#i've been wanting to watch this whole thing

[woso-dreamzzz]

Javelin

Ona Batlle x Reader

Summary: You and Ona are each other's homes

The first time you met Ona, she kicked you in the face with a football.

In revenge, you threw it straight back at her and she accidentally lost a tooth from the impact.

You'd been best friends ever since then and your parents could barely keep the pair of you separated.

And as with all things like that, a relationship was naturally the next step.

Fumbles in the back rooms of the family home, making out in your room during family reunions, a kiss after Ona scores in an important match.

And all of those soft, teenage fumbles transformed into something much more beautiful.

You'd followed her to Manchester when she left Spain.

It had taken a lot, uprooting your whole life and moving to a different country whose language you hadn't paid much attention to in school.

Ona helped though.

Ona always helped.

That had always been the case.

Ona helped you and you helped her.

Your training never really went as long as hers. You weren't away from home as often as Ona was. Throwing a javelin wasn't quite as physically draining as football was so you were able to cook dinner and clean up and go to almost all of her matches to support her.

"That smells good."

Arms close around your waist gently and a head rests between your shoulder blades.

"Taste," You say, bringing a spoon up to Ona's lips straight from the pot," Good? Too salty? Not salty enough?"

"Perfect," Ona says," Perfect like always. You spoil me."

"You deserve to be spoiled."

Ona giggles a little, a soft kiss being pressed against your neck as she moves away. "I'll grab the plates."

You make a home in Manchester together before Barcelona come knocking and you're more than willing to return to Spain again.

You get another coaching team. You train in the heat.

You and Ona discuss a dog but nothing has come of it just yet. You bask in each other's company. You return to family reunions and seeing Ona's family on the weekend right until the summer.

The run up to the Olympics is brutal.

You're both tired and drained but it's a dream to represent Spain on a stage like that, to show people around the world just what you can do.

People watch events that they don't usually watch and if you can even convert one person into a javelin fan then it'll be an Olympics well spent.

You have your goals for this Olympics and Ona has hers.

And you hate seeing that her goals will be left unfinished.

"Hey..." You say gently as she approaches you at the barrier," I'm sorry."

You can see her putting on a brave face. You know it's fake.

You lean over and gently draw her closer.

Spain hadn't made it to the final. They'd lost the bronze medal.

Ona had lost the bronze medal.

Your own gold medal for javelin feels like a weight in your bag, heavy and you wish you could throw it in the river so Ona wouldn't be able to see it.

But you know that she knows you won it.

She'd sent a very long rambling text before setting up an accompanying phone call where she declared her love for you and told you how proud she was and how she couldn't wait to see your medal.

Now though, you don't want her to see it.

You don't want her to see it because you know she'll be reminded of what she's just lost and you can't do that to her.

You won't do that to her.

You refuse to do that to her.

So you hold Ona against you now as she rests her head in your shoulder and you play with the soft baby hairs that rest on the back of her neck.

"We've got a break now," You whisper to her, voice quiet and soft and everything she needs to hear right now," We'll go somewhere hot. With a beach. We'll relax and have some fun before the season starts again. Relax and reset."

"I wanted to win you a medal," Ona chokes out against your skin," I know you've already got one but-But I wanted to get you another one."

"I don't need another one," You assure her," I've got you. That's enough for me."

[kitts-mechanix]

Oh my gosh....I might need a tissue for this....this very much sums up the cycle of abuse in a sibling dynamic.

@lexicorp, @ichbinmeltdown and I have been having a huge discussion about the Seeker Trine and the cycle of abuse, but this comic captures it in a very real way.

The drama in Thundercracker's show acts as a form of foreshadowing. Starscream barges in and starts treating his brother like dirt, and judging from Thundercracker's reaction it's obvious that Starscream has been abusive to him. Starscream only bothers Thundercracker because he needs him to help him defeat Megatron, aka something that will benefit HIM. Thunder isn't eager to do it, Starscream starts rambling off fake apologies and pointing out his brother's shortcomings (eg, "I've forgotten how sensitive you can be but I didn't think you'd actually leave over it"). Now that being said, I don't think Star's comment about how it hurt when Thunder left is entirely untrue, because I do like to think he was confessing at that point, having an inkling of regret--but even then that's only to get what he wants. When Thunder brushes him aside, Starscream cracks and admits he's sorry for everything he's done, names what he did and says he won't do it again. But is he truly sorry? Thunder doesn't buy it so Starscream uses his interest of the Earth to get him to do it. But it's obvious Thunder has reached a point where he doesn't want to keep putting up with Starscream's bullying. No matter how much Star pleads and begs, Thunder finally calls him out on his rash actions, like telling him that he's obsessing over usurping Megatron and shouldn't have tried to mess with him. He's had to watch Starscream constantly destroy himself, and his own brothers, out of self-interest. When Starscream realises he didn't get his way, he went back to blaming his brother and destroys the TV--the one thing keeping Thundercracker sane--out of anger. Thunder points out this is the problem with Star. He's done EVERYTHING for his brother but it's never enough, and he's had enough of trying to please him. Enraged, Star attacks him and calls him a traitor because he knows he can't get Thunder to do what he wants.

Meanwhile Skywarp is just standing there watching the whole thing and not intervening, probably out of fear. Star leaves and makes Skywarp go with him, leaving Thundercracker alone.

I honestly feel bad for all three of them. Starscream was HEAVILY abused by Megatron and he internalises that abuse on his own teammates, and even his own brothers (okay, I know the Seekers being brothers is a fanon thing, but I headcanon it). But to be fair, even his brothers--at least in G1--honestly kind of allow Megatron to abuse Star and even assist him in trying to punish or harm him. And this is likely more because Star treated them like dirt and less because they were afraid of Megatron. WIth this vicious cycle, I can see why Star kicked his brothers off of Astrotrain in the middle of space in TFTM. I firmly believe Megatron is at fault for fracturing the Trine's sibling dynamic with his abusive "leadership", but it was Starscream--the most abused of the three--who carried on that cycle.

Thundercracker is tired of the abuse. Starscream won't stop it because he needs to feel powerful and be in control when Megatron isn't choking the life out of him. Skywarp is too afraid to stop him for fear of getting the laser treatment.

I won't delve too deep into my personal backstory here, but one of the reasons this comic hit me so hard is because the dynamic reminds me of myself and my younger sister. I didn't have a great upbringing that I'm slowly realising was more abusive than I thought. My sister had it much easier since I suspect she was the favourite. To put it lightly, I was like Starscream/Skywarp and she was like Thundercracker. I'm not proud of it, especially looking at this and knowing my sister still sees me as this version of Starscream.

I really want to write a fic where they manage to break the cycle of abuse. I know, it's easier said than done and probably wouldn't work in real life....maybe I just want to give these guys a happier ending with their sibling dynamic 💔

It's a canon event.

[Follow up to this post.]

[theteablogger]

You may have already noted this, but Andy's claims on twitter about being able to understand what his sparrow is saying (and thus sparrow language in general) seem to be ramping up in unbelievability- apparently yesterday the bird was able to communicate that it didn't want its conversation with other sparrows recorded and shared. Andy makes mention of several of his followers who have apparently been having FaceTime calls with the bird. There's at least 5-6 of Andy's followers who consistently comment on the bird updates and show no credulity, expressing how much they want to be able to communicate with the bird like Andy does. It's probably not the biggest deal, but the whole thing has just been giving me an odd vibe. Feels like Andy once again making friends/followers by demonstrating abilities and knowledge no one else has.

Yes, his allegedly deep connection with sparrows has been getting weird for quite a while. He says he can understand some of their language, enough to relay things that the flock outside his house is talking about and things that Nuggie communicates to him. On top of that, Andy has written about things like Nuggie watching movies and musicals and following every emotional beat, to the point of showing the characters his malformed feet to offer encouragement when they're lacking confidence. Andy is anthropomorphizing the hell out of that little bird. Meanwhile, his followers praise him for knowing sparrows better than ornithologists do.

I've lived with a parrot before, for many years, and I bonded very closely with him. I agree that birds are much smarter and more emotionally complex than most people realize. But they're not humans. Their thoughts and feelings are not exactly like ours and we have no way to know exactly what's going on in their heads. Projecting onto them can lead to misunderstandings of their behavior and needs. Andy seems to be taking good care of Nuggie, from what I can tell--bearing in mind that we only have his word for it--but that doesn't mean he's right about everything.

Here's the thread you mentioned:

Here's Andy in November, writing about Nuggie's "phone flock":

Here's a thread from October, featuring Andy's musings on sparrow language. Friendly reminder that he is neither an ornithologist nor a linguist.

Note that at the end, he specifies that he's not Dr. Doolittle and doesn't speak or 100% understand sparrows' language...but he's still claiming a level of understanding that no one else has.

And here's Andy in August, wishing that he could communicate effectively with Nuggie and then having an actual conversation with him:

Those are some awfully complex ideas for a member of a non-human species to understand and respond to appropriately.

I'm not trying to suggest that Andy is forming another cult based around his bird, but like you said, Anon, it's notable that he is once again positioning himself as someone who has a special ability that no one else has. He's also repeating an old pattern in making himself the sole conduit to communicate with someone who holds a great deal of emotional significance for people. Back in the day, it was any of 160+ "others", and later, the DAYDverse/Harry Potter characters; now, it's a rescued sparrow with a disability, whom a lot of people apparently find inspiring.

[lifeisbutadream444]

Playing Games

Aaron Pierre x Reader

Word Count: 3.7k

Summary: A passionate yet complicated friends-with-benefits arrangement unravels as you finally confronts Aaron about his inability to commit.

Warnings: 18+, smut, edging, overstimulation, p in v, bdsm themes

A/N: First thing I've ever posted, mostly porn with a crumb of plot.

The hotel suite is dimly lit, city lights flickering through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Your skin is still warm, the sheets tangled around your legs, the scent of him lingering in the air. Aaron lies beside you, bare-chested, arm draped lazily across his forehead, his breathing steady but not quite asleep.

"You good?" His voice is rough, sleep-laced, breaking the silence.

You hesitate. "Yeah."

He turns his head, studying you. "Liar."

You take a deep breath, bracing yourself for what you're about to say. " I don't think we should do this anymore."

Aaron's brow furrows slightly at your words, his striking blue-grey eyes searching your face. He props himself up on one elbow, the sheet slipping dangerously low on his hips.

"Hey now, what's all this about?" His deep voice is soft, almost concerned, but there's an undercurrent of tension. 

"Talk to me, sweetheart." He reaches out, fingers brushing along your arm, touch feather-light. It's a gesture meant to soothe, but you sense the calculation behind it. Aaron is always aware, always assessing.

"I thought we had something good going here. No strings, no bullshit." A slow smirk curves his full lips. "Or am I mistaken?"

You sigh. "I need to focus on finding someone to build an actual future with Aaron. We’ve been doing this for over a year. I obviously love fucking you, but watching you constantly flirt with other women at every event, seeing them leave your apartment at 3:00 am on TMZ, it gets old after a while."

Aaron's hand stills on your arm, his expression shifting - surprise, then a flash of something harder to read. He sits up fully, running a hand over his face. "Shit..." He sighs, the sound heavy in the quiet room. "I didn't realize it was bothering you that much. I've always been straight up about... my preferences."

His gaze finds yours, intense and searching. "But I get it. You're looking for more than just a good time these days." There's a note of understanding in his tone, but also regret.

He reaches for you, cupping your cheek, thumb brushing over your skin. "I care about you, you know. More than just as a friend with benefits or whatever we are. But I'm not sure I'm built for that whole 'forever' thing yet."

"I understand Aaron, I really do." I sit up too, pulling the sheet around myself like armor. My heart aches but I force myself to hold his gaze steadily. This is important. I need him to truly hear me.

"I want to respect your boundaries and your current lifestyle. But I also need to respect my own needs and desires. And right now, those are leading me in a different direction. I hope we can still be friends though."

