#i am making progress this week especially though

[wannabanauthor]

Since I’ve had more time to process the breakup and have read fellow shippers’ thoughts, I can see why Tommy decided to end the relationship.

Although I have no faith in the writers or Tim anymore, they can turn this around if they choose to.

And here’s how:

So the breakup scene makes sense through a PTSD lens. And I’m talking just about PTSD in general, not army related.

When you’re dealing with a PTSD episode, until it’s over, there is very little anyone can say or do to get you out of it. Your brain will not listen because it’s stuck in a loop and you can’t get out until it lets you.

Breathing techniques work, but the amount of emotions and nonsense you say will not let up until it runs its course. I’m speaking from experience, but I can’t say much about it because lawyers, etc.

Once it’s over, the amount of guilt you have for all the horrible things you said or did will hit you hard.

So for Tommy, he was fine until Buck asked him to move in with him. Tommy’s smile dropped instantly and he went into panic mode. It escalated when Buck mentioned engagement and marriage.

I think it’s possible a mixture of guilt over Abby and past experiences with other queer newbies, that set him off into a PTSD spiral.

Buck unknowingly hit a trigger(s), and Tommy instantly shut down.

That conversation went from Abby to moving in, and it was completely out of left field. There was no real buildup to it from Buck. He just asked Tommy and made this sort of people-pleasing speech. Instead of tackling the actual problem, Buck just went straight for progressing their relationship to another level.

Tommy’s guilt and past heartbreak flared up, and he probably thought he was back in that mental space after he broke up with Abby and dated someone and thought they would be forever, but it didn’t work out.

So he starts saying things like he can’t move in because Buck’s still new to his sexuality. He’s picking up the signs that he’s seen in previous relationships that obviously didn’t work out, and he got scared and panicked.

He really liked Buck and didn’t want them to go the same route as his past relationships where he either was the newbie or dated a newbie and thought it would be forever.

He’s stuck in the spiral and can’t see a way out because he’s terrified of getting his heartbroken if things don’t work out. So he ends the relationship and leaves. It doesn’t make sense to the audience or anyone else, but if you look at it from the PTSD perspective, it does make sense. Again speaking from personal experience.

Now am I saying this was intentional from the writers and Tim? No, not at all. They’re not smart enough for that. At least I don’t think they are. Only future episodes will confirm or deny this.

Now how to fix it:

Tommy has an emergency appointment with his therapist. He’s going to need it before and after the PTSD episode is over. The guilt and heartbreak from ending things with Buck is going to hurt him a lot. Especially since he called Evan “Buck” right after breaking up with him. He didn’t even realize that he ended things until Buck asked.

Once the episode is over, he’s going to need to process the whole relationship all over with the therapist and figure out where to go from there.

It’ll take him a few weeks maybe less/more before he reaches out to Buck to talk. It’ll be a reverse image of their coffee date, with him making the first step to mend things.

I think they could get back together and work it out, but they’d need to take a few steps back and probably go into couples counseling. Buck would also need his own therapist because he still needs to process being bisexual and actually using the word.

If they get back together, I can see them starting from the beginning again and progressing extremely slowly. Buck needs to learn not to rush into things. Even though he likes Tommy so much, he definitely was not thinking clearly when he asked Tommy to move in. There wasn’t even a natural transition in the conversation. It’s like Buck was having the conversation in his head and spoke out loud, which is a common adhd trait.

Tim Minear and the writers could get a few seasons content out of BuckTommy if they wanted even with how things ended in 8x06.

Now do I think this was the intention? Nope. The breakup seemed rushed and abrupt, and for all we know Tommy is gone forever. We can’t trust any interviews from anyone, so I have very little hope that Buck and Tommy can come back from this. I don’t trust the writers or Tim.

So there, I managed to cobble together some explanation for the breakup.

[hachiibun]

Considering opening more comms slots bc of emergency bill deadlines...

[ahgasegotarmy116]

It's Hard to Believe | Jungkook One Shot

Summary: Getting pregnant with your best friend's baby definetly wasn't a part of the plan... Pairing: f!Reader x Jungkook (fwb, f2l) Word Count: 2.7k Warnings: A tiny bit of explicit and suggestive language but nothing crazy a/n: This is something I started writing at like midnight and it's kinda shit but I thought I might as well post it since I haven't posted in a while (Like five days short of a month wtf?!?!? How has it been that long?!?!) (I just barely checked rn lmao my bad 🥲) p.s. I kinda wanna do a full on series on a concept like this but it'll be different and less fluffy but that won't be happening for a long ass time but yeah lol Requested by a lovely anon 💜

"How am I supposed to tell him?" I ask my friend Sam for the millionth time since I found out. "Y/n just tell him. You guys have been friends for how long?" she asks and it's like I'm having deja vu from both of our responses. "Like ten years" I mumble and pull my sweatshirt sleeves down over my hands in an effort to stop my nervous fiddling but it only makes it worse. 

"Right and you guys have been messing around with each other for over a year now, maybe even more...I don't wanna know" she says while holding her hand up in a way to assure me that she doesn't need the details. "Just tell him. If he's as great of a guy as you keep on telling me he is then I promise everything will be okay" she says and places a hand on my shoulder before she gets up off my couch. 

"Where are you going?" I ask while she shrugs on her jacket. "Didn't you say he's supposed to be here around five?" she asks and I nod my head, checking the clock and seeing that it's already 4:30. 

"Yeah...are you sure you don't wanna stay and say hi?" I ask and she glares at me. "Let me know what his response is to that bun in the oven and then we'll talk. I wanna figure out if he's an asshole or not before I decide to waste anytime on him" she says while lacing up her shoes. 

"Promise me you'll tell him tonight?" she asks and lifts up her hood, getting ready to shield herself from the pouring rain outside. I nod my head reluctantly, that being way more progress than I've made for the past few weeks since I found out. "I promise" I utter under my breath and she smiles, pulling me in for a bone crushing hug. 

"Text me if you need me" she says, worried for what might happen but hoping for the best. "I will...thanks" I whisper and she nods her head before walking out of my door and turning slightly and waving to offer me one last farewell.

I close the door after I see her get into her car and lean my back up against it, steadying myself for a second and taking deep breaths, trying to stop my racing heartbeat before pushing off of it and tidying up before Jungkook gets here to distract myself. 

Sam has been the only one I've been able to count on and honestly the only person I can trust since I haven't told anyone else. She was the one I called when I missed my period and she's the one who brought me a pregnancy test...and then when out and bought me ten more because I couldn't actually grasp the concept that I was pregnant...am pregnant.

Jungkook and I have always been careful and taken all the necessary steps to keep this from happening but I guess we got careless this time. 

Through out this whole arrangement we've made it very clear to each other that we're not sleeping with anyone else but neither of us are looking for any sort of commitment either so that's why this has gone on for so long. 

Like it or not though we're going to be committed to each other in one way or another no matter what because I'm keeping this baby. No matter what he says I'm keeping them. 

Jungkook is my best friend, the one person who has been there for me through everything. He's seen me at all of my highest highs and especially at my lowest lows and no matter what he's never made me feel shitty about it. I know he's not the kind of guy that'll turn on you because of something like this but I can't help but still feel terrified. 

This wasn't supposed to happen but even if this child wasn't made with love from his side...it was made with love from mine. 

I don't know how long it's been since I fell in love with him but I know I shouldn't have said yes to this whole fuck buddy ordeal. I just couldn't stand the thought of him being with someone else so when he offered up the idea I said yes.

I figured that if this was a way to prevent him from getting his heart broken by all those sorry excuses of girlfriends he's had in the past then I guess I'll be okay with breaking mine.

He's been acting different lately though. He's been a lot touchier, asking to come over more often, going out of his way to help me with things, offering to feed me all the time and all of it is making me feel like he already knows. 

Does he know? Have I started showing already? I haven't really noticed a difference in my body yet but he looks at me naked a lot more often than I pay attention to myself naked so I mean I guess he could've noticed right? 

Only one way to find out though...

A half an hour later I hear him take out his keys and unlock my door and soon I'm greeted with a smile that tugs at my heartstrings. 

"Hi baby" he says, using that pet name he's become very fond of since this whole ordeal started. The sound of it after finding out I'm pregnant with his baby has made me a little uncomfortable though since I haven't told him yet. 

Don't get me wrong I love it when he calls me that but I can't help but think that if this goes south that he won't ever call me that again. 

Maybe the hormones have started to scramble my brain already because those uncomfortable feelings are quickly thrown away when I take in the sight of him after he shrugs off his rain coat. A simple black baggy hoodie and jeans engulf his form and the comfy sight just makes me want to curl up in bed with him and forget about everything and everyone.

Just him and I, it's always been him and I. I just don't know if this little one is going to change things. 

I place a hand on my stomach for a second as a way to gain some strength from my itty bitty baby before finally working up the courage to greet him.

"Hi" I greet him softly, walking over to where he's stopped to take off his shoes and when he looks back up at me he smiles again and kisses me. I sigh into it, savoring it for just a little bit longer and when it finally breaks he looks down at me with concern now written all over his face. 

"Are you okay?" he asks, sensing that something's off right away from the just the small change in the way I kissed him. I hesitate for a second then simply hold out my hand for him to take and he does, following behind me as I lead him over to my couch. 

Getting this over with sooner rather than later is my best option right now so there's no reason to delay. 

He needs to know, he deserves to know.

We sit there in silence, longer than he would like us to since I can tell how tense his body has gotten in a matter of minutes. "Y/n you're scaring me" he whispers, not wanting to pressure me but relaying his feelings. 

I take a couple more deep breaths before finally starting. "I need you to listen to me and I need you to please not speak until I'm finished" I say while looking down at my lap, not being able to meet his eyes. 

He murmurs a soft 'okay' and waits for me to continue, taking one of my hands and placing it in his lap. He needs some form of physical contact to keep him grounded since he's not too sure what to expect and I let him, knowing I need some reassurance too. 

Even if I don't know what his reaction is gonna be, in this moment I need it more than ever.

"I guess there's really no right way to go about saying this because this wasn't supposed to happen so I'm just gonna come out and say it..." I start off and he squeezes my hand, encouraging me to keep going. 

"I missed my period...over a month ago...and I haven't had it since then" I say and finally look up at him where he has an unsure expression. It's not one that's mad or disappointed with what I've said thus far which is a good thing but more like he's trying hard to hold himself back so he can keep that promise. 

His hold on my hand hasn't loosened, in fact it's gotten even tighter and that gives me hope that we'll work this out so I take another deep breath before continuing. 

"I tried to kid myself into thinking that it was late but when another week passed by I got nervous. I asked Sam to get me a test and it came out positive. I didn't believe it and thought it was a false positive and so to ease my mind she went a bought ten more from a bunch of different brands and...all of them came out positive" I say and he still looks at me with that same expression, waiting for me to give him the okay to speak and so I do. 

"How long have you known?" are the first words out of his mouth and although they're not negative they aren't necessarily positive either. "About a month now" I say and he nods his head, taking another second or two to formulate what he's gonna say next. 

"I'll support you no matter what you decide" he says and I let out a breath I didn't even know I had been holding in. "I wanna keep it" I say and he nods his head and smiles softly at first and then as the seconds go by it gets wider and wider making my heart beat faster. 

"Am I allowed to get excited now?" he whispers and I can't help but chuckle as tears start to prickle my eyes and give him a nod. "You're excited?" I say, my whole being slowly overcome with emotion. 

"How could I not be?" he scoffs playfully but that answer has me confused. "But Jungkook we're not together. I mean we're not in a relationship, we're just friends" I explain and there's a playful glint in his eyes after I say that that's making me even more nervous.

"You wanna know what I thought you were gonna tell me?" he offers up, slightly changing topics but I look at him in a way to urge him to continue. "I thought you were gonna break up with me" he says and I smile, "Jungkook we're not together. How could I break up with you?" I chuckle in disbelief. 

"Correction, I thought you were gonna break up with me before I even got the chance to ask you to be my girlfriend" he says with a grin and my jaw drops, the dots all connecting as to why he's been acting so different lately. "You were gonna ask me to be your girlfriend?" I utter quietly as if we were in a crowed room and I had a secret for just the two of us.

"I had actually planned on asking you tonight" he explains, walking over to where he had placed his backpack on the floor, taking out a bouquet of slightly squished flowers. "Sorry they're all beat up. I forgot and rode my bike over here so I didn't really have any other option but to put them in there" he says almost as if he was nervous, rubbing the back of his neck and it's then that I notice how pink his ears have gotten. 

He is nervous

I take them from him and smile, waiting for him to say it but he simply stands there and admires me and I can't help but laugh. "What so funny? I told you what happened to them" he utters through pouty lips which only makes me laugh more. "No, no it's not the flowers it's just that...don't you have something to say?" I ask, calming down my chuckles and when he looks at me with the same confused expression I have to try my hardest to keep the laughter at bay. 

"Do you have something you would like to ask me Jungkook" I rephrase it and after a second his lips go from a pout to the shape of an 'O' as he's figured it out. "Oh um, yeah, right. Well I um" he starts off, rubbing the back of his neck again while stuttering and trying to find the words and after struggling for a second I decide to poke fun at him again. 

