#implied lol x2

[satttanderna]

Shitty friends

( And other ugly sketches )

[unproduciblesmackdown]

i'm the first to admit i'm doing a bad job of not liveblogging, but i gotta be nogblogging

[sleepynoons]

alhaitham x afab!f!reader, nsfw, 18+, not beta read

cw: omegaverse (alpha!alhaitham + omega!reader), heat, knotting, massive massive MASSIVE breeding kink, impregnation kink, size kink, slight sadism/masochism (more masochism if anything), mentions of pain + hurt, marking + biting, fingering, squirting, unintentional edging (receiving), allusions to dubcon + objectification (but none of it actually), slight nipple play, implied marathon sex

notes: sighs,,, idk how i ended up convincing myself to write omegaverse,,, but i really had a lot of fun with this,,, anyway, i love being an alhaitham fucker, and i love it even more when he loses it and can't be his usual put-together self. lmk if i missed anything in the warnings.

edit: 700+ notes?? y’all :((( i’m v touched and also cracking up lol omegaverse ig checks out - but tyssssm for all the love!! reminders that requests are still open (pls read my rules), and i’d love to have moots/anons!!!!

edit x2: 1,000+ notes... y'all... this is a massive milestone for me to hit - thank you so much for all the love on this lil drabble!! there's no amount of words that can describe how grateful i am, truly.

“ALHAITHAM, FASTER!”

you’re whining, sobbing, desperately begging your lover. anything will do – he can even just lie back and let you bounce up and down on his cock. but you’re only in such a frenzied, lucid state because of your heat. alhaitham, on the other hand, is a few weeks out from his next rut, which means he is able to think about what’s rationally best for you.

you’re infuriated. you need more. you need him to mount onto you, pounding and thrusting into you until you’re screaming for him to stop, and even then, he’ll continue to push you over the edge over and over again until you’re a sticky, fucked out doll. the fire in your belly is burning so passionately, and while you would say something snarky or sarcastic to rile alhaitham up, you can barely carry a thought and can only dig your fingernails into his biceps to convey your impatience.

your lover grunts at the piercing sensation and, through gritted teeth, says, “you just started your heat. rushing through it will only hurt you and lengthen your recovery process.”

you groan at his response, overtly dissatisfied and restless. alhaitham’s response is… it’s just so typical of him. he’s detail-oriented, almost scientific in the way he takes care of you. this isn’t your first heat with him, and he’s learned from prior experiences how to ensure your safety and comfort. in fact, the two of you now follow a procedure to prepare for your heat that consists of: gathering all of your favorite snacks and drinks; washing and prepping all of the pillows, clothes, and blankets you’ll need for your nest; and most importantly, figuring out a polite way of telling kaveh that he’s getting “sexiled.”

but this is overkill, you scream in your head. in missionary, alhaitham is going at a steady pace, but what he doesn’t know and can’t feel is that he’s edging you. he’s fanning the flames of your arousal yet never helping you reach the peak. he’s stimulating you at your most sensitive spots and parts, but it’s not enough for your release. he’s torturing you, and he can’t even tell.

“alhaitham,” you cry out for the nth time. “please, please, please! i can’t take it anymore! i just - i need your cock! i need to cum! please, please, i beg you, i promise you i’ll be fine! alhaitham!”

you’re breaking down into tears. by instinct, your body releases more of your scent, and somewhere beyond your crying, your lover takes a deep inhale.

while alhaitham isn’t in his rut, that doesn’t mean he can’t lose control. he hopes you know that he’s doing his best for you, that he’s holding onto the last shreds of his willpower because, if otherwise, he doesn’t know what will become of you. he’s so much bigger, stronger, sturdier than you are, towering over you in both size and strength. he can be painfully forceful, and inflicting pain upon you is the last thing he wants to do.

but you’re sobbing uncontrollably. you’re defenseless yet pleading him to take you roughly, to break in your pussy with his heavy, leaking cock. you want him to use his force to placate your insatiable heat. you need him to overpower you.

he releases a long, shuddering sigh. he attempts to rationalize, consider the potential repercussions of giving in. but he soon realizes he can’t think. your addicting, heady scent, combined with the beautiful sounds of your moans and whimpers, are rendering his mind empty.

it’s pointless. he growls, “you asked for this.”

one second you’re weeping, and the next all of the air inside you is knocked out by a sudden, harsh thrust from alhaitham. he’s going so fast and hard now, cock head brushing against your womb while his balls and knot slap against your asshole. you feel your toes curl at the feeling of being split apart, and your mouth parts to voice salacious moans.

this is what you wanted. you feel your body relax. you just have to take it, take his fat cock bullying your cunt open, take his harsh bites and teething at your nipples, take his seed until you’re filled to the brim. in your mind, all you can think is, you’re his, you’re alhaitham’s, he wants you. the omega in you croons happily, and you’re every bit as delighted as well.

alhaitham grips onto your wrists tightly as he shoves himself into your tight, sticky walls over and over again. at one point, he flips you over, commanding you to raise your ass up higher. as he holds onto your hips, he watches your ass bounce and jiggle as he pounds into you, and he wants to lick down the beautiful curve of your back. you’re doing your best to stifle your screams because somehow, your lover is reaching even deeper, and the scraping of your breasts against the bedsheets is driving you mad.

then, you feel one of alhaitham’s hands reach down, brushing against the fat of your thighs. it’s inching dangerously close to your throbbing clit, and heat rushes up to your face.

“wait, alhaitham, no –“ 

your lover pinches your yearning bud, and you scream. wetness gushing everywhere, you’re squirting and creaming, white cum staining your lover’s cock and leaking out of your pussy. your eyes roll back, and you’ve lost all ability to control your body, which is absolutely shaking as alhaitham continue to rub and flick at your clit as he tries to squeeze his knot into your fluttering hole.

“oh, archons! alhaitham! stop! no, no, it’s too much! it can’t fit!”

alhaitham, still teasing and toying with your pussy, leans over and snarls into your ear, “you were just saying you wanted more. now you can’t take it?”

you’re wailing. you feel as if you’re being ripped apart at the seams. but the thought of alhaitham’s knot is just too delicious to pass on, so you don’t complain anymore. you just accept the waves of pain and pleasure that crash over you as alhaitham finally locks his knot inside you and bites down on your neck.

your lover groans loudly, lost in his delirium as well. after a few more shallow grinds, he reaches his own high, and you feel rope after rope of his cum fill you up. alhaitham’s cum is so warm and gooey and thick that you’re drooling and slobbering over the pillows at being filled up so thoroughly – impregnated – with it.

even as he’s still cumming, alhaitham bites on the shell of your ear and commands, “keep up, because i’m not stopping anytime soon.”

you can only whimper and fist the blankets even tighter at his command, bracing yourself for the next round.

[mulletmitsuya]

Toman Groupchat

Warnings: swearing, suggestive language, might be offensive idk (lmk if it is so i should take it down if necessary) , mentions of birth, mentions of alcohol and weed, gayness

Desc: it's Mitsuya's day of birth

Chifuyu: HAPPY BIRTHDAY MITSUYA-KUN ⚠️❗💜😋😁

Baji: what's up with the emoji's

Mitsuya: thanks Chifuyu

Baji: happy getting out of the pussy day

Mitsuya: 😐

Kazutora: didn't he get circumcised?

Mitsuya: man what

Baji: ...

Baji: fuck that gotta do with what i just said

Baji: you just say shit

Kazutora: i'm talking about his birth method

Kazutora: keep up, Keisuke 😐

Chifuyu: you're so fucking stupid

Kazutora: HOW AM I STUPID

Kazutora: Mitsuya's mom was circumcised

Kazutora: it wasn't a vaginal birth

Kazutora: he was essentially removed, rather than birthed

Baji: "he was essentially removed, rather than birthed🤓👆"

Mikey: bro how do you even know that?

Chifuyu: R U TALKING ABOUT A C-SECTION????

Kazutora: IS THAT WHAT I FUCKING SAID?? NO

Kazutora: i hate talking to stupid mf's 🙄

Baji: i don't understand why people say i'm the stupidest

Draken: *most stupid

Draken: you honestly proved everyone's point

Baji: fuck off

Mitsuya: ok you guys can shut up now

Draken: happy birthday Takashi

Draken: my sworn brother

Draken: my other half

Draken: my twin dragon

Draken: love ya man

Mitsuya: thank you Draken🙂

Baji: did u have socks on

Draken: ...?

Baji: you can't say "i love ya" and "my other half" without any socks on

Baji: it implies a sense homosexuality

Baji: but if you have socks on then it's fine

Draken: i'm sick of you

Baji: bro doesn't have any socks on 💀

Mitsuya: you guys can shut up now x2

Mitsuya: also

Mitsuya: you don't all have to say happy birthday just say it when we meet up cause i feel awkward saying thank you to every single one of you

Mikey: hope you enjoyed my birthday present 💪😎

Mitsuya: yeah...

Mitsuya: the half eaten taiyaki

Mitsuya: appreciate it

Mikey: anything for the homies ❤

Mitsuya: 😒

Draken: where's Hakkai

Draken: surprised he hasn't said anything about your birthday

Mitsuya: he's planning a surprise birthday party

Baji: surprise🤨?

Mitsuya: he told me not to not text him cause he's busy with my surprise birthday party

Mitsuya: i don't think he realized that he told me

Mitsuya: i don't wanna bum him out so i'll still act surprised

Mitsuya: i appreciate it either way

Chifuyu: Takemitchy, Angry and I have been helping him plan this for weeks, and he just fucking told you😐

Mitsuya: i guess lol

Mitsuya: also said he has a surprise for me

Baji: he's gonna tongue you down, i just know it

Mitsuya: stfu

Mikey: are y'all together or not

Mitsuya: don't know what you're taking about

Draken: bro's taking his time

Mikey: Mitsuya you're 21 now

Mikey: it's been 8 years???😭

Smiley: i may not have a birthday present but i'll bring queer and weed

Smiley: since y'all follow the law or whatnot and you're legal now

Smiley: hypocrites

Draken: what's wrong with following the law?

Smiley: you think beating people half to death was fucking legal, Draken?

Draken: well... no

Draken: doesn't mean we should abuse substances, underage

Smiley: ❤H Y P O C R I T E❤

Smiley: and a lot of the people we know smoke so idk why you're all the way in my ass rn

Draken: yeah but cigarettes aren't drugs

Smiley: weed >>>>> cigarettes

Draken: the ability to breath when i'm in my thirties >>>>

Smiley: fair

Baji: wdym you'll bring a queer and weed🤨

Smiley: why would i bring a queer when Mitsuya is literally right there

Smiley: i meant beer

Smiley: pride month changing my damn autocorrect😒

Kazutora: stop saying slurs

Smiley: bro the gays reclaimed that shit

Smiley: it's a blanket term for the ABCDEFG community or whatever the fuck

Draken: i feel like you're being homophobic

Smiley: nuh uh

Smiley: dude look

Smiley: 👬 👭

Smiley: see?😁

Smiley: am i still homophobic?

Baji: he got us there

Draken: wha-

Draken: what the fuck is that supposed to prove?

*Hakkai has gone online*

Hakkai: HI TAKA-CHAN

Hakkai: could you please come over to my place for no particular reason?🤔

Hakkai: hmmmm, it kinda feels like i'm forgetting something

Hakkai: maybe like, a public holiday?

Hakkai: who knows?🤷‍♂️

Hakkai: anyway

Hakkai: let's hang out like the regular days in which we are normal 🤗

Hakkai: see you soon 😁

Mitsuya: ...

Mitsuya: yeah sure Hakkai

Mitsuya: be right over

Hakkai: ❤

*Hakkai has gone offline*

Mikey: 💀

Chifuyu: i hate him

Baji: did he even fucking try

[thewordypeach]

Flesh Without Blood

Flesh without Blood (Forbidden Fruit)

pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader, Tommy Miller x fem!reader word count: 5.6k warnings: 18+, smut!, no use of y/n, incest (stepsibling!!!), threesome, oral (f and m receiving), unprotected penetration x2, little bit of voyeurism, maybe some cuckold, mentions of punishment, implied rape, slight uncaring/cold-hearted... summary: There’s something beneath the surface, something that has been waiting to be unleashed. Something dark and feral. author's note: hello, this is my third story I've posted! and oooof, yeah... it is incest. but between stepsiblings (as if that makes it better??!?) i couldn't help myself okay! i know you want to be sandwiched between Tommy and Joel Miller as much as i do. also, i am sorry that the summary sucks - i'm not very good at them lol. umm, anyways, i hope you enjoy because i might have another incest-y story in the works... ;) xoxo the wordy peach <3

Joel Miller’s rough exterior speaks to the life of survival the three of you’ve endured since the cordyceps outbreak. You watch as his chest expands and his shoulders pull back, making his already physically imposing body even more domineering than before. His face, rugged and weathered, twists into a scowl. Meanwhile, Tommy Miller’s exterior is merciful, exuding a softer, more lenient temper. His body language is casual. Less rigid. But his face is stricken with disappointment.

“I’ll give you a cut of whatever I make!” The contrast between the brothers makes you nervous, and you slowly start backing away. A sense of urgency makes you blurt out a new, better offer, “Whatever I make, I’ll give you a quarter - no! Half!”

Joel remains stoically hardened, but Tommy gives a disarming smile and barks a laugh, “What the hell are we going to do with the money?”

You shrug, “Buy some more guns?”

Tommy laughs again, and his entire face lights up. Tommy’s laid-back nature has always made him the easygoing of the two brothers, and even now, as they confront you about your secret business dealings, he seems to trust that you aren’t a threat. You might be slightly stupid, but you certainly aren’t dangerous.

“Oh, Nic,” Tommy shakes his head, and his face darkens as he approaches you. The sudden change in his demeanour makes you confused, and your body stills, becoming rigid and tense. His hand is quick, clamping down around your throat. Your breath hitches, and you reach up, grabbing his wrist. His hold on you is firm, and you struggle to remove his steellike grip.