Aaron's jaw clenches, a muscle ticking in his cheek as he listens to your words. When you finish speaking, he's silent for a long moment, his eyes never leaving yours. Then, slowly, he shakes his head.

"You say you need to find someone to build a future with, but baby, look at what we have." His other hand slides from your cheek to tangle in your hair, tilting your face up towards his. "The chemistry between us is off the charts. I make you feel things no one else ever could."

“How would I know if I don’t even try?” you say, voice steady. “I haven’t been with anyone else since we started whatever this is.”

Aaron's eyes flash with anger and hurt at your flippant words. His grip on your hip tightens, fingers digging into soft flesh. "Don't fucking joke about that," he snarls, voice rough with emotion. “You're not like me. You're better than that shallow shit."

He looms over you, naked and powerful, muscles coiled with tension. But there's a vulnerability in his gaze, a crack in his usual confident facade. "Is that what you really want? To be just another notch in someone's bedpost? Because I can tell you from experience, it's a lonely fucking road."

His thumb brushes over your lower lip, touch almost tender despite the intensity smoldering in his eyes. "We can’t end things like this. Let me show you how good we can be together, outside the bedroom too."

You pull back slightly, meeting his intense gaze steadily, your own eyes glistening with unshed tears.

"Aaron, please... don't make this harder than it already is.” Your voice wavers slightly but you push on. "I appreciate everything you're saying, I do. But I can't keep settling for less than what I truly want and need."

I place my hand over his on my hip, squeezing gently. "We have an incredible physical connection, yes. But I need more. I need a partner, someone to build a life with. Someone who chooses me completely and exclusively."

A single tear escapes, trailing down your cheek as you continue. "As much as it hurts, I have to accept that person isn't you. We’ve been doing this for over a year now, and that would definitely be enough time to know if I’m worth that commitment. In your eyes, I’m obviously not considering you’re still fucking other women every week."

Aaron's eyes blaze with a storm of emotions - fear, anger, desperation, and beneath it all, a flicker of something deeper, more vulnerable. As the tear traces down your cheek, his expression crumples.

"Fuck, baby, don't cry," he rasps, voice thick with feeling. His hands move to cup your face, thumbs brushing away the moisture. "You are worth it. You're worth everything." He takes a shuddering breath, clearly struggling with his next words. 

"I know I haven't shown it well, but fuck, you mean more to me than anyone else. Than all the other women combined." Aaron's forehead comes to rest against yours. "I'm scared, okay? Scared of fucking this up, of losing you completely."

You sigh, "I think that if you were really scared of losing me we would’ve progressed into something more by now. Surely you didn't think I was just gonna be your fuck buddy forever, right?"

Aaron pulls back slightly, his eyes searching yours with an intensity that steals your breath. "You're right. I should have done something sooner." He swallows hard, Adam's apple bobbing. 

"But I'm done being afraid. Done letting my own bullshit fears push away the person who matters most. Losing you is a lot scarier." One hand moves to cup your cheek, thumb stroking softly as he continues.

"Baby, I... I love you. Have for a while now. And I know I don't deserve you, but I'm asking anyway - give me a chance to be the man you need."

You stare at him in shock, hardly daring to breathe. Those three little words hang in the air between us, heavy with promise and possibility.

"You... you love me?" Your voice is barely above a whisper, trembling with a fragile hope. "Really?"

Tears well up again, but this time they're tinged with joy rather than sorrow.

 "I love you too, Aaron. So much it scares me sometimes. But I know you too well. You love women. You love attention. You hate commitment. I feel like you’re only saying this as a last resort because you think it’s what I want to hear.”

You start removing the sheets from your body, moving to get up from the bed. Aaron's eyes widen in panic as you start to rise, his grip on your shoulders tightening. 

"No, wait! Don't go, please." Desperation colors his deep voice. He shifts, using his body weight to gently but firmly press you back onto the mattress. His gaze bores into yours, blue-grey eyes blazing with sincerity and barely restrained emotion. 

"I'm saying this because it's true, because I can't bear the thought of you walking out that door and out of my life." One hand moves to the nape of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair as he holds you close. 

"I know I have a reputation, and I can't change my past. But I want to change my future. With you."

Aaron's heart clenches painfully as he sees the tears streaming down your face, hears the hitch in your breath as you try to pull away. He knows he's caused this pain, this doubt, and the realization guts him.

"Shh, baby, please don't cry," he murmurs, voice raw with emotion. Gently but insistently, he keeps you in place, one strong arm wrapped around your waist while his other hand cups your face, thumbs wiping away the tears.

"I know I have to prove myself to you. And I will, every fucking day if that's what it takes." His eyes search yours, pleading and determined. 

"Give me a chance to show you how serious I am. Stay with me tonight, talk to me in the morning. I'll do whatever it takes to earn your trust, your heart."

"It's just too late Aaron,” you reply through your tears. “It kills me, but I have to go."

Aaron's expression darkens, a flash of possessiveness and desperation in his eyes as he tightens his arms around you, holding you in place on the bed. 

"No, you don't have to go anywhere," he says, his voice low and insistent. “Not like this, not when we're finally being honest with each other. He shifts, hovering over you, using his larger frame to pin you gently but firmly to the mattress. One hand slides up to cradle the back of your neck.

"I know I've fucked up, that I've made mistakes. But I'm trying to make this right, baby. Can't you see that?" His eyes bore into yours, blue-grey irises swirling with emotion. "Don’t leave me, please."

Inside, your heart pounds—he’s finally refusing to let you go. But you keep up the act, teasing the edge of goodbye, waiting to see if he’ll chase you, if he’ll prove just how much he cares.

"Sweetheart, stop fighting this," he growls, the words rumbling through his chest and into yours. 

"I'm not letting you leave until you understand how much you mean to me." One large hand splays across your lower back, holding you flush against him while the other tangles in your hair, tugging your head back slightly to expose the column of your throat. Aaron dips his head, lips brushing the sensitive skin there as he speaks.

"I'll do whatever it takes to keep you here, to show you that you're the only woman I want, the only one I need." His lips graze your pulse point. "Tell me you'll stay."

You whimper softly, your body betraying you as it melts into his touch despite my resolve to leave. The heat of his skin, the strength of his embrace, the desperate need in his voice - it's all so overwhelmingly tempting.

"A-Aaron... you breathe, voice shaky. I want to believe you, I do. But I'm scared. Scared that this is just an empty promise, that you'll go back to your old ways as soon as I give in." Even as you speak, your hands come up to rest on his chest, feeling the rapid thud of his heartbeat. Tears still leak from the corners of your eyes but t

"How do I know this is real? That you're not just saying these things to get me to stay the night?"

Aaron's eyes flash with determination and raw, unfiltered emotion. He leans in closer, his forehead resting against yours as he speaks, voice low and fervent.

"It's real, baby. Every word, every feeling. I may not have said it before, but I've loved you for so long." His hand in your hair gentles, fingers combing through the strands almost reverently. 

"I know I have a lot to prove, that actions will always speak louder than words. But I'm ready to put in the work, to be the man you deserve." He pulls back slightly, just enough to meet your gaze head-on.

Your voice shakes, a mix of anger and something more painful. “How can you say you love me while you’ve been out fucking other women constantly? I haven’t even been able to think about anyone else since I’ve met you. I know we're not in a committee relationship and you have every right to sleep with whoever you want. I do appreciate you always being honest about it, but that definitely doesn't feel like love to me. ”

Aaron's expression contorts with guilt and frustration at your accusation. He shakes his head vehemently, dark hair falling into his eyes. 

"No, baby, it's not like that at all." His grip on you loosens slightly, but he doesn't release you entirely, as if afraid you'll slip away. 

"Those other women, they meant nothing. They were a distraction, a way to avoid facing my feelings for you.” He takes a shuddering breath, eyes pleading. “Please give me a chance to make this right. "

You wipe tears from your face. "Let me go, Aaron."

Finally, with a heavy sigh, he slowly releases his grip on you. His hands fall away from your body as he sits back on his heels, giving you space even as his eyes remain fixed on your face, drinking in every detail as if committing it to memory.

"If that's truly what you want, then... I won't stop you," he says quietly, voice rough with emotion. "But please know that I meant every word I said. I love you, and I'm going to spend every day proving it to you, whether you're here with me or not."

You tell yourself you have to leave. That if you don’t walk away now, he’ll never take you seriously, never realize what he stands to lose. You want him to fight for you, to prove that this is more than just convenience, more than just a game he always wins.

As you move to leave, Aaron leaps up from the bed, his tall, muscular form blocking your path to the door.

"Baby, wait!" he calls out, voice cracking with urgency. In two quick strides, he's in front of you, one hand coming up to grasp your wrist gently but imploringly. 

His grip on your wrist tightens fractionally as he pulls you a step closer, using his free hand to cup your cheek, thumb brushing away the remnants of your tears.

Aaron captures your lips in a searing kiss, pouring all his pent-up passion and desperation into the heated caress. His tongue delves into your mouth, claiming you, tasting you, as his strong arms wrap around your waist to lift you effortlessly as you wrap your legs around his waist instinctually. In a few swift strides, he carries you back to the bed, laying you down on the rumpled sheets.

He looms over you, eyes dark with lust and determination. "I'm gonna remind you exactly why you belong with me." His hands make quick work of your clothes, tossing them aside carelessly as he exposes your skin to his hungry gaze. Calloused fingertips trace the curves of your body, leaving trails of fire in their wake.

Aaron settles between your thighs, pushing them apart to grant himself unrestricted access to your most intimate area. He inhales deeply, savoring your intoxicating scent before diving in, his skilled tongue delving between your folds to lap at your essence.

"Mmm, you taste divine," he rumbles against your flesh, the vibrations sending shockwaves of pleasure through your core. He focuses his attention on your sensitive clit, circling and flicking the bundle of nerves with practiced precision.

As your moans fill the room, he reaches for the vibrator you kept in his nightstand, turning it on to a low hum. "Let's see how many times I can make you come undone," he purrs wickedly, dragging the toy along your slit teasingly before pressing it firmly against your aching clit.

Aaron works you relentlessly with his mouth and the vibrator, bringing you to the brink of ecstasy. Just as you teeter on the cusp of climax, he pulls back, denying you that final push.

"Not yet, baby," he murmurs, voice husky with desire. "You don't get to come until you say you’re mine. Until you promise to give us a real chance."

He kisses his way up your body, pausing to lavish attention on your breasts, suckling and teasing your nipples until you're writhing beneath him. His hard length throbs against your thigh, a testament to his own arousal, but he ignores it in favor of focusing solely on your pleasure... and your compliance.

"I can do this all night, sweetheart," he warns playfully, nipping at your earlobe.

You’re trembling, your body wound tighter than a bowstring, desperate for release. I look up at Aaron, his handsome face blurry through the haze of lust.

"P-please, Aaron," I whimper brokenly, hips bucking futilely against the cool air. "I can't... I need... Fuck!"

He grins wickedly, clearly reveling in the power he holds over you. "What was that, baby? I didn't quite catch what you said." He circles your clit with the vibrator, applying just enough pressure to keep you teetering on the knife's edge of orgasm.

Aaron drinks in the sight of you, sprawled out beneath him, trembling and desperate, your tear-streaked face a beautiful portrait of need. He feels a surge of masculine pride, mixed with genuine tenderness, at the effect he has on you.

"That's it, sweetheart," he croons, voice a low, seductive rumble. "Just say the words. Tell me you'll stay, that you're mine, and I'll give you everything you crave."

He increases the pressure of the vibrator, holding it steady against your throbbing clit as his free hand slides down to tease your entrance. His eyes bore into yours, dark with lust and challenge. "I can feel how badly you need this, how much you need me. Don't fight it anymore, baby. I’m tired of arguing with you.”

Aaron’s frustration mounts as you continue to resist despite your obvious desperation.