"Jungkook I am literally carrying your child and you're too afraid to ask me to be your girlfriend?" I laugh, giving him a slight reality check which he scoffs at before responding. 

"I was trying to remember what I had rehearsed to say to you but now that you're being a little brat I guess you'll never get to know all the nice things I was gonna say" he retorts, his voice suddenly taking on a darker tone that sends a shiver through my body and he smirks when he sees my reaction to it. 

He cups my face and rubs his thumb along my bottom lip, making them part and he leans in as if he was going to kiss me but stops just shy of my lips. "Will you be my girlfriend?" he whispers, nudging his nose against mine and making me smile. 

"I'll have to think about that" I play coy with him which he chuckles at. "You know if you weren't pregnant right now I would have thrown you over my lap for that smart mouth" he warns and I smile before leaning in and kissing him for just a second before pulling back. 

"Yes I'll be your girlfriend" I say and nudge my nose against his as well and before I can register it my back is on the couch and his lips are pressed against mine, the kiss not rushed but full of so many words that have yet to be said and he gives in, not being able to hold it in anymore.

"I love you" he says, pulling back and looking down at me to see my expression which is completely dumbfounded to say the least. "You what?" I ask and he chuckles, "Is it really that hard to believe?" he points out and I guess now that I think about it it really isn't.

"I guess we've both been in love with each other for a while now huh?" I smile and his eyes light up at my round about confession. "Say it" he says, and I can feel my cheeks heating up. I hadn't planned on actually saying those three words to him even though I've felt them for so long but I don't want to hold them back anymore. 

"I love you" I whisper and he smiles, "Say it again" he repeats, clearly not believing it just yet. "I love you Jungkook" I say and the little switch up with attaching his name to the end darkens his gaze. "I guess there's no chance in me getting you pregnant a second time right now huh?" he asks, sliding his hand up my thigh and I giggle. 

"No I think that's pretty much impossible but the odds are never zero" I say and he rolls his eyes. "I'm trying to tell you that I wanna hit it raw" he states the obvious while rolling his eyes. "I know I know...and the answer is yes Daddy" I tease, testing to see how that word affects him now that he knows.

He tongues his cheek at that making me bite my lip, knowing that's gonna be even more of a trigger word for him from now on. "Daddy huh? Well I guess that title is a little more fitting now isn't it?" 

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[stardust-kenobi]

The Wrong Ingredient

Severus Snape x Fem!Reader

Summary: As a teaching assistant at Hogwarts, working on creating a new calming draught seemed to be a straightforward task. However, when you accidentally use the wrong ingredient, Professor Snape is more than willing to help alleviate the effects.

Word count: 4k

Warning: smut, fingering, piv, sex pollen (my fav), sort-of teacher/student relationship (reader is 2 years post graduation), mild DUB CON

A/N: Apologies to my followers who are not interested in Harry Potter content. This is my first (and potentially only) fic I am writing for Harry Potter, I just have had an insane infatuation with Severus Snape this week and I just had to write this to get it off my mind lol. Feel free to disregard :)

Read on AO3

The roaring of the snowstorm grew louder by the moment as you tried so desperately to focus on perfecting the potions assignment for the Professor. You were distracted by the storm, entranced by the blanket of white that coated the roof and distant hills. With the halls of Hogwarts empty for the Holiday break, you felt an even deeper appreciation for the warmth and coziness inside the castle.

As a recent graduate of Hogwarts who was now assigned to be a teaching assistant in your second year after graduation, part of your job was helping the professors with their lesson plans. Even if that meant sacrificing part of your holiday break spending the day alone…with Professor Snape. Persistent footsteps approached you, entering the classroom, followed by the sound of a slamming door. You jolted in your seat. 

“Any progress?” Professor Snape asked blankly.

During your studies at Hogwarts, you were always fond of Professor Snape. He was cold and stern, something that usually would have made you weary of a person, but there was something about his demeanor and the way he cared for you that created a soft spot for him in your heart. You had to admit, though, he was hard to talk to at times. He was not a man for many words, so even though you enjoyed him as a professor, there was a bit of unexpected tension being alone with him. You could not deny, though, that you found him to be extremely attractive. 

You sighed and hesitated to look back at him. Snape will be disappointed in your response. 

“Unfortunately, no” you breathed. 

“Pity” He scoffed, but ended with the faintest smirk. He was hard on you the same as he was when he was your professor, but he made some fun of it every now and then.

“Sorry, Professor Snape. I just don’t think these ingredients will work” 

“It’s experimental, Y/N, we won’t know until it is done” He shrugged. 

You were working on a high-intensity calming draught. A harmless potion that many wizards and witches could find great use in, especially during high-stress situations. The ingredients were simple, but they just didn’t make sense to you. 

Lavender, crocodile heart, rose petals, and peppermint. 

You read the list back to yourself several times. You weren’t getting the reaction you’d hoped for inside the simmering pot, and the ingredients weren’t behaving as you’d expected as you followed the procedure you were familiar with.

“Sometimes the best way to test potions is to try them yourself” Snape spoke with a condescending tone as he noticed your hesitation. 

“Are you suggesting I just drink this myself and see if it works?” You reiterated and trailed with a light chuckle.

“If you won’t, I will” He shrugged and smirked back at you from across the room. Professor Snape was professional, of course, but he was right. Sometimes trial and error is the quickest way to test potions. The ingredients were simple, so the chance of them causing any harm was…potentially slim. 

The day was long and you had grown tired of staring into the stirring liquid.

Fine, you thought, what is the worst that could happen?

You poured the purple-hued brew into the glass in front of you. Without thinking too much more about it, you threw back the potion, letting it trickle down your throat. It was potent, minty, and slightly earthy. Not the worst potion you’d tasted…but not the best either.

Your face twisted in uncertainty for the flavor.

Snape held his eyes to the book in front of him as he sat at his desk across the room. He was wildly uninterested in the reaction or the success of the potion you’d brewed. He had more important things to handle, and an experimental calming draught for a future lesson plan was low on his priority list, so of course, that means you were the one to take on the task.

You waited for a reaction.

And waited.

Nothing. You felt nothing. 

Just before you were going to give up and accept the defeat, you actually began to feel something. It was warm and fuzzy, laced in your veins and flowed slowly up your arms. 

Perhaps this is the beginning of the calming effects, you thought. 

The warmth felt funny as it seeped deeper into your bloodstream. Before you knew it, each of your extremities flowed hot with its calming effects. But there was something else. Something you’d never felt from a potion before. A tingling and most desperate sensation found its way between your legs. 

“P-Professor?” You struggled to call out to him, suddenly weary of how you were beginning to feel. You swallowed hard. 

“Yes, Y/N?” He called back, his eyes still glued to the book.

“Are there any…similar potions that I could have accidentally created instead of the calming draught?”

He looked up suddenly. 

“No, there is-....” Snape stopped mid-sentence, setting the book down gently, “Well perhaps, but you would know the difference between peppermint and spearmint”

You looked down at the extra green leaves that remained unused near the pot. You had collected this from a different area of the field than normal, but it smelled and looked like peppermint, so you did not think twice about it. However, now that he questions it, you worry it was, indeed, something else. 

“Let's just say maybe I didn’t, though. If I accidentally used spearmint, what would that mean?” You countered nervously.

His eyes grew wide for a moment. 

“Show me the plant” He insisted. Snape quickly rose from his seat and walked over to your desk. 

You showed him the green leaves you believed to be peppermint. He towered over you.

“It's peppermint, right?” You asked wearily, looking up to him. His furrowed brows revealed his concern.

“No. This is certainly spearmint” He pressed his lips tightly together and twisted the stem between his fingers. 

Your heart sank. What had you done?

“What… what did I brew, then?” You asked cautiously. 

Snape appeared more worrisome and now even a bit uncomfortable. 

“What do you feel?” He asked slowly and cautiously rather than answering your question.

You were hesitant to tell the truth and he could sense it. 

“I feel very warm… and quite…um” You trailed off as you felt your heart beating a hundred miles an hour. Suddenly you felt a raging sense of attraction to his natural musk and cologne. God, was he always so breathtaking?

“Aroused?” He questioned. 

“Yes”. You squeezed your eyes shut. Your cheeks rushed with blood as your response was trailed by a muffled moan. You were embarrassed to admit feeling this way in front of Professor Snape, but there was nothing you could do to stop it. And to hear your professor of many years, and now your colleague, ask you if you felt any sense of sexual arousal made you excited, too. 

“I feared as much” He turned away slowly, bringing his hand to cover his mouth. 

“Professor wha-”

“Quiet. Give me a moment to think” Snape demanded. He paced the room slowly. 

It grew more intense with each passing second. The tingling created a sensitivity upon the surface of your skin. You grazed your arm with your fingertips and chills shot down your spine. 

You clenched your thighs together as your arousal intensified. The professor turned around at this same moment, and let his eyes catch sight of your discomfort. 

He looks good today, you thought to yourself. His jet-black hair fell so beautifully atop his shoulders, and his dark attire somehow never looked better than it did right now with the way it draped down the length of his body. 

“You’ve created something that many have experimented with in the past, but… it's not well documented. It’s dangerous. Think similar to a love potion, however…much more potent” Snape explained, ending his pacing right at your desk once again. His emphasis toward the end was all you needed to hear.  You could tell he was attempting to maintain his composure but you could also sense he was on edge.

“Oh, God” You cried, lowering your head to look down at your feet, “What do I do, Professor?” You begged. Your fists clenched the edges of the table. You needed a release. Or an antidote. “What is the recipe for the antidote?” 

Truly, you wanted the release. Your staff dormitory was nearby, just right down the hall, you could take care of this quickly. Snape looked around, ensuring you were both alone, then used a quick flick of his wand to close the shutters on the windows. It was dimly lit in the classroom now with only the light of many candles illuminating each corner of the room. It was…romantic. Most everyone in the castle was gone. Any remaining professors were locked away in their offices, and the students were well on their way home by now. 

“There isn’t one” He stated firmly. The warm amber luminescence glowed so beautifully upon his skin. 

The effects of the accidental potion were nearing unbearable, now. Every fiber of your being ached so desperately to be touched. 

“Fuck…I…I need” You breathed heavily, clenching your lower belly as your arousal pooled itself between your legs. Your cunt begged you for something…anything. You’d never cussed in front of Professor Snape before, but he could feel the urgency in your voice.

“You must relieve it” He snapped. Frustrated with the decision he knew was about to have to make.

“Severus…” You begged desperately, using his first name for the first time ever. You weren’t even sure what you were begging him for. 

“I must speak bluntly, Ms. Y/L/N, so listen carefully. You are no longer my student. I am not your professor. But this must happen in order to save you.” He began frantically, checking again to make sure the doors were locked. His clarification of your relationship with one another seemed to be more of a reminder for himself than for you. 

“Save me? Christ, will this kill me?” You cried out.

“Yes. If your body is not brought to orgasm several times, it will begin to affect the very core of your nervous system. There is no other way to stop it.” He explained. Hearing him talk about orgasms was unexpected but it aroused you.

Dammit, you thought, can’t he just fuck me? 

No. No matter how much you wanted him right now, you did not want to put him in that position. 

“Okay, I will…I will go back to my room now” You managed to say. He sighed in anticipation of what he would say next. 

“You can’t do it yourself” He began, his voice faltering as he failed to make eye contact with you, “It has to be another person”.

Snape knew exactly what had to be done. The moment he saw the spearmint you placed in his hand, he knew. 

Suddenly, your legs trembled beneath you and your knees buckled. As you felt yourself fall, Professor Snape quickly caught you. His arms wrapped beneath your arms and he lifted you up onto the desk. You whimpered in reaction to this contact against your skin. It was…electrifying, but you were running out of time. Your body was running hotter by the second. In a feeble attempt to cool yourself, you peeled the robe from your shoulder. 

“Please” You begged, gesturing to the fabric that held you hostage in your misery. 

“I-” Snape began, reaching to grab your robe. His eyes searched yours for uncertainty but found none. The expression he held revealed what he couldn’t say. He wanted you. He wanted to help in more ways than one. But no matter what he told himself, he couldn’t help but feel that it was wrong. 

While you squirmed on the table, you watched as Professor Snape eyed the remaining liquid in the cauldron. It was only a few drops, but it was enough to at least bring a man to his knees for a woman begging him to fuck her. But he didn’t need it in order to want you. Snape needed it to convince himself it wasn’t wrong. 

He breathed out heavily before pouring the few drops into the glass and throwing it back, getting as much as he possibly could. Snape winced at the flavor. 

“Professor…w-what are you doing?” You whimpered through your words. 

“We both took the potion. We thought it was a calming draught, and it wasn’t. And we did what we had to do to treat the effects” He responded quickly as if it was rehearsed. You knew what he was insinuating. If anyone found out, if anyone asked, that’s what happened. If Snape was under the effects of this potion too, he would need his release, same as you. With only a few drops, It would be less intense for him, so he could better handle himself. 

“If you’ll allow me, I will help you, my dear” He whispered as he came closer to you propped on the table, holding his face close to yours, speaking sensually against your lips. In one swift motion, he pulled the black robe off your shoulders, letting it rest on the table, leaving you in your sweater and mini skirt. 