“You think we’re fucking stupid?” He hisses, voice full of venom. He doesn’t squeeze, but his fingers flex around your throat, sending the message that he could easily choke you out. Your eyes dart to Joel, who isn’t stopping any of this - in fact, it looks like Joel is enjoying it. 

“Don’t look at him - look at me,” Tommy barks, “I’m the one who has you by the throat,” 

Your eyes snap to Tommy, and you squirm, trying to step back. Tommy glares, spitting out, “Never thought you’d be the one who would betray the family, Nic,”

“I wasn’t -” You grunt, still trying to pry his hand off your throat. By a fraction, Tommy’s grip tightens. “I wasn’t trying to fucking betray you - I was trying to fucking leave this shit hole,” 

At the admission of your actual plan, Tommy stops. His face softens ever so slightly, and his eyes, once hard and emotionless, shift into concern. His brows knit together, and he whispers, “Leave?”

You nod, eyes still panicked as they peer at Tommy. You know he’s the one you want to be bargaining with, but it’s still hard to admit the truth to Tommy. You reply, “I-I-I’m joining the Fireflies,”

Confusion floods Tommy’s face, and he presses, “You need money for that?”

Momentarily, you feel bad. It wasn’t money that you were after, but rather, you were gathering supplies for a mission which just happened to belong to your stepbrothers. You shake your head and bite your lower lip, considering your words, before cautiously speaking, “I needed the supplies for a mission Marlene is sending me on,” 

“Oh, that’s fucking rich, Nic - stealing from your own brothers,”

“Tommy, no - it’s not like that,” You say, voice breaking in the process. Tommy shakes his head, and the muscles in his hand, still holding your throat, flex and shift. 

“Then what’s it like, Nic?” Tommy asks. He sounds hurt; however, his neck is corded with tension and his lips are twisted into a wryly sneer.

“I know neither of you wants me around,” Your voice quivers as you speak, the weight of past rejections and present isolations bearing down on your heart. You know deep down that Tommy and Joel Miller, your brothers only by marriage, have never entirely accepted you as one of their own. 

There has always been a palpable tension that never seems to dissipate; something is always simmering beneath the surface. And now, decades later, that same tension remains in a world ravaged by a deadly fungus. Tears gather in your eyes as you confront the bitter wound that has never fully healed. 

Tommy’s tongue clicks against his teeth, tsking in disapproval, “Poor little Nicky thinks we don’t want her around, Joel….” 

You shake your head, “Tommy - please, don’t,”

Tommy glances at his older brother, “What do you have to say about this, Joel? Do we want little Nicky around?”

From the expression on Joel’s face, you think he is being asked what he thought of the weather because it is so casual, so aloof. Completely unaffected. You watch as Joel’s mouth moves. His voice is cold and detached: “You know what, Tommy? She is stupid for thinking that we don’t want her around, considering all we’ve done for her….”

Joel casually walks over, his brown eyes staring blankly at you. That is until a strange look flickers across his face. It’s a warning - you’ve seen it before. Your stomach drops, and you’re suddenly desperate to escape this situation, so you try to bargain with them, “Just let me go, and we can pretend this never happened, okay?” 

Still holding your neck, Tommy sweeps his thumb along your jaw and strokes little circles into it. It’s almost comforting. His head tilts to the side, and he peers at you, eyes blazing. It’s the lapse of silence that has you panicking again. His face tips down, and he presses his nose into your cheek, his hot breath cascading across your skin. 

“Oh, Nic…” Tommy murmurs, his lips flush against your cheek, “I know it’s hard to believe, but everything we’ve done, we did it for you,”

The implication makes your skin crawl. Lips quivering, you ask, “What are you talking about?”

Tommy’s voice is taut, filled with annoyance, “Stupid bitch doesn’t even know how many men we’ve stopped from ripping her apart -” His hand has moved from your throat to your jaw, holding it tightly between his fingers. He’s gazing at you with expanded pupils. There’s something beneath the surface, something that has been waiting to be unleashed. Something dark and feral. 

That’s when Joel presses his body into your back, and you realize you aren’t going anywhere. Your stomach twists and floods with despair, body submitting to him instantly. With a taunting undertone, Joel says, “Oh, Nicky… how can we convince you that we want you around?”

Tommy disagrees, huffing out, “Speak for yourself, Joel - Nicky has always been a pain in my ass,”

“Tommy,” Joel warns. The energy has shifted. It’s no longer hostile, but something taboo between the two brothers is unfolding. Tommy’s mouth twitches, and he sighs, relenting as Joel recounts a memory: “Remember that one summer when she wore that tiny bikini and paraded her body all around the yard? Like some goddamn peacock.” 

Tommy licks his lips, smirking at the memory. A prickling sensation shoots up your spine, and alarms start going off in the back of your mind. Frantically, you glance around the room. You already know there isn’t a way out of here, and even if there were, Joel and Tommy would never let you go. 

With a gruff voice, Joel asks, “Tommy, how does it feel having your fantasy come true?” 

A dreadful expression crosses your face, but underneath, there’s curiosity as bewilderment floods through you. Thinking of the past and present, searching for the signs of their secret desire - can it really be true? Tommy mumbles, “It only took a decade for it to happen,”

You shake your head, refusing to believe such things, “N-no, no….”

Wickedly, Tommy grins, “What, Nic? Are you trying to tell me that you never thought of us this way?” He cocks his head to the side, entertained by the defiant glare you’re giving him. It reminds him of the times he spent teasing you as a teenager; he had fun bullying you in those days.  

Firmly, you state, “No, I haven’t.” You’re disgusted by his insinuation: “It’s wrong,”

Tommy scoffs, laughing, “So, you didn’t write in your diary about how badly you wanted Joel to take your virginity?”

You stop, eyes blinking with disbelief. Your jaw slackens, mouth opening in shock. Tommy loves this look - he loves how you’re pretending to be all innocent when you are just as dirty as he and Joel. 

“I never wrote that,” You lie. Tommy rolls his eyes and gives you a playful look before his eyes travel down, taking inventory of your body. A possessiveness settles on his face as he hungrily gazes at your chest. He knows you hate wearing a bra, and even now, he can tell you aren’t wearing one. It’s in how your tits bounce and your nipples, perky and erect, poke through the fabric.

Tommy can’t stop himself and just has to reach up and pinch one. The pain is sharp and quick, making you squeal in surprise. You try to twist away, body turning, but Joel’s hands cinch around your waist, and he holds you against his solid body. Your attempt to fight back is futile. Utterly useless. You try to think of ways out of this, but your mind is giving up, and your body is giving in; Joel touching you makes you realize that the infatuation you once felt for him has never really gone away. 

“I…I was young and stupid,” You hastily admit to the secret you’ve been harbouring for decades, “I … I thought it’d be hot to fuck one of you - can you blame me, though? Both of you were constantly bringing girls over to fuck -”

“Aw, Nicky. Were you jealous?” Tommy coos as his finger completes a circle or two around your nipple. The sensation is causing pressure to build in the crest of your crotch, and you hate yourself for it. It’s wrong, totally wrong -

“If I’m being honest, Nic… I was jealous of your little boyfriend - what was his name again? Gregory? Geoff?” 

Joel says, “Garret,”

“Ahh, yeah. Garret. He’s the one who popped your cherry,” Disappointment lines Tommy’s voice, and he pouts, jealous that it wasn’t him. Unhurried, Tommy drags a finger down, down, down and slips his hand underneath your shirt. You inhale sharply as Tommy’s hand dances across your stomach, tickling you. Goosebumps explode across your skin, and you struggle to remain indifferent, but his touch sends mixed signals to your brain. 

Teasingly, Tommy presses, “Whatever happened to Garret? Hmmm, Nic? What happened to him?” 

You bite your lip, trying to remember. Garret was your first boyfriend. Your first love. Or so, that’s what you thought. Teenage boys can be so fickle. “He… he broke my heart - cheated on me with some dumb whore,” 

“Do you regret him being your first? Do you wish it was Joel or me who took your precious little flower?” Tommy circles back to your old diary entry. You refuse to admit it, mouth clamping shut. But it’s the way your body presses into Joel’s body that gives your secret away. Intrigued, Tommy studies your subtle movement. He knows that you’ve always had something for Joel - after all, Joel is the protective older brother who’s reliable and stable. Always has been.

“Well, Nic…” Tommy’s voice fades off. His hand underneath your shirt trails up and cups your breast. It’s soft and pillowy, exactly how he imagined. His voice is low, but his intentions are evident as he speaks: “What if you got the best of both worlds? What if Joel and I take you….” 

He’s massaging your tit, kneading the plump flesh. He tweaks your nipple, softer this time, and a little gasp escapes from your throat, betraying you. Traderous sparks begin to envelop your body. Your breath hitches as you ask, “And what happens if I refuse?” 

You know you won’t be backing out of this because Tommy’s words are true. You’ve been lusting after Joel for years, and if the world hadn’t gone to total shit, you wouldn’t be standing here, considering Tommy’s insane offer. But in this post-apocalyptic world, nothing matters, not even the familial bonds you share with them. Your eyes shutter closed as you try to steady your breathing. The anticipation and nervousness are unbearable. 

“Nothing bad, if that’s what you’re wondering, darlin’...” Joel assures you in a calm, steady voice. His hands haven’t moved from their spot on your waist. The grip he has on you is gentle, reassuring. It's as if he’s trying to comfort you, and in some weird, fucked up way, it’s working. There’s no aggression or force in his touch, and the proximity of his body makes it hard for you to ignore the bulge pressing into your back. 

“Nothing bad?” You repeat. 

“Nothing bad,” Tommy and Joel say in unison. Their words soothe your nerves, but only a little. You take a deep breath, trying to settle your racing heart. You know that you can trust them and that they won’t hurt you. But still. The idea of being intimate with them is overwhelming - 

“Get on your knees -” Tommy instructs. 

Joel interjects, “Go slow, Tommy - we have all night with her,”

Tommy scowls, annoyed with his brother. However, you are already sliding down to the floor. A smug look flickers over Tommy’s face, and he unbuckles his belt and pulls down his jeans. To your surprise, he’s not wearing underwear, and his cock falls out. It’s big, and it points right at you. You peer at it, frozen in shock. You aren’t sure what you were expecting, but suddenly, you’re left wondering if Joel is also blessed with a gift of this size. Or maybe, Tommy is the one who lucked out in the genetics department -

“You’ve sucked a cock before, haven’t you, Nic?” Tommy asks as his fingers touch your chin and his thumb swipes across your lower lip, opening your mouth. You nod, and slowly, Tommy’s cock replaces his hand. He makes a soft hissing sound as your lips slide down his shaft.

“Fuck,” Tommy threads his fingers through your hair as you babble around his cock. It’s a bit too deep for your liking, but a switch gets flicked, and all you want to do is prove yourself - you want to prove to your brother that you can suck cock. You hold his hips and bob your head, working your tongue against his arousal. But apparently, it’s not enough for Tommy because he starts thrusting in and out of your mouth, his cock reaching a dangerous depth, which causes your eyes to swell with tears. 

“I’ve dreamt of this filthy little mouth,” Eyes narrowing into slits, Tommy completely immerses himself into the fantasy. He can’t believe you are here, on your knees, sucking his cock. Joel loves it too, admiring how well you are doing, but he doesn’t like how rough Tommy is - he’s practically yanking your head down his shaft, making you gag and sputter. However, you don’t seem fazed by it. 

Joel can’t help but wonder if you’re genuinely enjoying it, and he knows the answer lies between your thighs. He kneels, hand snaking around your stomach and shoving into the waistband of your pants. You let out a muffled gasp of surprise but continued to gag and sputter around Tommy’s cock. Joel’s fingers are slow, but they move with purpose, and he teasingly presses them into your panties. He whispers into your ear, “You’re so fucking wet… does sucking your brother’s cock turn you on that much?” 

He taunts your clit, fingers circling it but never quite touching it. You’re gasping for air, hot tears tracking down your cheeks. Tommy quickly wipes them away, a tender action that leaves you feeling cared for as he continues to fuck your face. Joel senses your discomfort and tells Tommy to ease off. 

“Fuck, just let me -” Tommy groans, a familiar ache in his balls. He’s so fucking close; the tension is becoming unbearable. However, Tommy has to resign himself because he still wants to fuck you, and hastily, Tommy removes his cock from your mouth, groaning as a trail of spit dangles between your mouth and the tip of his well-sucked cock.

You greedily suck the air back into your lungs, chest heaving. Your eyelids flutter as Joel continues to apply pressure through the fabric of your panties, but you need more. You need him inside. Daringly, you ask: “Can we move this to the bed?” 

Tommy and Joel share a look. It’s so quick that you almost miss it. Joel stands, lifting you in the process. He twirls you around, places his large hands on your hips, and kisses you like a man starved. Joel doesn’t give a damn that you had Tommy’s cock in your mouth because Joel has been waiting for this and doesn’t want to hold back. He gives it all to you, nipping and sucking your lower lip. When Joel’s tongue touches yours, you groan. 

As your heart thrums wildly inside your chest, liquid heat pools in your core. It’s so wrong that it’s right. Any morals you once had are long gone. They don’t exist anymore. Joel cups your ass, gripping the fleshy mounds. You gasp, and Joel smiles before his lips travel down your jaw, planting kisses down to your neck, where his teeth graze your collarbone. His hands move up and play with the hem of your shirt, and in one swift motion, he lifts it off your body and tosses it to the side. 

Joel’s mouth continues to travel downward, and he closes his mouth against your tit. He’s all teeth and tongue with continuous suction — meanwhile, his other hand twists and tweaks your other nipple between his thumb and finger. Little mewls spill forth from your mouth, and your hands are groping Joel’s bulge through his jeans, desperate to feel his cock. 

“Take your pants off, Joel,” You demand, and to your surprise, he obeys. Joel strips and tosses his clothes. Unlike his brother, Joel wears underwear with a humorous pattern of hearts. It’s quite the contrast to his imposing physical ruggedness. It makes you smile and giggle - Joel’s eyebrow lifts quizzically. You shake your head, and the next thing you know, Joel is helping you out of your pants and lowering you down to the mattress where Tommy is already lying, waiting. His clothes have already been discarded. 