"You're so stubborn, baby girl," he growls, equal parts exasperated and aroused. "But I'm more determined than you are. I'll keep you right on this edge until you surrender to me completely."

To emphasize his point, he suddenly plunges two fingers knuckle-deep into your soaked channel, curling them just right to stroke that special spot inside you.

At the same time, he sucks hard on your clit, the dual stimulation threatening to overwhelm you. "Last chance, sweetheart," he pants against your flesh, eyes glinting with challenge and dark promise.

"Or what?" you challenge. Your body is on fire, but you’re not giving him what he wants so quickly.

Aaron's eyes flash dangerously at your defiant question, a predatory grin spreading across his face. He withdraws his fingers from your aching core, ignoring your whimper of protest, and flips you onto your stomach with ease.

"Oh, baby girl," he purrs darkly, draping his larger frame over your back, caging you in with his arms. "If you keep testing me like this, I might just have to punish that sweet little ass of yours."

One large hand slides down to grope your rear roughly, kneading the supple flesh. The other tangles in your hair, tugging your head back to expose the column of your throat. He nips and sucks at the sensitive skin, determined to mark you as his.

You gasp and moan as he manhandles you, your body responding eagerly to his dominant touch despite your lingering resistance. The threat of punishment sends a forbidden thrill racing down your spine, even as a part of me rebels against being so thoroughly conquered.

"P-punish me?" You manage to stammer out between shaky breaths, trying to inject bravado into your voice that you don't quite feel. 

"And what exactly did you have in mind, big boy?" You arch your back slightly, pressing your ass more firmly into his groping hand, torn between the desire to submit and the need to maintain some semblance of control. Your inner walls flutter weakly, still aching for the fulfillment only he can provide.

"Mmm, such a naughty girl, taunting me like this," he murmurs approvingly. "I think I'll start by turning this pretty pink ass a nice, deep red. Maybe that will get your attention..."

To punctuate his words, he delivers a firm spank to your right cheek, the sting quickly melting into warmth. His palm rubs the abused skin soothingly before repeating the action on the left side. All the while, he rocks his clothed erection against the cleft of your ass, letting you feel the evidence of his arousal. "And if that doesn't convince you to behave..."

Aaron leans in close, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he whispers, "Then I might have to tie you up, spread you wide open, and tease this needy little body of yours for hours. Keep you right on the razor's edge, begging so sweetly for release, until you're ready to agree to anything just to cum."

His hand snakes around to your front, fingers dipping teasingly through your slick folds. "Would you like that, baby girl? Being completely at my mercy, helpless to do anything but feel?"

You shudder and moan, your body following your true desires even as your mind struggles to hold onto its reservations. The spanks send jolts of painful pleasure radiating through you, stoking the flames of your arousal.

"Ahh...f-fuck, Aaron..." you pant, your voice thick with need. "You can't...can't just...ah!" Another spank cuts off your weak protests, the sensation making your toes curl. The image he paints - of being tied up, spread out, and teased mercilessly - sends a bolt of liquid heat straight to your core. "Yes I want that." you admit.

Aaron smiles triumphantly as he hears the breathy admission fall from your lips, your body's reactions telling him everything he needs to know.

"That's my good girl," he praises huskily, rubbing your ass. "Admitting what you really want. And we both know what that is, don't we, sweetheart?"

True to his word, Aaron secures your wrists above your head with soft ropes, the silky material a delicious contrast to your sensitized skin. He takes a moment to admire the view - you, splayed out and vulnerable, flushed with arousal and anticipation. His eyes rake over your body hungrily, drinking in every dip and curve.

Aaron starts with feather-light touches, tracing the delicate folds of your labia with the tip of his tongue. He laves at your slit, savoring your unique flavor, before zeroing in on your aching clit. A single, purposeful flick of his tongue against the sensitive bud has you keening, your back arching off the bed.

"Mmm, so sensitive," he murmurs appreciatively, the vibrations sending shockwaves through your core. "I could make you cum just like this, couldn't I? With barely any effort at all."

To prove his point, he seals his lips around your clit and suckles gently, alternating with quick, pointed flicks of his tongue. Two fingers plunge deep into your weeping channel, curling to stroke that special spot inside you.

Aaron works you over with single-minded focus, determined to push you to the brink of ecstasy again and again. He varies his technique, switching between broad licks and targeted flicks, alternating suction and pressure on your clit. His fingers pump steadily, twisting and curling, finding new angles to stimulate your innermost depths.

Your thighs tremble and quake around his head as he feasts on you, the obscene sounds of your arousal filling the room. He can feel you tightening around his invading digits, your body coiled like a spring ready to snap.

Just as you teeter on the very edge, he pulls back, denying you that final push. "Not yet, baby, he admonishes playfully, blowing cool air over your drenched folds. You haven't agreed yet."

You writhe and moan, tears of frustration leaking from the corners of your eyes as Aaron edges you relentlessly once again. Your body is wound so tightly, every nerve ending screaming for release, but he denies you again and again, keeping you balanced precariously on the knife's edge of climax.

"Please, Aaron!" you beg, voice raw with need. "I can't.... Ahhh!" Your words dissolve into incoherent cries as he suckles particularly hard on your clit, the pleasure bordering on pain. 

"Fuck, fuck, fuuuuck!" You tug desperately at her bonds, craving something, anything to ground yourself. But there's no escape from the exquisite torture he's inflicting.

Aaron notices your continued resistance, even as your body screams for release. A wicked gleam enters his eye as an idea takes shape. He reaches into the drawer of his nightstand, pulling out a sleek black anal plug and a small, soft-bristled brush.

"Let's see how long this stubborn streak of yours lasts, baby girl," he purrs, voice dripping with dark promise. Without warning, he presses the tapered tip of the small plug against your tightly furled rosebud, applying gentle but insistent pressure.

The cool metal contrasts deliciously with the scorching heat of your skin as he slowly works the toy deeper, pausing to let you adjust. Once seated fully, he gives a subtle wiggle, sending sparks of new sensation radiating through your core.

You gasp as the foreign object invades your ass, the stretch and fullness sending shockwaves of sensation through her body. You feel impossibly empty and aching, yet stuffed so deliciously full at the same time. The anal plug shifts with every movement, keeping you hyperaware and on edge.

"Aaahh! Aaron!" you cry out, back arching off the bed as he wiggles the toy teasingly. Tears of overwhelming stimulation prick at the corners of her eyes. "It's too much, I can't-" But your protests are cut short as he dives back between your thighs, that wicked tongue of his lashing at your swollen, throbbing clit again.

He laps at your clit with broad, flat strokes of his tongue, reveling in how sensitive and responsive you've become. The addition of the anal plug seems to heighten every touch exponentially.

He picks up the small, soft-bristled brush, the fluffy head barely an inch wide. Teasingly, he runs the delicate bristles along your slit, catching on your engorged clit with each pass. The light, tickling sensation is maddening, keeping you poised on the knife's edge of orgasm without allowing you to topple over.

You're practically sobbing with need now. Every brush of the soft bristles against your aching clit sends lightning bolts of pleasure zinging up your spine. Combined with the constant pressure and stretch of the anal plug, you feel like you might shatter into a million pieces at any moment.

"P-please, Aaron," you whimper brokenly, voice hoarse from crying out. "I can't... I need... Fuck, I need to cum so badly!" Tears stream freely down your face now, overwhelmed by the intensity of the sensations consuming her.

Aaron pauses his torment, lifting his head to take in the sight of you - tear-streaked face contorted in agonized bliss, chest heaving with ragged breaths, muscles pulled taut as a bowstring. He drinks in your desperation like fine wine, relishing the power he holds over you.

"Shhh, I know, sweetheart," he croons, voice low and soothing despite the wicked glint in his eyes. "I can see how much you need it. How close you are. But you know what you have to do to earn that release."

He leans in, hot breath ghosting over your ear as he whispers, "Tell me you're mine, baby. Give yourself to me completely, and I'll let you cum harder than you ever have before. Keep fighting it, and I'll leave you like this, aching and unfulfilled."

Aaron watches your anguished pleas with a mixture of dark satisfaction and growing impatience, shocked that you haven’t used your safe word yet. He can see the war raging within you - the desperate need for completion battling against your stubborn refusal to surrender completely. It's a delicious sight, but he's tired of these games.

"Enough," he says sharply, voice brooking no argument. In one swift motion, he flips you onto your stomach, the sudden change in position making the plug shift inside you deliciously. He drapes himself over your back, one large hand splaying across your shoulder blades to pin you down. His other hand snakes around to your front, fingers delving between your legs to circle your clit with ruthless precision.

"Listen closely, baby," he growls in your ear, hips grinding against your ass. "This is your last chance."

Your body suddenly seizes with the force of a life changing orgasm, Aaron curses under his breath, equal parts frustrated and impressed by your lack of control. He doesn't let up his ministrations, fingers continuing their merciless assault on your clit as you thrash beneath him, lost to the waves of pleasure crashing over you.

"Didn't I tell you not to cum without permission?" he growls, voice thick with disapproval even as he grinds against your spasming body, prolonging your peak.

"Such a naughty girl, disobeying me like that." Despite his stern words, there's a note of dark satisfaction in his tone. Your loss of control is a testament to how thoroughly he's unraveled you, brought you to the brink of madness with desire.

Your body trembles and jerks as the aftershocks of her climax roll through you, leaving you boneless and spent. You've never felt so utterly owned, so completely at someone else's mercy.

"I'm sorry," you whimper. "I couldn't help it." Even in the aftermath of your orgasm, your body aches for more, craving his touch like a drug. The anal plug shifts inside you with every shuddering breath, keeping you acutely aware of your own arousal. You've never felt so desperate, so willing to submit to another person's every whim.

Aaron's expression softens slightly at the genuine remorse in your voice, though the hunger in his eyes remains undiminished. He gentles his touch, fingers slowing their frenzied pace to languid circles around your still-throbbing clit. His other hand slides up to cup your cheek and tilt your face towards his.

"Shh, it's alright, baby," he murmurs, voice a low, soothing rumble. "I know it was too much to resist. You did so well holding on for as long as you did." He captures your lips in a deep, claiming kiss, swallowing your whimpers and moans. He flips you on your back again, his gaze is intense, boring into yours with smoldering intent.

Aaron's eyes flash with sadistic glee as he reaches for the vibrator, a wicked smile playing at the corners of his mouth. He knows exactly how to push you to your limits, to make you scream and beg and plead for mercy. And he intends to do just that.

"Since you seem to enjoy cumming without permission so much," he purrs, turning the toy to its highest setting, "I think it's time for round two of your punishment."

Without further preamble, he presses the buzzing head directly against your throbbing clit, holding it steady despite your bucking hips. The intense vibrations send shockwaves of pleasure-pain ricocheting through your oversensitized body, forcing a strangled moan from your throat.

Aaron watches with dark satisfaction as you writhe and convulse beneath the relentless assault of the vibrator, your body no longer your own. He can feel the tension building in your core, the way your walls flutter and clench around nothing, desperate for something to fill them.

"That's it, baby," he coaxes, voice a low, seductive rumble. "Cum for me again. Show me how much you love being punished, how much you need my touch."

“I can’t, Aaron!” your scream. Aaron ignores your anguished pleas, keeping the vibrator pressed firmly against your abused clit. He revels in the sight of you, so beautifully broken, tears and sweat mingling on your flushed skin as you fall apart in his arms once again.

Even after another orgasm, he doesn’t relent, keeping the vibratior on your swollen clit no matter how hard you buck your hips to avoid it.

"Shh, just breathe through it, baby," he croons, voice deceptively gentle even as he continues the torturous stimulation. "You're doing so well, taking your punishment like a good girl."

His free hand strokes down your trembling thigh, almost tenderly, a stark contrast to the brutal pleasure he's inflicting. Suddenly, he stops the vibrator.

