#is it just really hard to find because its out of the way but it abides by normal laws of space or does it have some of its own rules?

[criminalamnesia]

simon’s been having dreams since you left.

horrendous, sickeningly sweet dreams, all of you. it’s always you. reminding him of something he’s not sure he ever really had— something like a mirage, there one minute and gone the next.

but you’d been gone for a while, really. since you’d woken up in that infirmary bed, hatred and terror in your eyes every time you looked at him.

perhaps it’s been longer than— probably since they had you in that damn chair. maybe even before, when whispers of a traitor slipped into their minds and dug its claws in. all signs pointing to you.

most of the dreams start like this:

he wakes to the sound of birdsong. sweet little chirps that sound just outside the window you insist be left open during the springtime.

he’d conceded, not daring to tell you no. it was always yes with you, which surprised him. yes, nonetheless.

he gives a soft groan as his eyes begin to crack open. you’re curled into him, your head resting atop his inked arm. the limb is completely numb, but he doesn’t dare to move it. he’s content to lay here and watch you, because this is when he feels he truly has you.

(but it’s a dream, he realizes when he wakes. and he thinks he never really had you— a destination he desired but never reached. he doesn’t have you anymore, and he never will again.)

the fragrant smell of your favorite flowers, which fill the flower beds surrounding the little blue cottage, wafts in through the window. vibrant pinks and yellows that came after days of hard labor— simon planting each little seed and tending to it until it blossomed. he refused to let you help. said it was his gift to you.

a token of his love.

(even though you’ve long since gone from the little blue cottage, he still labors over those flowers every growing season. a gift to you, that you’d never see the longevity of. that you’d never known was a labor of love.)

(he hated that the first time you’d laid eyes on the cottage, he hadn’t been with you. that you’d been forced to go there— that they (he) had forced you out.)

you curl deeper into his side, your hair tickling his arm. he watches you sleep, your eyelids fluttering as you dream. he can tell it’s a good one by the way your nose twitches and a grin spreads across your lips.

(too often, he wakes to your screams of terror. the screams you had loosed under his tortuous hand. no longer are the nightmares that plague you ones of the perils of your job. now, they’re memories of what he’s done.)

(he wonders if you still wake up screaming. he wonders if you wish he was there to calm you back to sleep, like he’d done countless times before.)

(he wonders if he is what you see in your nightmares now.)

he shifts his body slightly. you stir, eyes still tightly shut as sunlight beams through the airy sage green curtains. again, he couldn’t say no to you.

especially when you had given him the reason behind them. “I want to spend every minute together. just us. every moment out of service, I want.”

it was always yes with you.

“good morning, si,” you grumble, voice still thick from sleep.

“did I wake you?” he whispers, lips pressing to the hair atop your head.

“birdsong outside did,” you reply, a yawn splitting your mouth wide. his free hand finds your waist, pulling you impossibly closer.

“told ya we should shut the window, love.”

it’s here when things start to differ.

in the good dreams, you look up at him with a grin. the pair of you spend the next hour in bed, drifting in and out of sleep and whispering mundane thoughts to each other. him holding you tightly, swearing he can feel your warmth next to him even when he inevitably wakes.

the bad dreams are more common.

when you look up at him, he sees one of two faces. the first face looks at him with the same expression you’d had back in price’s office, before you had slammed a fist into his jaw.

it’s heartbroken and it’s tired. it’s hateful and scared and ashamed.

(he still thinks it’s beautiful.)

the second face is battered and beaten and bruised. it’s the face you’d worn when in the chair, tortured by his hand. swollen and discolored. bloody. broken.

but most of all, it’s betrayed.

and that jolts him awake. but he doesn’t mind the bad dreams. doesn’t mind any dreams, now.

because they’re always about you. about his greatest failure, his greatest love. he sleeps so he can see you because it’s all he gets now.

he doesn’t know where you went after the cottage, none of them do. you wanted it that way. he wouldn’t dare seek you out. he owed you that much.

so he sleeps.

and he dreams of you.

here’s a little drabble about simon after reader leaves at the end of traitor. definitely inspired by ‘sailor song’. hope you all enjoy :)

p.s. I hate tumblr bc I had written this and tried to save it and the app crashed. so this is my poor attempt of recreating a work I was proud of :(

ALL PARTS CAN BE FOUND HERE

[fandomxo00]

lumberjack logan with his ballerina daughter 🥹 i just picture big gruff logan going to the dance recital and being so proud of his little girl in the tutu 🫶

note: can you tell i just wanna be pregnant? lmao i love this sm god he's so fucking handsome grrrr

Logan felt like a terrible father. He was running late to his little girl's recital. he had stopped to get flowers for her, running into the auditorium, looking around for your head. Seeing you with your older daughter, Sadie, she was more of a soccer girl. Arabella on stage loved to dance from the day she was born. You turned your head to see your bulky husband, in a plaid shirt with a bouquet of colorful flowers. You tried to giggle as you waved over at him. Arabella paused on the stage, the five-year-old pausing when she saw her father. Waving excitedly before getting right back on beat.