“I want to taste you,” Joel murmurs. You watch as the slightest tinge of pink rises to his cheeks. It makes you giddy. Only in your dreams has Joel said such things. Joel hovers, pushing your thighs open with his palms, kneeling between them, sliding lower and lower. He hooks a finger on your panties and glides them off your hips; they join the rest of the forgotten clothes in the room. 

Joel marvels at your glistening pussy that’s so swollen from having been kept in a state of anticipation. His fingertips sink so easily into your folds, parting them and gliding his digits through the slickness of arousal seeping out. Your head tilts back, eyes closing from the pleasure steadily streaming through your body. Joel lowers his face, inhaling your tantalizing scent, which unleashes a throaty moan from his chest. He’s gentle when carving a path through your arousal with his tongue, noting how your thighs twitch ever so slightly when he glides over your throbbing clit. 

“Mmm, how does she taste, Joel?” Tommy asks, voice breaking through the silence between the three of you—Joel answers by grunting. He’s a man of few words, even now. The vibration makes you clench and groan as your hands thread themselves through Joel’s hair because you need something to hold onto. His tongue circles your clit before licking downward and dipping into your wet hole. 

You hiss at the intrusion, “Fuck, Joel,” Never fucking ever did you think your brother would be this fucking good at eating pussy -

“Joel has quite the tongue, doesn’t he, Nic?” Tommy hums as he shifts his body, lying down next to you. His mouth hovers above your shoulder, and his warm breath strews across your skin as he lowers to your breast, tongue flicking your nipple. You groan as your brain goes hazy at the dual pleasure that is coursing through your body.

You don’t know what to focus on: Joel, who is ravaging your pussy, eating it like it's his last meal on earth, or Tommy, who is manhandling your tits, biting, sucking, and marking his territory by breaking your skin’s capillaries. 

Your chest heaves, and your teeth sink into your cheek. Liquid heat blossoms in your core, and your fingers grip Joel’s hair, practically ripping it out as his tongue takes a long, broad stroke up to your clit. You gasp as he sucks it into his mouth, “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

“You like that, Nic? You like it when Joel sucks your clit?” Tommy has quite a filthy mouth on him, and you nod, eagerly agreeing with his statement.

“Need more, though,” You murmur, and you watch as Tommy’s eyebrows shoot up.

“Oh, yeah? Little Nicky needs more?” Tommy teases before instructing Joel to add a finger or two, and just like that, Joel’s middle finger is circling your tight, wet hole. Tapping at it, applying the lightest pressure before it sinks inside. You’re shifting continuously, trying to adjust and make room - you can't remember the last time someone penetrated you, and Joel’s finger is so thick.  

“Relax, Nicky,” Joel rasps out, “I’m not going to hurt you….”

You order yourself to relax, but Joel can tell it’s still too much for you because he has to hold down your hip, stilling it, with his other hand. Once more, Joel latches his mouth to your clit, and twirls bud tongue around it. When Joel adds a second digit, you give a half-yelp. And when Joel curls his fingers, hooking them inside, pressing against that sweet spongy spot, heat floods your body.

Your hips grind into his face, desperately wanting more - no - needing more. Joel knows you are close to releasing because your walls clench around his fingers, and your moans have become more frequent and erratic. You’re begging, pleading, to cum.

He closes his eyes and plunders his way through, lapping and sucking your every fold. He’s tuning you to a rhythm that has your hips rising to meet his pistoning fingers, and that’s when Joel hits that perfect combination, unleashing a wave that swells and rolls across your body. Your back arches off the mattress, squealing, “Oh, fucking hell, Joeeeeel-” 

Your core tightens, and your toes curl as bright lights burst across your shuttered eyelids. Sticky wetness pours out, covering Joel’s finger and mouth, but he doesn’t stop until you’re thrashing beneath him. Unable to take any more, you gently push him away; otherwise, you know he won’t be stopping anytime soon. 

Having denied his meal, Joel gives you a sullen look with pouty lips that glisten with your nectar. You shudder at the sight and reach for Joel’s body because you need him and his cock. You tug off his boxers, springing free a heavy and lengthy cock, similar to Tommy’s. At the sight of pre-cum dribbling down from his slit, your mouth waters. 

“Like what you see, Nic?” Joel rasps as his hand reaches down, closing his fist around it. He pumps it once, twice, and you swear, it’s bigger than before. Your eyes widen, thinking it’s too big - this is something you haven’t considered before. Your past partners definitely did not measure up to what your brothers are packing. 

“It’s so big….” Your voice trails off, heat blossoming across your cheeks. You feel silly for asking, “Is it even going to fit?”

Joel smirks, “Oh, darlin’... that’s why Tommy goes first -” 

“That’s fucking right,” Tommy growls. Suddenly, Tommy’s hands groped your body, pulling you up the mattress so you’re in its center. Joel sees your disappointment. He knows you want him to be the first, but Joel and Tommy prefer it this way. It’s not only better for them, but it’s also better for you. Tommy’s cock is the perfect starter. Meanwhile, Joel’s cock is the perfect finisher. 

Tommy looks elated as he positions himself between your thighs, cock in his hand as he nudges it through your slick, wet folds. A deep, throaty moan spills out of his mouth, and he pushes his cock into your entrance. Your cunt is pliant now but still not loose enough, he comments, “Ah, what a tight fucking cunt you got, Nic,” 

It hurts, but it’s a good hurt. The type that makes you want more, and so you open your thighs, making room for Tommy. His body vibrates with tension, and he glides his cock forward, sinking into wetness with a sudden thrust. Your mouth falls open, “Shit, Tommy -”

“Fucking hell, Nicky,” He groans, rolling his hips back and snapping them forward as your velvety hole welcomes every inch of him. His throat bobs, sucking in a sharp breath, “Fucking better than I could’ve ever imaged,”

“Yeah?” You reply breathlessly. You hate to admit it, but dirty-talking Tommy is doing inexplicable things to your body and mind. You need to hear more; his encouragement alone could easily drive you to another orgasm. 

“Yeah, Nic - fucking perfect cunt,” Tommy drops his head against your shoulder, his cock nuzzled deep in your cunt. He’s trying to catch his breath, and he’s trying not to spill his entire load right then and there. But having you in this position, your walls suctioning all around him, is making him disintegrate. 

His stomach flexes, struggling to remain composed - fuck. The lack of pussy has him weak, skirting the edge of an orgasm all too soon. He’s barely even fucked you. He’s disappointed in himself. You feel Tommy’s embarrassment, and you wrap your arms around his torso, whispering into his ear, “C’mon, Tommy… don’t you want to make my pussy feel good?”

You start rocking your hips, needing more friction than what he can give. He hisses at the movement, body trembling against yours, “Fuck me, Tommy - fuck me,” Your legs shift around, locking Tommy in place as your pussy clenches around his cock, coaxing him to move. To do something. 

“You feel so good,” You lick and nip at his earlobe. He hisses in response, his hips slowly bucking to meet yours. He’s trudging forward, head hanging low, trying not to blow his entire load. 

“Mmm, do you like my pussy -”

“No more talking,” Tommy tries to quell you. Eyes closed, jaw straining, “You’re gonna make me cum, talking like that,”

Cockily, you continue to spew filth at him, “Oh, yeah, Tommy? Are you gonna cum in my pussy - are you gonna come in your sister’s pussy?”

Heart pumping wildly inside his chest, Tommy’s body seizes, and his orgasm punches through. A shaky groan, gritty and low, escapes from his chest. The room fills with ragged breathing as he ejaculates his sticky seed in your cunt. As his cock twitches and empties, Tommy shudders and gasps into your shoulder. 

His body presses against yours, needing momentary support as he wrestles with himself, feeling mortified at his lack of stamina. He used to go for hours; hell, girls would line up for a chance with Tommy fucking Miller. So, it takes him an extra moment to convince himself that this was just a one-off. 

“Next time?” He whispers, hoping - what is the likelihood you’ll be down for another round? You plant a tender kiss against his chin, hands sweeping across his sweaty temple, repeating, “Next time,”

His eyes, full of potential, snap to yours. He gives you a sheepish smile. You know you will want more after tonight because what else is there to do in this post-apocalyptic world?

Tommy moves, and as soon as he does, Joel is there to replace his brother. You barely have time to think before Joel is raising your knees, angling them apart.  Joel’s movements are quick and precise. He’s been restlessly watching you get fucked, and he’s relieved that Tommy only took five minutes because now, it’s his turn. Joel feels like he has been waiting his entire life for this moment; now, it’s here. It’s actually happening. 

A giddiness rushes over Joel, and his stomach flutters with anticipation as his eyes hungrily glaze over. He’s ready, so fucking ready to give you what you deserve. Teasingly, Joel glosses the tip of his cock past your poised entrance and rubs it against your delectable wet folds that have unmistakable evidence of Tommy. Your response is a throaty groan, watching Joel mix the precum leaking from his cock with Tommy’s leftovers.

You’re feeling lightheaded, dizzy with desire. Oh, how you’ve craved Joel. You spent decades yearning for him; you went far too long feeling like a depraved little slut for wanting to fuck your step-brother. Your perverted little fantasy is finally coming true - you have him right where you want.

Joel takes the plunge, his cock nudging into your cunt. It’s almost too much. Without Tommy’s cock to start you off, Joel would’ve never fit. You peek at the point of penetration; the sight is better than anything you dreamed of. Except his cock isn’t entirely inside - not even half. Joel definitely has an extra inch or two than Tommy. You wiggle and squirm, breathing out a scattered whimper that exudes impatience.

“Joel,” You mewl, hands groping his neck and chest. You need something to hold onto because he’s starting to push against the resistance. Joel grunts as your tight velvet walls keenly greet his cock, welcoming him inside. He doesn’t stop until he has bottomed out, cock buried to the hilt. Splitting and spreading you open, almost until a breaking point where you’re gasping at being so filled. He barely moves an inch, and your walls automatically clench, sealing around him. 

“Shit, Nic - Tommy’s right. Your cunt is so fucking tight,” Joel pulls out, and his hands slide to the small of your back, lifting into your body as he pushes back into molten wetness. He does this over and over, rubbing against the spot in your velvet channel. Your thighs tremble as a blissful pleasure travels up your spine. However, you ache for more friction. 

Noise pitches from the back of your throat, “Harder, Joel - fuck me harder,” 

And he does. He pushes your knees against your chest and tilts his hips, snapping forward with such force that you cry out, your nails digging into the side of his torso. In a matter of seconds, Joel’s thrusts have become exploratory - going from shallow to deep, reaching a point of no return as he plunders forward.

Your entire body begins pulsating, a feverish wave rolling through. A second climax is upon you, the throes of euphoria building inside your body as Joel swiftly continues, elated that he’s about to give you what you deserve. You are panting incoherent nonsense as Joel relentlessly drives his cock in and out, in and out. 

He slides a hand between your bodies, quickly finding your clit and tweaking it between his finger and thumb. Your pelvis canted upwards to meet his touch. Urgently, you gasp, needing more pressure because it’s insufficient. Joel, somehow an expert in your body, does precisely that.

Joel palms your clit, sending continuous shocks across your core, making it impossible to ignore the building pressure. When you hit the peak, it’s an endless stream of obscenities. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!”

You thrash beneath him, thighs squeezing shut, but Joel rips them open. He charges his hips into yours, riding your orgasm out; he loves how your smooth walls flutter around his cock, milking him. Cock drenched with your juices, Joel plows, his thrusts becoming shallow and rough. He grabs your hips, trying to control them, but you continue to undulate beneath him, desperately trying to meet his rhythm because you want Joel to fill your cunt with his cum. 

“Fill my pussy, Joel, fill it -” You coax him, voice reedy, hitching on the last word. Joel’s eyes shuttered close, his lashes like dark half-moons against his skin. Your pussy is persistent, swallowing his cock without resistance now. 

A rush of ecstasy flits through Joel’s body, and within seconds, the tension of the coil is snapping. He loses control, and his strokes stutter out, cock surging with a powerful load of spunk that paints the inside of your cunt.

“Holy fuck, Nic,” Joel’s head snaps back, his throat shuddering as he tries to calm the carnal rush raging through his body. His cock twitches and convulses as it continues to empty weeks' worth of pent-up frustration. You marvel at the feeling of being stuffed with your brother’s warm seed, legs locking around his waist because you need every single drop. 

As it ends, Joel’s energy drains. The excitement has dulled into the tranquility of release. As he gently pulls out of the warmth, his movements are sluggish. You feel the remnants of your brother's love seeping out of your gaping, used hole. Your taboo appetite has been satiated, and you’re excited about the prospect of what will happen next time. You are thinking of taking both their cocks at the same time when Joel’s voice interrupts the daydream: “Still thinking of leaving us, Nic?”

You give a breathy giggle, "No, I'm thinking about what it feels like to fuck the both of you at the same time,"

[moonymelly]

had another dream about your once-ler. This time he was sent into an existential crisis because all the asks kept implying that it was really the year 2024. Like at first Bigger-ler was like 'okay you guys are messing with me' but then it spiralled like LQ finding out he was an aftermath. I think Bigger-ler was running away at some point? he looked terrified as the world unravelled around him.

BRO WHO ARE YOU AND HOW DO YOU KEEP HAVING DREAMS ABOUT HIM!?!?!? I WANNA DREAM ABOUT HIM/THE ONCELER IN GENERAL SO BAD!!! AND YOU LIKE LQ?!? TELL MEEEEE RAGHH--

AHEM. Anywaysss....once again, I really like this!! "Liked it so much I drew it" x2 lol!! It's a really interesting concept, Biggerler having a crisis about discovering being in a completely different year, hm? So...I doodled it!!

Yeahhh...I don't think he's so happy. I didn't really know where to go after that so it kinda just meddled into a weird expression practice, which yippee I guess!!

I didn't have time to draw him running, unfortunately. But I'm actually really happy with my art here for once!! Once again, traditional is my bae, y'know ;P.

Once again, tysm for telling me about your dream!! In fact, if anyone has thoughts or random stuff to say regarding Biggerler and whatnot, just tell me, why not? :D

[otakween]

Digimon Data Squad (Savers) - Episode 12

Woohoo! The plot is plot-ing!