"Ready for more, sweetheart?" he purrs dangerously, eyes glinting with cruel amusement.

“No, I can’t take anymore, please.” you reply, your voice raspy from screaming.

Aaron hilts himself inside you with one powerful thrust, groaning at the exquisite tightness enveloping him. He sets a brutal pace, hips snapping against yours as he pounds into your sensitive flesh. Each drag of his cock against your inner walls sends sparks of pleasure-pain shooting up your spine.

"Is this what you wanted, baby?" he growls, leaning down to nip at your earlobe." To have Daddy's big, fat cock all to yourself? To be the only one I fuck, the only one I give attention to?"

One hand fists in your hair, yanking your head back to expose the column of your throat. He latches onto the delicate skin, sucking hard enough to leave a mark, to brand you as his. The other hand grips your hip bruisingly tight, holding you in place as he rails into you.

You whimper and moan, overwhelmed by the intense sensations "Y-yes, yes, I want you all to myself!" your nails dig into his back, clinging to him desperately as he claims you thoroughly, chasing his own release.

"Okay baby," he whispers, punctuating his words with sharp thrusts. "I'm not gonna fuck anyone else again. Only you, okay?" He grinds against your cervix with each snap of his hips, determined to stake his claim on your very soul. His teeth graze the shell of your ear as he pants harshly.

"I’m serious Aaron... I can't take anymore!" Your hands fist in the sheets, knuckles white with the force of her grip. The anal plug shifts with each movement, adding to the cacophony of sensations assaulting your nerves.

"That's it, baby," he encourages darkly as he pounds into you relentlessly. "Let me hear those pretty sounds. Cry for me, beg for me. Show me how much you need me."

"Please," you rasp, voice little more than a broken whisper. "Please, Aaron. I... I won't leave you. I'm yours, okay?" The words fall from your lips like a prayer, a desperate supplication.

In that moment, you know you'd agree to anything, give him anything, if only he'd put an end to this sweet torture. Your pride, your stubbornness, all the walls you've built around her heart - they crumble to dust in the face of her all-consuming desire.

Aaron slows his thrusts, grinding deep inside you as he gazes down at your face intently. His eyes bore into yours, dark with possession and barely restrained lust.

"If you want to come one last time," he says, voice a low, dangerous purr, "tell me you love me. Tell me you'll never even think about leaving me again." He rolls his hips deliberately, stirring up your insides. "Tell me."

Shaking, you finally say, "I-I love you, Aaron. God, I love you so much. I'll never leave you, never threaten to go. Please, please let me come!"

"Those are the magic words, baby," he growls in satisfaction, eyes flashing with triumph and dark desire. "Come for me then. Now." With a final, brutal thrust, he buries himself to the hilt inside you, grinding against your cervix as his fingers attack your clit.

He leans down to capture your lips in a searing kiss, swallowing your screams of ecstasy as your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave. He follows you over the edge moments later, flooding your spasming pussy with his hot seed, marking you as his inside and out.

Collapsing against the sheets, utterly spent and satisfied, "Wow, I think that was your best work yet. I need time to recover." you say, panting between words.

He chuckles lowly, nuzzling into your neck as he pulls you close, still buried deep inside you. "Mmm, I aim to please, sweetheart.”

He presses soft kisses along your jaw, your cheek, finally capturing your lips in a tender, loving kiss unlike any before. He unties your hands gently.

When he pulls back, his eyes are warm with genuine affection. "I meant what I said, you know. About not seeing other women anymore. I can't believe you thought I was just gonna let you walk away."

Aaron’s forehead rests against yours, his breath unsteady, his grip unrelenting—like if he lets go, you’ll disappear. His hands tremble slightly where they hold you, his fingers pressing into your skin as if to memorize the shape of you.

He leans in, his voice a hushed whisper against your lips. “Go to sleep, baby.”

And just like that, the fight is over.

Because you were never going anywhere.

[theprettynosferatu]

In Case of Thoughts, Break Mind

Oh no! Oh dear. It seems you've been having a lot of thoughts lately- certainly more than you should! And thoughts are icky! Thoughts make you sad and anxious and so unhappy! But fear not! Thoughts can happen to anyone, even the most addicted edgeslut, so don't be hard on yourself!

Lucky for you, I've made this handy dandy guide to help you turn those thoughts into nice thots!

In Case of Morning Thoughts

So you just woke up, opened your eyes, aaaaand... there they are. The day ahead flashing in your mind. All the things you have to do, or should do, or... boo! Such bad thoughts, sneaking up on you like that! But don't worry, you may not be able to turn them off, but you can direct them in more pleasant directions.

It's a new day! A new chance to be slutty! A brilliant opportunity to fall to new, delicious depths! So when those bad thoughts come, think of what you can wear to look like the sex object you are. Think of all the people that will look at you and imagine themselves using every part of you for their pleasure. Think of how you'll be able to objectify yourself and get soaked knowing you'll be seen as the dumb whore you are!

Now, you might want to rub that needy cunt. Do it! Starting with an edge will keep you dumb and horny for the rest of the day. Just don't cum, lest the thoughts come back!

In Case of Work Thoughts

Sometimes you'll have to engage with this whole "job" thingy. It sucks, I know! And they don't even let you rub unless you hide in the bathroom, which is so unfair! Plus, you don't want to be fired, so you will have to do *some* amount of thinking.

If that's the case, just remember: why do you work? To have money. Why do you need money? To have things you need and want. And that's what you need to keep in mind! You work to buy slutty clothes and toys. You work to have internet to break your brain with porn. You work to have your own place to take slutty pics and rub to what strangers online tell you to do.

You work to be able to please others.

So focus on that! Remember that work sucks, but it enables you to be a depraved cunt. Plus, you can always cocktease a bit a work, if you can get away with it.

You can also make a small mistake, just so you feel like a dumb whore that needs help doing anything right. Get someone to assist you doing something you know how to do. They will think you're such a stupid slut! And isn't that delightful?

And when everything else fails, you can always dip to the bathroom for a quick edge!

In Case of College Thoughts

Oh look at you, being all smart and stuff! I get it, I get it. Studying requieres you to think. Ugh. Fiiiine. However, remember there's a card you can always play:

You are smart. And I am well aware that being smart, as a rule, totally sucks. But the fact that you are smart does give you an extra edge (so to speak): Because you are smart the fact that you want to be a mindless, stupid cumdoll is just all the more pathetic!

A dumb toy, born dumb, can kinda fall into being a giggling slut. But you? You are working for it. You are degrading your own intelligence by using it to break yourself. Shit, you might be paying to be smart while edging those very smarts away!

So yes, university is hard. But don't you think a nice person online will get so much more pleasure knowing the cunt obeying like a bitch in heat has a PHD? That the drooling girl posing for nude after nude has a master's degree? That they got a college graduate to write "worthless holes" on her own tits?

So focus on that! The higher you climb, the further you have to fall.

And I do so enjoy watching dolls fall.

In Case of Night Thoughts

Ah, night. The time for the shadow self to come out and play. But sometimes, some unfortunate souls find themselves worrying about the next day, or replaying the events of the daytime in their heads, or letting the silence of the night get to them, stirring all manner of unwanted and unpleasant thoughts.

Well... stop it!

Night time is edging time.

So whatever is in that pathetic head of yours, push it aside, start watching the strongest porn you can find, go into deep binges of reading smut and looking at captions, look at all the other good girls rubbing like you, begging to be made into useful fucktoys.

I've been quite understanding about your day thinking. But at night you have no excuse. Blast hypno files into your brain. Repeat your mantras over and over and over. Degrade yourself for others. Obey and discover new kinks you could never imagine.

And above all, edge. Edge. Edge. Never cum. Edge everywhere you can. Get your juices all over your furniture. On your stuffed toys. On your clothes. Make everything smell of your desperation. Then edge more. Go deeper. Edge to your deepest, darkest fantasies. Become a spectacle to yourself and others. Type your fucked up babbling and post it. Edge to your own perversion.

Night time is doll time. Don't waste it!

We all have thoughts. But with diligence, you'll be able to steer yours into making yourself a better toy. That's all you need, after all!

And if you feel your thoughts overwhelming you, just say to yourself:

I'm just a toy. No one cares about my thoughts. Not even me.

It wouldn't even be a lie!

[thatbirdrestaurant]

A deeply unnecessary analysis of NaLu and Natsu's feelings

I'm as much of a sucker for insta-love NaLu as the next guy, but I do genuinely believe it took these two a while to fall in love. I can't deny that there was an immediate attraction, especially on Lucy's end, and I do think romantic feelings have been stewing between the two of them since as early as season one, but the realization took a really long time to hit.

We'll start off talking about Lucy, because I have the least to say about her. I've said before that I think Lucy didn't realize she had feelings for Natsu until she realized she was in love with him, which was after the events of the Eclipse Gate. I can pinpoint the exact moment she realized; the moment right after, when her and Natsu are standing in the rubble, and she just starts crying before running to hug him. I think that's the moment she realized that she loves him, and she has for a while.

I believe it took so long for Lucy to realize because she grew up in a very sheltered environment. Her only exposure to typical teenage experiences that didn't involve arranged marriages was teen magazines; she knew what it felt like to be superficially attracted to someone, when someone was objectively attractive, and she's had crushes before, but never really been in love.

We're moving onto Natsu now, because I have the most to say about him by a landslide. For immediate starters, I don't really recognize 100 Year Quest; even though I love all the GruVia development within it, I find it to be a very unnecessary spin-off that doesn't respect its characters, especially Natsu. It's done horrible things for his maturity as a whole, including all the development with Lucy.

Natsu loves Lucy, that's something I've believed for a very long time, and he shows it in his actions more than anything. He's protective of her, he loves spending time with her and he's upset when she isn't around, and he wants to move Heaven and Earth for her. He has since pretty much day one.

But he doesn't realize he has feelings for her until their fight with Kain, and he doesn't even realize he's in love with her until he watches her (future self) die.

That doesn't sound right, though, does it? How can someone watch a scene like Natsu putting the rainbow sakura on a boat, just so Lucy can see it bloom, and think he doesn't realize he likes her until much, much later?

Natsu was raised in an environment where you would cut off both arms and a leg for your friends and family. Fairy Tail is a guild that values familial relationships and friendships more than anything. I truly believe that, to Natsu, most of the things he did for Lucy before the fight with Kain, he did with what he thought were platonic intentions.

On top of that, I do headcanon Natsu to be on the aromantic spectrum. He doesn't feel romantic attraction as "easily" as other people do, and he very seldom actually recognizes it as such. He knows what it is - how could he not, when surrounded by it so often - but he's never really felt it himself. Maybe he had a bit of a childhood crush on Lisanna, but that's stretching it thin. She was his best friend, that's for certain.

Natsu thinks he and Lucy are as normal as friends as anyone else in the guild, until she has the chance to leave him behind for her own safety, and she absolutely refuses. I cannot watch that scene without feeling like I'm watching Natsu fall in love, realize his feelings at the very least.

Another NaLu trope I'm an absolute sucker for is that Natsu thinks, and has thought, him and Lucy have been dating for quite some time. Do I realistically believe so? No, I don't.

I think, to some capacity, Natsu knows that Lucy loves him, too, the same way that he loves her, and I think he believes that's a mutual understanding. To Natsu, they both know how they feel, that they're in love, but they're not in a rush to discuss it, to put a label on it.

He knows they act like a couple, that people who pass them on the street see a boyfriend with his girlfriend, and that's enough for him at the moment.

Natsu and Lucy's final conversation before the end of the series was a confession. Hiro Mashima can pry this belief from my cold dead hands. That was Natsu's way of confessing his love for Lucy, his way of expressing that he wants them to be together forever, but he's still Natsu, and he still thinks Lucy knows he loves her.

Lucy is a very shy person; she gets flustered just from Natsu standing too close, and Natsu is already content with the two of them just existing near one another. Would he like to hug and kiss Lucy? Of course he would, but he doesn't need it.