Before you could even finish your nod of approval, the hem of your skirt was being pulled up frantically, followed by his wandering fingers that stopped just at the hem of your panties. You were practically dripping and he could feel it. 

“Oh darling” He groaned, standing between your open legs and pressing his lips against your ear. Every hair on your body stood up when he finally got this close to you, “You are so wet for me” 

You rolled your hips against his hovering fingertips. As you looked down, you faintly noticed the bulge that grew in his pants. You weren’t sure if it was the microdose of the potion, or how arousing it was to be in this situation with you, but it was a most intoxicating sight. You could feel the heat radiating from him and knew that he was fully under the effects of the potion. Not nearly as badly as you, but he was about to lose control.

“Professor Snape, I can’t take it anymore, please” You begged him. You needed something inside of you, now.

“Very well” He smirked subtly as he pulled the soaked fabric to the side and pressed his fingers flush against your clit before rubbing rhythmic circles. 

“Fuck!” You cried out and threw your head back, which was quickly caught by Snape’s hand. He held your head up to meet his gaze. The aching and burning persisted but were soothed slightly once his skin was upon yours. It was a surprise to be so reactive to the faintest of touch, but the angry fever burning your skin was electrified, enhancing every single one of your senses. 

“Look at me, Y/N. Oh, you sound so lovely” His voice was like honey as he talked you through your pleasure, admiring the sounds that flew from your lips.  

You locked your gaze with his and stared deep into him. 

It was overwhelming. All of it. The state of your writhing body. The way he looked towering over you. The feeling of his fingers on your delicate bud. Seeing him in such a vulnerable state, something you’d never thought you’d see in a million years. It was all so incredible and absolutely riveting. You thought you might be dreaming.

Snape’s thumb remained working at your clit while two fingers were suddenly pushed inside your cunt. Your walls clenched around his digits as he began pumping them in and out, curling them with every stroke. 

“You need to come. Come for me” He insisted, knowing that the first orgasm would help begin to subside your symptoms. You could’ve reached your high just from the sound of his voice alone, so you knew you were close already. 

Your mouth fell open as the tightest coil of nerves bundled at your core. Suddenly, without hardly any warning from your own body, your orgasm burst open, radiating and flowing through every fiber of your being. Stars danced in your eyes as the euphoria washed over you. Moaning and profanities filled the air, breathless and aggressive as it took you over. 

“That’s it, my love, just like that” He encouraged you through it, keeping his pace while he fucked you with his fingers. You curled your hips, riding his hand instinctively. You came down so slowly, feeling delirious but still hungry for more. More of him.

His cock was stiffened and strained in his trousers, begging to be released, but not until he ensured you were okay after your first high. You reached for the hem of his pants in desperation. 

“I need it” You struggled to form your words. 

“You need my cock? Is that what you need?” He whispered to you, watching your face twist in pleasure as his fingers curled harder with each thrust. 

“Please, Professor” You begged. There was something so hot about calling him that in this setting. He could never admit it, but he loved it, too. 

“As you wish”

He pulled his fingers from your pussy, leaving you empty and clenching around nothing. You whined at the loss.

He watched you struggle to remove your sweater and glided his hands up the side of your body to help pull it over your head, which revealed you wore no bra underneath. Snape growled lowly in approval of the sight. Your bare breasts glistened with sweat under the candlelight. He delicately trailed his fingers down the front of your body, circling your stiffened nipples along the way.

For the first time, he kissed you. His supple lips pressed firmly into yours, adding another layer of intimacy you were not expecting. You moaned into him, feeling his hands cup your burning cheeks as he pulled you into him. As you sat at the edge of the table with Snape positioned between your legs, you felt him shuffle with the clasp of his pants. 

Excitedly, you pulled away from the kiss to see his impressive length released from its restraints. Your thighs clenched together at the sight, which caused you to moan. You could see it on his face, he was burning with the same passion, but he was nervous. Maybe with less of the potency of your accidental creation, you would have had the luxury of anxiety, but not in this state. 

“Are you doing alright?” He asked you, one hand on the back of your neck, forcing your gaze onto him, and the other grasping the base of his cock, ready to give you exactly what you needed. What he needed. 

“More than alright” You breathed. 

“Good” He smiled back at you. You realized in this moment that he’d never fully smiled at you before, and it warmed your heart. 

Hurriedly, he yanked your panties off your body, throwing them to the ground. He pushed up your skirt, making sure it was out of the way. Ever-so-conveniently, the table was at his hips’ level, putting his cock at the perfect height.

He plunged into you, hard. A strangled, choked whimper caught in your throat as you felt overwhelmed with the fullness. Professor Snape sucked in a sharp breath, pleased with how you wrapped around his cock so perfectly. 

“Oh my God” You cried out as he began thrusting slowly, allowing you to adjust to him. It could not last long though, because Snape could feel the animalistic urges overcoming him. 

“Oh, fuck” He groaned deeply, staring down to where his cock disappeared inside of you. 

Something unraveled within Snape. His cautious demeanor was long gone. His brows furrowed into almost an angry expression as he snapped his hips passionately, fucking you hard and ruthlessly now. Your whole body tingled and spasmed in reaction to each thrust. His cock stretched you so wonderfully, and he was intoxicated by the way you took him. Like you were made for him. His hands gripped both sides of your waist, using your curves as leverage to go deeper. 

“You take my cock so well, darling” He praised, increasing his pace.

“It feels s-so fucking good, Professor. I’m going to come again, please…don’t s-s-stop” You stuttered, tripping over your own words as you felt drunk off the pleasure. With the rise of your next orgasm came the subsiding of the heat that coursed through your veins. 

“My pretty little whore, come on my cock” He growled, angling his hips at a deeper angle so that his cock brushed your most sensitive area with each thrust. 

It came over you again so suddenly, sending your body into a pleasurable convulsion. Snape pushed you backward, laying you flat on your back atop the table, and wrapped his fist around your throat. The pressure against your neck made your mind go fuzzy as you rode the high of your second orgasm. 

It felt…otherworldly. Like nothing you could’ve ever imagined. He faltered none in his thrusts as you floated through such indescribable euphoria. As you came back to what felt like reality, you opened your eyes to see Snape admiring you in your most vulnerable state, continuously taking his cock like you were made for it. 

Just one more. You only needed one more. You could feel it. One more orgasm would treat these effects. The only problem was, your body was weakening, and you weren’t sure if you could take it.

“One more, darling. Just one more” He breathed through his moans.

“I-I can’t” You cried. 

“You can. You must, Y/N.” He reminded you with encouragement, “Be a good girl and give me one more”

You nodded weakly. While he fucked you hard, he brought his fingers up to your swollen clit to bring you to your third release. You spasmed beneath his touch. It felt so good. Too good. You squirmed involuntarily, but Snape was not having it. He pulled his length out of you and quickly turned you around, bending you forward to press your face into the table. 

Before you could even process what was happening, he sunk himself back into you from behind and resumed his relentless thrusts. He could hold you down better in this position. He was more in control. 

Even quicker than the first two, your third orgasm unleashed itself upon your body. You writhed and cried out his name, mixed with other profanities as it washed over you. You had an unfamiliar feeling coiling in your lower belly. Before you knew it was even happening, you were squirting through your orgasm, something that had never happened before.  Snape groaned lowly in approval. 

This orgasm was followed by an icy flush that mixed with your blood, taking the burning sensation away completely. It was an ultimate feeling of relief. The pleasure was so intense, a stray tear trickled down your cheek.

“I am close” Professor Snape muttered.

“Come inside me, professor” You whimpered, sending him over the edge instantly.

His thrusts faltered and slowed as a warmth spilled deep inside your walls, coating your cunt completely. Snape bent over to press his chest into your back as he caught his breath. You both were slowly coming down from not only your release, but from the effects of the potion. You expected to feel shame or embarrassment, but neither occurred. 

He was careful pulling out of you, knowing how weak your legs probably were. You tried to catch your breath as he offered his hand, helping you to your seat near the table. 

Without another word, he helped you back into your sweater to allow you to regain your decency as soon as you could. It was hard to process what had just happened, but you truly did not regret even a single second of it. 

“I am sorry for what had to happen, Ms. Y/L/N” Professor Snape said as he kneeled down to look at you. His eyes looked sorrowful and full of guilt, like he blamed himself for what happened. It broke your heart to think he felt this way. You enjoyed this and you know he did too. 

You smiled and held a sleepy expression as you giggled and shook your head. 

“I’m not” You confidently responded.

The same smile you saw for the first time earlier returned to his lips.

“Good” He muttered. 

——-

Please forgive any canon inconsistencies. This was entirely self-indulgent lmaooo. Obviously this potion does not exist and I made it up based on actual calming draught ingredients!

[miku-earth]

miku.earth update: September 15

Hi all! This is a lil progress update for those interested. In a rush? Here's the cliff notes!

The map site at miku.earth is back: sorry for the delay in fixing it! Check it out: it has six hundred Mikus!

Including the hyuge ol' queue, we've collected over 3,100 mikus!

Representation is important! I've been using some fancy stats to avoid bias. To that end, please help make sure we have a Miku in every African country!

oh hey! you clicked 'keep reading!' well hi! here is your Miku Direct. . The map site, miku.earth, is back!

I ran into a kinda complex issue and it was a whole Thing. I was working on the site the whole time though! Sorry for the delay, and I hope you enjoy now it's back up and running.

This site has six hundred Mikus on the map, and more are added each week. It was recently rebuilt from scratch (fun fact! I am not a web developer) so I hope it is far zippier and less glitchy as before. A mobile-friendly version is coming soon too!

Also: check out the new search feature! In addition to the title, artist name and region(s), it can also search for the categories indigenous and historic!

cw: this video involves moving around a 2D map with some speed. on the site itself site, this only happens when you hit the Enter key.

We've reached more than 3,100 mikus!

Even at its Miku-per-hour speed, the queue will continue until 2025 at least! This is with thanks to an incredible number of contributions, including donations of literal thousands of links.

Thank you so much to @awnowimsad, @worldmikuposter @the-hatsune-miku-trend, @communist-hatsunemiku, @council-of-beetroot, L-A and a whole host of DMers and emailers for helping get this far.

Oh and by the way: over two thirds of the collection are tumblr posts! Given that this was originally a twitter trend… if you know any Twitter users who are into this trend, please reach out. Some napkin math tells me there are at least 10,000 works of art total out there, which is, by the way, surreal. Let's make sure not a single one is lost.

If you're super curious, the collection is public! I have some tools to auto-annotate (I do not want RSI), but be aware the backlog isn't vetted.

Representation is important!

Fun as this trend is, this project was always intended as a serious study into how people represent their own culture through artwork. I'm no anthropologist, but I feel it is important to make sure this collection is respectful and bias-free. If we're to represent the world, we have to avoid underrepresentation!

To that end I've used some fancy statistics to calculate a "representation value" for each country. Here's a table if you're into the stats of it! This info is handy to help me with the queue – especially with tweets as they're a lil more effort than a carefully-tagged reblog. Of course, Indigenous, hyperspecific and low-note Mikus get priority.

And, well, of course you can see on the site there are purple regions for countries still missing a Miku. In particular, please help me make sure every country in Africa is represented.

Thank you for reading!

Phew! That was a lot. If you're still curious, please check the behind-the-scenes and source code. I work in the open! Even if my code is probably messy.

And if you're a programmer, issues and pull requests are welcome! This is actually a static site, so it's purdy easy to develop.

[seraphinitegames]

The Wayhaven Chronicles— Update 18/Oct/2024

A really nice smooth-going week this week!

I was working on another scene where the MC is with all of Unit Bravo, and those scenes take quite a lot of work to write, as every choice usually needs to have a variation for each love interest or best friend.

So yeah, that takes quite a bit of time to write them all out! But I always love how natural it feels when it’s done. Like, of course your love interest would have something to say specifically when the topic is about your MC’s safety! Wouldn’t make sense if they just brushed it off and didn’t worry for the MC or have an opinion, especially not as this stage of the romances.

But I was getting to the end of the scene quicker than expected and making good progress when I realised I could add in a choice set I didn’t plan, but doing that might hold me up because of all the variations in those choices.

But I REALLY wanted to add it in, hehe!

Yet, I managed to finish that choice set, and the scene, and am already a good chunk into the beginning of the next scene!

So that was incredibly motivating, hehe! :D

Though as I was going through the scene and there was a BFF variant in one of them, it made me realise that the friend specific stats in the stats screen may not need to be in there anymore. That was more to give the player an idea of who they were closest to getting for the BFF route, but now that’s decided, I may take that out to help declutter the stats screen.

Next week, it’ll be cracking on even further into this scene and hopefully getting the first variation of this branching scene I’m working on done!

Hope you all the most fabulous weekend! We’ll be offline as usual, so I'll update you again next week! <3    

[meanbossart]

I realize this is a weirdly specific question, but what was DU Drow’s experience like first waking up on the Nautiloid/on the beach?

Like, was he wearing Bhaalist stuff when he woke up then? If he was, did he ditch it right away or did he just leave it on until he found gear in better shape or maybe just didn’t want to associate with that symbolism/organization anymore? Like what was the thought process for him there, assuming that were the case??? If he was wearing something else, what might it have been?