This was probably the episode with the most "serious business" tone yet. We also got some exciting foreshadowing for revelations to come. Also, new partner digimon (x2?) and a new bad guy! It's...(checks notes)...Mercurymon (メルクリモン)? Not to be confused with Mercurymon (メルキューレモン). Okaaaay...that's a choice.

Notes:

Okay, so apparently Masaru's mom knows way more about digimon than she's previously let on. She implies that her husband worked with DATS (or maybe just was associated with digimon) and that has something to do with why he's not around. Color me intrigued! Better than him being a deadbeat or dead from a mysterious illness. (I guess he could still be a deadbeat depending on where this is going lol).

So apparently a digimon appearing as a digiegg in this world is rare and the rule is that they need a human partner AND that human needs to join DATS if they want to stay in our world. Seems pretty strict, but I guess it makes sense from a public safety perspective. (From a real world perspective recruiting kids to DATS is crazy, but it's a shounen anime lol)

Feels a little random to bring back Biyomon for Chika. I mean, I know that they brought Agumon back for Masaru, but it's not like Biyomon was a fan favorite or anything (as far as I know lol, maybe they were). Maybe they wanted a bird since the ninja digimon is also a bird?

Speaking of Chika, it's a little surprising how big of a role she's played in this series. Masaru's mom too. I thought they would be more background characters but we've seen so much of both of them. Maybe they're trying to appeal to younger and older kids at the same time?

I kinda wish they stretched out this plot a bit, maybe keeping Biyomon a baby longer or something. It just feels like the emotional attachment between Chika and Biyomon was kinda forced and quick. (Of course, I've been saying that about digimon since Adventure lol). It was hard to be too invested in the "sad" scenes since we've known Biyomon for like two seconds.

I guess they made Biyomon masculine in this in order to differentiate from Adventure. Where's our feminine Agumon then? lol

Masaru beating up Biyomon was pretty intense. That was a lot of hitting before getting GeoGreymon involved!

(Someone call PETA!)

We finally see Sunflowmon again and they're extremely useless -_- (at least they made it into a gag this time)

Not really into ninja-themed characters. It's just kinda a boring character type to me. Still looking forward to meeting the final mystery MC from the OP tho.

Seriously, when they introduced Mercurymon I was like "wtf?" I thought he might be a digivolution of Frontier!Mercurymon, but no. They really just chose an extremely similar name. Anyways, I googled him so I could get a closer look at his design. Did not realize from this episode that he was humanoid! He's giving Indigenous God vibes with his outfit (Aztec was the first one that came to my mind).

[dramadramallama]

just finished jazz for two and honestly... not bad! the acting's really nice, even if the writing falls short at times. there were some really good moments, and the tension really worked. i was like, INVESTED.

i'm living for the longer episodes; they're only 30 minutes long, but i remember the 6-7 mins (not counting the opening+closing credits) we mostly got--and still get sometimes. i'm sensing a change and i'm all for it. now if only they could use those 30 minutes efficiently.......

the biggest flaw i think comes from the "fake-depth" of the characters. instead of intelligently suggesting/implying stuff to 1. save some time 2. let the audience interpret things on their own--they spend a lot of time on unnecessary scenes and off-screen narration (my biggest enemy in kdramas) to give the illusion of substance. it's not so much that's there too much telling, and not enough showing, it's more like there's too much showing for things that should have been told instead (and vice versa.)

all that time could have been spend on more casual scenes to show the character's personalities and their relationships. y'know, get some real depth. nothing crazy, just a few details here and there, to highlight important characteristics, and show why they act the way they do.

jun-ha was really interesting, and the dynamic he had with do-yoon's happy-go-lucky character was kinda nice. the actors did really well. but he was written like they didn't who he was at all, like they just needed an archetype to fill up an empty space. what was the deal with his sister exactly? she was so normal compared to him lmao. why was he so interested in se-heon at first? his borderline sexual harassment was way more incriminating that whatever he had going on with do-yoon, so why panic over a lil smooch? i think they both would have done it justice if their relationship had been explored more.

similarly, we mostly see tae-yi's prickly side, even when he's hanging with his (only?) friend, do-yoon. why not show why they get along so well? or why do-yoon likes him so much that he doesn't seem bothered by his moody temperament? do-yoon didn't even know he had a dead older brother lol, like... what kind of friends were they exactly? they also could have spent some more time showing exactly why and how se-heon falls for tae-yi. like even though i totally bought it (they were cute!), at least sell it to me a little? it was almost like there was no transition from the frenemies tension-filled moments and the first kiss. it's nice that they got to the top of the stairs but they missed a few steps and almost tripped lol.

but hey, they got there in the end!

Trope Tally:

new guy at school

heavy rain + umbrella sheltering and sharing

guys slamming other guys against walls

unavoidable bed sharing + bonus "i hate you" (*cuddles you when asleep*) + double combo "i sleep better around u"

slow mo falls (+bonus lying on top of each other)

past trauma (+bonus orphan)

controlling parent (+bonus RICH controlling parent)

cool uncle

everyone's kinda gay lol

the power of music AND LOVE

light hurt/comfort (and YOU get beat up, and YOU get a slight cut on your hand, and YOU get also beat up!)

noble idiocy (+bonus unnecessary break up)

jerk with a heart of gold (x2)

sunshine/tsundere pairing (... x2)

[statustemporary]

running home to your sweet nothings, chapter 2

STORY SUMMARY: His informality is refreshing; like water in a desert, Emma is parched and desperate for more.

“Take note, Princess, that I take no pleasure in pointing out the susceptibilities of your security or skills. It is my loyalty to you that wants you to remain safe.” There’s an earnestness to his voice and Emma feels her cheeks heat. His breath fans against her face in soft puffs as he speaks and the corner of his mouth lifts in a small smile.

“What have I done to earn such loyalty other than wear a crown?” she asks in an equally quiet voice. She’s breathless as she speaks but she yearns for his unfiltered response.

// or the four gifts of killian jones

RATING: M for Mature Audience (Implied sexual conduct, violence)

WORD COUNT: 9,002 words

TAGS: Alternative Universe, Enchanted Forest AU, Blacksmith!Killian, Violence, Implied Sexual Conduct

AO3

AUTHOR'S NOTE: had over 5k of this chapter sitting on my computer for well over a year. and have had 8k of chapter 3 for even longer than that (but who knows what of that will be kept).

anyway the first part of this chapter and the last part are my favorites, especially the first. the last part has been in my mind since i expanded this story beyond the prompt of gifts from killian lol. so yay for finally writing it! <3

having a lot of trouble staying inspired for ouat, especially over the last few months as i fundamentally disagree with some cast members stances. sorry not sorry for my inability to separate art from the artist. just trying to empty out my WIPs folder on my folder so i can fully move on. current WIPs will be finished. at some point.

anyway (x2) enjoy! sorry its been a year and a half lol

***

two and a half centuries ago.

late summer.

ella.

Her fingertips feel like fire.

Water crashes against the steep cliffs of Segovia and the freezing sea jumps up and nips at her exposed ankles. She pays no attention to the chill that travels her body or the way her sandy blonde hair whips in her face from the harsh winds. Instead, she keeps her eyes closed and hands held out in front of her.

Her magic gets weaker each time she uses it.

Magic had been thought to be extinct for years in Misthaven, the inhabitants losing it centuries back. The fairies retained their magic but even with their resources, could find no reasoning behind the loss for Misthaven’s people. Some of those in Misthaven believed that the Dark One was draining the land and its people of their magic for a dark curse but none had been cast. Others felt the magic was limited and once it was gone, there was no replenishing it.

And then Ella had been born as a product of True Love, and the first glance at pure magic in nearly three centuries. Her magic was respected by most and feared by others. When the Second Ogre War started a year ago, it became an expectation that she’d use her magic to help Misthaven succeed.

So she did. Her mother always told her to have courage and be kind, and what better way to live that to the fullest than doing all she could to protect the other citizens of Misthaven from a hostile takeover by the ogres?

Except… her magic is waning.

Like a wet cloth being hung to dry, she feels herself slowly losing her magic until there is close to none left. It is proving to be a problem on the battlefield as she doesn’t have the energy or the magic anymore to keep Misthaven from sending in soldiers.

Without her magic, she has no way to protect Kit.

She feels a momentary surge of energy flow through her body as her magic weaves through the dirt and pebbles on the cliffside, feels it singing as it circles a collection of ferrum.

There’s not much left, she thinks to herself of both the rocks and her magic.

Her work is hasty and not as clean as she wishes it could be but she knows that time is against her now.

Ella pulls the ferrum rocks from their place in an alcove on the cliff and piles them on a flat area. The sea water is getting rougher and wets her hair, her dress beyond repair from how the elements have thrashed it about. She quiets her mind and focuses on her Kit, letting her magic flow through her for one of the last times.

Black hair with a curl to it she loved to run her fingers through. A big heart guarded behind a charming smile. Those piercing blue eyes that could keep her rooted to the spot. He had her heart from the moment they met on horseback and she never looked back.

Her hands are burning as she opens her eyes. The rocks have transformed from separate entities into pieces of armor. Lining the edges of each piece is a design born from their love.

Stags to symbolize their first meeting. Shoes to symbolize how they found one another. A vine to connect to the three symbols together, representing their partnership and bond.

The last of her magic flares under her fingertips and Ella picks up the chest plate, lifting it to her face.

“Please take care of my love,” she whispers, sealing her plea with a soft kiss and a spark.

A feeling of emptiness envelops her in an embrace and she fights to wrap her arms around herself to keep out the cold it brings. She doesn’t have time to wallow in the loss of something so intricate to who she is. To stand there and focus on the ache in her heart or the hollow feeling in her chest is precious time wasted when she could be helping.

Ella takes a deep breath and marches past the longing in her fingertips for something just out of reach and instead gathers the armor she’s crafted. She cannot afford to let her emotions take control at this moment. That can wait for her lonely bedchambers late in the night when no one can hear her cry. For now, she needs to see her Kit off.

*

five and twenty.

early winter.

somewhere in the enchanted forest.

emma.

The flying simians attack on their fifth day.

*

Leaving Misthaven comes with an ease that unsettles Emma. The tension coiling around her shoulders refuses to alleviate as the castle walls become mere specks when she looks behind herself. Her posture remains rigid, her fitted armor, a gift from Killian, digs into her forearms from how restricted she keeps her movements.

Horse riding has never been a favorite activity of Emma’s. Being taught to sit astride a giant beast in the few moments of freedom she had growing up always felt more uncomfortable than liberating. Forever the black sheep of her family, her parents and their friends would guide their horses with ease while her confidence remained shaky.

Years have passed since her first riding lessons and yet unease still sits in the pit of her stomach. However, this time she can’t tell if it’s from the animal being squeezed between her boney knees or the mission she’s assigned herself.

She knows Killian believes her actions to be dumb, reckless, and completely unnecessary, but this is for her people. She has to protect them.

Besides, she will not let him throw himself on a sword just to spare her the slight inconvenience and possible danger. He’s much too important to her for her to let him volunteer himself like he tried. And he should give her more credit – he did teach her how to defend herself after all.

Emma ducks her head when a branch gets in her path and nearly falls off of her horse when she tries to sit up again.

A roaring laugh escapes a knight from behind her and she knows immediately that it belongs to Will Scarlet.

The knights that are with her trot through the forest without a worry as they move through Misthaven’s trees. This is just another day for them, another assignment, another potential battle. They have seen the worst of the worst and it has not scared them away yet.

Her bravado has been a front and she’s sure at least some of the most experienced of the group could read through it. But her people need her and if she must fake the confidence of a seasoned general, then she will do so, no matter how inadequate she feels.

The last and only time she’d gone to battle had been against Regina. The Evil Queen had caught them all off-guard, able to sneak into Misthaven by piggybacking on the magic of a fairy, they learned months after the fact, and Emma was unprepared, her magic unruly and uncontrollable.

“She must have been weak,” Emma tried to reason as Blue stood by her bed, her parents sitting at the foot.

“You have powerful magic, Princess,” Blue explained. “Magic belonging to True Love. Most magic users access their power through intellect. For them, it is a learned skill. You are rare, Princess Emma. You were born with it and you access your magic through your emotions. Emotions have the ability to create incredible magic, especially light magic, the likes of which the realm has never seen before.” She watched the fairy’s eyes slide over to her parents. Never before had she felt like such a fraud.

“The magic I used wasn’t light. I was angry. I wanted her gone,” Emma choked out.

Blue shook her head. “Anger is easy. It is the most natural emotion there is. The magic you used was made from love, Princess Emma. Love is the most powerful magic of all.”

She pulled her blankets tighter around her body, dragged her knees to her chest.

It certainly didn’t feel like love. How can ending someone’s life come from love? How can allowing them to suffer and not feeling remorse for it come from love?

Emma felt empty. She mentally reached towards her magic to feel it straining to return her call. What had always been an overabundance in her life – a threat to herself and those she loved – was barely there.

“What happened to it?” she asked, eyes full of tears and her hand shaking as she held it out of the blanket. “My magic,” she continued, voice cracking. “It – it isn’t all there. What happened to it?”

She missed the looks of sympathies shared between the three adults in the room before they broke the news to her.

Too much magic. Exhausted it. Body needed to recover. Might not come back.

She wept.

At least now, as she rides towards an unknown foe, she finds comfort in the fact that she’s not unprepared.

The sword Killian made for her bounces against her upper thigh as the horse below her trots down the dirt pathways. Its’ comforting weight at her side keeps the lessons he taught her in her mind. Their sparing sessions have made her almost as good of a swordsman as he is and holding a sword no longer feels awkward. His work has made her feel like the sword is an extension of her hand.

It also, unsurprisingly, feels like home.

Because with every remembrance of their sparing sessions, she recalls the feel of his lips against her mouth and his skin on hers. The way his raised eyebrow and smirk could make her heart race and how his presence made her feel like her magic was sparking back to life.

Her fingertips tingle and Emma glances down and imagines a faint glow surrounding them before the neigh of a horse breaks her reprieve.

