watching with Army and tells us he loves us on the way out. And JM sitting there watching JK, giggling, smile plastered on his face, waving by. But that isn't the end of it.

Because as JK leaves JM follows him with his gaze, until he waves him goodbye and only then gets back to the documentary.

And this is when we lost JM for a few minutes there during that part of the documentary, and even more so when JK was on screen singing or during their interactions.

And we also got this reaction to their hug.

What was going through your mind at that moment JM?

After JK leaves there is not too much left until the end of the documentary. And then we have a JM giggles attack. And the man is telling us he's laughing about balloon placements, but seriously, do we really think that's it?

And yes, JM was as always his own shy self while going it alone, and yes, he was finding it hard where to go with the live once the video was over, but this was just more than just plain embarrassment or shyness.

Could there have been someone there waiting for him? Someone that has that kind of effect on JM perhaps?

I don't think JK was there the whole time. He really did leave when JM was waving him goodbye (if he hadn't have left JM wouldn't have been able to get back to the documentary the way he did). But possibly, very possibly, lover boy went to shower and came back in time for JM's ending.

JM tells us during that giggle attack that he will post a pic of the funny balloons only to later post a pic of 19 balloons, the ones in the front shaped like an S. And why do I feel like that was JK's doing? The S shaped balloons...

Clearly the balloons were not placed that way at first.

Someone did this. Question is which one of them. The S, the 19, not a coincidence.

I guess that's it for this post.

Like I mentioned, I know I probably forgot stuff, and there will probably several posts to follow.

But I just needed to get this one out there for you guys. And I guess we'll add on as we go (especially seeing that I've reached my image limit here, as usual).

To sum this up.

WOW!!!

[femmefatalevibe]

Femme Fatale Guide: How To Gain Motivation & Get Out of A Rut

Spontaneous motivation is possible but rare. However, learning how to jumpstart this valuable energy to gain the initial momentum you need to create consistent habits and routines necessary to help you achieve your goals. Here are some tips and tricks to get out of a rut and jumpstart motivation.

Create specific goals: Use qualifying and quantifying details (e.g. I intend to stay at the Ritz Paris hotel; I will save $50K by the end of this year, etc.; I'm cultivating a Scandinavian aesthetic; I will eat 3 healthy meals daily during the workweek, etc.)

Organize your goals into different areas of life: Try not to have more than 1-2 goals per life arena at a time (career, finances, health, relationships, self-development, etc.)

Write a short list of 3-5 things you can do to get closer to each of your goals: These can be habits or one-time tasks (e.g. take a walk every day, automate "X" amount of my paycheck into my investment accounts, etc.). Consider this bullet-point list as your high-level action plan. It gives you a roadmap that's simple enough to help you get started without overwhelming your mind with details or complexities. Success is born from simple, consistent habits.

Create a vision board for each goal: Envisioning yourself achieving the goal can spark some initial excitement and motivation. Everything gets clearer when you can see the end in sight.

Write out a "pros" and "cons" list for each goal: Consider the benefits of working towards each goal vs. the downsides. A little fear-based motivation can be healthy as a catalyst to gain some inspiration and momentum.

Get mapping & mathing: Create a mockup of your ideal wardrobe, healthy meals you want to eat, design a mockup of your dream project live on a billboard, all of the places you want to visit in a foreign country, every aspect of your dream date night, etc. Do some quick projections on how much you could be saving with your budgeting goals, and entrepreneurial pursuits, or run the numbers regarding health goals you can work towards (whether it's weight or strength related)

Create a weekly self-accountability goal: Choose one task per goal that you want to accomplish each day (or a few times a week) to get you moving in the direction you desire. Keeping promises to yourself is the simplest way to stay on track.

Track your progress: Make a log of your hours spent reading, working out, check off the days you've had a healthy meal, how many pitch emails you've sent out, any additions or removals from your current wardrobe and environment, etc.

Give yourself a rewarding incentive: Be enough of an adult to use your childlike tendencies to your advantage. Create "if-then" compromises with yourself to ensure you stay on track. E.g: If I make a healthy meal at home for dinner during the week then, I can eat it while watching an episode of my favorite show. If I order-in an unhealthy meal, then I cannot watch my favorite show that night. Savage, I know!

Join supportive online communities & spaces: Find communities on Tumblr, TikTok, Instagram, Reddit, Facebook groups, etc. to find people with similar goals and life outlooks. Read books by authors who have achieved your desired goal, and listen to podcasts on your same wavelength. Find digital ways to cultivate a tribe.