Arabella had been training so hard for this night. She would come home with the CD for us to play, so she could practice her dance moves. You had taken some dance classes when you were little, so you helped her out a bit. Logan was better with the sports part with Sadie. You wondered who'd this boy would be like, your hand coming over your round belly. Logan made his way over to you, as he grinned up at his daughter on stage. Then slid in next to you, putting a hand on your thigh and kiss on your cheek. Sadie focused on her little sister; the twos relationship was really close. They were born only a year apart; they've lived in the same room together for years. But now that you were moving into a new house, they were wanting to share the same room.

Luckily, the house was perfect, Logan had been working on it for over a year. It was your dream home, you had the top floor, an attic for your bedroom with a bathroom connected. Then a second floor that had bedrooms, and its own bathroom. The bottom floor had a family room, kitchen, office and closet. You lived out in the country to suite Logan's lifestyle, he liked to work on the farm and be near the lumber yard. It had a room if the girls ever wanted to grow, it also had plenty of rooms to spread out.

Getting pregnant you were excited to grow your father as Charles finance's his business for him. Though he had to juggle the opening, two girls and a pregnant wife. Along with a new house that had its own problems. Even though his life was busy, he was glad that being a little busy with your family wasn't the worst thing.

Logan watched Arabella spin around in circles, before getting off the stage. After the concert, Logan goes in to find her with the roses. She runs out in her costume, tackling her dad as she laughs. "You made it just in time!" Arabella laughed, giving Logan a toothless smile, one of her front teeth had fallen and the other one was still growing back in. You thought it was funny because you did the same thing as a kid. Logan thought it was cutest thing he'd ever seen. He swung her on his hip before walking over to his wife.

"Hi baby, you looked so beautiful up there." You complimented, squishing her cheeks together as she laughed.

"Thanks mom."

"Ya think we should go out for ice cream?"

"Uh yes please." Sadie spoke up, raising her finger, as your hand came to her head squeezing her hand with your fingertips, she laughed, swatting your hand away as you messed with her.

tags: @ohtobemare @jessjessmarvelandhp @chronicallybubbly @delicateholland @bubblegumholland @mega-kittyglitter-1

[gatorbites-imagines]

In that case… Could I please request Killer Croc/Waylon Jones with a supringly really attractive boyfriend (like a male version Jessica Rabbit level hot, like it dosen’t even make sense for someone to be that hot) who no one understand how Waylon pulled. Waylon’s boyfriend is very sultry and alluring.

And Waylon roughly breeds his boyfriend doggy style 😇.

Thank u :)

Waylon Jones x Male reader

Headcanons

Guten Abend squad, how is everyone doing? Classes are still running at a max level, and I’m starting to think this is just how it goes. So, time to chillax with some Waylon.

Not as smutty as I would have wanted, but this honestly just built a life of its own and started running.

We see in the comics, or at least in one run, that Waylon does have game and knows how to pull somebody very attractive, so its not too surprising so could pull you. That’s what you think at least, since he’s a great guy, to you.

I imagine you two met after he left the circus, maybe you guys even left together. With Waylon being the circus’s “freakshow” and you only being there as eye candy to sell tickets. With you both being reduced to nothing but your looks, you two find solidarity with each other, and fall in love.

No one ever really took your love seriously back then, just thinking you were using Waylon for protection, since someone as pretty as you couldn’t be safe anywhere.

Insert the “seriously, what do you see in that guy?” “he makes me laugh” scene.

If we go with the verse where Waylon was in Halys circus, then the only ones that seemed to have some version of acceptance of your love was the Grayson’s. it was one of the reasons you two left the circus, having a strong feeling of what had truly happened to them and who caused it.

After leaving the circus, you couldn’t live in the sewers like Waylon. This meant you got an apartment, in the beginning in crime alley since it was cheapest.