Robin rides to her left while Will rides to her right, Lancelot and Little John scouting ahead with Dorothy following up behind. It is an odd group of knights that gathered at the barn to follow her along enemy lines but she trusts their abilities.

Robin, Lancelot, and Dorothy are the veterans of the group. The years of their training together totaling just shy of twice Emma’s age. Little John prefers to stay back, his tall stature a hindrance more often than not, but his abilities with a bow and arrow are lethal. Will is the youngest of the group, energetic like some of the pups on nearby farmlands and eager to prove himself worthy, though there’s an edge to his attitude that gives way to the wisdom learned on the streets he dragged himself from.

His sometimes-skittish behavior reminds her of what Killian must have been like as a boy before he and his brother happened upon Misthaven’s shores.

The trees are quiet for most of their ride. Branches and leaves sway in the wind, a soft rustling filling the silent air. Robin quickly established a system amongst the group – silence in the forest, ears searching for any sign of the enemy, and chatter allowed in the villages they pass. As they continue their journey, the villages become farther and farther between, silence becoming their most often companion.

The green of the forest brings a sense of comfort to Emma. They remind her of the color of her mother’s eyes and if she closes her own hard enough, she can imagine herself back at the castle, debating in the war room about next steps once Emma has news for her.

Her mother sends birds often. She realizes quickly that she must have her own system for ensuring one reaches her every few hours during the first two days. As much as this is her first big journey away from the castle, one her parents tried to talk her out of, this is also their first time being away from her. So she welcomes the birds and sends her own short messages back, confirming her safety and decreeing no news.

Longing burrows in her chest as by the third day, the birds only come twice. When the sun rises on the fourth, her mother’s accompanying note breaks the news she would only be able to send one bird a day.

Loneliness fights to take hold.

“There was once a family in Arendelle who had a tutor staying in their home,” Will starts as they near the outskirts of a village. Their travel companions groan and Emma bites back a smile. Propriety is hard to drop, even for this ragtag group, but Will sheds it fastest and most often. The earlier chastising from Robin fell on deaf ears as, to all of their mortification, Will told the dirtiest joke to ever grace Emma’s ears.

The snorting laugh he earned from his princess seemed to only spur the knight on further, as every village they arrived at brought forth another joke.

It eases her burdens, lessens the stress on her shoulders, and lets her forget the danger ahead, even if just for a moment.

“The tutor came so often that he felt himself at home and even had a turn with the housemaid, the nurse, and the mistress herself.” Emma’s gasp only brings a wolfish grin to Will’s face and she spots from the corner of her eye the death glare that Robin is sending his way. “When the master of the house discovered this, he summoned the young man to his private chamber and said, ‘I find it unmannerly of you, sir, that in taking your please of my entire household, you have made an exception of me.’”

Her roaring laugh echoes in the quiet village and she notices that even Lancelot, propriety in the flesh, cracks a grin.

“Where do you come up with this stuff?” she wonders.

“The gutter, undoubtedly,” Dorothy pipes up.

“I don’t visit you that often,” Will shoots back, his grin widening at the hard stare and white-knuckled grip of his comrade. “I learned meself such a grand knowledge like any growing lad did – eavesdropping at the tavern.”

Robin’s horse trots forward just slightly as the man leans over to catch a proper look at Will. “All of that eavesdropping and not a single manner picked up?”

“You give him too much credit!” Little John calls from the front.

“Oi! Just because I’m ordered not to kill you doesn’t mean I can’t.”

“Get a new line already, Scarlett!”

“Settle down, boys,” Dorothy says. “We’re getting close to the village center.”

Lancelot immediately adds, “Eyes out. Something’s not right.”

She registers the smell a few moments later and recoils in disgust.

Smoke. Wood. Flesh.

The distinct smell of burning flesh haunts her nightmares, lingers in the back of her throat as an aftertaste when her thoughts go astray. A quick succession of deep breaths keeps the urge to retch at bay. Still, she cannot will her horse to move.

“Princess Emma,” Robin calls softly, spotting and turning back to her. He lets the others go before them and she watches as they cover their noses and mouths with a cloth. It would be wise to do the same but her muscles won’t move. “Princess Emma,” Robin tries again. “Are you alright?”

“I – I’m fine,” she insists. He only nods and eyes her for a moment.

“Best cover up. You don’t want to be breathing in things like this.” He hands her a spare cloth and she ties it behind her head, mimicking Robin’s own movements. When she completes it, he gives her a nod and a smile, from what she can tell by his crinkling eyes. He gestures her forward but it takes a minute for her body to listen to her commands.

Their ride towards the nearby village settles a feeling of dread in the pit of her stomach. Images of Regina flash in her head no matter how hard she tries.

She spends the walk reliving Regina’s death. The way her skin melted under her gaze. The lack of guilt for what she’d done.

It terrifies her how clear everything still is for her.

Keeping her mind in the present is the hardest part so Emma tries to listen for any noises from around them.

The village is still a half hour away yet the entire forest is as if all signs of life have disappeared. No birds chirping – not even the ones that her mother has been sending after her to keep in touch. No crickets making music, no bees buzzing, not even the rustling of the tree branches.

Silence has never terrified her as much as this.

Ten minutes from the center of the village and they see another person for the first time. They struggle to walk and burns cover most of their body. Like in a trance, they ignore every offer of help coming from Emma and her companions. She moves to get off her horse when the person throws up, blood decorating the forest floor, before collapsing into the pool of their own fluids. The sight takes her breath away and she has to blink away the tears.

“Stay close,” Lancelot warns as they reach the settlement.

Stragglers stumble their way down the streets of the village. Their clothing disheveled and singed in spots, thatched roofs gone from most of the buildings and some still burn as they enter. It looks as if a storm of wind and fire rolled through and the village has yet to recover.

Something large sails overhead, a bird looking much different than she’d ever seen before. Its cawing sounds are unlike anything she’s heard before and it sends a chill down her spine. Four days on the road and an unsettling feeling returns to the center of her chest. She works hard to calm her panicking heart and instead places her trust in the guards around her.

“Let’s find a place to settle for the night,” Robin says, eyes darting to the sky.

They discuss quickly and quietly where the best place would be and settle on an abandoned stable nearby. A river runs behind it and even that doesn’t make a sound.

The stable doesn’t seem to have been damaged by storms like so many homes have been in the village, meaning something else drove the family away. Her only guess is the nearby enemy encampments, but this feels like something more.

Almost like there’s magic waiting for her across the river but what little there is in her can’t reach far enough to grab it and understand what is happening.

Instead, they pair up and ensure that everyone has someone looking out for them. Emma’s never felt so vulnerable until she had to empty her bladder as Dorothy remained vigilant on all that surrounds them. Someone could come up behind them at any moment and her sword was lying on the ground at her feet, swallowed by her riding trousers.

She quickly finds comfort in pulling her dagger from her boot and holding it in her hand as she goes.

Most of the villagers don’t even spare them a second glance as they move about. There’s a haunted look in their eyes that makes Emma roll her shoulders in an attempt to ease the brewing tension. Odd shapes keep flying between the treetops casting unfamiliar shadows on the ground. The animals never come close enough to identify but Emma still feels their eyes glaring into the back of her head.

The group finishes the necessary tasks quickly before retreating back to the stables come nightfall.

The horses stomp restlessly as they settle in during the late evening. The hair on the back of her neck stands up at their unease and the feeling spreads throughout their group. Wailing – the heart-wrenching, sore throat, dry heaving kind – echoes from different corners of the village and grief hangs heavy in the air.

“We won’t stay for more than a night,” Lancelot says. “One guard at all times. No one leaves this stable tonight. Is that understood?” A round of nods comes from the group and the knight assigns shifts.

“What about me?” Emma asks.

“With all due respect, Princess, I cannot afford to have you on guard. Rest. Your work is tomorrow.”

His decision is hard to swallow but Emma nods anyway. It wouldn’t do good to throw a tantrum among the people whose job is to protect her. She will let it slide for tonight, her stomach twisting in uncomfortably fast motions. But tomorrow she will take part.

It takes a great effort to not stomp and grumble on her way to her sleeping spot but apparently it still isn’t good enough as it gets a laugh from Robin. He lounges against one of the closed stable doors, a picture of ease with his legs stretched in front of him and his ankles crossed.

She halfheartedly glares at the man before she attempts to fluff the hay. It’s certainly a far cry from a palace pillow but it’ll have to do.

“Is everything alright, Princess Emma?” he asks. They are the only two at their end of the stables, the others working over a strategy near the entrance.

“I had hoped for better accommodations,” she answers after a moment, teasing smile on her lips. He grins quick even as her attention drifts to the huddle once again.

“Apologies, Your Highness. Next time we will find the stable with silk sheets and a feathered bed.”

Instead of continuing in a light banter, she keeps her focus on Lancelot. “You know I am capable with a sword,” she says, her tone questioning.

“Of course, Princess,” Robin answers. His lips quirk up as if entertained.

“Then I should be on watch as well. You all need as much rest as possible for us to continue our journey tomorrow.”

“While I have no doubts in your abilities, it is best for you to rest tonight.”

“I am not that tired.”

Almost immediately after the words leave her mouth, she fights back a yawn and fails. Robin grins at the attempt. He watches her for a moment before a somber expression graces his features. “You are not underestimated, please know that,” he starts. “But we have no clue what attacked the village. Your safety is our top priority and it will make all of our lives easier if you accept that as well.”

His words serve as a necessary reminder that everyone with her is risking their own lives for her mission. They are trailing the edges of enemy territory, an enemy that gets more terrifying the more they discover, and are hoping to sneak to the site for materials unnoticed. It’s a monumental task, one with no guarantee of return, and she bites hard on her tongue to repress the urge wanting to say she can do it on her own.

She’s felt like she’s been on her own for so long, trapped in her golden cage dressed as a palace. Forced to be her own friend and entertain herself, teach herself things her parents were too scared of, coping with her situation all alone.

She was on her own against Regina, her parents powerless to stop her. She was alone when she woke up in the infirmary months later and without an idea of what happened.

Always so alone, always so lonely.

Then Killian inserted himself into her life for one night and flipped everything on its head. Immediately they fell into the role of partners with a common task, working together silently, clicking right away. For the first time in her life, loneliness was not her only companion.

The time after he disappeared allowed that numbing loneliness to creep its way back into her life only to be banished once again at his return.

She loves her people and would do anything for them but in truth… He is who she is doing all of this for. He is who she will return home to.

Robin’s face holds a far-off look and Emma’s heart clenches at the familiarity of it.

“Do you have anyone you’d like to write a message to? I can have one of my mother’s birds deliver it…” she offers, hesitant and uncomfortable. As much as they have found a banter within the group over their days of travel, Emma still doesn’t know the knights guarding her on her mission. They are familiar faces, ones she’s seen throughout the palace over the years, but Killian is the natural extrovert, learning about everyone he meets. She barely remembers any of their last names but she’s sure he could recall every story they’ve ever told him.

He'd make a wonderful leader. His courage, strength, bravery, sense of justice… Killian is everything a people should hope their leader to be and yet he still deems himself unworthy for some reason. Despite that, they cannot deny themselves the connection that stretches between them. She closes her eyes and hears his voice in her ear about how they make quite the team. It becomes all she can focus on and she feels a warmth fill her body, the outside world sounding softer, more far away. The sensations stay with her when she opens her eyes again and even when she manages to let a yawn slip.

Robin has a soft look on his face as their eyes meet. “Thank you,” he says. “I’ll scribe something in the morning so you’ll have it ready.”

She nods her head and settles in, back against the bale of hay. The armor, a gift from Killian a few years ago, digs into her arms and waist. She shifts unable to find a comfortable lounging position and stifles another yawn to Robin’s amusement.

“What?” she huffs.

“Nothing, nothing…” he trails off with an amused smile. “You just remind me of my son. Roland.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, he’s also quite stubborn to sleep.” He pauses. “He’s five.”

A roll of her eyes earns another chuckle from his direction but Emma concedes and lays her head down.

Sleep finds her in a light sort of way, dangling on the edge of consciousness and never letting her slip deep enough to dream. It is the sleep of someone on alert.

The creaking of the stable door is quiet for the most part but the sound still dances in Emma’s ears. She awakens, eyes blinking slowly as she tries to adjust to the darkness of the stable. Little John’s tall figure fills the only light coming into the stables from the gap in the door and Emma barely realizes, based on the shift rotation, that it’s the middle of the night.

“Whatsthematter?” Her words slur together as sleep circles the borders of her consciousness. A soft rain patters against the wood roof and she can hear the soft stomps of footsteps in mud.

“Someone’s in trouble,” Little John says in a quiet urgence. He keeps turning his head to look out the door and Emma struggles to sit up with her armor on.

“I’ll help,” she manages to say but before she can get up, Little John is outside, the stable door slamming shut behind him. The sound reverberates around the enclosed structure, immediately waking the other knights. They rush to a standing position and bombard her with questions that she doesn’t have answers to. Her mind runs blank and she only relays the short sentences they exchanged.

Robin picks up his crossbow from beside his sleeping area and slings it over his shoulder.

“You are not going after him,” Lancelot says, stepping into Robin’s path.

“Little John is like a brother to me! I’m not leaving him alone out there!”

“And going out after him, in this weather and in a town as dangerous as this, will weaken all of us.” Lancelot breathes out heavily, glancing at the stoic expression on Dorothy’s face and the crestfallen look on Will’s. “We will search at dawn. We will be able to track his footprints in the mud then. For now, rest.”

Robin stands still in a stare-off with Lancelot. Though neither one moves, their eyes dart around, a silent conversation amongst comrades, until Robin steps back in defeat and practically throws his crossbow to the ground. Will moves forward in a quick motion and brings Robin to a far corner of the stables, whispering quiet reassurances to the older gentleman.

“We’re going to find him, alright?” Will says in a whisper that just barely makes Emma’s ear.

“Come on,” Dorothy says from her other side and Emma jumps. “Get back to sleep.”

“But –”

“No buts. Sleep is the best thing you can do right now. Got it?”