Keep a "Winning" Journal: A notebook that you can write in daily, a few times a week, or weekly to share all of your accomplishments. This method allows you to feel like you can brag and show off a bit, so you get the social validation (even if done in private) while still moving in silence and refraining from appearing arrogant.

[itstheoneshot]

Kinktober Day 19

Lap Dance / Strip Tease - Jiwoong

!dom Jiwoong

It wasn’t often that you had a customer who was truly attractive. You were used to faking it, that is all part of the job, but tonight you had to fake it in the complete opposite way, you had to act disinterested, at least just enough so that it would entice him to continue to pay you for your service. You are not sure whether you had hidden your shock when he walked into the private room, having booked a dance with you after choosing you based on the photos up on the wall by the bar. You nodded at the floor manager before he closed the door behind him, and that brings you back to the present moment, with the night only just starting for you.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” He murmured, fuck, of course his voice is hot too, “I’m Jiwoong.”

You smile sweetly at him, introducing yourself as your dancer name, “It is lovely to meet you too, Jiwoong, I’m Candy.”

You watch him eye you up and down, his expression gives away how impressed he is. It is a boost to your ego, and you remind yourself that even though he is the one paying, underneath it all, you are the one in charge here. However, you know that goes unspoken, while chasing his payment, and any additional tip, you will do what he asks, up to your limit, though you are not sure how many of your limits you will keep to tonight, not with that look on his face, not with that fucking perfect face.

“How may I entertain you tonight?” You ask, leading him over to the sofa against the opposite wall, “Please sit, make yourself comfortable.”

Jiwoong does so happily, continuing to stare at you, unable to look away as you step back so that he has a better view. You close your eyes and feel the bass from the music run through you, awaiting Jiwoong’s instruction, though there are only a few things that he may want, you are curious as to where he will start.

“Dance for me,” He replies, as you open your eyes to see him, sitting spread-legged, his black suit particularly tight around the thighs, “I’m sure you know what to do.”

He is correct, dance is your specialty, that is why you spend most of your club shifts here in a private room, men are always willing to spend all of their money just to see you move. You don’t know what the manager had told Jiwoong, but he gives off the vibe that he has heard of you too.

You don’t hold back but start slowly, keeping distance between you at first, letting your ego take over, the music is sensual, a heavy bassline, easy for you to move to. Jiwoong is entranced, practically unblinking, unmoving, apart from following you with his eyes as you move around the room. You have a flow that gets you closer to him without him noticing at first, at least not until you stand between his legs, and his jaw drops open as you lean forward, your hands on the back of the sofa either side of his shoulders, your face is mere inches from his, and you thank yourself for wearing such full coverage makeup so that he cannot see your blush.

“Is this okay?” You ask him, letting your eyes fall half shut, siren eyes, and they are working, “Or do you want me to stop?”

Jiwoong looks a little taken aback, you can see that he is struggling to resist, his urge to touch you is overwhelming, but that costs extra, and you won’t be giving him that option just yet.

“Don’t stop, sweet Candy,” He replies, his eyes hazy as he looks down, your breasts spilling out of the red lace bra you are wearing, a matching set with your panties, “Keep going, you should know that money isn’t a problem tonight, I mean it.”

Now that excites you, opening options up for you, as if you were not already willing, you are going to make a lot of exceptions. A hot man with money? You have hit the jackpot.

You reach down and guide his legs together, and then move to join him there, your knees either side of his hips as you straddle him. Bodies practically touching, though he keeps his hands on the back of the chair with white knuckles from how hard he grips them there, struggling as you start to give him a very, very close lap dance, your hands carding through his hair, making sure that he is enjoying it, making sure that he is watching you.

“You can touch me,” You offer to him, both out of interest in how much you will get paid, and what his hands will feel like on you, “But it won’t be cheap.”

Jiwoong smirks, slowly loosening his grasp on the sofa, and then starting from your shoulders, he trails his fingers down your back, settling at your hips to feel the way that they move as you grind on him.

“I told you, sweet girl,” He repeated himself, “Money is not a problem.”

Your hands slide down onto his shoulders too, gripping gently with a slight massage routine, still moving your body along with the music, you stare at him hungrily, biting your lip as you keep him engaged. You don’t leave any space between you now, warming up to the idea of taking this to the next level, letting your mind wander as you try to think of an appropriate price. This is not something you have done before, nor are you allowed to on the premises, though you are sure there are plenty of hotels nearby, and that Jiwoong would pay for a room for you, on top of your named price.