I ask because I finally started my first Dark Urge playthrough yesterday (YIPPEE) and am plagued with thoughts about my guy, wondering if maybe he had some Bhaalist gear on when he first fell out of the Nautiloid that slowly was switched out for other things as the story progressed. Then I was like “oh hey what about Drow??? What was going through his head when he woke up that morning on the beach??????” Especially bc I can’t imagine he had much time to look at what he was wearing on the Nautiloid while it was still flying around.

ANYWAYS. Apologies for the ramble, my brain is plagued with thoughts now that I’m finally doing a Durge run so I might come at you with more random ass questions in the future >:)))

First of all AYYYY have fun with your first durge run!!! I'm always open to more questions if they happen to pop up throughout the experience.

Now to your question: An Interesting one! Though my answer might be disappointing LOL

In my personal lore, DU drow woke up from the tank with nothing but some scrappy underwear on - hell, It would probably make more sense if he was fully nude, even, but that would make many of the companion introductions a little too awkward - so, tattered underwear it is.

Considering what Kressa had been doing to him, I imagine that she would have either removed or destroyed his clothes at some point during the experimentation. DU drow was stuck with her for at least a few weeks - so, even if she didn't promptly undress him, his outfit would have been far too slashed, cut, and caked with old blood to keep, and likely torn off so it would stop getting in the way.

Her husband (I think he's the one who ships you away, if memory serves me right) would have had little reason to send him off with dignity - BUT perhaps he slipped some briefs back onto the drow's body because he felt ashamed of the implications of his wife keeping a battered, nude man around.

So, DU drow slides out of his pod, caked with old blood with only some ill-fitting linens covering his groin. He picks up whatever sharp object he finds lying around for self defense and proceeds through the ship, barefoot, hair matted, having no idea who he is, what he looks like, or how he got here. He's completely overtaken by his self-preservation instincts and being confused is second to getting out of his situation alive. He goes along with Lae'zel because she seems to have at least some idea of what's going on, and he frees Shadowheart from her pod because she seems more trustworthy than Lae'zel.

He probably stripped the trousers off of one of the corpses lying around the beach after the actual crash (they would have been a little tight, but it's better than nothing) and god-willing was able to snatch some fresher underwear at the grove or something. The only indicatives he had of a past life were his scars, and I guess his unusual features. The thing is - whenever he first caught sight of his reflection, he very much liked what he saw looking back. Someone else might have been shocked by their appearance, but what DU drow felt would have been more akin to a kind of relief - I'm strong. I'm big. I'm intimidating. Good. As it should be.

And well... There's not much reason to give it thought past that. His looks feel right, he thinks he looks attractive, even his scars are somewhat comforting. Tadpole and odd company aside, it actually feels nice to be himself right now, so why ruin it with questions and concerns.

[ghost-proofbaby]

twenty four hours (modern!eddie munson x fem!reader)

HOUR SIXTEEN

in which you and eddie take some time to figure each other out in the afterglow of honesty.

→ tropes: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, slow burn

→ warnings: strong language, upside down does not exist, minors dni

→ wc: 2.7k+

masterlist.

spotify playlist.

◁ previous part, next part▷

16:00 ──────────ㅇ───── 24:00

HOUR SIXTEEN - 7:00 AM

Eddie’s favorite color is red. He likes his coffee with an obscene amount of sugar and creamer, which always leads to a regrettable stomach ache. He learned to play guitar on an acoustic six string handed down to him by his uncle, and he’s completely self taught beyond what his uncle taught him about basic notes. And his uncle’s name is Wayne. He refers to the man that raised him as Uncle Wayne. 

Honesty turns out to be quite the beautiful thing in the morning light, and for the first time, you feel as though you’re truly getting to know Eddie. 

It’s a give and take, an even exchange of bits and pieces of each other that are handed over without much thought. You finally have a clearer picture of the man you’ve spent the last fifteen hours straight with. A full photograph in time of who he is, who he really is, in a way that you wouldn’t have been able to fathom a week before. And it’s ironic, looking back on your relationship’s progression with him, the way you two keep skipping over steps before retracing to what was missed. How ironic you’ve let him see you at your most primal and vulnerable, but you’ve just learned his favorite color. 

Eddie Munson isn’t a dick. He’s kind, he’s a huge goddamn nerd, he can be funny sometimes, his favorite color is red, but he isn’t a dick as you’ve been led to believe he was this last year. 

Well, maybe led isn’t the right word. Everyone told you he wasn’t a dick. You just never listened. 

Eddie’s just revealed his favorite movie genre as horror when you’re leaning forward, elbows pressing into your thighs as you ask him with a grin, “What’s your favorite scary movie?” 

“Very funny reference,” he deadpans, barely keeping his face straight as he jokingly narrows his eyes, “Especially considering it’s the Scream franchise.”

 You still haven’t brought up that question of why exactly he fought for your honor after that fight. His grand reveal left you with more confusion than you ever could have anticipated, and more than this fragile friendship could handle this early in the morning. So you’d buried it down, somewhere deep inside, for the sake of the friendship.

“You can’t just say an entire franchise. Pick a favorite one, idiot.” 

Friendship. Was that what this was? When was the last time one of your friends had seen you naked, or ate you out atop a kitchen counter? 

“The first one. You can’t beat the classic.” 

You fight your smile in a similar fashion that he is. Mirroring joy, mirroring surprise, “You’re definitely only saying that for the whole homoerotic friendship between Stu and Billy.” 

“Oh, I definitely am,” he doesn’t even try to deny it as he cracks and laughs softly, “What about you?”

Even after nearly an hour of doing this, going back and forth and learning about each other, the novelty of Eddie genuinely asking you things about yourself hasn’t worn off. The curiosity that lights in his eyes, the way he leans into you to hear each word clearly – it makes you question if this was the same man who had once been so cruel. 

“My favorite scary movie? I… don’t have one,” you lean back into your chair, a small huff of air escaping you from impact. 

There’s two mugs of coffee on the small garden table between your chairs, having gone cold long since Eddie retrieved them for the two of you. That had been when he’d earnestly told you about his coffee preference – he’d been sweetly shy about the ordeal, bashful as he looked down at the mugs and informed you he’d tried to only put a normal amount of cream in yours, only a little bit of sugar. It had been so endearing, the way that when you asked what he meant by normal and he’d only murmured his confession of how he took his morning caffeine over the mug’s lip, you nearly caved into yourself. 

“That’s impossible. No way. Absolutely not,” Eddie is animated as he waves his hands around wildly in front of him, shaking his head furiously at your answer, “I refuse to believe you don’t have a favorite scary movie, especially considering you quoted an iconic franchise. If you can quote Scream, you can tell me what your favorite is-”

You interrupt him with laughter, scrunching up your face, “Okay, first of all- Eddie, hey,” he’s still rambling, still being terribly dramatic in the flailing of his arms, so you reach over to grip the forearm closest to you. All his movements immediately cease as his eyes widen, staring directly at you in an oddity of shock, “First of all, it’s just common knowledge of pop culture. I’ve never even seen those movies,” you’re not sure if Eddie is breathing as your hand remains still tightly clasped against his forearm, and you’re not sure why he wouldn’t be, “Second of all, I’m a wimp. Scary movies might be my least favorite kind of movie, right behind apocalyptic action movies.” 

When he takes a sudden deep breath, you realize he had been holding his breath, “Apocalyptic action movies?” 

You begin to explain, to list examples, and you never once take your hand off his arms. You rattle off a list – 2012, The Day After Tomorrow, San Andrea’s Fault, etc. – all the while feeling his pulse race beneath his warm skin. All the while selfishly enjoying the contact, wondering how long it might take staying like this before your fingertips would mold to him. Maybe they’d eventually melt into his arm, skin molten together so that where he ends and where you begin is impossible to distinguish. A closeness with him that you had never craved so ardently before tonight, before today. 

“So, doomsday movies,” he hums after you give your examples. If you were smart, you’d let go of him. It’s been too long for the contact to be brushed off as normal, “Does that mean you also hate zombie movies?” 

“Nope. Those are an entirely different thing.”

“I wouldn’t say they’re entirely different.” 

“They are. They’re completely unrealistic! San Andrea’s Fault… sort of… well, it could happen.” 

“They’re not completely unrealistic. Some of them almost have, like, legit science behind them.” 

You hadn’t even noticed that he scooted his chair closer. Or the slip of his arm in your loosening grasp, leading your hand until it rests against his wrist, so close to holding onto his own hand that rests palm up against his thigh in wait. 

An offering. 

“There is no logical way that one day, our world is going to turn into a real-life Walking Dead situation,” you say, trying to steady your breathing. 

You won’t make the first move. 

He’s leading this moment. If he wants to hold your hand, then he can take that final leap of faith. 

“Have you actually seen The Walking Dead, or are you just blindly making pop culture references again?” 

You can feel the thrill of his heartbeat pick up in the center of his wrist before he does it. With subtle movements, his wrist slips between your fingertips. 

Only for them to be recaptured by his own knuckles. The dust settles. The warmth spreads. Your palm is pressed to his palm, your fingers interlocked between his fingers. 

“I have seen that one,” you tell him quietly, looking down at your conjoined hands. His eyes are also downcast to them. The tendon in his wrist flexes as he tightens his grip on your hand, the small squeeze becoming more sure. It’s not an accident; this was never an accident. 

It’s in the hair you notice on his forearm, wispy and blonde and almost comical in contrast to the dark curls that grow from his scalp. A layer of fuzz that covers alabaster skin dotted in rare and faded freckles, nearly invisible unless you look closely enough. You can see the tan line across his wrist from where he would normally wear a watch. If you follow the details further up his arm, away from the wrist now awkwardly pressed against yours in a twist, you can see the faded blue-black ink of his tattoos. That flock of bats, the most faded of his numerous additions to his skin, taunts you. You’ve already known him up close and personal in the last few hours, felt him flush against you and memorized the way his body was capable of pressing into yours, but it’s in these details that the ache arises. The sadness that you’ve never known him quite this personally before this moment, and the fear that you never will again. 

An ache all because he’s let you close enough to learn the details of his skin – what a marvelous thing. 

“That’s a miracle,” he mutters, fully entranced as he rubs the pad of his thumb across the top of your fingers. You’re quick to return the motion; his knuckles are far more rough than yours, and you try to count the groves in them, from long weeks no doubt, all in that brief swipe, “Or else I would have had to have insisted upon ending this lovely honesty hour, and subjecting you to a marathon.” 

“We can still have a marathon.” 

You’d do just about anything to remain in this position, to stay this impossibly close to him. You’re selfish and you’re clingy, squeezing his hand a little bit tighter as he had done to you, as if the grip on it reflects your grip on the moment. You can’t let it go – you can’t let him go. 

No matter how you have had him, no matter how long he sits in this golden hour with his hand in yours, it will never be enough. This sudden and abruptly-arriving ache is incurable. 

You want him, you need him, you bloom for him. 

There’s something in his smirk as he awkwardly uses his freehand to bring his mug of too-sweet coffee to his lips that almost whispers that there’s a chance: he also wants you, he also needs you, he also blooms for you.

 And so you tell him about yourself in turn. You don’t just stop at your distaste for horror or your fear of doomsday movies. You tell him how you don’t have a favorite color, how you switch it up too often and all he can do is chuckle at your indecisiveness. Once, an insecurity – now something silly to find amusement in at his side. You reveal to him your coffee preference; you take it with a normal amount of cream and just a little bit of sugar. You don’t reveal to him that before today, you’d always turned your nose up to hot coffee, an iced coffee connoisseur. Something in the sparkle of his eyes warns that he might already know. You don’t play any instruments, but you have a list of songs for him to learn, insisting that someday he’d have to play them for you on that guitar his Uncle Wayne gave him. (You can’t think too much on the way you’re once more speaking in some days with him. Your heart might burst if you do.)

You try to bare your soul, to stare down the barrel of honesty, just as he had. It’s scarier than you could have imagined. Finally, after fifteen hours, you get it. 

You get it, and it only makes you squeeze his hand tighter. 

At some point, he notices the way the sun is warming both of you with each passing minute, palms now sweaty against each other as he asks, “Do you want to go back inside?” 

No. I want to live in this moment for the rest of my days. “We can if you want to.” 

“Don’t do that.”

“Don’t do what?” 

“Tell me what you want. You constantly do that with everyone else, you know. Let them make the decisions,” he’s smiling softly, eyes squinted against the sun now rising high in the sky, “I can’t even count the amount of times you’ve said that to Nancy on both hands. Which, I mean, awesome – Nance fuckin’ loves being the decision-maker. But we’re talking about me. You’ve never been shy about butting heads with me.”

You raise your eyebrows, “Quite the sudden high horse, Mr. Honesty.” 

“Yeah,” he shrugs, “Well, it’s honesty hour. So, here’s more honesty – I love when you give me a run for my money. Who else is going to tell me to shut the fuck up when I’m on track to ramble for hours about Lord of the Rings?” 

“You want to talk honesty? I would only tell you to shut up because I might have blown my cover and you’d realize I actually enjoyed your company.” 