Emma nods, sighing heavily. Her eyes watch the different knights amongst her. The ability to read lips is not one that she possesses but she still tries, to no avail. Her questions go unanswered as they talk to each other and not her, and exhaustion tugs at the back of her mind again.

So she lays her head on a bale of hay and clutches her dagger under the folds of her riding outfit with one ear out for the slightest noise.

The next morning, the group sets out to look for Little John. A search that very quickly becomes useless. Little John’s tracks stop five feet from the stable with no indication of where else he could have gone.

Dorothy growls in frustration. “It doesn’t make any sense. There’s nowhere he could’ve gone. His tracks stop right here. Nothing more.”

Robin mumbles to himself while he alternates his glare between Lancelot and the ground. Emma’s heart feels for the Black knight. Leadership means making the tough decisions and she knows from the look of apprehension on his face that his next plan will not be a popular one.

Expectedly, there is a fight about pausing their search to continue forward with the mission. Lancelot stands his ground though and within a few hours, they’re back on their trek, horses trotting through the forest grounds. Everyone does double duty with their eyes scanning the ground for any clues of Little John’s whereabouts with no success.

Will slows his horse to come beside Emma by the late afternoon. “How are you holding up?” he asks.

Her mind has been elsewhere the entire ride. Killian occupies most of her thoughts, a centering focus that keeps her from losing herself in despair. The way he raises a single eyebrow at her to tease, taunt, and flirt. The feeling of his arms around her waist. How he loves to use the rough skin of his stump to tickle her side. His eyes, bluer than any ocean she’d seen with depths of untold stories he’s yet to share with her.

She focuses on what will happen when she gets home. He’ll no doubt want to reprimand her for kissing a commoner in front of the guards, regardless of the fact the commoner was him, and she’ll try to ignore his pushes to talk.

But then Emma remembers how one of those guards is now missing and her “when she gets home” turns into an “if she gets home”.

If she still had her magic, she could’ve found Little John by now. She could have magicked herself to the cliffs of Segovia and home within a day. No one would have disappeared. Her kingdom wouldn’t be closing in on a nearly six-decade war with more losses than stars in the sky and already stretched incredibly thin. Killian wouldn’t have been inspired to sign up and he’d still have his hand.

Anger races through her blood and she feels her body grow warm, cheeks get hot under her fury. It all leads back to Regina. Living off of revenge against a child who was manipulated when she thought she was helping… the pain of her refusal to see the truth – see that Regina’s mother was to blame and not young Snow – led to more death and destruction than any of them thought possible. The Ogre Wars hadn’t harmed them this deeply. It’s all Regina’s fault.

Her thoughts stop in a sudden beat as Emma gasps, dropping the reins of her horse. Her hands feel hot to the touch, almost like they’re burned. Flexing her fingers does little to ease the pain and she ignores the way her hands start to shake.

She must have been subconsciously wringing the reins too hard to cause such a sensation.

Will rushes to grab the fallen reins. “Princess?” he pushes. “Are you okay?”

She clears her throat and clenches one hand in a fist while the other takes back the leather straps.

Is she okay? Absolutely not. The weight of her mission is starting to bear down on her shoulders. Little John’s disappearance has thrown her off and she already feels herself slipping away from reality. But she won’t tell Will that. Instead, she pivots the conversation and meets his eyes in a firm stare.

“I promise that I will get you all home safe. Got it?”

He hisses in disappointment. “That’s not an answer to my question.”

Emma huffs. “How are you doing?”

“I asked you first.”

“You’re not serious…”

“Deadly,” he deadpans only to wince and Emma’s sure his mind has gone to the same place as hers – Little John.

So she whispers, fiercely and filled with determination, “I promise.”

*

They stop in the middle of the forest in the late afternoon. Tension fills the air with every moment of silence until it becomes suffocating but no one does anything to break it for a long time. Little John’s disappearance weighs heavily on them all but their mission is, as much as Emma hates to say it, more important. If Killian is right and the minerals have been replenished since its last harvest a few hundred years ago, it could save hundreds if not thousands of their people. It could put this senseless war to an end once and for all.

They just needed to survive until then.

Lancelot sets his orders that this will be their camp for the night with two guards on the lookout at all times. The risk of riding in the dark after what happened to Little John has them on edge. They wanted to look their enemy in the eyes as they extinguished the life behind it.

Everyone in their group has killed before. It was a cruel casualty of war. But Emma could never relish in the suffering to come from such a death. Regina’s last minutes play on a constant repeat behind her eyelids and she cannot imagine adding anyone else to that scene.

Hunting occupies half of the group’s late afternoon hours while the other half sets up their tents. It is a tricky endeavor, as Lancelot’s orders are to establish one large makeshift tent for everyone. Safety, he had reassured her earlier.

By the time Will and Dorothy return with a number of small game hanging between each of them, a fire is being stoked in the middle of the tent and sleep schedules have been arranged. Dinner is a quiet affair with a heavy tension hanging over their heads like a storm cloud. An empty space sits between Robin and Will where Little John would have sat.

Their silent meal is broken when Robin clears his throat.

“I would like to still scribe that letter, if it’s alright,” he directs to Emma, his gaze leaving the burning fire only after he has finished speaking.

“Of course,” she answers softly. Swallowing, she looks around the group. “Does anyone else have anything they’d like to write home?” For a moment, she feels as if she’s requesting their departing words to be left for family. For what other reason would they need to write home only days after leaving?

“I reckon I have a few things I need to receive an update on,” Will says. He leans forward on the log beside her and spreads his legs apart so his knee can nudge hers in a gentle show of support. “I have a few bets I need to collect on.”

Dorothy rises to the bait even if her words sound the slightest forced. “I think you mean debts to pay.”

“I beg your pardon,” he huffs. “I am an excellent gambler.”

“Is that why your bets have paid for Ruby’s new wardrobe?” Dorothy smirks and continues, raising her sword in front of her as she examines it in the firelight. “I believe this came from a wager settled last month.”

“Oi! Ruby is a cheat and you know it!”

“I’ll be sure to mention that in my letter to her.”

The group gains volume as their teasing returns slowly. Emma’s eyes dart across the bonfire to Robin and she sends a nod of thanks. Little John’s fate still hangs heavy in the air but for a moment, they have a reprieve.

Before the fire dies down, the group settles near to write their letters.

“Who will you be writing to?” Dorothy asks Emma as she grabs her own parchment.

Lancelot grins and looks up for a moment. “Killian, of course.” Her mouth drops open in surprise at the normally quiet leader speaking up with such a taunting line. Mind focused on her own words, she half listens as Dorothy details what she plans to say to Ruby and how Lancelot is best dictating his letter to Guinevere.

Will smirks as he looks to Emma from the corner of his eye. “I’m writing to my Anastasia,” he says proudly, though his voice is low. Dorothy and Lancelot handed her their letters before taking the first watch and Will doesn’t want to disturb Robin’s heavy concentration. “I’m going to marry her when I get back.”

“You’re engaged?!”

“Oi! Don’t sound so surprised! I’m quite the catch, ya know.” Will’s grin only widens.

“Not surprised, just offended I was not invited to the wedding.”

“Well,” her companion drags out. He scratches behind his ear in a nervous tick, a movement that has her heart yearning for Killian. “We’re not engaged yet. I still have to ask her.” He clears his throat and straightens his back. “But I will, the moment we return. Well, after I ask her father.”

Emma smiles softly as she watches Will’s lovesick expression. “You truly love her,” she says, more to herself than to him. Still, Will gives her a small smile and a nod.

She feels a rush of warmth in her stomach as she listens to Will’s words of love for Anastasia, her mind wandering to Killian once again. She misses him terribly and wishes he could be beside her but she knows the best place for him is back home, preparing for their return.

Well, some of their returns.

When the scratch of Will’s quill comes to an end, Emma chances a glance at Robin before asking quietly. “Little John… did he have anyone back home?”

A sharp inhale. “Little John kept personal things to himself, mostly,” Will says regretfully. His gaze casts a burden across the fire. “I’m not the best person to ask.”

Robin keeps to himself as he starts, scratches out, and then restarts his letter to Roland. Emma wonders how close they were to the missing knight. Did they grow up together? Are their families close? Emma bids goodnight to Will before she stands from her log and walks around the fire to Robin.

“Are you telling him to be asleep by sunset?” she asks with a small lift of her lips.

Robin huffs, glancing up briefly. “If only that were enough to get him to bed on time.”

“You should tell him it is by orders of the princess.” The grin their share is fleeting but it offers a momentary reprieve from the day’s events.

“You may sit if you’d like, Princess Emma.”

Sitting presents a challenge each time she attempts it due to the soreness of her muscles. Horse riding and trekking like they have been is far from her usual activities. She leans awkwardly to the side before nearly tipping over completely as her bottom situates itself on the log. Her eyes gaze into the dwindling flames before her while Robin scrawls his name and folds the letter.

He holds the parchment out to her with a sad smile. “Little John was married once,” he says. Her fingers gingerly take the letter from his and she feels the weight of his words, her shoulders dropping beneath it. “She was a beautiful woman. Long dark hair and a smile that spelled trouble. She bewitched him from the first moment.” Robin laughs. “They had a son as well.”

Her companion’s smile drops and at that, so does Emma’s stomach. For she sees the turn of events before her eyes in the pause Robin takes. She sees the grief coloring his face and the regret that fills his eyes.

“Little John was helping me save my wife Marian when his village was attacked. He returned to an empty home.” Robin turns his gaze towards the fire and she witnesses the way his frame shrinks in on itself. “He lost his family while helping me save mine. Never once did he blame me. By all accounts, he should have. Instead, he stayed at my side and helped me raise Roland after I lost Marian.”

His breath shudders as he shakes his shoulders, a quiet sniffle as tears become harder to keep at bay. “We are the only family he has left, Princess Emma. And I will find him.”

His eyes meet hers in steely determination and Emma nearly promises him the same as she did Will. But the darkness of the night is creeping in on her fear and she worries this will be a promise she cannot keep. So she nods and sits and thinks. For the first time in a long time, she prays to any gods that are listening, to the same gods that saved Killian and brought him to her life.

*

“Three and twenty and not a suitor to show for it,” Emma mimics in a low-pitched voice. She crawls across the bed wearing only Killian’s discarded shirt and plops to a sit beside him.

Killian barely looks up from where he scribbles in his notebook, his back against the headboard and his head tilted low. “Who had said this again?”

“Grumpy.”

She crosses her arms in a huff as Killian doesn’t even attempt to hide his amusement. “Perhaps you do not have any suitors because they do not wish to sit through your terrible impersonations.”

Her next attempt at his own accent makes her tongue feel too big for her mouth and her words to be more garbled than coherent. His laughter has her fighting a smile and she only contains so much self-restraint so instead she leans over and hides her smile with his mouth.

Their lips barely separate when she whispers conspiratorially, “Or perhaps they found out the princess has been kidnapped by a pirate captain who spends his free time ravishing her in his cabin.”

“Arggg,” Killian attempts with a curled lip and narrowed eyes. He lifts his left hand and crooks his finger to look like a hook and Emma giggles wildly.

Being with him makes her feel lighter. He makes her happy.

Emma watches the port every day now that the Jewel and her captain have found a home at these docks. She attends the meetings he has with her parents to give updates on the sea front and they exchange nods as their departing promises. A sturdy rope ladder, a commission by Killian from another port, is frequently pulled from beneath her bed and draped outside her window. Apparently her string of sheets caused him too much worry. She merely rolled her eyes at the admission.

His cabin is warm and welcoming. Blankets litter not only his bed but also the window seat on the back wall facing the ocean. Pillows from their land and far away shores pile on every surface. Some map or another is typically spread across his table while the books on any available flat surface change every few weeks.

The sun streams in as a comforting orange glow each evening and wakes her with the palest yellow light in the early morns. The weight of his arm over her stomach acts as a comforting shield from her fears, both past and present.

White wooden walls of cabin feel more like home than the gray stone of the castle.

Or perhaps it is just simply him.

The reminders of his presence are spread throughout his cabin where they are absent in her lonely bed in the tower. His smell lingers on his pillows and clothes while her room suffocates her in gifted perfumes. The small, lumpy captain’s bed adheres to the curves of her body when she drowns in her large, feathered mattress.

Stresses of their ongoing war melt away when she hides under his bedcovers and has his grin to marvel at. There’s warmth in her chest and a spark at her fingertips when they’re together and she swears sometimes that being with him, loving him, is magic.

They share another kiss, brief but soft and all-consuming, before Killian sighs.

“You’re set to meet with your father at half past,” he says regretfully.

She rolls her eyes with a groan and slides off the bed. “Perhaps I do not actually have to go.”

“Perhaps you should like my head on a stake then?”

The urge to roll her eyes again at his dramatics is strong but she refrains. “My father has no interest in executing his right-hand man.”

“That’s simply because he does not know,” Killian starts. He rises to his knees and inches closer to the side of the bed where she stands. Her shirt half unbuttoned, his fingers finish the job as he presses light kisses trailing from her chest to her stomach. “That my meetings with the princess are of a more personal matter.”

The scruff of his facial hair slides against a particularly ticklish spot on her ribs and she squirms away with a giggle, nearly tripping over her sword and dagger as they clang together in a soft sound.

“I do enjoy these meetings,” she grins wickedly. “I learn so much.”

A shriek leaves her throat as Killian clambers out of bed to grab her but Emma evades his pursuit. She quickly gathers her pile of clothes and weaponry. Another soft ding fills the room.

Laughing, she says, “I really must go.” Sorting her clothes is easy enough, even with the soft dings coming from the pile. She quickly dresses. Hands cover her own as she attaches her sword to her belt, her brow furrowing as sounds continue to emanate from where it’s sheathed.

That’s never happened before.

Lips press against her neck and Emma leans back against Killian, closing her eyes briefly before another sound of metal on metal disrupts the peace of the cabin. Her eyes fly open.

*

Emma awakes with a gasp in the middle of the night as a swordfight takes place around her.

Fire long gone, the moon serves as the only lighting in the clearing. The metal of her knights’ swords glitter dangerously under the stars and Emma only barely catches glimpses of what they are fighting.