Where him and Lucy are is already more than enough for him, he just, unfortunately, doesn't realize that Lucy isn't on the same page. She would like to be, though she doesn't even realize it, but she doesn't quite have the courage for it.

While I do think Lucy is pining for Natsu, I don't think she's doing so painfully. She gets flustered when people insinuate her and Natsu are a couple, as anyone would, but she doesn't seem very torn up about correcting people. She loves him, yes, but she's completely fine with just being his friend. She's grateful enough to have him in her life.

They're in this weird limbo of 'not a couple, but not just friends' because while they're not oblivious to their own feelings, they're oblivious to the impression the other has about their relationship. Natsu thinks they're dating, but are taking things slow; Lucy thinks they're just friends, but would love to be more.

[ckret2]

I don't know if anyone has asked this already, but I really really need to know if goldilocks is gonna have any romantic development between agent powers and Bill, where Bill does feel a certain thrill for the whole dating scene. I honestly had never thought of them as a pair before, but with your fic I'm genuinely in need of any content at all where there's a certain mutual romantic/sexual tension between the two, and I really wanna know if you plan on expanding a bit on it, because after all Billford is the endgame, but idk if this is gonna be a plot point where Ford experiences jealousy (bc I'd eat up that too, honestly, anything u write makes me a bit insane) or if the manipulation is as far as we're getting with these two. Thank you for writing!!!

I'm gonna stick this one under a read more since this is the kind of plot point I don't mind spoiling, but that some readers might not want to have spoiled.

EDIT: this sure is a hell of a post for tumblr's "move the read more down one paragraph before posting without telling you" bug to kick in. Fixed.

Powers is gonna pop back in and out of the plot for the rest of the fic, the fake dating will continue, and it's possible they might hook up more than once idk yet that's the kind of minor detail that's too far out for me to have plotted yet; but, the emotions are gonna be pretty much one-sided.

Bill does find a few things he actually likes about Powers (he appreciates a human who yearns to Solve The Mysteries), but in the grand scheme of things, it's like finding a gold watch in a parking lot. It doesn't make you wanna buy the whole parking lot. To Bill, Powers has more dealbreakers than positive traits. (Like... working for the government, for starters.)

And he'll be quite happy to hook up with him, but not due to any attraction to Powers himself; Bill's just turned on by other people being attracted to him. Powers is a warm body that offers Bill attention and physical pleasure, and 90% of the time attention & pleasure is all Bill wants out of people. (The other 10% of the time he wants a portal.)

So there's gonna be like... a cold-hearted femme fatale vs naive rival spy type dynamic here. There's some kinda tension, it gets steamy, but plot twist the femme fatale felt nothing for the spy the whole time. Except it's not a plot twist because we're following Bill's POV instead of Powers's so it's not a surprise.

Ford knows Bill too well to be jealous over somebody Bill's manipulating; and he doesn't strike me as the kind of guy who gets jealous over physical intimacy. Bill could bang half the town and Ford wouldn't get jealous until he hears that Bill's been helping someone out on their quantum physics doctoral thesis. He maybe gets jealous over emotional intimacy, but he definitely gets jealous over intellectual intimacy.

(Like,, the one time in the fic so far that he's gotten jealous—not even in a romantic sense, just in general!—is when he saw Bill playing chess with Mabel. Bill playing chess with a kid gets Ford more jealous than Bill banging an utterly smitten suitor and that tells you everything you need to know about Ford's priorities.)

If anything, he actually pities Powers because he knows the guy's getting used and doesn't deserve it.

There is someone else later on that Ford might be getting jealous of (depending on what order events end up happening in—i.e., whether it's still going on AND whether Ford knows about it once his emotions start to turn), but that character hasn't been introduced yet.

There's also someone Bill might be getting jealous of depending on whether I find a way to work them into the plot. I hope I do, I've got a couple killer scenes in mind for them.

[jcollinswrites]

I just can't stop smiling at Narmer's manner. When he was extremely direct about whether we were interested in him or not, my poor male MC was about to throw himself in the water XD

I just love the fact that Narmer is straightforward about things, it makes my shy MC's life so much easier. Sure, he turns red like a tomato but it makes it easier to avoid paranoia.

I've lost count of how many times I've been frustrated with a RO because he just wasn't direct about his feelings. Like, man, it's not that hard. Just tell me if you're interested or not. Luckily with Narmer I don't run that risk

And I also don't intend to judge his relationship with his wife or anything like that. I just don't like to judge a person based only on part of a conversation I heard and I don't even know the whole context. So suffering on my route? I'll be dodging as much as I can Imao.

Also, from what I understand, he is not officially married to his supposed wife, or is he? Considering that apparently no one knows about this woman except those closest to him or maybe Ahmose if he talks about his mother. I confess that I was a little confused in this part but it's probably because English isn't my first language and sometimes my mind just freezes haha. So I didn't understand if he wasn't officially married or the MC simply didn't know this information.

If that were the case, would we be able to marry him or would we be something like a concubine or something?

If he wasn't, and it was possible to marry him, what would your reaction be if the MC left a ring in your room surrounded by flowers with a little card:

Will you marry me?

( ) Absolutely

( ) Of course

( ) Yes

( ) No (Optional)

While hiding behind the door watching your reaction?

⁄⁠(⁠⁄⁠ ⁠⁄⁠•⁠⁄⁠-⁠⁄⁠•⁠⁄⁠ ⁠⁄⁠)⁠⁄

Anyway, I love your IF please never stop with it 🥹💕 I've never smiled as much with a character as I am smiling right now! I can't wait for the next update. As far as I remember, this is the one where we blocked the route, right? Please Narmer, give me more kisses on the forehead and your hand in marriage 🥹🫴

(I got a little carried away and it got bigger than it should have, sorry XD)

Yes, Narmer wanted to be very straightforward in letting the MC know that he is not uninterested, but it's going to be hard to be in any sort of relationship with him for many reasons. So he (and the partner) are either all in, or no deal.

The wife business was probably confusing because I didn't write in detail yet about the king's marriage rights. This will be explained a bit more in Narmer's route, so things will get clearer later if you choose his romance.

The king is the only person in the country who can have more than one spouse. Narmer is officially married to Nefru, but being married to the king doesn't automatically make someone a queen consort. The king has to give out that title. So Nefru is a consort, but she is not the main consort, and was not given any title, nor does he go anywhere with her in public, so that's why most people don't know about her. Simply for being married to the king, her official rank is princess.

Narmer could technically marry anyone else he wishes without getting a divorce. He can also make anyone else his queen consort. It's his right. (for a male MC, Narmer will figure out another title)

It will be possible to marry him, if you manage to reach at least a neutral ending with him. In the scenario you mentioned, Narmer would smile and say, "Let's not get the word out that you were the one who asked me and not the other way around, but... yes, I've been thinking about it too."

Thanks for the sweet message 🥰 The romance lock-in choice will come in the next public update (probably in a few weeks I think), so not long to wait now :)))

[averagepossumenjoyer]

"Tag nine people you want to get to know better" thing. (I'm not against such things, on the contrary, I would like more of them, I don't know, for some reason I've been very sociable lately.)

Tagged by: @macaron-jester

Favorite Color: Purple. It's always been purple. Idk why.

Currently Reading: "Five books of the lives, heroic deeds and sayings of Gargantua and his son Pantagruel". We are currently studying medieval literature in lectures, and I decided to start with this one from the whole list. But I like it and I didn't regret this decision at all. I think I'm going to be obsessed with medieval literature in the near future anyway, I think I'm going to be too interested in this topic the more I start studying it.

Last Song: Hush -- Deep Purple. It's been about an hour since I listened that song on my playlist, lol.

Last Movie: I watched a lot of movies during the holidays, but I remember that the last ones were "The Mask" and "Shrek the Third".

Last Series: Honestly, I'm not a fan of series just because I'm too lazy to watch them, although sometimes I really want to. But at the same time, I've often felt gusts of nostalgia lately and I've been watching some animated series because of the memories and the fact that they sometimes inspire me. "Adventure Time" was one of them.

Sweet, Savoury, Spicy: Sweet things can't be without savoury things, just as savoury things can't be without sweet things. They are complete opposites, but at the same time they exist in harmony. I can't choose one thing, I need this damn balance every day, sorry.

Craving: I usually don't eat for half a day, so when I get home, I'm ready to eat anything. But sometimes I think about cinnamon bun, garlic bread, or ciabatta. Or schnitzel with pickled cucumbers. Or about cranberries in sugar. I'm not picky about food.

Tea/Coffee: Once upon a time, I couldn't live without tea. Now I can't live without coffee.

Currently working on: That's where the fun begins. A comic that I plan to release either on October 31st or November 24th (I even thought about rescheduling it to December.). It's actually a long story, because I want to do it probably from 2021 or 2022, (I even have some kind of storyboard of some moments from then and one concept art or something like that. Actually, that's not all, there are more such things, it's just what I have access to now) but then I lacked the skills, 2023 was a big shock and disappointment for me, which caused me to be in a kind of stagnation for a long time, and in 2024 I may have recovered from that year, but I was just exhausted. I think this year I will finally create what I wanted and I will have to start in the near future to make it.

I'm currently making concepts for the main characters, and so far 3/8 of the main and minor ones are coming out. There are a lot more secondary characters as well as the main ones, but I can't show some of them in the way I would like. I can't post the finished part now because I want to show them all together.

Sometimes I open FL Studio, but for this I definitely need to catch the moment when some annoying melody starts playing in my head. A couple of days ago, I didn't have time to save that kind of the melody. But maybe I'll recreate it someday if I remember. I used to have a guitar and I could play the first half of "Killer Queen" before the chorus according to some tutorial. Basically, I'm just drawing, rather than doing music thing.

Beware of this, y'all, more than half of my subscribers! But I'm not insisting, I'm just suggesting.

@flowuraa @c00kietin @artsandstoriesandstuff @bvannn @owlthatnestslow @hyperiinked @lavendercheesecake @ridiculouslyaverageguy @tobyfoxfacts

rules: tag nine people you want to get to know better

Tagged by @indrid-hot - thanks a bunch!

Favorite Color: A nice, warm, sunny orange - but also honestly most other colors of the rainbow and then some.

Currently Reading: The Tevinter Nights Dragon Age short story collection.

Last Song: L'appuntamento - Ornella Vanoni

Last Movie: Ah, gosh. HM. I haven't watched anything that's not a TV show in a while. I semi-voluntarily caught the last fifteen minutes of Scrooged over the winter holidays I guess?

Last Series: Last series I watched any part of is, as always, "Emergency!" because I will never not be stuck in 70's paramedic hell. If we're talking new-to-me shows, a friend's making me watch Grey's Anatomy (early seasons) once a week, probably because observing my growing despair about the characters' poor life choices is fun. I don't even normally watch medical shows, and yet here we are lol

Sweet, Savoury, Spicy: Savory if I had to pick

Craving: Some good spaghetti with olive oil and obscene amounts of lightly toasted garlic.

Tea/Coffee: Yes please, lol

Currently working on: OH BOY WHAT A QUESTION.

Spinning: Gotland on my spindles (4-ply, one single per spindle, for funsies - except I accidentally mixed up which bits of fiber go with which single on which spindle, so that'll be fun to sort out...), 7oz/200g of red Merino on the wheel (for a crochet hat, followed by 9.5 oz of red and black Merino for a woven scarf). But also 24.5oz/700g of grey Merino. And cotton on the supported spindle. And I've got some laceweight viscose on the mini turkish spindle that I should really work on...

Crocheting: Half a dozen things, including a lacy collar that needs buttons and blocking, a gigantic star-shaped wrap-around shawl, an incredibly boring granny square top for my little sister, and too many others to count.