You may have been so beautiful it would drive people mad, but you also had a head on your shoulders. So, in the end you set up a legitimate business, maybe you even become something akin to a designer. Mainly because your lover is so big, there’s no other way to get him clothes.

And maybe during your time in crime alley, you stumble upon a scrawny kid who, though he may act tough, still has a light in him. And maybe that kid ends up being batman’s second robin, who remembers how kind you were to him and everyone around you, so he doesn’t go as hard against Waylon.

The past you have with the Grayson’s also means that Dick takes it easier on Waylon, and they even settle down and talk at times. You’ll regularly find the two former robins hanging around your art studio, even years later when they aren’t robin anymore.

Your lover goes to Arkham, a lot. But you never hate him or even argue with him. You’ll just pull up to Arkham in your most beautiful outfit during visitors’ hours and hold Waylon’s hand as you two act like a new married couple, even if it’s been twenty at this point.

And it may have been twenty years, but you just seem to have become more handsome with age, aging like fine expensive wine. You don’t become shrewd or corrupted by the world around you, instead you stay kind and patient. You’re still in Gotham though, so you’ll turn violent if you have too.

No one really believes that Waylon purrs, until you show up and he becomes as meek as a kitten, ready to roll in your manicured hand.

Its no secret that you, one of the most famous designers around, and Killer Croc, are together. But its just such a normal part of everyday life now, that no one really questions it. your works never been dirty, you help those around you, and lift up poor and struggling artists whenever you can. So, what if your husband is tearing up the road trying to bite Batman to bits.

Theres a viral video in Gotham of you stepping out during one of Waylon’s rampages, and just scolding him, wagging a finger in his face and still looking so unbelievably gorgeous as you do so.

And yes, of course your design trademark is crocodile scales, or anything along those lines. You’ll never use real crocodile skin, but you do use the print or shape.

After all this time, people don’t fear Waylon as much as they probably should, all thanks to you. Its kinda hard to fear a guy when you know his boyfriend is unofficially titled the most beautiful man in Gotham, who’s also as giving and kind as the Waynes, whilst being more involved in the nitty gritty, since you still live in Crime Alley.

Someone has threatened Waylon with telling on him to you at least once too, which doesn’t stop him, but it does cause him to freeze and get an “oh shit” expression, long enough for people to run to safety.

Being one of the most skilled fashionistas around also means you have met the Waynes on multiple occasions.

The shared past with Dick and the circus, and Jason, though you don’t remember him as vividly, means you get called on more than most.

As you measure them out and start making designs, conversations flow, and Damian most likely ends up bluntly just asking you why in the world you decided to pair up with Killer Croc of all people.

You correct him in your answer, referring to your husband as Waylon, and then you just start waxing the poetics. Of your shared past, of the deep unshakable love you both share, and how under all his struggles, Waylon truly is an amazing man.

You’ve never confirmed that Dick was Robin, even though it was very obvious. Its not your place to judge how he, or his family, deal with their trauma or whatever they have going on. Your lover swims through the sewers, you can’t really say anything.

A few passing comments are made though, obviously. You tell the Waynes to “take it easy next time they see Waylon, wont you?” with one of your heart shaking winks before you saunter out, ready to start putting together your latest design.

Its kind of an accepted, not really a secret, secret. Its never put into words, and they know that you know, and you know that they know you know. Nothing ends up happening with it though, outside of you making some jokes and judging their hero outfits.

With age you’ve become less sultry and alluring, at least in the way the public can point out as obviously as before. You have simply mastered your field, and know just how to play people around you if you need too.

Though, you didn’t really learn to master it for the public. It’s mainly just for Waylon, so you like to see how his nostrils flare, and when he starts chuffing in the back of his throat when you saunter around in nothing but a silk robe.

The bats know that the first place Waylon goes when he gets out of Arkham is to you. But…they also all know to wait at least a day or two before they come for him. To allow you to spend some time together, but also because most of them have caught of glimpse of you… reunions…

Bruce wont admit it, but he’s at least impressed with you being able to take two of them at the same time, even after all these years. He might note down your many skills somewhere… just in case.

Reunions with Waylon are typically a hot and steamy affair. Or well, as hot and steamy as a guy whose as cold as a reptile can get. There are days where either of you may not be up for it, and then its just cuddles and having some nice domestic time together before he’s taken back to Arkham again.

But when it does get hot, then you are very happy you own the entire building. Waylon can get quite loud, but never as loud as he still makes you even after all these years.