Simians, it seems. Simians that can jump and… hover overhead and away from swipes of a sword.

Flying simians.

She scrambles from her place of rest against a log and reaches for the sword at her side. At full height, she holds her weapon in front of her and examines the scene.

The simians are large beasts. Ugly and with teeth sharp enough to kill, their wings flap overhead, dragging dirt and ash from their resting site into their faces. Their claws swish through the air in severe strikes, attempting to harm or disarm, she cannot tell. She assumes both. For the moment, their group seems to be holding their own.

A screech comes from behind her and Emma ducks just in time for a simian to fly towards her head. She pops up in a flash and her sword strikes true at her attacker, a wing sliced clean off. The simian cries in anger as it tries to control its flight before falling to the ground. From there, it makes its way towards her on its paws and bares its teeth threateningly. Her sword arches through the air only for another simian to come from above and reach for her sword with its claws.

“Get out of the way!” Dorothy yells and blocks the flying simian from Emma’s side. The grounded simian sees the moment of opportunity, hunches back on its legs, and pounces right at Emma.

Instinct takes over and before Emma even realizes it, her sword is in front of her and the simian impales itself.

Her eyes widen in horror. Regina’s skin melting off her face haunted Emma’s dream. The way her dark eyes turned completely black as life left them. The gurgling as blood overflowed her insides and leaked from the corners of her lips.

Emma feels like she is back in the tower as the simian garbles over blood, its wailing fading moment by moment. Red stains its teeth and its wing flaps haphazardly behind it before it stills. She stares for a moment at unseeing eyes before the simian’s head drops forward and its wing slackens.

Nausea threatens to take over her senses and guilt churns low in her gut but a humanly grunt from behind her snaps her back into action. She quickly but gently lowers her sword and shakes the simian off of the blade. She doesn’t even wait for the thump of its body hitting the ground before Emma turns to help.

The world stops momentarily as she realizes she may be too late.

The simian Dorothy directed away from her now easily evades the knight’s strong sword strokes, flying above her before making quick strikes at her head and back. Dorothy yells, one hand reaching for her head as a simian darts back with a wad of her hair in its mouth, skin from her scalp hanging from one end. She isn’t fast enough to defend herself as the simian barely takes a moment before darting back down again, claws poised and sinking quickly into her back, knocking her forward in the same breath its mouth comes down on her neck.

Lancelot struggles against two simians, his armor dented and breaking off of his body with each attack. His sword makes a wide arch in the air, too wide to correct before the simians come down on him, biting each of his arms as their claws dig into his thighs. He throws his head back as he yells, knees buckling under the pain.

Robin clutches his side, blood seeping into his shirt as he swings his sword with his non-dominant hand. It’s awkward and lacking strength and the simian he’s been fighting takes the chance to strike again.

She sees it the moment before she can move and her stomach turns when she realizes she’s not fast enough. Her throat catches in her throat as the simian’s jaw bears down on his shoulder and Robin cries out in agony.

“Get her out of here!” Lancelot manages through gritted teeth.

The world moves in slow motion as her head turns towards him before she feels her arm jerked in a different direction. A loud rush pulses through her ears and black dots her vision. She immediately resists the force on her body and pulls her arm back towards her.

“Move, damn it!” It takes a moment but the pained voice yelling at her voice belongs to Will. She stares at the blood dripping down his temple as he pulls her shocked body away from the scene as quickly and discretely as possible.

A single simian attempts to follow but is thwarted by Will’s swordsmanship. He moves like around the woods like he walks on air, the ease in which he maneuvers reminds of her Killian’s lithe form. The simian dodges strikes and Emma watches helplessly, her sword barely held by her fingertips as she presses her back against a nearby tree. She wishes the simian would be like the one she defeated at camp. She wishes that it would become too confident and turn into a target easy to disarm. If Killian were here, he wouldn’t need her wishing.

Will’s feet dance across the leaves of the forest floor as he eyes the simian. One moment, two moments, then he makes a decisive slice. Will makes quick work of one of its wings before impaling it, exactly as she’d done at camp.

He stares at the simian for a brief moment, eyebrows furrowed in thought, before he turns towards Emma and grabs her bicep to pull her along. “Let’s go.”

“But,” she starts, head turning back towards camp where more simians fly under the moonlight. It’s hard to see anything else in the darkness. “But what about them? We can’t just leave them.”

“You are the priority, Princess,” Will says, high on alert. “You were their priority. Getting you away, safely, will mean they’ve done their job well.”

“I won’t let them die for me,” she protests even as her feet follow his.

Will jerks them to a stop, his eyes red and narrowed in anger. “And what good would their death do if you get yourself killed as well?”

“They might not be dead.”

“We all will be if you return.” Grief blankets her body in a cold embrace and her mouth drops open though no words come out. Will sighs, eyes looking around for danger, before stepping closer. “Don’t let them die in vain. Let’s go.”

Emma follows at his side numbly and, she realizes with a shiver, death follows her.

[ao3feed-brucewayne]

That one time Bruce Wayne didnt adopt a child but got adopted instead

by Pookie_Killer Words: 452, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English Fandoms: Batman - All Media Types, Danny Phantom Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Categories: Multi Characters: Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Damian Wayne, Stephanie Brown, Cassandra Cain, Duke Thomas, Barbara Gordon, Jazz Fenton, Maddie Fenton, Jack Fenton (Danny Phantom), Danny Fenton, Sam Manson, Tucker Foley, Bernard Dowd, Alfred Pennyworth, Various Rogues, Vlad Masters, Damian Wayne’s many pets Additional Tags: Implied/Referenced Character Death, mostly through jokes, is it main character death if it happened before the fic x2, Don’t do what Timmy does. He’s vv unhealthy, also don’t do as Danny does. He’s a literal ghost, speaking of, Danny Fenton is a Little Shit, Jack Fenton is hyper and a bit crazy, Maddie Fenton is a tad calmer and also crazy., We love them for it tho, Damian and Tim pretend to fight to get what they want, the rest of the Batman is clueless., except Cass. We love Cass, Tim drake is a freak with his coffee, Tim Drake is Red Robin, Jason Todd is Red Hood, Damian Wayne is Robin, Bruce Wayne is Batman, Cassandra Cain is Black Bat, Stephanie Brown is Spoiler, Duke Thomas is Signal, Dick Grayson is Nightwing, danny fenton is phantom, Jazz Fenton Is So Done, Jazz is TIRED of gaining new family via overly-adoptive billionaires, even tho this is only the 2nd time it happened., Somewhat happy Batfam, theres still problems but not big ones ya get me?, Jack and Maddie get mistaken for up and coming mad scientists/Rogues, little do the Batfam know they already went through that phase, Now they research clean energy through ethically sourced ectoplasm, Let Danny Fenton and Tim Drake say fuck 2024. They deserve it, No Batcest | Batfamily Incest (DCU), Author is a night owl so be prepared for late updates., Author is also American so maybe some early updates too, no beta we die like jason todd, Sam Manson Has Plant Powers, She also is a fangirl for Poison Ivy so be afraid, Tucker is probably gonna be butchered so badly. I’m vv sorry, Tucker is a fanboy for Tim Drake tho lol., I don’t know Valerie enough to include her sorry. She’ll get mentioned tho, Mostly as Red Huntress, Platonic Kisses, Platonic Cuddling, The obligatory mention of Tim’s missing spleen, Ecto-Contaminated | Liminal Amity Park Residents (Danny Phantom), being liminal is basically being a meta without the unique powers, None of the Batfam is straight., except Damian. He’s questioning it., Tim and Danny are aged up to be in College, everyone else is aged up as needed to stay somewhat Canon., I’m debating whether Tim and Danny should date or Tim and Tucker should, or if I should just say fuck it and make them poly via https://ift.tt/8Wsf5hH

[starlit-hopes-and-dreams]

WIP Intro(s)

Alright, alright, I'm finally biting the bullet and making this damned thing XD

Wip 1

[ID: The words Beautiful Lies and Shattered Dreams over an image of branches with shimmery purple flowers. end ID]

This is the first in a planned (I use that word loosely) trilogy. It's also my first piece of writing. Ever. *looks down at all that stuff* I think I did pretty good, if I do say so myself :D

Genre | Dark Fantasy Romance (New Adult/Adult)

Style | close 3rd, past tense, multi-pov

Status | Complete (115k), beta read x2, another round of editing

POV Characters

Alaia, human (19/F)

Serin, human (23/M)

Kadin, seraph (~150/M)

Darian, fae (~100/M)

Basic idea:

Alaia (19/F) manifests as a mage in the human realm of Elysia. While mistreatment of mages should be a thing of the past, she finds that is not the case when she is almost killed, then taken captive. A little dragon, a fellow captive mage, and pure stubbornness motivate her escape plans, while secrets and a fierce desire to protect the one she has come to love complicate them. It may seem that Alaia’s choices are simple. Escape and live or die in captivity. But there are bigger forces at play—in Elysia, and among the gods. More depends on her survival than she knows, including the lives of the fae beyond the Veil.

Themes and Vibes | hurt/comfort, forced proximity, forbidden romance, shared trauma, DRAGONS-little ones :D, magic with glowy eyes, elemental magic + structured magic, healing magic, empaths, light political intrigue, do anything to save the one you love and almost die trying, matebond only felt on one side, stupid decisions have tragic consequences, all decisions suck anyway :) , cliffhanger ending

CW's | profanity, captivity, loss, SA (non-graphic, dubious consent, attempted rape), physical/emotional abuse, fantasy violence/torture/implied death (one explicit scene), consensual sexually explicit scenes, forced marriage (this is the short version 😶)

Tags | shattered dreams

Deleted scene | buried memories (noncon)

Magic | magic inspo tag game

Matebonds | ask

Wip 2

[ID: The words Fractured Pieces of a Shattered Soul over an image of gold sparks on a black background. end ID]

This is book 2 of the above mentioned trilogy.

Genre | Dark Fantasy Romance (New Adult/Adult)

Style | close 3rd, past tense, multi-pov

Status | First draft, 121k and closing in on the end

Same cast of characters, plus a few one-shot pov's

Basic Idea: I need one? :')

This picks up after the cliffhanger of the last book and any description I can think of is kinda spoilery for the first lol. Lets just say Alaia escaped and we get to see lots more of the fae in this book.

Themes and Vibes | magical fae lands, healing magic, empaths, found family, some more hurt/comfort of course, recovering from trauma, soulmates, refusing a matebond, more dragons, tragic backstories, backstabbing fire bitch goddess, secret enclaves, a ridiculous amount of angst and sexual tension, hopefully some revenge, and probably another cliffhanger lol

CW's | I haven't put an official list together, but pretty similar to the first... profanity, captivity, loss, grief, PTSD, flashbacks, SA (non-graphic, dubious consent, attempted rape), physical/emotional abuse, fantasy violence/torture (graphic)/death, mental manipulation/mind control, breeding, consensual sexually explicit scene(s)

Tags | shattered soul

Charater Art | Alaia & Fyel

WIP 3

The (hopefully) final book in the trilogy.

This is just vague ideas right now and isn't yet named.

[violetclowns]

Not defending terfs or anything, but you can't kick them out of homosexuality lol. They can be gay too, is a sexuality, not a political thing, implying that is homophobic, yes even for you a lesbian. So if they relate with a gay post... well you can't prevent that, being gay is not a political thing x2

suck my ballzzzzzzzzzzz

[isabellehemlock]

WIP Tag Game

I was tagged by the phenomenal @astrabear to share the first lines of my WIP’s - because as she said, “because you're active in multiple fandoms and I want to know what you're up to.”

I seperated them by a few categories, but first, for anyone else who might like to play along: @asunlovingde @fablesdelightme @prouvaireafterdark @peri-helia @spacewitchqueen (yes this is me shamelessly trying to get a sneak peek at the Rockstar AU <<;) - but of course, as always, no pressure implied <3

My current already posted WIP’s

Mark of Cain (almost done!) - my Cult AU TOG JoexNicky fic that was technically supposed to be done in March, and then holy heck several illnesses and my poor mom’s health, and etc etc I’m that far behind, but almost ready for the next chapter update, and just a few more to go.  Fingers crossed mid July now!

Nicky felt the rush of blood around his ears drown out the horrible gurgling sounds beside him, yet still his eyes were heavy, half hooded, as he swayed a little from the adrenaline seeping out of him.  His bent legs cramped beneath him, trying to signal that they needed relief from the seated pose he was in, but no internal message could reach him now.  He blinked at the dull ache from his lower half, felt the warmth of the blood that had sprayed onto his bare side dry into sticky streaks.  But he had been covered in so much worse from Cain in the past - what was a little blood in comparison?

Pretty Ballads Hide Bastard Truths - a Witcher prequel featuring Calanthe x Eist (hasn’t been updated in fourteen months, but not abandoned, promise!  Just a lot of life and fandom events in between, whoops!  But I genuinely hope to finish it mid summer)

The island of Hindarsfjall was Eist’s favorite.

Though it was the smallest in the archipelago of Skellige, it was the most vibrant one this time of year, with thick foliage and overgrown vegetation.  The perfect place for a teenage boy to explore and roam in the dense, thick, cluster of trees that kept the worst of the summer heat off of his pale skin.

But it was the fjord, not far from the temple of the Great Mother, Freya, that once again beckoned Eist to the jagged edge on the northern side.  It formed the best jumping off point into the warm spring below, and though bottles of the healing waters were given to visitors (in exchange for a small donation to the temple), a young man in his fourteenth summer found it perfect for blowing off steam.

My soon to be posted WIP’s

“What a great start to our partnership” - DantexAimes (Fast X) (I had genuinely meant for this to get written over the weekend, whoops, but it has been started at least - fully outlined, too!  Special shout out to both @cosima-nova & @you-came-back for their lovely feedback and excitement). 

Dante slipped on the gun strap over his stiff shoulders, the morning workout had left his muscles feeling a bit sore, but it kept him primed for the kind of jobs his father needed him for - and frankly, that alone was worth some of the suffering.  It just felt good to be needed, to be acknowledged, in any capacity, and if that required a little pain along the way, then so be it.