Art: The Emergency! tarot as the eternal never-ending WIP; I also have some Dragon Age Veilguard related plans revolving around the Grand Necropolis and irl Catacomb Saints and I'd love to get some DA-style tarot cards done for all my player characters.

Writing: I still have a couple unfinished fanfics that need another chapter, as well as two deeply self-indulgent OC/Emergency! crossovers that friends are making me write, and I also have some Dragon Age stuff in the works - though if anyone will ever see that is another question entirely.

Music: Practicing various stuff for LARP; also slowly chipping away at Hozier's Work Song because my partner asked nicely.

With no pressure, I will tag: @geminyde, @caseyscraftycorner, @swords-n-spindles, @alpacazappa, @rosesonneptune, @rose-of-pollux, @zooarchaeologyatdinner, @kalikatze aaaaand I can't decide on a 9th person to tag so whoever wants to do this: You're It!

[loulou-land]

I’ll Always Choose You

Day 13 of @bucktommyfluffebruary | Love Declarations | 808 words | Fluff and Humor | on ao3

“I really didn’t think I’d feel this way,” Buck admitted, voice wavering slightly. “But it just…kinda snuck up on me. It was like this buildup of all the little things, you know?” He waved his hand around as he tried to find the words to explain it. “Like…like waking up to your cold nose pressing against my cheek, or how cuddly you are, and…just how you’re there for me when I need comfort. You always know when I don't want to be alone, or when I'm exhausted, or I've had a bad day. And you make me feel better.”

Buck exhaled, shaking his head as if overwhelmed. “So now…now I can't imagine life without you.”

He paused, reaching his hand out as he held his breath. Waiting for a reaction.

Instead, there was a single, uninterested—

Meow.

Buck blinked, releasing his breath in a sharp gust and dropped his hand. Figures.

Their orange tabby, Captain, who perched lazily on the armrest continued licking its paw, completely unbothered by Buck’s undying devotion.

Buck stared. Pouted, even. “Seriously?”

He knew cats were fickle creatures, but come on! He really thought he’d become Captain’s favorite.They had spent so much time together while Tommy had been fighting wildfires up in the north for two weeks. So yeah, Buck had at least expected a slow blink to let him know he was appreciated. But nothing, nada, zilch.

A loud snort from the other end of the couch pulled his attention.

Apparently, Tommy had been watching the whole scene unfold. His book lay forgotten in his lap, his lips twitching like he was fighting back laughter.

Buck frowned at him, petulant. Tommy didn't have to worry about getting Captain’s affections, their cat already much preferred his lap over Buck’s. Which, fair, he could understand that—Tommy had wonderful thighs.

“You know,” Tommy said, raising an eyebrow. “I think that was more heartfelt than our love declaration.”

Buck scoffed, fully turning to him with a hand over his chest. “Oh, I’m sorry, was screaming at each other in the rain and dramatically falling into each other’s arms afterwards not romantic enough for you?”

He arched a teasing eyebrow at Tommy.

Tommy shrugged, eyes crinkling with laughter. “Ehh, it was alright.”

They locked eyes, neither one blinking, before promptly bursting into laughter.

Soon, their laughter softened and they lapsed into comfortable silence. Tommy opened up his book again while Buck turned on a documentary.

He flopped onto Tommy’s side of the couch, wiggling until he was pressed up against Tommy’s side.

Tommy just shifted slightly to wrap an arm around Buck’s shoulders, trailing his fingers absently through Buck’s hair.

Buck sighed, a little dramatically. “To be clear, Captain does love me. It just happens to be when it's just us…” he paused, realizing something. “Ah, sort of like an affair.”

Tommy hummed, passing the page on his book. “Noted.” He answered dryly.

Just as Buck was starting to get comfortable, Captain stretched lazily, jumped down from the armrest, and walked over Buck like he was nothing more than an inconvenient obstacle before curling up in Tommy’s lap.

It was deliberate. Malicious, even.

Buck’s mouth fell open at the audacity. “I pour my heart out to you, and you choose him? Captain?!”

The cat started purring, completely unconcerned with Buck’s complaints.

Tommy chuckled, rubbing the cat’s head with one hand while he pressed a consoling kiss to Buck’s hair.

Buck grumbled under his breath, but the warmth of the moment settled into him and he let himself enjoy it. The feeling of Tommy’s fingers—gentle, caring—as he carded through his hair. The staccato purrs of Captain as he enjoyed their closeness. And the scent of spring outside the window, soft sunlight streaming through.

Then, so low it almost got lost in the space between them, Tommy murmured, “I’ll always choose you.”

Buck stilled, his breath hitching.

Buck didn’t need the reassurance, not really. Not like before. He’d come a long way in feeling secure in who he was and their relationship. But that didn’t mean it didn’t get him every time. How generous Tommy was with always letting Buck know how wanted and loved he was.

His chest went warm, spreading through him like a spark in a forest. He felt too full, sometimes he didn’t know how his body could contain this much love for Tommy without exploding.

He tilted his head up, catching the same love reflected in Tommy’s gaze. He swallowed once, then burrowed his head against Tommy’s neck, pressing a soft kiss over his pulse. “I choose you too,” Buck murmured.

Neither of them moved for a while after that. Basking in the warmth and peace of the moment.

In this love that neither of them had to question, fully knowing how unconditional and encompassing it was.

[bonesmithsstuff]

Kaz Brekker - Wicked Game

Warnings: Canon typical violence, blood, references to abuse and scars. Angst.

Masterlist |

── .✦

" I found peace in your violence. Can't show me, there's no point in trying. I'm at one, and I've been quiet for too long. "

«Card.» The woman sitting at the gaming table flashed an innocent smile at the man in front of her, who was busy overseeing the club’s clientele. The count in her mind hadn’t faltered for even a second, letting her know exactly when to raise the stakes or when to pull back. She kept repeating, feigning surprise: "Oh, did I really win?" "I must be so lucky tonight.”. All accompanied by a light, carefree giggle that gave her just the right air of naïveté to be believable in a place like that.

The first time she had set foot in The Crow Club, she had certainly not gone unnoticed. Her arrival in Ketterdam had been anything but subtle. But her goal was simple: gather enough money to survive, to carve out a better life than the one she had led since birth.

That first time, Brekker had noticed her immediately, his gaze tracking her until she sat down at a table, ordering something to drink. His first thought had been about the dress she was wearing —high quality but so worn that he could tell she was trying to appear as something she was not: rich. His second thought had been about her face, her beauty. He had watched her wrinkle her nose in displeasure every time a man got too close to her during the game, and for some reason, Kaz had wanted to smile at that expression of disgust —the same one he often wore.

That evening, it was only after some time that the crow realized the real reason why she was so focused on the game rather than her surroundings: she was counting the cards.

A sadistic smile had curled his lips at that realization, the kind that could send a shiver down anyone’s spine —the contrast between his sharp gaze and his full lips making the whole thing unsettling. Kaz had understood: that woman knew exactly what she was doing. She had managed to distract even him from his business, but from that moment on, he hadn’t taken his eyes off of her.

And then, more than a year later, that memory surfaced in Brekker’s mind as he watched the woman sitting in the same spot where he had first seen her. The only difference was that, now, she worked under his command. It had all started with a contract —Kaz had allowed her to keep the money she had won, which was no small amount, in exchange for her to work for him until her debt was repaid. And yet, even after the money was settled, neither of them had broken the unspoken tie.

She liked that life. It made her feel free in a way she never had before meeting the Crows. And the Crows, in turn, liked having her around. She and Jesper got along better than anyone else, and Inej enjoyed having another woman to share thoughts with, someone who could understand and listen to her.

Still, none of them had ever managed to get too close to her. They had become friends, yes, but they all had the impression that some parts of her life would remain in the dark, forever.

More than anyone, Kaz wanted to know. He was curious about the way she flinched at the slightest touch, the way she recoiled when someone brushed her hand, how her face turned pale when someone hugged her or touched her back and shoulders. She would dig her nails into her palms, and a strange veil of fear would cloud her usually relaxed and cheerful expression.

Of course, the Crow had done his research, and found nothing relevant. Nothing that could give him a clue as to what haunted her. It infuriated him more than he would ever admit.

His doubts found their answer that night.

The Crow Club seemed as lively as ever. T/N sat in her usual spot, with that same innocent smile, and just asked for a card. Kaz’s watchful eyes never strayed far from her, keeping her within his sight. And every time she looked at a man, batting her lashes a few too many times, his grip on his cane tightened ever so slightly.

He had closed his eyes for a moment, hearing the door of the club slam open as he ran a gloved hand over his face. He was obsessed with that woman. So much that, lately, his nightmares had been replaced by others —visions of T/N looking at him with that knowing, teasing gaze, visions of her lips brushing against his, full and soft.

The very thought of touching someone repulsed and terrified him, but he couldn't help wondering if her skin was as soft as it looked.

Those thoughts had become more frequent, and the way he occasionally caught her staring at him didn’t help. He would meet her gaze, and she would always smile at him, even when his face remained its usual mask of sarcasm and impassivity. His heart would quicken, involuntarily, and all he wanted was for her to press her hand to his chest—to feel that beneath all the layers of fear and insecurity, to know that something was there. Something that could warm her.

When he reopened his eyes, though, she was gone.

Dirtyhands immediately scanned the room, missing a breath when he realized she was nowhere to be seen —not at the bar, not in the washroom. He moved swiftly toward Jesper, his cane striking the floor sharply.

«Where is T/N?»

Jesper turned toward him, frowning. «Weren’t you the one keeping an eye on her?» There was a hint of amusement in his voice, but Brekker didn’t catch it —too focused on the fact that a member of his crew was missing.

Jesper had seen it —the way Kaz looked at her, the way he followed her, how she was no longer just an investment but something else entirely.

«Looking for your pretty friend?» The voice from behind the bar caught their attention. «A man dragged her outside just a moment ago.»

Kaz was out the door instantly, Jesper and Inej right behind him.

They heard laughter. Then a muffled sound. They rounded the corner of the club, stepping into the alleyway.

«Are we interrupting?» Kaz’s voice was razor-sharp, making the four men in the alley turn around.

Than he saw her. T/N, slumped on the ground, clutching her torn dress with one hand and her bleeding leg with the other.

“Blood." “T/N." Those were the only words swirling in his mind.

Kaz’s gaze swept over the men, and he wasted no time before swinging his cane, striking the closest one across his face. Jesper had his guns drawn, but no one even had the chance to move. Kaz cut them down, one by one, ignoring Inej’s repeated calls for him to stop. The only thing he could hear was the sound of those men's bones breaking, snapping under his wrath. And he relished it.

Kaz only halted when all four men lay at his feet, groaning, blood staining their clothes —and his.

Satisfied, he smiled darkly.

«Take them to the docks. Throw them on the first ship out.» He turned to Jesper and Inej, who nodded. Then, to the men at his feet. Whether they were alive or dead, he didn't care at that moment. Still, he spared a few words of warning —he needed to send a clear message: «Whatever you came here for, don’t come back. Next time, I won’t be so gentle.»

He turned his back on them, moving toward T/N. She had watched the whole thing, eyes locked on his face as he took pleasure in spilling their blood. And yet, as he knelt in front of her, she sighed in relief.

«Kaz...» She whispered.

His name. From her lips. For the first time, it didn’t sound like a curse. It didn’t sound like the mask he had built to survive Ketterdam. It sounded like a melody. A soft, soothing note reverberating in his chest, making his heart nearly burst.

Dirtyhands. Bastard of the Barrel. The Devil himself.

Yet, there he was —kneeling before her, face smeared with blood, intoxicated by her scent, wondering if someone like him could ever deserve someone like her. Someone brave. Loyal. Strong. Someone who was everything he was not.

T/N’s breath condensed in the cold air as she stared at the man in front of her, her eyes glossy, cheeks flushed, and perfect lips marred by a small, bleeding cut.

«Can you walk?»