The soft smile widens, more shameless and more radiant, “Coulda fooled me.” 

“I did fool you,” you tease, and your hand slips from his, but the warmth left behind doesn’t. It’s buried deep in your bones now. 

Things will never return to normal, not for you. It isn’t a bad thing – it’s only a sure thing. 

“For what it’s worth…” he pauses, that smile faltering. “I enjoyed your company far more than I ever let on, too.” 

Is that why you fought for me, after fighting against me? 

He doesn’t let you reply, instead smacking both of his now free palms against his thighs as he moves to stand, “Anyways, I actually do happen to want to go inside,” he gestures to those faded swirls of tattoos across his biceps and forearms, “I don’t expose myself to too much sun for obvious reasons.” 

“Reasons being you’re a vampire?” you tease.

“Ha-ha,” he deadpans, “Yes, it’s definitely because I’m a vampire and not because of these sick tatties.” 

“Calling those abominations sick is pushing it,” you playfully counter as you scoot to the edge of the seat of the chair, unsticking your thighs from plastic, “And I knew it. Your skin is practically glittering like diamonds, Edward.”

He scowls. “So Twilight is off the marathon line up.” 

He sticks out a hand, the same one you had clung to for most of your conversation with each other. You don’t take it immediately.

“There’s going to be a marathon?” 

“You’ve got something better to do?” 

The thought of cuddling up with him on the couch has your heart pounding. Honestly, the couch would now remain tainted for the rest of your days. You might even continue to avoid showing up to his apartment just to avoid flushing red any time you see one of your friends take a seat on the spot he once took you on, had pressed into you as your knees had dug into those cushions, as you had moaned his na-

You had to stop thinking about it before he noticed your thighs pressing together tightly. 

“For the record,” he says, hand still extended, unwavering as the sun forms an aura of gold around his outline, “Honesty hour doesn’t have to end when we go inside. From here on out, I actually insist that it be on the table. One of the perks of being my friend, I suppose.” 

Those are the magic words. You don’t need to immediately know why he fought for you, or why he really led you to believe he hated you for so long. You don’t need to know why he kissed you and you don’t need to know why he’d changed his tune so suddenly the first night you two met. All you needed to know was that if you wanted to know, if you ever find the guts to ask him about these things, he would tell you. 

You reach out and take his hand.

Immediately, he pulls you comically hard out of your chair. When you fumble directly into his chest, he’s already chuckling and wrapping his arms around your waist to steady you. 

“Jesus Christ,” you mumble, pulling back and glaring up at him without any true venom, “Eager much?”

“Very,” he boyishly grins down at you and your heart skips a beat. 

Eagerly, wildly, suddenly, comfortingly – he now occupies a space in your brain you weren’t aware existed. It almost whispers I was always here, always waiting for him. 

The two of you don’t waste any time as he tugs you inside, the promise of a movie marathon awaiting the two of you. 

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[tradgedyinwaves]

Touch - Ch. 8

tw: mentions of stalking, the boys are a wee bit toxic, ex is a jackass, fatphobic comments, reader is a bit vindictive, suggested kidnapping

Dating four people was exhausting. Especially being the newest addition. They all wanted to spend their apparently endless free time with you and frequently, you found yourself on a date with more than one of them. All because they couldn’t be patient. 

Johnny had actually whined when he found out just how far things had progressed between you and Simon, jealous that he’d been talking to you the longest and not even gotten a kiss. So you spent three days dedicated to spending time with him alone. By the time the two of you left your flat at the end of the third day, you were sore, exhausted, and covered in love bites. Johnny was so pleased with himself, he was practically skipping. 

After that, you took a break from the boys completely as you needed time to recharge and recover. Better believe that when you came back to them, they’d already taught Johnny a lesson in self-control and you were greeted with an apology from him for not playing nice with you. You’d told him you forgave him, even though you hadn’t seen an issue with his insatiable appetite for you. 

They learned patience after that, dedicating specific weekends to a single man for dates and fun while the week was spent casually hanging out. Your stalker only showed when you were alone, which the boys insisted was never. Even if physically you were alone, they knew where you were since Simon had slipped a tracking device into the lining of your purse and they connected your GPS in your phone to their own. But even those trackers couldn’t see when the shape lingered on the roof across from you, studying you. 

A few weeks into your new normal, an invitation arrived in the mail. The paper was pure white, gold writing informing you that you were cordially invited to Kit and Heather’s wedding. You had choked on the fact that you’d received an invitation, feeling like you should be more upset that he was moving on so quickly, but then you remembered the four men that had spent the last few weeks devoting their time and energy to you, adoring you, and making you feel like the most important person in the world to them. 

With a smirk, you shoved the invitation into your purse and headed over to the boys’ flat, forgetting to change from your work clothes. By this point, you had a key and the passcode to get into the building and burst into the flat with a wide grin. “Look at this shit,” you announced, dropping the invitation on the coffee table where the boys leaned over and looked over it. 

“He’s got some balls to be inviting you,” Price grunted, leaning back in his chair as he swirled his whiskey. You walked over to him with a pretty smile and climbed onto his lap, straddling his wide hips. “I want to go,” you stated simply, looking down at the big man below you with the prettiest puppy dog eyes and Price was caving immediately. “Acht, fine. But who’s going with you?” he asked, raising a brow while his hand found it’s way to your hip. “All of you?” you answered timidly, a light blush coloring your cheeks. 

“All of us, petal?” Johnny queried, leaning back on the couch with his legs over Simon’s lap. You looked over your shoulder and nodded, biting your bottom lip. “Why’s that, dove?” Kyle asked from his spot in the other armchair. “Well, I-it’s petty, really. Just wanted to show off how much better I am without him,” you answered, dropping your eyes to your lap as Simon let out a low chuckle. “I’m in. He’s met me without the mask, I’d be glad to show off for you, luv,” he stated, raising his eyebrows at you which only served to darken your blush. 

“Sounds like a plan then. We’ll have to contact Laswell and let her know, so she can avoid sending us out around that time if possible,” Price squeezed your hip as he spoke, taking a swig of his whiskey. You leaned forward and laid on his chest, his arm moving to drag his hand up and down your back. 

The room quieted as the boys resumed their previous activities. Kyle was in the kitchen cooking up dinner while the game played in the living room. Johnny and Simon resumed watching as well, yelling out to Kyle when he needed to come watch a play. Price sipped his whiskey while you napped in his lap, the sounds and scents lulling you to sleep while his massive paw warmed your back. 

New information had plans changing, red strings moved about until a perfect scheme was created. 

Arriving in New York had hit you with a wave of nostalgia and you weren’t sure how you felt about it. Your family wasn’t from there, so the only memories you had were with Kit and those memories weren’t ones you were thrilled to revisit. 

The morning of the wedding found you sitting in the bathroom, waves of panic ripping through you. The last time you’d seen Kit was in a courtroom where you’d looked pathetic as you cried over the loss of your marriage and the new couple sneered at you. What if he just invited you to humiliate you again? Just to rub his happiness in your face. 

But wasn’t that what you were doing here? To show him that you had moved on to much bigger and better things? Successfully talking yourself out of the panic attack, you finished getting ready, only stepping out once you felt everything was perfect. 

When you finally did leave the bathroom, four heads turned towards you with different versions of shock and awe painted on their faces. A dark burgundy dress adorned your form, a modern version of a 50’s formal dress that settled off your shoulders, cinching your waist and flaring around your hips to end mid calf with little black kitten heels so your ankles didn’t end up broken. You’d really leaned into the decade's inspiration, enhancing the look with a pearl necklace that sat right at the base of your throat and pretty pearl earrings sat on your ears. 

“Say something!” you gasped out, feeling like their eyes were burning holes through you. Kyle was the first to snap out of it, approaching you with the warmest smile. “You look beautiful, dove. I think I speak for all of us when I say you’re the most gorgeous woman we’ve ever seen,” he reassured you and you heard some small agreements from behind him. 

They were already dressed, each of them sporting simple black suits that had to be tailor made to fit their massive forms properly, wrapping muscles in the dark fabric. Briefly, you wondered if you needed to make an appearance at all, wanting to spend the next few hours undressing them with your teeth. 

When the five of you arrived at the wedding, Kit’s family greeted you with wide eyes. They’d tried to keep you from being all four of them in, but when Simon peered down at your ex-father-in-law, daring him to open his mouth, the five of you were let in without any more fuss. 

Hiding in the back, you watched them marry in silence, having no more tears for your past. Simon and Price watched your face for any sign that you needed a break, but the resolute stillness had them more concerned. Normally a pretty emotional person, the cold look in your eyes made them a little nervous. 

When the happy couple turned towards the crowd, your eyes met Kit’s cold gaze and you smiled, waving at him while surrounded by your men. His gaze shifted from you almost immediately as his new bride started to rally him down the aisle. 

The five of you were the first ones out the door once guests were allowed to leave, finding a quiet spot along the edge of the woods outside. You separated yourself a bit, watching from afar while Kit and Heather were having their photos taken. It reminded you of your own wedding and it made something pinch in your heart. 

“You doing alright, luvie?” Simon’s voice startled you from your preoccupied thoughts, turning to look up at the dark eyes settled over a plain black gaiter. Despite wearing essentially the same suit, each man had customized it in some way. Simon added the black gaiter, only comfortable going without his mask in his or your flat and black leather gloves.

From where you stood, you could see Price’s boonie hat settled on his head where he’d put it when they escaped outside. Johnny had a tartan pocket square that matched his tie, the pattern subtle with the dark palette. Kyle’s suit was pristine, pressed to have a crease down the front of each pant leg and shirt cuffs that adorned silver initial cufflinks. 

“I’m alright. Just reminiscing, I guess. This is a lot more than I got for our wedding. It was small, but I suppose marrying an heiress would warrant this extravagance,” you stated, turning fully away from the scene out on the lawn. “Well, heiress or no, she has nothing on you,” he reassured you, leaning down to kiss the top of your head. 

When they finally opened the open air hall for the reception, your group waited until others were in, hoping to sneak in once things got going. Unfortunately, going anywhere with four massive men following you around didn’t work for flying under the radar. So when you stepped into the room, all eyes turned to your group and you flushed, darting for the corner to hide. 

Kit and Heather made their rounds, blissfully ignoring you and the guys until your ex-in-laws insisted it would make them look good if they at least greeted your lot. You were three glasses of champagne in while the boys were stone cold sober so when the couple approached, you gave them a wry smile while your eyes flashed with something dangerous. Even though you’d moved on, you still hated your ex with every fiber of your being. 

“Kit. Heather. Congratulations,” you stated, the tone almost seething despite the edge of civility. Their noses turned up at you, disgust on their faces. “Let me introduce my boyfriends, John, Kyle, Johnny and Simon,” your tone changed as you listed them off, fondness pushing out the anger.

“Requires more than one to handle all of you, huh? Now you really are just-” Kit’s words were cut off by Price’s low growling voice. “I’d watch what you say next. She’s worth more than either of you ever will be.” Kyle had to put his hand on Simon’s chest to keep the man from lunging for Kit’s throat. You knew what he was going to say and surprisingly it didn’t bother you.

“At least they know how to make a woman cum. Obviously, you don’t or your beautiful bride here wouldn’t be fucking David behind your back,” you broadcasted, raising your voice ever so slightly as Heather’s eyes bugged and Kit looked like he was going to kill you. “Not my fault you’re oblivious. I clocked it the second I walked in and saw her making heart eyes at him while you were talking to her parents,” you shrugged and turned to walk away before you felt the familiar feeling of his fingers wrapping around your arm. 

“I suggest you take your hands off of me before you find out exactly what my men will do to you,” your voice was low, full of warning. He scoffed and tugged on your arm, a massive mistake. Johnny’s hand shot out to rip his hand from your arm while Kyle removed his hand from Simon’s chest, letting the furious man loose. 

The leathered hand wrapped around Kit’s throat and squeezed, slamming the man against the back wall and subsequently gathering everyone’s attention to the group. “If you ever lay a hand on her again, you’ll find out what true nightmares are,” Simon growled, nose to nose with your trash ex. 

You sniffed at the sight, watching Heather screech and plead for Simon to let him go. “Alright, alright. Please, just let me go,” Kit begged and it made a piece of your heart heal, watching Kit get his ass handed to him. Simon huffed, growling at the man before looking over his shoulder, looking for your eyes. You nodded and he dropped Kit, stepping back as you stepped forward. “This is for putting your hands on me,” you stated before reeling back and decking him in the nose. 

Kit crumpled, stumbling over to Heather as he dripped blood on her dress. “I hope you treat her better than you did me, no one deserves what you did.” You made eye contact with Heather before turning on your heel and walking out, the boys following behind. 

No one spoke as your troop traveled back to the hotel, all of them staying close. They hated that the night had turned the way it had, but the man-child had deserved it. They wanted to praise you for the fantastic punch and the way you’d stood up for yourself. But you were withdrawn, mind replaying the moment over and over again.

You disappeared into your room, citing a need to be alone for a little bit. When they came to check on you an hour later, the room was empty. Except for a hundred masks just like Simon’s and pictures of each of the boys with you. 