Sure, you’ve learned to handle it more after all this time, but it still makes you squeal when Waylon fits both his shafts inside you at the same time, lifting and moving you around like a doll.

Where Waylon may be rough and violent in every other part of his life, Waylon is slower and much more careful in the bedroom. He doesn’t want to lose his senses and hurt you on accident. You have some very faded bite and claw scars on your body, back from when you first got together, and Waylon likes to remind himself of that.

Sometimes you do want him to be rougher about it, so you pull all the skills you’ve gained over the years. And Waylon is but a man, even with the scales and all, so he can’t resist you for very long. It always ends up with you writhing, face in the pillow that’s stained with your tears and drool or pleasure, as Waylon growls and snarls behind you, his big, clawed hands moving you back and forth with ease.

He always feels a bit guilty about it afterwards, especially seeing how much you leak all over the sheets. Expect to find yourself being pampered and loved on for the next couple of days. Even the bats seem to leave you to it, most likely having heard your cries. You get a feeling the people in the next building heard them too. But you honestly don’t care anymore.

You may have Waylon, and many others, wrapped around your finger, but so does Waylon with you. And neither of you really seem to mind anymore.

[violent-darkness]

Stress Relief

Billy Butcher x You

Warnings: 18+ mdni, smut, angst.

Summary: You struggle with your feelings for Butcher while he grapples with his own demons. The stress from trying to take down Homelander is weighing heavily on his shoulders. You desperately try to help him and ease his tension one way or another. Despite Butcher’s reluctance, you are determined to break through his defenses.

The obnoxious ringing echoed across the empty office space and startled you. You peeked at your phone screen: “Come to our bar now, some hot men are buying us drinks.” You chuckled. Back in the day, these types of texts from your bff would get you up and going in an instant. But lately, things have been a little different. You glanced at Butcher’s empty desk and let out a deep sigh. The made-up excuse was always work, but the truth was that ever since your drunk make-out session with him a few months ago, you didn’t really want anyone else. If only he were of the same opinion. The following day he gave you a whole speech about how it was a mistake and you deserved better. He’d been acting like nothing happened ever since. Although you regularly caught him staring at you, when he thought you weren’t watching, his gaze lingering with an intensity that made your heart race.

Your train of thought was suddenly interrupted by the man himself. Billy Butcher stormed in, his hurried footsteps pounding like a war drum. The sound reverberated through the empty office. He slammed the door behind him so hard that it almost came off its hinges.

You bit your lip, trying to gauge his mood. He barely seemed to notice your presence and headed straight to his desk. Grabbing a bottle of vodka from the cabinet, he gulped down several large swigs. He was panting heavily, eyes filled with rage. 

“Billy…” you uttered. This was the first time he actually looked at you. His gaze softened, but just for a moment, before his face twisted in anger again.

“Stay out of it,” he grunted as he headed for the door.

“Look, I know that you want to bring down Homelander more than anything. We all fucking do. But it’s starting to wear you down,” you confronted him. The truth was no one from the team really liked him. Everyone but you thought that he was an asshole. His increasing irritability and tension lately only bothered them because he was even more unbearable than usual. But you didn’t care about that. You could see right through his bullshit and knew that this was simply a mask, a little show he put on to keep people at a distance. You were desperately trying to break through and make him lower his guard.

But instead Butcher gave you a death stare. “I ain’t slowin' down until I put down the wanker,” he hissed at you.

“At least talk to someone… Talk to me. Let me help you,” you pleaded.

“Ain’t no way you can help me, luv.” He waved his hand dismissively and exited, leaving the air thick with unresolved feelings. 

You stared at his retreating figure, heart racing with frustration and worry amidst the eerily quiet office space. Why couldn’t he see that you wanted to help? Your mind raced, refusing to surrender. Butcher was the one who found you in that garbage of a life you had and offered you a chance on his team. He practically saved you and never once judged you for your past or the horrible things you’d done. You owed him big time and were determined to find a way to help him. You got up from your desk and started pacing across the room. Suddenly your eyes widened and a look of satisfaction crossed your face. If he was unwilling to talk, then perhaps there were other ways to reach him. The idea was good, but had the potential to end up as a complete disaster for you. You went to Butcher’s desk and grabbed the bottle of vodka. With what you were about to do, you needed all the support you could get. The heavy smell of alcohol made you wince, but you took a few gulps anyway before grabbing your jacket and walking out of the office.