Unsure, she nodded, leaning forward to press a hand against the damp asphalt as she pushed herself to her feet. The wound on her thigh was still dripping red, but thankfully, despite the pain, it wasn’t deep enough to have severed an artery.

She trembled as she stood, a shiver running down her spine from the cold seeping into the exposed skin left bare by her torn dress. Kaz dared to lower his gaze for a moment, his jaw clenching at the thought of what had nearly happened in that alley. His grip on his bloody cane tightened when he noticed the numerous scars marking her skin. Without a word, he swiftly removed the black jacket embroidered with red accents that he had worn that evening, careful not to touch her as he draped it over her shoulders —both to warm her and to hide those white lines from his sight.

He watched her intently, curious about her reaction to the gesture. He wanted an explanation. Answers. And tonight, she wouldn’t escape without giving them to him.

T/N bit her lip, lowering her gaze to the street as her cheeks reddened under the dim alley light. She let herself be enveloped by his scent. It was strong, sharp, and the warmth of his jacket settled over her instantly as they made their way toward the entrance of The Crow Club, heading upstairs to her room. Kaz’s presence behind her reassured her —and at the same time, it unsettled her, making her nervous, uncertain. Contrary to what she had expected, he followed her inside, shutting the door behind him with a heavy thud.

A weight settled in her chest as she perched on the edge of the mattress, trying to ease the pressure on her injured leg. She didn’t dare look up as she reached for a clean cloth, dipping it into the bowl of water beside her bed. Slowly, she lifted the hem of her dress, exposing her thigh, exhaling shakily before she began dabbing at the wound, trying to clean away the blood. She hissed at the sting, and that was when he cleared his throat: «What did those men want from you?» His voice was firm, steady. He stood in front of her, leaning slightly on his cane.

«I don’t know.»

T/N squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, gripping the cloth tighter. She pushed herself up, moving clumsily toward the washroom to grab some bandages, a sudden wave of dizziness nearly sent her collapsing to the floor. Kaz caught her in time, his gloved hand tightening around her arm. He released her the moment she steadied herself.

«Stay still.» He brushed past her, his cane tapping against the floor as he retrieved the bandages himself. «Sit.» His voice left no room for argument as he gestured toward the desk she was already leaning against for support. She obeyed, watching him place his cane against the chair before stepping closer.

He stopped just short of letting his knees brush against hers, lowering himself slightly so he was eye-level with her. He let out a heavy sigh, his jaw tensing before he asked,

«May I?»

«Yes.» She didn’t hesitate.

Kaz’s gaze flickered to his hands as they moved to roll her dress up, carefully, inch by inch, exposing the wound on her thigh. She held her breath, and when his eyes met hers from below, she felt compelled to say something. She knew how hard this was for him. How much effort it took just to be this close.

«You don’t have to—»

«I know.» He cut her off sharply, inhaling deeply to steady his heartbeat. «I want to.»

Dipping the cloth into the water again, he added some disinfectant before pressing it against her skin —always through the layer of his gloves, as if the leather was the only thing keeping him grounded. T/N leaned her head back against the wall, trying to ignore the sting.

«So?»

His voice pulled her back. She lowered her gaze, watching a few strands of his dark hair fall over his forehead.

«So what?»

He shot her a warning look.

«What did those men want from you?»

This time, his voice left no room for anything but the truth. An angering Kaz Brekker was something to be considered carefully, even for her.

«They belong to my father.» She whispered, curling into the warmth of his jacket still draped over her shoulders. She averted her eyes to the floor, bringing a hand up to cover her face for a moment, knowing full well that he wouldn’t be satisfied with just that. «I came to Ketterdam to escape him. I planned to make enough money to get to the continent. Os Kervo, or maybe Novo-Kribirsk.»

«Then why did you stay?»

She barely needed to answer. When Kaz looked at her, really looked at her, he understood. Her eyes, large and glistening with unshed emotions, were filled with something he had lost long ago. Hope. But the way she was looking at him, it made him want to be something more. Something better.

«For you.» She murmured, a faint smile touching her lips. «For Inej. For Jesper. For the Crows. Because for the first time in my life, I wasn’t afraid. For the first time, I laughed, I felt something. I realized that not every touch is meant to hurt. That life is more than just survival.»

Kaz finished disinfecting the cut and placed a sterile pad over it. He gestured for her to lift her leg slightly so he could secure the bandage, tying it firmly in place.

«The scars?»

He asked the question despite already knowing the answer. But he needed to hear it. He needed to be sure. Sure that when the time came, he would strike down the right man.

«Also my father.» She confirmed.

«I want to see them.»

T/N sighed.

She had already revealed so much. Too much. But she was too exhausted to resist. She let herself slide forward as Kaz stepped back, giving her space. Shrugging off his jacket, she draped it over the desk before reaching for the neckline of her dress. She gripped the fabric tightly, turning her back to him as she pulled the material down as best as she could. The scars were there, on her back, where no one could see them unless she allowed it. Because her father had known appearances were important. Almost as important as control.

Kaz’s breath fanned over her bare skin, sending a light shiver through her.

«Are you cold?»

A smile ghosted her lips.

«No.» It’s you, she wanted to add.

She turned her head just slightly, just enough to see him. She watched as he leaned in, his gloved fingers barely skimming over the white lines etched into her skin.

«I’ll kill him.» Kaz’s voice was deadly quiet. «I’ll kill anyone who comes looking for you. Anyone who tries to take you away.»

A pause. And then something warm, something soft, something unfamiliar pressed against her skin. His lips. A silent promise, sealed in a way he had never done before.

T/N’s breath hitched as she felt him move, felt the warmth of his mouth trail upward. His hands braced against the desk on either side of hers, his presence towering over her without even touching.

Another kiss. This time, at the curve of her neck. Her eyes widened, her heart racing so fast that in the silence, she was sure he could hear it.

«I’ll kill anyone who tries to take you away from me.»

He whispered against her ear, and she shivered —not from the cold, but from him. When she turned to face him, he was already gone. The only thing he left behind was his black jacket, still resting on her desk.

He never took it back.

── .✦

Hello!!!!!!

This is my first fic :), English is not my first language so please be kind. Every suggestion is welcome! All rights are reserved. Credits to the real artist of the fan art.

Let me know what do you think! I want feedbacks pls.

[marlodramatic]

pick me! pick me!

I literally became a fan like a week ago and I have some insane insight still fresh in my mind. I will disclose: I knew sorta about them. I am younger than them but don't remember anyone directly speaking about them in my presence. I heard their names mid 10s but not sure related to what, and I remember Tumblr exploding when they came out, but again, none of my mutuals in my previous blogs were phans. I again heard about them when they came back from hiatus in the form of trending topics on this site.

Now, I think anyone who boils down DNP's popularity to "are they or aren't they?" (including baby boy Danny) are oversimplifying it, and it's horrendously self-deprecating of Dan, which, mood.

With my limited knowledge of them, the above points of awareness in my small corner of the world were more the introverted weirdos happy to have serotonin. Games, banter, comfort.

My many blogs across this site and my subscriptions on yt were like anime (hello, sailor moon revival blog) and I was cosplaying as a (secretly) bisexual christian good girl who didn't even know what trans or cis was. So I did see a few very rare strays of assumptions which were always clapped into silence by people asking for respect.

When they came out, I didn't see anyone ship in my newer, more closeted blogs. Instead, again, an outpouring of love and support and applause for the videos. (I think at that point I just assumed they were married and had a strong fanbase atp)

When they came back and blew this shit up again, I only ever saw happy humans. Again, games, some bunch of shit I didn't recognize then but now realize was the weird ass alien language???, and just overall chaotic disbelief that they came back. (And bets whether 1D were next.)

I did see a few more theories then that they might be romantic but not the creepy, mouth foaming insane and perverted assumptions about them. These things fizzled away under the countdown. (Ig to the next video? Idk, weird time for me irl)

My impression from the very far outside has been they're weirdo gamers on yt with their niche super fanbase.

In fact the many people, besides my Cynical Friend, I've spoken to irl have the understanding that Dan and Phil are just a comedic pair of gamers.

That was why when I was having an almost 24hr panic attack after literally fleeing my whole life, I tried them out. Anyone even scrolling through my posts in the tags has seen me fall for them. My anxiety is much better, my mind is on them instead of Death™️ snd I've laughed so hard I almost had an accident at 32.

It really is so easy to believe and fed the negative assumptions about ourselves. Dan has inspired and helped MILLIONS. Dan has done publicly what some of us cannot think privately. Phil has probably saved more lives than he can imagine. Phil probably couldn't understand his mere existence is comforting, with his breezy attitude and smile. It's not a fatal flaw to fail to see how others perceive us, but it is a tragedy that the viewpoint we focus on is negative.

When I spoke to my Cynical Friend, she went off about shippers. She always does. And three years after learning about real people ships, I've never been able to put into words that I'm not spying or prying or obsessed with these perfect matches.

I couldn't explain why I found Ryan Bergara looking at Shane Madej in the early years spark some vague recognition, or why when I found out about the Harry Styles and Louis Tomlinson ship I literally LITERALLY almost died. But after watching Dan and Phil, I knew exactly why some people might comb over thousands of moments with a fine tooth comb or play videos at .75 or read interviews in magazines they'f never even heard of. The answer fell off my lips and after, I understood, "I just want to see gay people happy." And it wasn't "gay people in love."

It is so easy to simplify and explain away your success and accomplishments with dribble. It's easy to overlook someone else's feelings because of your own. It's not easy being known, it's not easy being overstimulated with the same damn shit, but it's your responisibility to improve the way you think.

So on the off chance Dan or Phil see this, you're looking at a very loud section of the Phandom. To the majority of us, we tune in, rewatch because we like the content you show us.

Source: youtube comments, phans who have talked to me, people blogging in tags, phanart, the far and old reaches of the community they have built.

Ok I’ve just had a truely eye opening conversation, I was talking to a non dan and Phil fan friend of mine and she casually said “oh well people only really watched them because it was like the mystery of whether they were together or not”

and then I remembered the line in Dan’s diss track where he says “the only reason you get views is because you’re another white guy that people ship with his friend because they think it’s kawaii” and now I’m thinking, is this true?

like I personally would watch them no matter what, like even if they both had secret other spouses, it makes me sad though that the general public and maybe even dan and Phil themselves could think that the only reason they’re entertaining is because their relationship is ambiguous, I think they’re genuinely very smart and incredible entertainers and they should be proud of that

[sab0dssey]

Late. CW: death, suicide.

“Hey my love,

How are you? I hope you’re good. I wish you were well. I hope you're happier there than here. But I know you are, I’m seeing, weather is always sunny, the trees are in bloom. You love spring, and I know you brought them here. I’m bad at writing, it’s not my type, and you know that very well. But unlike me, you love writing. You love to pour your feelings, everything good or bad inside you onto paper, no matter how sad things you write, you love to decorate those papers. I know, I've always known. I've always known you, I've known even the smallest details about you. The most insignificant details... I've always known.

But…you never knew what I knew. I didn't let you know. Bloody hell I wish you were here. Because I was a coward. I was a coward because I thought you would see me like everyone else. I thought you would get bored of me one day like everyone else. Fuck, I was so wrong. My biggest shame was to think you were everyone else. I was so cowardly, I couldn't think. I'm still a coward, my baby.

I regret it so much, I regret it so much. You coming into my dreams. I don't know whether to be happy because you come into my dreams or unhappy because I wake up in a cold sweat. I’m remembering that day, all the time. And it’s making me feel like shit. I'm scared. I'm still so scared, my love. I'm so scared that I can't even visit your grave. Maybe your soul is very upset with me, maybe you are very upset with me. And God doesn't let me come to you.

Fuck, a tear dropped to paper. I’m sorry, I messed this up too. Like the same i did to you. I’m so sorry Y/N. Everyone saying ‘it’s not your fault.’ But I know it’s my fault. It is my fault. They don’t know the whole story, but we know love. I killed you, and we know that. I killed your happiness, your love for life and then you. Your death was because of me. I drove you to suicide.