“Would you like to take this elsewhere?” You ask him, your tone far too innocent for the act you are suggesting, “I’ll give you a discount if you pay for the room.”

You think back to your friends who work in full service, naming a price that one of them told you she charges, and as Jiwoong nods, reality sets in and you realise you are going to get to fuck the hottest customer you have ever had, and you are going to get paid for it.

You dance for him for a few more minutes, now much more intimate with the understanding that soon he is going to get all of you, until the song finishes and Jiwoong helps you stand up, a little wobbly on your feet due to the position you had been straddling him in.

“Let me get my things,” You tell him, nodding goodbye to the floor manager as you lead Jiwoong down the hall, “Book a room for us, won’t you?”

———

Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

[tirfpikachu]

as a wheelchair woman who isn't validated by all the terms or sayings in the english language, trans ppl need to start giving eachother the advice to build resilience as a community instead of inciting bitterness against The Cissies and actually accept being the exception to the rule. you need to realize that language, especially language important for activism reasons, doesn't need to completely change to include you in every single area. sometimes someone will say something about walking or stairs or driving or lots of things that i physically cannot do, and at first it pissed me off when i still was feeling jaded about being disabled, but i really did find so much peace after i actually accepted it. i don't think many trans people have actually fully accepted being trans, being different. if it was a close friend i was having a one-on-one talk with, the difference not being acknowledged might feel a bit weird at times, but i would never expect a total stranger to alter their language just to include me. that would feel super awkward and clunky and just feel like trying to pander to me out of excessive politeness. i nowadays understand that sayings and og definitions of terms may not include me... and that's okay!! even as a gay person, in feminist spaces, women will talk about men in dating and it's obviously implied that they're talking about straight & bi men without them needing to specify the straight part every single fucking time. it would be so tedious and unnecessary. i totally accept them using it that way in certain contexts. it took me a while to get there, but i now see it neutrally.

the thing is trans ppl themselves even use sex/agab-based language for the overwhelming majority of people and only ever care when the person is considered too gnc to look/act like a "normie" male/female person. they also will talk shit about men without saying cishet before it everytime, it's just implied, and you can tell from context clues. why isn't that the case with women/womanhood? why can't woman be both a biological sex and also a gender role that some may transition into or wish to? why can't feminists use the first definition, the og version of the term, when talking about generic female issues? why can't trans ppl add nuance if needed, but also sit back and understand that marginalized groups need to discuss things at length and having to insert a billion caveats every single time when using a term that applies to the GRAND MAJORITY of people living as men/women slows down our activism and just frustrates everyone for no good reason? you have to understand that you're an outlier. you have to understand that you're outside the norm. blm activists don't mention people with skin disorders every single time they discuss race dynamics. gay activists don't need to mention trans ppl who live as the opposite sex/agab every single time they talk abt gay issues. female folks don't need to mention male/amab ppl in every single female/afab-specific discussion unless it's relevant. just as trans ppl can focus on their own issues too without needing to watch their tongue excessively to cater to non-trans feelings. sometimes you need to know that you're the exception, and as such ppl won't need to mention that not all people can drive when talking about road accidents, or that not everyone can get the vaccine done in their arms if they're amputees, or that some gay people are ace so they don't need to worry about being caught having gay sex and facing homophobia for it. sometimes you gotta learn that you're not always gonna be the center of the conversation, especially in conversations involving differently marginalized people. bio women & transmasc ppl don't need to mention transfems on issues of abortions or genital mutilation or sex-specific laws. bio men & transfems don't need to center transmascs to validate their identities when talking about the aids crisis, which primarily affected male homosexual people. feminists should be allowed to use women in the biological sex definition, and trans activists should be allowed to use women to mean anyone living as a woman in society.