His apartment was close by. You just hoped he would be there and not in some bar, drinking himself into oblivion. He opened the door on the third knock, just as you were about to give up. “Bloody hell, what are ya doin’ here?” His brows furrowed and he almost shut the door right back in your face, but you swiftly pushed him inside. Without giving him a second to think, you pressed your lips to his, your tongue seeking access to his mouth, which he willingly provided. It was a messy, passionate kiss, reflecting the unspoken desire you had for one another. But when the initial rush passed, Butcher came to his senses, grabbed you by the shoulders, and pulled you away. His brows arched as he gave you a long stare, still catching his breath. It wasn’t often that this man was left speechless, but you’d managed to do it. “We don’t have to talk, you know, we can just fuck. I can help you take the edge off,” you held his gaze and smirked at him, trying your best to put on a confident face. He made a long pause. You could see the internal struggle written all over his face. His eyes were filled with desire as he reached his hand toward your face, but stopped midway and let it fall back to his side.

“You should leave,” he finally muttered, averting his gaze. Your heart sunk into your stomach. Frustration surged as you tried to break through the concrete wall he was hiding behind. “Oh, come on, don’t tell me you don’t want me too. I’ve seen the way you look at me, when you think I am not watching.” Butcher clenched his jaw, still looking away. You noticed him tensing, fighting his internal demons. Silence. Complete and utter silence. A flush of redness crept up your neck. You suddenly felt like a complete fool, being so bluntly rejected by him. It was too much, even for you. “Fuck you, Billy,” you finally hissed at him and made a few steps towards the door, feeling completely embarrassed. “I’m only gonna ruin you, doll. You got no place around a cunt like me. Better stay away,” his voice was gruff, weighed down by unspoken truths. But for the first time there was a hint of vulnerability in it. You turned around to look at him. He was staring at the floor, looking so sad and broken that it made your heart ache. You closed the distance between the two of you and he didn’t object. “Don’t push me away, Billy,” you spoke softly, sincerely. “Haven’t you understood by now? I am not afraid of the real you. Never have been. On the contrary, I want you to show me the monster you claim to be.”

His eyes widened as he turned to look at you once again. You knelt before him and reached for the belt of his jeans. “Let me ease some of your tension. Make you forget about a shitty day in a shitty life. I want nothing more than that. Please, Billy, let me. Please, please, please, you need this so much. And I do too,” you begged him, putting yourself entirely at his mercy, fully aware how pathetic you sounded.

Butcher knew that you were too young and too good for him. He didn’t want to drag you down into the dirt with him. He wanted to stop you - to protect you from his chaos. He really did. But how could he? He was thinking about you constantly ever since you joined the team. You had occupied the deepest, darkest corners of his brain. The drunken hookup was a mistake he swore he would never repeat. But ever since then, it was the only thing he thought about when he touched himself. The way you were begging him now—so needy, so desperate for him—made him painfully hard. He had no strength left to continue fighting with himself.

Butcher tried to stop you. He really did. But instead he watched as you unbuckled his belt and unbuttoned his jeans. The sheer sight of your small, gentle hand gripping his pulsating cock, made him go feral. At that moment he was completely gone. His fingers clenched your hair and pushed the whole length of his cock in your throat. You couldn’t breathe and started gagging, but Butcher didn’t care. He started controlling your movements, guiding your head back and forth across his length, shedding the tension from the bad day he’d had piece by piece. At some point he pulled out to look at your face - makeup all smeared and eyes teary. He really liked the sight of you in this condition. So dirty for him. It was a million times better than his fantasies.

 “You want to see the monster, huh?” Butcher teased, and you nodded enthusiastically, your cunt throbbing painfully for him.

“Are you sure you can take it? Such a fragile lil’ thing you are?” He brushed his thumb along your cheek. 

“Please, I can take it,” you whimpered, filled with longing, the intensity of your feelings evident in the quiver of your breath.

“So desperate,” Butcher snickered. The way you begged him made him want to do unspeakable things to you, to see how far he could go. Before you knew it, he spat in your face and dragged you by your hair across the floor, tossing you onto the bed like a sack of potatoes. “Spread your legs,” he ordered imperiously, placing his large hand on your throat. With the other he grabbed his cock, pressed the tip on your clit and started rubbing it. Waves of pleasure began spreading across your body. Amidst your intensifying moans, he pushed deep inside you with one harsh thrust, not giving you time to adjust to his size. Your moan turned into a scream. “Billy…” you winced.