A single picture of you laid on the bed with a large red x over your face with a word written under. 

Karma. 

Ope.

Thank you to everyone who is supporting this story. I appreciate every single one of you.

[milkywaydrabbles]

geto and 39? :>

A/N: foaming at the mouth I love Geto sm. I'm not sure if this was quite enough body worship but also I feel like he wouldn't be that obvious with it, especially after his defection and leading up to the night of 100 curses. But I am a FIRM believer he would try to baby trap. Hope you like it mwuah

CW: riding, pet names, baby trapping

Body worship x Geto Suguru

"A-ah, Geto-Sama!" Thrust. "Please, beautiful." Thrust. "I thought I asked you to call me Suguru when we're alone." Thrust.

It had been a few months since you and Geto had met each other. You, an apparent normal human being who has been saying what you thought to be ghosts for your entire life. You had ignored them the best you could, being in and out of psychiatric hospitals because of your bouts of fear with the paranormal. Society had shunned you for your "insanity". But you knew they were there, even if you were the only one who saw them. Eventually, you faked being cured of whatever level of psychosis they thought you had, stopping the medication that sedated you. You simply learned to pretend they weren't there. It got easier as the years progressed, however some days were more difficult than others, depending on the size of the curse, and depending on how in your face it wanted to be. You thought you would just live like this—on the verge of a mental breakdown one day at a time. Until you met Geto.

You saw him one day, at the tail end of swiping away at one that seemed to be a pretty big nuisance for him, before condensing it into a black orb and ingesting it. You couldn't help but stare, eyes wide and hands trembling. It was someone else that saw them, someone else that can do something about them. There was no way you hallucinated that. He glanced over at you in disgust that a monkey would even have the audacity to look at him. But tears accumulated in your eyes, and you whispered "you see them too?" 

He softened immediately after that. 

Geto took you in, soothing your tears after telling him all the terrible years you've endured. Days turned into weeks, of helping you understand what the world of jujutsu is, of what curses are, of his end goal. Weeks turned into months, of him letting you stay with him even though you weren't a fighter, and your healing abilities were barely sustained. He let you stay because he had a soft spot. And feelings emerged. Started to cherish you, started to steal glances, fingers grazing just a bit more than deemed normal.

Geto was in love with you. The rest of them could see it, but they wouldn't dare say anything around him.

"Ah—fuck—'msorry Suguru" you hiccuped, bouncing on his lap, cock buried deep inside your sloppy pussy. Suguru loved you like this, chest to chest, as close to him as possible. It felt right this way. "Let me take care of you, pretty girl. You deserve it" he slowed his movements, wanting to take his time with you. Suguru placed open mouthed kisses on your chest, lavishing your nipples under his tongue. "You're so perfect" he'd whisper, hands caressing your back like he was holding a doll. "I can't believe I've gone my life without you." Another kiss to your chest, and a suck to your other nipple. You gasped, clenching around his dick, juices flowing freely over his balls. "Suguru," you whined "feels good." He kissed your neck, and pressed you closer to him. A hand came up to your head to pull you down for a kiss on your lips, slow and deliberate, taking his time to taste you fully. "I want to make you feel good always, my perfect baby. Taking me so well, your pussy was made for me." Another clench and whine, head lulling to the side out of sheer bliss. "Never want to let you go" he murmured, though he wasn't sure if you heard it. 

Geto quickened, a hand coming in between your bodies to rub at the swollen nub at the apex of your thighs. You cried out and tightened around him, orgasm closing it. "Come on, beautiful. Cum for me, I want to feel your cute little cunt milking me" Suguru bit at your neck, angling his hips to hit that delicious squishy part inside you that made you see stars. "S-suguru! A-ah fuck, oh fuck" you cried out, legs trembling and body shaking with the intensity of your orgasm. You rode out your high as Geto continued to pump his length into you. "Gonna cum in you, pretty, gonna fill you up." He thrusted into you a few more times before shooting his load into you. He fucked his cum into you, wanting more than anything to keep it inside that puffy cunt of yours. 

I love you, I love you, I love you.

He was going to make sure it took, that you'd get pregnant. You wouldn't leave him now, he was sure of it. But he needed a guarantee.

[iatnen]

Thank you for replying to me! 🙈

Do you have character sheets for Daniel? I’d love to see how you characterise him and what kind of personality he has. I have no artistic talent AT ALL so I live vicariously through different artists on tumblr who draw their MC, so thank you for entertaining me ❤️

HI AGAIN ANON

I actually did not have a character sheet ready when you sent this so I had to scramble to make one for you LMAO I sorta based it on @choccy-milky’s char sheet since I had no idea how to make one…… Also kinda crazy how he looks so different than when I first drew him just a week ago…

But erm yeah I guess I can try to tell a little bit about Daniel’s character even though I still haven’t thought too deeply about it. I’ll try to keep it brief 😰

Basic description of Daniel’s personality:

Competitive: likes to win/be the best, loves sports (Quidditch ofc 😼 !!!), a bit of a perfectionist, gets frustrated with little mistakes

Stubborn: doesn’t know how to quit, the type of guy to go to Quidditch practice even when he’s sick, needs a lot of convincing to get him to listen 😅, when he’s locked in he’s LOCKED IN

Independent: prefers to handle things on his own, doesn’t like receiving help from others, can work in a team but would just be off doing his own thing

Emotionally reserved: isn’t great with emotions especially his own, bottles up feelings/ignores them, often leans more towards being logical in decision-making situations rather than emotional

Awkward: ………yeah 👍

Lowkey just a chill guy who doesn’t gaf (but actually does secretly gaf)

As for his relationship with Sebastian aside from the canon game events, they both love quidditch so that bonded them even closer together as teammates. I think that slowly they both begin to mutually notice each other but don't want to speak up in fear of ruining their friendship and also they’re just in denial…. So they resort to just teasing each other and being like “let’s kiss each other to see what kissing a girl feels like” 😅

I’m so sorry it’s not really detailed…. Like I said I haven’t thought much about it/still in progress of building him and also cuz I didn’t want to make this post too long cuz who wants to read all that yap. BUUUUT I am drafting up a fanfic about them, not sure how long I want it to be tho 😰 Hopefully that will give you guys more info of his character and see their dynamic in action. WRITING IS SO HARD kudos to all you writers !!! If only I can write as good as I can draw 😿 Don’t expect it to be up anytime soon tho IT MIGHT NEVER EVEN BE POSTED WHO KNOWS !!!! DON’T EXPECT ANYTHING !!!! I PROBABLY SHOULDN’T TELL YOU THAT IF I CANT PROMISE IT BUT WHATEVS !!!! 😰😰😰

[dreadsuitsamus]

First | Choso Kamo x Reader |

author's note: this is a sequel to that small first kiss imagine i wrote a while back, and i've finally found the steam to wrap it up! i love this guy 🩷

pairing: choso kamo x fem!reader

warnings: nsfw, explicit smut, fingering, dry humping, friends to lovers

Frost nips at Choso’s delicate little nose as he has a cigarette out on the balcony, his habit uncaring about the weather conditions being less than stellar. It’s cold, though not snowing at least. His dark hair is down, the ends tickling the back of his neck while a beanie covers the top of his head and ears, keeping him as warm as possible in this thirty degree weather. Shooting a gaze over his shoulder as he blows the smoke with the direction of the wind, he peeks inside of the window to see if you’re ready yet, but the living room is still empty. So, with his question answered, he turns back around and looks to the sky.

It’s been a handful of weeks since he first kissed you, and he’s kept his word: a kiss every single day, and usually more than once a day at that. And naturally, as one would hope with frequent make-outs, things have progressed a bit beyond two friends just kissing to heal old wounds. You’ve been friends for quite a long time by now, and it’s been so easy to transition to this budding romance, the expected awkwardness and general weirdness you thought would appear not existing at all. Choso puts out the cigarette and discards it with a flick to the busy city street far below him, climbing back into your apartment and shrugging the hefty coat off of his strong, broad shoulders once he’s closed the window.

“Oi!” He comes to tap his knuckle against your closed bedroom door. “We still gotta get a cab, babe, come on! We’re gonna miss our reservations.”

“I don’t know what to wear!” Your voice wails from behind the wooden barrier between you and Cho, and he sighs. He’s not sure why he didn’t expect this of you, as you’ve historically always been the late one in your friend group.

“Whatever you wear is gonna look great!” Choso pouts and leans against the wall. You’re not convinced, though, and you look between the two dresses laid out on your bed. It’s your first date with Cho, and despite knowing him for over seven years, you’re as nervous as you’d be on a blind date with a proper stranger. You’re treading a line finer than the baby hairs at the back of your neck, after all, and on the line is something too precious to lose.

But also on the line stands the chance for a relationship that could flourish into the best thing you’ve ever had. Frankly, there should probably be more butterflies rumbling in your tummy!

Moving to the bedroom door and pulling it open to see your dear friend, you take his large hand in yours and tug. Happy to be dragged anywhere you take him, especially into your lair as you’re half-naked under that little silk robe, Choso easily follows your lead. He doesn’t hide his sneaky little grin well, and you bat his arm with a laugh, warmth withering the nerves away with the comfort that, at least, he thinks you're hot. Cho’s the same as he’s always been, after all, and the reminder melts the tension from your shoulders. “You’re dating me now and still acting like this?”

“Am I supposed to stop?” He murmurs, tugging his beanie off and threading those long fingers through the chocolatey locks, fluffing it up a bit and then smoothing it out.

“I hope not.” Sinking your teeth into your lip, you pick up your two best dresses, holding them up and turning to Choso. “So, which one do you think would look good?”

His amber eyes don’t linger on either choice and instead scan that skimpy lilac robe that hardly reaches your mid-thigh, his hands closing into tight fists while his Adam's apple bobs steadily. He’s always thought of you as attractive, no doubt, and that’s why he kissed you on that sweet night your friend group passed around first kiss stories. You deserved an amazing first kiss and Choso wanted nothing more than to be that for you, to erase the memories of that dreadful man you gave your all to. His intentions aren’t all pure, however, and he hopes to God you can’t sense it.

He would kill your ex if given the chance. How dare that bastard take and take every ounce of your spirit, crushing you beneath the weight of his impossible expectations, carelessness and general assholery? Choso’s made it more than his personal mission to wipe out every memory, heal each scar and destroy any and all lingering ideas of doubting what you deserve. You should be loved, adored, cherished…

And fucked absolutely senseless.

If your first kiss was no good, your first time couldn’t have been halfway decent either. And he hasn’t wanted to admit it, he wants to be good and proper and show you what a gentleman is like… But every night it claws at him knowing that you’ve never been shown a good time. Knowing that your beautiful body was never worshipped, never adored and doted on or prioritized at all kills him. He should take it slow like he planned, he knows. It’s what you deserve!

But he’s going absolutely mad at the sight of you now and frankly, it shows; your chest flips at the look in those warm, hungry, honey-hued eyes. “Cho?” Your voice, so soft and pretty, quickly jolts him back to his senses. Shaking his head as if to knock the naughty thoughts from his brain, Choso takes a proper look at each dress you’re holding.

“Uh… They’re both… nice.” One has a plunging neckline and the other one is so short he’s not completely sure it’ll cover your ass! Why don't you just write ‘tease’ clear as day on your forehead while you're at it? Not to mention, it's thirty fucking degrees outside and he's not looking forward to giving up his coat when you get cold!

“Just nice?” With a defeated groan, the dresses are tossed onto the floor and you’re back to the drawing board in your closet, flipping through your array of sundresses, evening gowns, club outfits and more. Choso’s close behind as you walk away, a confused crease forming between his brows as he takes in just how packed this walk-in is. He could swear he’s seen you cycle through the same six or so outfits since he met you! How could you possibly have this many clothes?? 

Blinking himself out of the stupor, Cho places warm palms to your shoulders, rubbing a gentle massage into your skin. His touch is magical, and any other time would be quite soothing. But the nerves that line every inch of your body are just too frayed for a simple shoulder rub to cure this time. “Baby, it really doesn’t matter what you wear-”

“Of course it does! This is our first date!”

Okay, time to re-route.

Choso presses a kiss to your temple, hands gradually marking a path to your hips, taking the scenic route and enjoying a few selfish squeezes along the way. With soft lips at your ear, you shiver at how Choso touches you. This relationship— situationship?— is still fragile and fresher than a newborn baby, and while the kissing is plentiful, that's about as far as it really gets.

“Relax...” Cho murmurs quietly, squeezing your hips and rubbing at your rear. “Breathe, baby. It's all okay.”

Melting like butter, Choso’s touches light your eyes with lust and, dragging your wet tongue along your glossed lips as a soft moan passes by, you fall easily into his embrace. “Cho…”

With a trail of kisses smattering your neck and shoulders, Choso coos. “You could wear a paper bag and I’d still be fighting off all the other men in the room. And all the other girls could be naked and I'm still only gonna be able to see you. I mean it, babe. You're just that perfect.”

“... What if I wore nothing?”

Choso kisses a spot he's not sure he's touched yet. “Then we'd both be in jail, but my sentence would be a lot longer than yours.” Murder is, after all, a bit more than a frowned upon misdemeanor.

“And what if you wore nothing with me?”