the overwhelming majority of people aren't trans, and cis/bio women are an oppressed class in huge numbers. so sometimes trans ppl have to learn that men & women as terms are primarily used referring to one definition, while they, as trans people, fit another definition of the words. and that's not the world being cruel to spite you. people of course can be cruel to trans folks; if they purposefully misgender somebody or outlaws adult transition completely and mock trans bodies etc that can really harm someone's mental health. but you cannot seriously expect words like man & woman, words that initially have always referred to body types and were made to facilitate communication between two radically different people with different needs and baggage, to be used with endless trans-related caveats every single time. even trans people themselves often don't do it! same with using they/them for people without them asking you otherwise being called a bigot. that's getting into silliness territory for me. as much as being trans sucks, trans people need to build resilience to being different than the norm. and not just through inside jokes and memes and snarky discourse. they could learn a lot from the physically disabled community, honestly. i know how much it sucks to realize how someone is talking doesn't reflect your own personal experience. but sometimes you have experiences that differ from the norm, and that's okay! you can chuckle a bit and shake your head and move on with your life. it doesn't need to be seen as an attack or make you feel totally abandoned by the leftist community. you won't always be included in every social justice conversation. someone's definition of something might not include you everytime. and it's tiring. it's annoying at times. but it can also be okay. the more trans people try to change the fabric of society to an extreme amount and give extreme demands, the more the world will see them as emotional, impulsive toddlers who are out of their minds. they're actually worsening the image of their movement instead of helping anyone. they're leading to more transphobic prejudice, not less. why not just understand that words can have different meanings? that as long as someone doesn't have bad intent and otherwise is a good ally, them using words meant to make conversations easier and more succinct can be literally no big deal? you can be like "oh okay, this is about cis/bio women" and move on if it's super obviously the case. if you have an interesting insight as a trans woman or a transmasc person you can chime in, but otherwise just read between the lines and not interrupt important feminist discussions.

sometimes you actually do need to desensitize yourself to these things and practice radical acceptance of exactly who and what you are. you don't need to try to tear up leftist spaces and reshape them to awkwardly fit every single micro experience marginalized people can face all at once. you can have different discussions for different things and use words in different ways. having control issues about that is actually making things worse for you in the long run! and making you look pretty dumb to your allies who really are in your corner, but have issues of their own. i don't need people to mention not everyone can walk, drive or work every 5 seconds to include me. especially not on a random post. it would feel weird!! it's okay to not fit every average conversation. you don't need to harass people, especially feminists, into changing their language in every single conversation and make debates last 5000x longer. sometimes you just wanna talk shit about men without having to specify that it only applies to xyz type of men. sometimes you want to complain about being a woman and refer to body issues that typically come with being a woman. sometimes you talk about man/woman dynamics and it'll mostly apply to non-trans folks. it's okay! trans ppl can definitely add comments for nuance if it's of interest, or make their own posts on their own very complex experiences. but you cannot keep slowing down the feminist movement and try to force other activists to do things that are just unreasonable, things that many trans folks don't even do themselves!!

[drdemonprince]

Just wanted to share another experience of hyper empathy side but more from personal life. I live in a household of 4 people (counting me) who have audhd, anxiety, depression, ptsd and hyperempathy towards each other. When I tell you, it's literal HELL sometimes trying to handle any crisis or mental breakdown happening because sometimes we get stuck in a loop of hyperempathy if we don't control it well enough. And we absolutely have to control it very well to survive and support each other, especially through our complex ptsd and poverty. There's many times when I wish I could just nOT have hyperempathy so I could just help my family the most effectively and wish others wouldn't have it too, whenever I get into s*icidal states etc. It's hard but we're making progress thanks to constant open communication.

Thank you for sharing this anon! It may sound paradoxical, but i tend to experience intense distress when someone I'm very close to and living with is distressed. Since I cannot feel other people's feelings but I also experience overwhelming attachment insecurity, I tend to attempt to maintain closeness with partners and such by becoming incredibly codependent with them, scanning their every behavior for signs of unhappiness with me, and bending over backward to anticipate their needs. It can make them feel emotionally surveiled and manipulated into putting on a positive or neutral face at all times, if I don't watch myself for it, and it also means that when someone I live with feels genuinely unhappy, I can have meltdowns about it and make everything worse. i've learned to keep this tendency far more in check in the last couple of years and with the right partners/living mates I can communicate about my insecurities and ask up-front questions about what they are actually feeling rather than projecting worst-case scenarios of my own, and I've practiced taking a distance when another person is in a distressed state so I can gather my thoughts, process my own reactions without burdening them with them, and then take action that helps.

but it is hard and i hate it!! So i can relate a bit to what you have described, though it doesn't tend to happen so acutely with friends unless I specifically think they are unhappy *with me*, in which case it can still be a bit of a shit show internally. But, as many commenters so far have observed, feeling guilty and shitty and wanting to make someone feel better does not help matters at all, and can often worsen it. What helps is controlling my reactions a bit so that I have not unduly centered myself, and then taking the action that I know will actually help (or figuring out what will).