Fandom Event related

“Untitled FTH fic” - Steddyhands - okrrr the only reason I haven’t started writing this one yet (because it’s already outlined, has some dialogue, and I’ve legit been editing scenes in my dreams lol), is because I just know that once I start, I won’t stop, and I’m equally desperate to get one long fic done before diving into another one but SOON, so soon!!  This one is gonna pour out of me the second I start and I can’t wait to deliver it for my lovely bidder and friend @vexbatch - expected upload date: July

@iwtvbigbang x3 - not only have I had the privilege of organizing this with two other mods, but I’m fortunate enough to have snagged three authors and am excited to make some custom art for them soon <3 - posting dates: October

OFMD RBB x2 - I made two pieces, and two authors selected one of each and I even ended up betaing one of them and I cannot wait to share the pieces and the stories!  I ended up getting so inspired by the some scenes shared by a second that I ended drawing another piece, too lol - posting dates: June & July

Steddie BB x2 - I just got paired in this one, and am so excited to share that I’ll be making some sweet summertime love art, as well as an Anastasia AU piece (I feel giddy about it!!) - posting dates: October-December

IWTV Art Coven group project - just wrapped the tarot, and working on the calendar next - proceeds go to charity - posting dates: November

Alsoplusalso - my first comic is coming in a few weeks (but to keep it a surprise for the giftee I can’t say more atm)

ANNNND - launching an interest check in October for an IWTV Zine that myself and the IWTV BB mods will be running (super stoked!)  All proceeds go to charity as well 

But other than that, same ol’ same ol’ lol

[mimibwi]

That vlive pic you posted is a great example of what I'm trying to say! This is how it used to be before, different ships, different bonds, so much fun. Now it's only ynm and tkk paired up together!

You mentioned jihope being close and no one say anything about it, well that's because all their moments are in their free time, not the company decision, like in the festa video, they had fun in between official work, same with jinkook!

But anon the vlive pics basically show every “subunit” vlive they’ve had in the past 3 years except some like the vminkook, vminhopekook x2, namkook post concert lives and maybe a few others but Tkk and ynm aren’t in those either, if i’m correct. Wait there’s the yoonmin one, well more like the yoongi one that Jimin was a guest for, after Yoongi’s concert but it makes sense since Jimin went to the concert; the same thing happened after lollapalooza. Anyway Taekook being in 2 of them together, one just them and the other with two other members doesn’t do much to prove they’re being pushed. Lol just realized I didn’t consider the vminkook and vminhopekook ones. I think those are a special case. I love those lives so much I can’t even consider the possibility of them being to push any particular ship. But if we are counting them, Taekook have been in 5 compared to jikook for instance who did 4 together(i can’t believe i’m fucking counting this). The gap there just isn’t significant enough for me to consider it as Taekook being pushed *shrugs*. Similarly the second set of pictures I posted were all in the span of just over the last year or so— coway, japan magazine, webtoon promo. Taekook and Yoonmin aren’t together in any of those units either so it’s kinda unfair that you pick and choose the few subunits they’re in together to prove this point.

About jihope— jimin was breathing down Hobi’s neck while he was in front of a camera talking to ARMY so if that’s free time then… It’s also bold to say “not the company’s decision” when we don’t know which parts of it was controlled. I can’t confidently say the seating arrangement or position for pictures were the company’s decision cause I really don’t know. (This is not me saying or implying jihope we’re set to play around by the company, i’m just saying we don’t know if the other stuff were BH’s choice for the boys) They (jihope) were sitting next to each other in the project planning and sat and stood together for a few pictures, exactly like Yoonmin and Taekook did (and tkk and ynm technically weren’t even next to eo in the planning part but we’ll move). I’m just playing devil’s advocate here. I love jihope and it’s not a problem to me that they interact but I love Taekook and Yoonmin as well so…devil’s advocate it is I guess.

I think this is 3/3 of me saying this in my answers to you but if you look for Taekook, you’ll see Taekook. If you think they’re being pushed, they’ll be pushed to you. I might’ve mentioned this in my initial post but I didn’t even know about this whole push thing until I started peeping into certain shipper spaces because i’ve never seen Tkk like that just cause they aren’t the first ship I gravitate to.

I was going to just say let’s agree to disagree because this is getting a bit redundant but I’m a bit stubborn and you seem to be too😅.

[howdoyousleep3]

*pushes a folded piece of paper towards k* Nick Fowler x Intern Bucky x Senator Rogers threeway?

*sneakily picks up folded piece of paper and opens it, nodding my head slowly at nonnie*

Tags: Established Relationship, Threesome, Dom/Sub Relationship, Humiliation (verbal and physical), Implied Blowjob (x2 lol), Manhandling, Mild Dubcon (just to be careful bc Bucky is blushing and humiliated but is still v eager), Dirty Talk, Daddy Kink Word Count: ~1,050 words

“Gotta say, Rogers,” Mr. Fowler speaks up from Bucky’s right. “Didn’t expect your intern to be so shy.”

Bucky’s fingers dig tightly into Steve’s thigh from his spot on the floor, the back of the hand that brushes the curve of his face foreign to him. Those fingers are warm and there’s no denying it’s a comforting touch, but it isn’t one he is used to. Bucky had hoped his jitters hadn’t been so transparent, hoped the way he had just finished enthusiastically sucking on his Daddy’s cock made up for any kind of obvious nervousness.

He’s not used to another set of eyes on him when his mouth is stretched and full.

“Nah,” Steve sighs, tipping Bucky’s chin himself, touch a bit rough around the edges. “He just gets dumb when Daddy feeds him. Ain’t that right, Buck?”

Bucky swallows audibly, cheeks going hot with a blush, another transparent giveaway. The taste of the Senator is still hot on his tongue. He’s still panting from swallowing Steve’s load, from being good and taking it all just as Daddy demanded with a groan that rattled even his own ribcage. It takes him a few delayed seconds to respond, that alone a sign that Steve is correct, but he manages to nod his head, rasp out a, “Yes, Daddy.”

“Damn, he’s pretty,” is what Mr. Fowler mumbles, and if he hadn’t said anything, Bucky wouldn’t know how he feels, what his thoughts are. Bucky can’t read Nick, can’t make out what turns him on, if he enjoyed watching Bucky choke on his Daddy’s cock. His face gives nothing away, a cool facade of steel, one that Bucky finds disarming when Nick’s eyes are on him.

“He sure is, isn’t he?” Steve purrs, running his thumb along Bucky’s bottom lip, and Bucky swallows down his whimper, any uncomfortableness being washed away with such forward praise.

“When he gets this way, dumb and extra pretty, it’s not out of the ordinary for him to get shy, to get embarrassed about how slutty he’s been actin’...”

Bucky leans back onto his heels, sways, falling forward with a whine. He barely stops himself from reaching for Steve’s spent cock, resists the urge to lean forward and suckle it back into his mouth, heavy on his tongue. Daddy can’t talk about him like this, can’t tell Mr. Fowler such intimate things, without Bucky being so greatly affected. He can’t just…say those things.

“Don’t you pout, Barnes. Not after you just sucked me off in front of another man,” Steve teases, hand gripping Bucky’s jaw and tipping his cheek one way and then the other. “Look at that blush, goddamn. Got me feelin’ like a bad man, sweetheart. M’I a bad man, Nick?”

Bucky’s chin is yanked in Mr. Fowler’s direction, Steve purposeful in his actions, of wanting Bucky to not be able to look anywhere but their guest’s eyes as he responds with a cool, “Not a bad man at all, Senator.” Bucky’s eyes are half-lidded, head swimming as he can do nothing about this whine. Steve takes the hand on Bucky’s chin and taps him on the cheek, once, twice, before he’s sighing and taking hold of his chin once more.

“Y’want him to suck you off? My treat?”

Bucky doesn’t process what Steve says, offers up, but when he does hear what the Senator has said, it’s right when he slips a finger between Bucky’s lips.

“See? Practically beggin’ for it,” Steve says quietly, almost to himself, as he slips his finger between Bucky’s pursed lips, watching. “C’mon, Nick. Don’t need to think too hard about this one.”

Bucky watches as Nick’s tongue flicks over his bottom lip and he throbs where he kneels.

“You’ll want somethin’ in return won’t you, Rogers? I let your boy suck me off and you’ll want to call in a favor whenever you need it?”

Bucky doesn’t know what the motivation is, where the urge comes from that makes his hand reach out, fingers twitching just in front of Mr. Fowler’s thigh. Does he want to be good for the Senator, want to be this pretty toy to be passed around and shared? Does he want to be used again, have his mouth fucked full just because he wants his mouth full?

Bucky can see Nick’s cock, the outline of it between his legs, impressive and not doing a single thing to deter Bucky in the slightest.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Steve purrs, fucking his thick finger between Bucky’s pursed lips, hand still holding tight to his chin. “You’ll spend two seconds in this mouth and realize this is more for him than it is for me.”

Fuck. Bucky whines, decision made that it doesn’t matter why he wants to bury his face between Nick’s spread thighs; he wants it. His Daddy obviously wants it too, he can see Mr. Fowler giving into the Senator’s request easily, eyes locked onto where Daddy plays with his mouth. When Nick’s eyes flick up to Bucky’s own, this time he meets that look head-on, is forward with his willingness to be used by his Daddy this way.

“Hell, you might just wanna offer me up that favor once you slip inside’a here. Know you saw it, but wait ‘till you feel his gag reflex; doesn’t fuckin’ exist. He’ll take all’a you and then you’ll feel that tongue right on your balls, fuck. Can’t find ‘em like this if you tried, he’s a—”

“Alright, Rogers. Alright, fuck,” Nick bites out, palm coming down to the front of his pants, rubbing at himself in such an obscene way it has Bucky whimpering once more. Daddy talking about him was one thing, but Daddy practically selling him, offering him up and convincing Mr. Fowler to let Bucky suck on his cock, is something else entirely.

"I'll take your boy's mouth, makin' such a big fuckin' deal about it..."

Steve chuckles darkly, leans forward and plants a loud and messy kiss to Bucky’s cheek before nudging him towards their guest’s spread legs with a whisper of, “You make it good for him, sugar. You hear me?” Bucky is nodding his head as he reaches for Nick’s zipper, the other man making no indication that he is going to lift a finger through this experience. Bucky looks up at Nick under his lashes as he promises with an almost-slur of, “Yes, Daddy. Gonna make it so good…”

[gffa]

hi this whole supernatural and putin election is all over my dash right now but I have never watched spn, so I have no idea what's going on there. can you pleaseee help me?? I saw you posting about it lol

Hi!  Yeah, I have a post about it here, but basically (AS MUCH AS MY KNOWLEDGE CAN BE, GIVEN THAT I REALLY ONLY READ MESSAGE BOARD THREADS ABOUT THE WANK HAPPENINGS): - We’re all super stressed from Quarantine Brain + Doomscrolling through the election news/lack of news - Supernatural is a long-running show (15 seasons now) that has been around so long, that there are frequent jokes about how it’ll never die, etc. - There are two characters on the show, Dean Winchester (main character) and Castiel (second tier main character) who are shipped together as one of the most popular pairings, their smushname being “Destiel”. - Supernatural is also notorious for being pretty homophobic (from the actors, from the writing of the show, etc.) in a low-key but very “you can feel it way” (and some of the actors have been pretty shitty, from what I’ve heard?), so like literally nobody outside of diehard shippers expected this, despite that the chemistry between them was Something Else. - The show has always been popular, as well as one of the characters/actors on it (Castiel) has an incredibly devoted fan base, but it’s nothing like it was back in 2013, when Misha Collins (the actor who plays the character, generally more supportive of queer stuff, I think?) was IMMENSELY popular, to the point that there was a tumblr “event” scheduled where a bunch of people changed their icons to this one pic of him, then also reblogged the pic a lot, photoshopped the pic onto other gifs to make them Castiel pics, etc., to the point that a lot of people saw NOTHING BUT Misha Collins’ face on their dash all day.  This was called “Mishapocalypse”. - Sidenote:  Within the Destiel fandom, a/b/o tropes are extremely popular, often times with omega!Castiel.  You’ll see that come up in jokes around sometimes, too. - Sidenote x2:  For awhile, it was incredibly popular on tumblr to combine three live action television shows that had a lot of overlap in their audiences:  BBC’s Sherlock, Doctor Who, and Supernatural.  The combination of these three (whether graphics or just talking about crossovers or whatever) became something of a fandom unto itself, called Superwholock.  When I tag all these posts with “Superputinelection”, it’s a reference to how three things were mashed together like the TV shows. - So, okay, this show has been on forever, it’s low-key-to-high-key homophobic, nobody expects anything even from the final season.  Jokes get bandied around like “Destiel will become canon before we get any election results.” - AND THEN DESTIEL BECOMES IMPLIED CANON TONIGHT???  WHILE WE’RE STILL WAITING FOR ELECTION RESULTS???? - Castiel basically confesses his feelings to Dean (the other character in the ship), he directly says, “I love you.” and then immediately is killed and sent to SUPER HELL precisely BECAUSE his love for Dean made him happy, so like it’s (implied) canon gay AND homophobia in the same scene!  Amazing!  (A lot of people also really find Dean’s actor’s face in the scene to be super uncomfortable/showing the actor’s distaste for anything gay, but I don’t have an opinion on that because I’m not into the fandom deep enough to know.  Just that that’s what people are referring to.) - With so many people posting gifs/caps from the confession scene from SPN, it’s basically putting the same image of Castiel’s face all over our dashes and timelines again, which isn’t intentional but BOY DOES IT RESEMBLE THE MISHAPOCALYPSE. - AND THEN, LIKE WITHIN AN HOUR OF THAT, WHILE PEOPLE ARE ALREADY LOSING THEIR GODDAMNED MINDS, THERE’S A NEWS STORY  (well, rumors at the time, but apparently it’s been confirmed? the BBC had a story about it up ETA:  As Mid points out, that BBC article is about something else and I can’t access the NYP one, but I’m not getting google results for it) ABOUT HOW PUTIN IS GOING TO BE RESIGNING. All combined together, it’s been a rollercoaster ride to hell tonight.