A small smile is hidden into your skin, Choso's lips pressing insistently to your neck as his large hands come to pull at the knot at the front of your robe. “Then I think we're missing our reservations tonight.”

You're leaned back against him fully now, head rolling off to the side to allow him more unbridled access to the column of your throat. “Who likes that restaurant anyway?”

“You're right.” Sharp teeth nip gleefully alongside a low chuckle. “What's another six week waiting list, hm?” Your robe slips from your shoulders after a light, insisting tug at it by the small of your back. By the time it's pooled at your ankles, the silky fabric cool on your skin, Choso’s hands have resumed their exploration of your body.

His hands are cold still from his smoke break, which sends goosebumps down your delicious body wherever he touches you. His mouth, hot and minty with a tinge of cigarette, plants a kiss on the shell of your ear, his low voice whispering against you in a way that lights the rest of your body up.

“You’re so pretty.”

Your nipples, covered by a pretty pink bra with strawberries on them, peak as your cunt is struck with a lick of lust; you never dreamed before that Choso would be one to make you feel this way. He's always been just a friend, a guy you never really realized even had a penis, let alone one you'd like to see and touch and more.

How time changes things!

You turn in his arms, pushing up onto your tiptoes into a desperate kiss, one that nearly sends Choso off of his feet as your dalliance moves from the closet and to the bed. Boldness strikes him and he's turning your back to the bed, the edge of the mattress knocking the back of your knees before you're guided down, Choso’s large hands holding your figure tenderly.

“Can I touch you?” He murmurs, hands completely still despite his lust swelling below the belt and beneath his ribcage. Even with the general flirting, kissing and touching going on, to make the true transition of friend into boyfriend is a heavy step, one he doesn't want taken back.

Adoration-fueled goosebumps scatter your body, the tingling feeling in your breast and thighs meeting in the middle for a warm flooding of your tummy. Cho is so delicate, so thoughtful and considerate… It makes your desire for him triple in the single blink of an eye.

“Please.” His whisper is more urgent now, a frenzy building behind warm, amber eyes. He'll certainly stop if you command him so, but you couldn't dream of doing so now.

Your fingertips brush against the strong, solid line of his jaw, feeling his smooth, pale-toned skin. “Yes. Everywhere.”

Choso’s lips crash onto yours immediately, greedily having a fill of your sweet, pretty lips as the pads of his fingertips graze your body, massaging small circles into the warm, electrified flesh of your hips. The thin line of your panties taunts him, that and his own clothes reminding him of how far away he really is from you.

“Choso.” You murmur at his short hesitation, playing with the little hairs at the back of his neck. It soothes him, as intended, and he presses a sweet kiss to your cheek while dipping his thumbs below the band of your skimpy underwear, toying with the fabric before running his hands up your beautiful curves and carefully removing the thin bralette to see your breasts, bare and beautiful for the first time.

Choso’s mouth, hot and honeyed with his wanton saliva, glazes over one of your gorgeous, pert nipples. A shiver trembles down your spine and a soft little moan passes your lips as his tongue swirls and lips suck, and the encouragement is enough for him to slowly dip his hand beneath your panties, those long fingers finding a hot, sticky mess to play with.

The feeling of your juicy cunt on his hand, the way your pretty little clit hides between the succulent lips of your pussy… It makes Choso harder than he's ever been. A harsh shiver overtakes him as his fingers lather in your sweetness, two of them carefully dipping inside of your hole.

“Holy fuck…” His warm breath fans over your breast, his forehead resting against you while he slowly pumps his fingers in and out of you. The way your walls just suck him in, so greedily, so warm and inviting and… and god he can't believe how hard he is. “You're so perfect…”

Heat fills your entire face at his admission. All he's done is for your pleasure, yet he's panting and groaning like you're the one touching him. Is it really possible for a man to feel pleasure from giving, rather than receiving?

With the way that rod in his jeans pokes at your leg, it must be.

“Cho, you feel so good…” Your face buries into his hair, the dark chocolate locks smelling of strawberries. He never did seem like the type to buy the “manly” ten-in-one types.

“No, you do.” Choso presses a sweet kiss to your collarbone, urging his long fingers deeper inside of your core, spreading your sticky, thick nectar over his digits. He relishes the feeling, the way your pussy grips him and asks for more and more and more. And he gives it to you, finger-fucking you faster and filling the room with raunchy squelches, the addicting sounds only urging him even further.

“So good… Pretty pussy, sweet pussy…” It's as if he's drunk, intoxicated on you and all you're giving him. He slips a third finger inside of you, gentle in stretching you open to accommodate the girth of the three fingers together. All he wants is to feel you, simply just can't get enough of you around him.

“Ch-Choso, fuck, mmmmmmmm fuck!” He's hitting all the right spots so perfectly, prodding the spongy spot inside. “I-I’m close, honey, so close…”

Sharp teeth sink into the curve of your breast, quiet growls muffled into the flesh. You're so close, and he's going to get you there, all over his hand. He needs it, you need it, god he needs it…

Your back nearly snaps as you shoot up into an arch, cumming harshly and moaning loud enough to piss off the neighbors, who also happen to be your friends, though once Nobara is past the interruption of her beauty sleep she'll surely be joining Yuji in giggling about it.

Choso's rutting relentlessly now, withdrawing his fingers from your cunt and to his mouth, moaning as he licks and sucks every ounce of your essence from his digits. This man, your friend— boyfriend, is dry humping your bed while suckling his own fingers that are drenched in your taste, getting off on pure you…

He's absolutely perfect.

Pulling his hand from his mouth, you cup his strong jaw and pull him up for a kiss, and he adjusts himself between your legs, the tinkle of his belt buckle the only thing keeping you in the moment enough to realize he's shoving his pants and boxers to his knees, that lovely cock (that you had no idea he was packing below that belt) springing up against his stomach before he lays back down, his hot cock leaking against your ruined panties as he ruts.

His large hands rest on either side of you, holding him up so he's not pinning his weight down and crushing you, and you play with his hair as he comes closer to orgasm. The bedspread is bunched into his fists as he crests, his lips no longer able to cooperate with yours as beautiful, hot, sticky ropes of thick, white cum burst from his purpled tip, covering your lower belly and panties in his seed, all whilst groaning entirely unintelligible babble.

This is the first time in your entire life that you've felt so sexy and desirable, and the warmth in your chest blooms into a strong heat, a flame of love and adoration that may never burn out.

Choso falls to the left of you, his chest heaving while he gathers himself. He glances your direction, and with a bit of an embarrassed smile, he slips his hand into yours, squeezing warmly.

[sometimesanalice]

oooo okay i have a prompt 💁🏼‍♀️ for the au version of bradley and sweet girl (and the little nugget!):

❝  well,  i do feel a little better now that you’re here.  ❞

Jordan! You know how soft I am about them! (in every universe, but especially that one!) I hope you like this! 🫶🏼

You will never not be happy to see Bradley Bradshaw, but seeing him walk though the open door of the in-progress nursery might be the best thing that's happened to you all day.

It's not even the large styrofoam cup you spy in his hand from your favorite milkshake spot, it's just him.

"You look nice," you sniffle from where you're seated on the floor, screws scattered around you like confetti.

"And you look stuck," he says gently, giving you a soft smile. Setting the cup on top of the dresser he'd built for you a few weeks ago. "Need a hand, kid?"

You nod, sure that you look more than a little pitiful right now.

Bradley has to press his lips together to keep from chuckling at just how adorably dejected you look, sitting there with your large bump and splayed legs.

All you'd wanted was to get the crib you'd ordered put together. You were in your third trimester and feeling more than a little useless in your own body. You'd just wanted to prove to yourself that you were still capable of doing things on your own.

And it had been going fine, until you'd accidentally dropped the open bag of screws on the floor. Too many to squat and pick up, you'd carefully lowered yourself down, only to realize you couldn't get yourself back up on your own.

You'd given up after your fifth attempt, teary and frustrated, and called Rooster.

He reaches down with his strong, sure hands to help you up off the ground. Pulling you up so easily, like it's nothing, that you're reminded all over again just how pathetic you've been feeling lately.

"You smell nice too," you say glumly, realizing you haven't showered yet today, as he helps steady you back on your own two feet.

"Stop you're going to make me blush."

"I thought the morning sickness was supposed to go away," you sigh. "But that guy from accounting dropped by my office earlier today, the one I told you about with the bad cologne, and I was nauseous the rest of the day."

His warm, brown eyes remind you of home. And as tough as it had been to uproot your life, it had been worth it to be closer to your best friend and favorite person. You've only been here for a few months, but you already loved San Diego.

Rooster makes a sympathetic sound. "He's the worst."

"He really is. He's also a mansplainer, so that's two strikes against him." You look at Bradley, looking very handsome in the knit polo he was wearing, and feel even more like a wreck in your very oversized tshirt, the hem of your stretchy shorts just barely peeking out from underneath it. "But you didn’t answer, why are you all gussied up?"

He rubs the back of his neck, his eyes darting away from you. "I was, uh, on a date with someone Nat knows from her kickboxing classes."

"Oh. Oh no, Rooster. I'm so sorry." More tears flooding your eyes at the guilt of ruining his night. You thought you'd already cried them all out before he'd got there, but apparently you still had more left in you.

Bradley's stomach twists at the sight of your lower lip wobbling, kicking himself for not bending the truth because the last thing he wanted to do was make you feel bad.

"Hey now, woah," he says, cupping your face. "None of that, kid. You rescued me from an awkward date with a woman who was still very clearly hung up on her ex."

"Still, I really am sorry. I don't want my mess to become yours."

He gives you a look you don't know what to make of. "Why didn't you wait for me, kid. I told you I'd swing by this weekend to help with all of this."

Bradley had kept his weekend free for you, not that you'd asked him too. He knew you were stressed about wanting to get the nursery in order, one less thing for you to think about. He was excited to see it come together, was looking forward to hanging up that little felt seagull mobile he'd bought for you as a baby shower gift.

At that godawful dinner, he'd nearly shot out of his chair at the watery warble of your voice, concerned that something had happened to you or the baby. He was more than happy to help, he wanted you to lean on him for these things. You chose to have the baby on your own, without your shitty ex, but that didn't mean you were going to be doing it alone.

"I thought I could handle it. It's just some prefab wood and shit," you huff with agitation. "I wanted to feel useful. But then I dropped the bag of screws and well..." You trial off and just gesture to the spot he'd found you, you'd left the screws on the floor out of spite.

You're just so tired. All the time. Tired and overwhelmed.

The tears fall on their own again, a mix of hormones and emotions. "Bradley, what was I thinking? I'm going to be a mom. This little person is going to depend on me and I couldn't even get off the floor." You're embarrassed when your voice cracks.

"Come here," Bradley murmurs, tugging you to his chest. He holds you as tight as he thinks he can without squishing the baby. The firm, rounded swell of your stomach pressing against his flat one.

You tuck your face into the space at the base of his neck. His woodsy smell more soothing than lavender could ever be.

Rooster runs his hand up and down your back. "You're growing a whole person in there. You need to yourself some slack. You aren't a mess. And that little peanut is going to be so lucky to have you."

You squeeze your eyes tight and nod. Trying to remind yourself that it's ok to be scared, because you also were excited. Excited to meet her, excited to be able to finally hold her, excited to introduce her to your best friend.

You feel your little girl shift and move inside of you. You pull away taking Bradley's hand in yours and setting it over where she's pressing against you, "I think she's happy you're here."

It's something that he doesn't think he'll ever get use to.

"'Course she is," he rasps thickly. "I'm going to be her favorite." He's still holding your hand, not ready to let go. "And you? How do you feel, kid?"

"Well, I do feel a little better now that you’re here too," you tell him, before giving him the first real smile that he's seen from you all night. "Especially since you brought me a milkshake."

He laughs and kisses the side of your head before letting you.

"Who knew you were such an easy girl to please."

You flip him off without heat, as he thumbs off the remainders of the wet tear tracks on your cheeks.

"Thank you, Rooster."

"You know I'm alway here for you," he says, squeezing your shoulder as he goes to fetch your treat.

Once he gets you set up in the oversized chair with your milkshake, he tosses you his phone and puts you on DJ duty while he works on assembling the deep brown wood spindle crib that you'd picked out.

You watch as Bradley double checks each step in the instruction booklet before he moves on to the next one. It's the most studious you've ever seen him, his tongue peeking out every now in then in concentration. The way he takes his time building the crib for your little girl, makes your chest feel warm.

You're both so lucky to have him.

Every now and then he looks over at you as he fits the pieces together. It makes his heart twinge in an unexpected way when he sees you running your hand over your belly, looking down at it with the softest of smiles on your face.

You're going to be such a good mom, he thinks to himself. And he'll be there right by your side. The best Uncle Rooster he can be.

For her, for you.

After all, you've always been his family.

[tkwrites]

Messages - Quinn Hughes x ofc

Photo from Pinterest

Title: Messages 

Author: Tory / @tkwrites 

Relationship: Pre-established: Quinn x Sarah

Warnings: smut (18+ only), mutual masturbation, phone sex (sort of) 

Summary: Missing him something fierce, Sarah sends Quinn a video of herself in his bed. 