I remember. Your eyes full of hope and love when you looked at me. No matter how hard you tried to hide it, the smile on your face when you watched me. And fuck, those dimples on your face when you smile. I remember all of them. I'm taking notes here because I don't want to forget. Even if I forget, no one will. I will always keep you alive. Even the newest rookies will know your name, the kind of person you are. Don't worry. That career that ended because of me, that you worked so hard for, will always stand tall.

I want to apologize for everything. I'm sorry for pushing you away when you were head over heels in love with me. I'm sorry for rejecting you when I was seeing you. I'm sorry for humiliating you when I was rejecting you. I'm sorry for humiliating you every time I see you when you love me with that pure heart that holds no malice. I’m sorry for turning my fears into anger and using them on you. I'm sorry for taking your beautiful life away from you. Fuck how asshole I was.

I can't get over it since I saw your lifeless body hanging from the rope from the ceiling that night. Fuck, I feel horrible. Did you feel this way too? If you did, and if you were here, I would fall at your feet and beg you. Not for you to forgive me, but I would apologize, I would cry in front of you. But I don't have the strength to do this in front of your grave. I’m so weak. I've been so weak since you left... Please come back.

I saw it that night. I saw it while I was trying to save you from that rope with screams. I saw it while I was caressing your snow-white, freezing skin. I saw it in your eyes that you closed to life. How beautifully the moonlight actually hit your hair, your skin. How beautiful your barely visible dimples looked even when you were lifeless. How soft your skin, your hands were. I saw it all. But it was so late when I saw it. I felt the lateness until the end. I was so late, for everything.

I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I hope we will meet at heaven. Even though I know I don't deserve to go to heaven. Even though it's too late, I love you..”

Price wiped his tears. He carefully folded the letter in his hand and buried it carefully in the dirt hole he had just dug. He clapped his hands together and cleared the dirt. Then he slowly stood up. For the last time, he looked at the graves of those two people he considered not only his fellow soldiers but also his son and daughter. Life was bittersweet. The entire Task Force team had aged 2 years. But Simon was still 25, and Y/N was still 22.

He looked at her grave. “1987-2009” It was covered with newly bloomed, healthy flowers. A colorful grave. Y/N had kept her grave alive with her spirit. Next to it, a gray, dark grave. It belonged to Simon. On its stone, it said, “1984-2009.” There were flowers placed by Johnny. But they were all withered and had begun to rot on the ground. How obvious that their spirits were still here..

John gave a military salute to both of their graves and left the cemetery with heavy steps.

I hope ya’ll won’t hate me for what I write.

Dividers by cafekitsune / roseraris (*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ*.ﾟ

[kathaelipwse]

Pairing: Bf!Youngjae x Reader x Bestfriend!Jaebeom

W.C: 1.1k

Warnings: 18+ smut, Threesome, pet name's (Jagiya, baby, beautiful), foreplay. (I prolly forgot something-)

Trope: Trio best friends.

Request: Yes

Summary A movie night which was supposed to be spent by watching a rom-com movie, but in a twist of possibilities things escalated as per your darkest desires.

The dim light from the television flickered across the room, casting dancing shadows on the walls. Youngjae and you were cuddled up on the couch, sharing a soft blanket as y'll watched the romantic comedy he had picked out for your movie night. Originally, Jaebeom was supposed to join y'll, but he had backed out at the last minute due to some work he needed to finish up.

As the movie progressed, an explicit scene came on, causing your cheeks to flush and your body to squirm, you were turned on. Though you tried to hide it, your body language betrayed you, revealing your constant moving and your thighs squeezed shut to Youngjae. With a knowing smirk, he decided to take advantage of the situation, his fingers trailing lightly over your skin, teasing you with gentle touches.

The sexual tension in the room grew thicker as Youngjae's hands roamed your body, slipping beneath your clothes to caress your sensitive skin. His lips found yours in a searing kiss that left you breathless, his tongue delving into your mouth to taste all of you. Slowly, he laid you down on the couch as he worked his way down your body, leaving a trail of hot kisses and marks in his wake, until he reached the juncture of your thighs.

You gasped as he yanked off your skirt and panties in a swift move. Youngjae's tongue flicked out licking your inner thigh and leaving gentle bites. He sucks on your cunt, gentle yet very teasingly as your fingers get hold of his hair, tugging on it due to which he let out a soft moan against your cunt. Your eyes fluttered closed, lost in the sensations, only to fly open again when you heard the soft click of the front door. Jaebeom stood leaning against the door frame, a smirk playing on his lips as he took in the scene before him. Y'll had been a trio since the elementary school due to which y'll had the keys of each other's apartments. And he had manged to get done with his work faster than you had expected.

Well it wasn't the first time he had walked in on y'll, and over time, he had grown shameless about it. Something about his presence excited you even more, and you found yourself confessing your deepest desire. "I've always wanted a threesome with the two of you," you admitted breathlessly.

Without missing a beat, Jaebeom sauntered over to the couch picking you up and carrying you to the room as he places you down, his eyes never leaving yours. "Well, well, what do we have here?" he purred, his voice dripping with seduction. "You really don't mind if I join in, do you, baby.....will you be able to handle us both?"

Your breath hitched, and you shook your head, your cheeks flushed with embarrassment and excitement. "I want you both," you whispered, your voice trembling with need. "I want to be ruined by my two best friends."

Youngjae smirked as he had already known about your desires, his eyes blazing with possessiveness and desire. "You heard our jagiya," he said, his voice rough with need. "Let's give her exactly what she craves."

Jaebeom wasted no time in stripping off his clothes, revealing his toned body and rock-hard erection. He climbed onto the bed, his hands immediately finding your sensitive nipples. He rolled them between his fingers, tugging and pinching until you were writhing beneath him, your moans filling the room.

Youngjae took the opportunity to claim your mouth, shoving his length down your throat stretching your throat wide with his cock making you gag. You palmed the remaining length and bobbed your head slowly and teasingly which just made Yeongjae shove his whole length in your mouth causing tears to prickle down your eyes in pleasure, which was combined with Jaebeom's skilled fingers on your nipples and Youngjae's powerful thrusts, had you nearly cumming on the spot. You were brain fucked at this point, mind dazed and all you could do was ask for more and moan their names to the extent where you couldn't even think straight.

Jaebeom moved lower, his tongue trailing down your stomach until he reached your dripping core. He lapped at your folds, sucking your cunt into his mouth as he slid two fingers deep inside you. "You taste so fucking good, my beautiful jagiya," he moaned against your sensitive flesh. "I could eat you out for hours."

Youngjae pulled his length out caressing your cheek. "Our girl needs more," he said, his voice tight with restraint. "She needs to be filled by both of us."

Jaebeom nodded, pulling his fingers from your heat. He moved to lay on his back, pulling you on top of him. "Ride my cock baby, like a good girl," he commanded, his hands gripping your hips. "Take me deep inside you."

You whimpered, sinking down onto Jaebeom's impressive length. You moaned loudly as you felt him stretch you to your limits, filling her completely. Youngjae positioned himself behind you, his cock nudging against your back entrance. "Relax, jagiya," he cooed, his hands rubbing soothing circles on your back. "Let us both inside you."

Slowly, oh so slowly, Youngjae pushed into your tight heat, both men now fully seated within you, their lengths shoved deep in you. At this moment, in your whole damn life you had never felt so full, so completely owned by these two men. They set a punishing pace, thrusting in tandem, driving you wild with pleasure.

Their hands roamed her body, teasing and caressing every inch of you. They whispered filthy words of praise, telling you how perfect you are, how good you felt wrapped around their cocks. You were lost in a sea of sensation, Your body climbing higher and higher towards ecstasy and your moans just growing louder.

With a scream of pure pleasure, you shattered between the two, your orgasm crashing over you in intense waves as you had milked their cocks. Jaebeom and Youngjae soon followed, their moans mingling with yours as they spilled deep inside her, filling you up with their cum.

They pulled out making sure no cum slipped out of your holes. You had never felt more satisfied, more completely and utterly ruined in the best possible way. And as you drifted off to sleep, safe and warm between your two best friends you mumbled out "I love y'll".

Jaebeom and youngjae moth cracked a smile and mumbled, "We love you too, jagi. All of you."

They quickly cleaned you and themselves up. And dressed themselves and you in comfortable clothes, slipping besides you and cuddling you till the two had fallen asleep holding you in their embrace.

---

[lastcallatrockysbar]

CE SPNDC2023 SNS concert

[wolfislost]

I'm exhausted but I want to respond to this before I forget. Apologies in advance if my writing is a little sloppy.

I'll preface this by me saying that i'm not conceptkin, so this is all the thoughts and ruminations of an outsider.

I think it's interesting that you describe it as a collection of thoughts and experiences, distinct from a "conventional" identity. "Collection of thoughts and experiences" is almost word for word how I boil down my own experience as a werewolf. I tend to say that the label, for me at least, describes a "collection of behaviours and thoughts". I find that overlap interesting.

I also find that, in my moments of clarity, I tend to see death as part of a larger process rather than an end point. Ever since I found out about the concept of tree burial, I've been fairly certain that's how I want to be inhumed.

In hindsight, I think this is an expression of my animality and existence as kin.

My relationship to nature involves death as a necessity. Not just in the sense of predator and prey, but also in the sense of death by illness or old age. Werewolf or not, things die. I die. It's part of that cyclical pattern.

I remember not long ago, I spent some time in the woods just watching a swarm of flies slowly dismantle a corpse. It wasn't a traditional act of beauty, but I felt compelled to familiarise myself rather than look away.

I suppose what I'm trying to say is that despite not being conceptkin myself I also feel a kind of kinship with death. Not just as an agent, but also as an inevitable receiver of it.

The fear of endings is mitigated by the love of transformation, if that makes sense.

I don't fear the act of becoming something new, and I see death as an invisible but valuable part of that.

Death as the disolution of the self is a great way of explaining it.

For a time things are whole, before they inevitably become separate again.

I forget the quote, but some writer once said something along the lines of "why should we fear death, when we spent far longer not existing than we have being alive?"

In a sense death is a kind of return to a primordial wholeness. Back to whence we came.

In a time where people and animals feel more divided and separated than ever before, I can't help but see a kind of romantacism in that train of thought.

Anyway, a very interesting read! Thank you for sharing your experience! Feel free to talk about it more if you ever want to, i'll definitely be keeping an eye out.

I was having a conversation with a friend of mine about being death and decay conceptkin, and I realized maybe I should talk about that more here since its sort of an overlooked part of the community.

I think I frequently forget to talk about it because it doesn't feel like an "identity" in the same way that therianthropy does. It's more like a collection of experiences and feelings. I wouldn't say that I strictly am death, but rather that death and decay run through me and speak to me. I don't quite know how to word it.

Ever since I was a kid, I've been obsessed with death and decay, but not really in a morbid or depressing way. I've always felt a kind of intimacy and one-ness with it. I would always try to seek out decay and surround myself with reminders of it. Bones, scraps of fur, moss, mushrooms, lichens, detrivores, and scavengers. The cycle, metamorphizing the dead form of one, into the new life of others, feels so important and comforting to me.

I sometimes feel like I am almost able to "speak" with decay, not in the classic talking to the dead kind of way, I don't believe in that sort of ghost. Instead, I feel like I share emotions and echoes of images with the rotting things of the world.

Occasionally, this mixes with my lycanthropic identity, having shifts of myself rotting as a werewolf or being covered in shaggy lichens and algae. More often, it feels like I am just a werewolf that is deeply tied into death and the transformative nature of decay in a pagan sense.

I would classify the way it feels as very slow, solemn, yet intimate, and comfortable.

It is a great one-ness and dissolution of self into the world around you.