Word count: 1,600

Comments: 2 stories in 2 days? Who am I? In all seriousness, this has been sitting in my drafts for a while, and tonight felt like a good night for it to go into the world. 

This snapshot is way out of the beginning-ish timeline I’ve been sticking to for a while. Hope you enjoy! 

Messages

A Quinn & Sarah Snapshot

Don’t listen until you’re alone. 

Quinn was always interested when Sarah messaged him in the middle of the day. She was usually in school, so if she had something to say, it was important. 

This cryptic message, though, really piqued his interest. 

A few seconds later, a video came through. The preview was black. He glanced around at the guys on the bus. No one seemed to be paying him any attention, and his airpods were in, so no one would overhear. 

It was likely just her telling him a story with a lot of foul language. She always prefaced those this same way, not wanting anyone else to overhear despite his insistence that anyone he hung around with wouldn't be bothered. 

So, he took the chance and pressed play. 

Nothing changed. The screen stayed black, and it was quiet for a long while. He clicked to make sure it was playing. The progress bar at the bottom informed him there were two minutes left. The lighting was so dim, he wasn’t sure if he could see something in the top corner of the screen or not. 

Then came the sound of her breathing - hitched, quick breaths that reminded him distinctly of being in bed with her. Tiny little moans followed. The kind that always made him want to make her really moan. 

He gulped. 

Eyes glued to the screen, Quinn listened as her breathy moans got louder. 

Suddenly, it clicked. The video was of the ceiling. Of his ceiling. He could just make out the outline of the light fixture over his bed. The idea of her touching herself in his bed almost made him moan out loud. 

His thoughts raced along with his heart. 

He'd given her a key a few weeks before after she told him she liked to study there - it was so beautiful and so much quieter than her place or anywhere on campus. There was no point in it sitting empty while he was on the road, especially when she studied there when he was home, anyway. 

Never in a million years had he thought she would be masturbating in his bed. 

“Quinn,” her voice swam through his veins. His tongue felt heavy with the longing to kiss her, and his suit pants grew uncomfortably tight. 

Holy shit. 

Holy shit. 

HOLY SHIT.

He clicked out of the video, cutting off her next words that sounded like they might be, "I wish -"

He couldn't listen to this here. They were just about to get to PNC. He would have to walk into the arena in less than 10 minutes with photographers and social media teams taking pictures and videos. He couldn’t walk off the bus with his lower half standing at attention like this. He’d be all over the internet in no time. Chirped by the team and his friends for the rest of his life. 

Closing his eyes, he thought about swimming in the lake, taking a cold shower, and his high school math teacher. 

His body finally relaxed. 

What the hell, Sarah? He messaged her then, ignoring the pull in his stomach to click on the video again. He could do it later, after a win over the Hurricanes. I’m on the bus.

I TOLD YOU TO LISTEN ALONE!

No one else heard. WHY would you send this in the middle of the day? And tell me not to watch it! Of course I’m watching it with that warning. 

Deciding she ought to just be honest, Sarah chewed her lip as she typed, I didn’t want to lose the nerve. I felt like if I waited until tonight, I might chicken out. I thought you were in the arena already. 

Quinn almost asked her why she was sending it in the first place. They’d had phone sex only once, and that was just two nights ago, when he had an evening off with no roommate and could catch her before bed with the time change. It had been exciting and awkward, but ultimately fulfilling for both of them. Even still, he didn't really expect it to happen again until his next road trip.

I’m sorry if I messed up your pre-game.

A smile melted onto his face. You didn't. Caught me off guard is all.

I did warn you. 

“What’s got you blushing, Huggy?” Connor asked, leaning over to look at the phone screen.

At least 10 heads swiveled to look at him, and despite his attempts to remain cool, Quinn felt his face get warmer. 

“Nothing,” he said, slipping his phone into his pocket. 

Connor arched an eyebrow, but didn't press. 

In the locker room, before putting his phone away, he sent her one last message before the game. 

Miss you. Call you after. 

Finally, alone in his hotel room after a hard fought win over the Hurricanes, Quinn called Sarah. It was nearly midnight in Vancouver. She might be sleeping, but he always called, even if just to leave a message. 

“Hey,” she answered, voice husky and groggy. 

“Hi.”

“How do you feel?”

“Better now,” he said, sitting on the end of the bed, glad to be out of his suit and in his basketball shorts.

“You played so good tonight, Q.”

“Thanks,” he said. “How was your day?” 

He knew he should let her go back to sleep, but he wanted to keep talking a little longer. Missing her was a physical thing to him now. An elephant in every hotel room.

“Fine,” she said before yawning loudly. “Nothing major to report.”

“Other than you sent me a video so I could hear you getting yourself off in my bed.” He tried to say it nonchalantly, but it still came out a little desperate. 

She laughed. “True. That was a pretty big thing.”

“Why did you do it?” he asked. “Not that I'm complaining, but you've never done anything like this before."

Sarah rolled over, switching the phone to her other ear. 

“Honestly? I'm ovulating, and this morning I was so horny I couldn't concentrate on anything else. I missed you so much, and your bed smells so much like you, and I kept thinking, wouldn't it be hot if Quinn could hear me right now?”

He hummed. 

“And then I thought, he could, technology is a thing. So I started recording and just kept thinking about you in your hotel room, getting off to the sound of me and my vibrator. And God, it was so hot. I mean, you know.”

“I don't,” he said, his voice pitched higher. He didn't even need her video. He was getting worked up right now. 

“You haven't listened yet?”

“I haven't been alone.” It was the worst part of playing a team sport. He had so little time to himself.  

She giggled, but it was interrupted by another yawn. 

“Go back to sleep,” he said. “I'll call you tomorrow. Just wanted to say goodnight.”

“Night Quinn. I miss you.”

“I miss you too, Sarah. Four more days.”

“Four more days,” she repeated. “I can't wait to see you.”

“Me either. Get some sleep now.”

“Okay,” she murmured.

Hitting the end button, he flopped back on the bed and sighed. Before Sarah had come into his life, he would have been out partying, taking in the nightlife with the prospect of a late afternoon practice the next day, and nothing to worry about in the morning. Now, it felt pointless. He wanted Sarah. He didn’t want anyone else. He never really liked hookups, even when he was younger and single - it took him too long to open up to people - but traveling away from her was harder than he had expected. 

He lay there for a minute, thinking of her before his curiosity and excitement got the best of him, and he played the video. Setting the phone next to him, he closed his eyes. It was easy to imagine her in his bed that morning, wanting him. 

“Quinn,” she moaned, “I wish you were here.” 

“I wish I was too,” he groaned, running his hand up and down his length that he’d pulled out of his shorts.

She began to grunt softly. It was something she always did when she was trying to get to the right spot or angle. 

His breathing began to huff. 

“Do you like it, Q?” 

“Yes,” he all but moaned. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he was glad he’d clicked off the video earlier that day. If he’d gotten this far into it, he wasn't sure he could have stayed quiet. 

Here, in the dim light of a nice hotel he didn’t remember the name of, the sound of the city all around him, Quinn let his mind focus on Sarah, imagining it was her hand on his hard cock rather than his own. 

“I can’t wait to have you home and have you inside me.” 

His mind flew into a frenzy. He was never deleting this video.

She made a louder noise then and whined, “Quinn, I’m so close.” 

God, he was too. 

The tell-tale sound of her coming orgasm spilled out of his phone - sheets rustling, panted breaths, little moans and mewls. 

Her voice tipped high, and he knew she was riding a wave of pleasure. 

He squeezed his hand, trying to get a more realistic feeling. Grunting, gutterally and deep, he spilled onto his own chest. 

His breathing slowed down as he lay there, feeling his heart pound in his chest. 

“I miss you, Quinn," she said before the phone went silent. 

Want more Quinn & Sarah? Check out the Snapshots Masterlist

To read all my fics, check out the Fanfiction Masterlist

[qqueenofhades]

I'm having a bit of a rough mood from seeing that the judge in the Georgia case dismissed some of the orange motherfucker's charges.

Can I get some your ever-insightful perspective on this, and if there's still hope for prison time for something? Anything at all?

I can offer a few pieces of context on this, yes. First, the judge did dismiss a few of the less-substantiated and secondary charges against Trump in the Georgia election interference case. However, these charges were primarily related to "soliciting others to make false statements," i.e. how he enlisted others in the purpose of overturning the GA election results, and do not contest or impact upon the actual fact of election subversion (which is at the core of the prosecution). The judge also openly invited the prosecutorial team to re-submit the dismissed charges with more substantiated evidence and clearer testimony, so this wasn't a from-the-bench hack job like the ones Aileen Cannon keeps running in the Mar-a-Lago classified documents case (seriously, when can we appeal to the 11th Circuit to get her taken off? WHEN???) Which, considering that this is a Republican judge appointed by a Republican governor (Brian Kemp) is a good sign.

In short, this wasn't the judge saying "all these charges are bogus and inadmissible," it was the judge saying "I'll dismiss a few of these for not being as well substantiated as the others, but please resubmit with revisions/improvements and I will be happy to consider them again." And while I am not a lawyer, it is my understanding that prosecutors typically bring a multiplicity of charges, including some that might not ultimately stick, in case of this exact circumstance where some of them get dismissed/required to undergo judicial review/are otherwise ancillary to the central indictment. Which, in this case, is still intact. So no, Trump is 100% not "getting entirely off the hook" or "no longer under investigation in Georgia" or whatever else. I'm sure the GOP will try to spin it as such, but ignore them. The Trump "find me 11,780 votes" phone call to Raffensperger and the rest of his Georgia election interference has not been dismissed, and the RICO case still largely exists as first filed.

This is also a good sign that the judge won't order Fani Willis dismissed and the case completely shut down, as the Georgia Republicans have been trying to do with their hit-job inquiry into her personal life. If the judge was leaning toward dismissing Willis/the case entirely, this could have been a lot more sweeping intervention, but it doesn't look like he's going to do that, and in fact offered them an invitation to re-submit and make the case stronger. So that actually bodes better for the chances of eventually securing a conviction in the Georgia case, if the prosecutors have to go back to the drawing board and make sure everything is airtight. It's probably helpful to see all this in the above light and to understand that all legal cases drag on for years, with forward progress and setbacks. Especially this one, which is unprecedented in all ways.

However, I need to warn people again about thinking that Trump will be tried, convicted, and imprisoned before the election, and that this will spare us from having to vote against him or otherwise electorally dispose of him. SCOTUS, to nobody's surprise but still our disappointment, agreed to hear the Trump immunity case in late April (instead of just accepting the DC Circuit's opinion), and while they're likely to rule against him, that still creates another months-long delay. Importantly, though, the Department of Justice has announced that the "no legal proceedings 60 days before the election" rule does NOT apply to Trump, as he has already been indicted and the cases are currently being litigated. If they had decided that the 60-day rule applied, all trial proceedings would have to be frozen in the first week of September, but since not, they can continue into October and November. If the 60-day rule had been upheld, it would have drastically increased the odds of Trump avoiding trial entirely before the election, as few prosecutors would have wanted to proceed when they knew that there was an automatic kill switch built in. But if the DOJ holds to this, Trump could literally be on trial on Election Day itself. Which is good, obviously, but still: it will not be the magic solution. We still have to vote for Biden.

As I have said before, the stakes in 2024 are simple. The criminal trials will not get rid of Trump before the election. There will be another election that is Trump vs. Biden and therefore one of them will win the presidency. If Biden wins and Trump loses, Trump will be out of delay options and will go to prison almost 100% as all his criminal chickens come home to roost. If he wins, we will be fucked for generations to come. Vote accordingly.

[seraphinitegames]

The Wayhaven Chronicles—Update 12/April/2024

So close to finally being done with the character creator, editing, and clean up code (though I think that will be something I continue to do as I’m writing and find variables I can condense or sort out)!

This part has taken soooo much longer than I planned or wanted, but I have to remind myself it’s worth the work—especially when it means I can just transfer what I’ve spent so long sorting for this book to the next one and just add on the variables for the last book. It does make me realise just how many threads and branches Wayhaven now has!…But also makes me all the more excited to get to write them when I see where they are going! :D

But I’m getting some serious writing withdrawals…to the point that I may have done a little bit towards the next chapter this week, lol!

At least once this is completely done, the writing should progress much quicker, and I can really settle myself into the actual story writing. Something I am even more eager for after going over Chapter One’s writing for editing! I absolutely love what I have! The love interest openings gave me such romantic (and sometimes steamy!) vibes. It sets the perfect tone for how the book really will have that seriously romance focus, particularly with the villain pushing the love interests forward on that, hehe! ;D

But I’m excited to get into the storyline for this book too! Something very different for what I’ve done with Wayhaven so far, and even a mechanic I have only for this book! I’ll be excited to find out how your MC’s react to it!

I will be pushing on to get the final tasks done on this demo chapter and get it over to the editor this weekend. It IS happening this weekend, even if I have to stay up all day and nights, lol! Which means next week it’s back to writing! Yay! I am SO ready for that, as well as being much quicker at it, lol! :D

Hope you all have the most fantastic weekend! I’ll be working the weekend, but will be offline as usual, so I’ll update you all again next week! <3