“Tsk, tsk, you asked for this, luv,” he taunted, not bothering to temper his movements. Pretty soon, his steady rhythm combined with the slight pressure he applied on your throat transformed your pain into pleasure and you began purring in his ear. He felt so good, reaching all your sensitive spots, filling you up completely. His weight was pressing down on you, the heat of his body mixing with the distinct scent of musk and vodka. His hand, which was tightly curled around your throat, gave him full control over you. You were merely his stress relief, a tool he used. The pressure was gradually building up within you as you were nearing your climax. Butcher could sense that you were close, probably one or two thrusts away, when he stopped abruptly. This created a void inside you. You started squirming and whimpering, trying to pull him toward you, which only made him chuckle.

“You are not coming just yet,” he leaned in to whisper in your ear.

“Please,” you begged and whimpered, but he paid no attention to your pleas as he turned you on your stomach and pinned your head on the bed. He gave you a hard slap on your butt, before shoving his cock deep inside you once again. His movements were fast and intensive, eager. The movements of someone who’d been needing a proper fuck for a long time. Every thrust washed away the tension that had built up over the past months, untying the knot in his stomach, making him forget all the dirt. And how could he not? In front of him was a fragile little thing with a perfect cunt, that basically begged him to snap her in two. You made him forget all his worries, because at this moment fucking you was the only thing that mattered in the world. You were a far better remedy than alcohol or any other drug he had ever tasted. 

He started rubbing your clit with consistent circular motions. The added pleasure was too much to handle, sending you over the edge. Your orgasm exploded inside you, turning you into a wreck - legs shaking uncontrollably, screams and whimpers. Seeing you break down on his cock like this was too much for Butcher. His thrusts became more intense, choppy. He followed you soon after and with a few final movements pumped his cum deep inside you, letting out a loud groan. The high from his orgasm acted like a veil, clouding all his worries. He lingered in that blissful moment, savoring the connection with you, trying to make it last as long as possible. After a while, he laid back on the bed, his legs trembling slightly, and pulled you into his embrace.

“You feeling better?” you placed a soft kiss on his cheek, after a long moment of silence filled only with your shared panting.

“Fuckin’ hell, you really are somethin’.” For the first time in months, you saw a genuine smile on Butcher’s lips as he pressed a kiss to your temple.

[drewsprincessy]

loving you was hard.

warnings: angst, anxiety, anger, comfort, arguing, crying, lmk if i missed any

summary: rafe and reader are in love, but rafe struggles to accept it, he doesnt believe in love.

part one

rafe cameron x female reader.

you had fallen for rafe, hard. it started off with stealing glances at each other every so often, then it escalated to him asking for your number. you two talked every night, dusk til dawn until you couldn't keep your eyes open anymore. you were the only person he was gentle with, the only one he would give affection to, and even crack a smile with.

he caught himself re-reading your texts and smiling at them, going through your insta posts, checking your following, checking your location, and checking when you were last online.

he thought he just needed a quick hookup, and that was all. but no. the way you smile at him and your dimple pokes through your cheek, or maybe its the way your eyes light up when your excited about something.

he doesnt know what it is, but he cant fall in love. your not important, its just all in his head.

he was sitting on the edge of his bed, his head in his hands as he thinks, he regains his composure, shaking his head to try and get rid of the thought. he lets out a long breath, and he stands up. he goes to smoke some weed.

he stops answering your calls, and even stops responding all together. he cant fall in love, he's not fit for a relationship. right?

your a mess. you'd be lying if you said it didn't hurt the way that he ghosted you out of nowhere. but i mean you cant be mad, because your still just a hookup for him. right?

i mean you thought it'd be different because hes never met up with a girl more than once, you guys have even been on real dates. not just the ones where you have sex and not talk for another 2 weeks. you two had gotten to really know each other.

you were just confused, and hurt. you decided you were gonna try to let it go. try and move on, because theres always other men out there.

~

2 weeks pass

you were at home laying in your bed, you just had on a comfy tee shirt, and some yoga shorts.

you had been scrolling thru your phone, giggling at a video you seen on tiktok. you clicked on the comments and scrolled thru them, and you were giggling until a message popped up at the top of your screen. from rafe; your smile faintly drops as you click on the message

-

imessage:

rafe: been thinking about you. um, im really sorry for ditchin you n' shit. i just been going thru stuff and didnt wanna take it out on you. im sorry alright?

y/n: its okay rafe, i understand. call if you need anything. okay?

you were so understanding, and forgiving. even with the half ass apology he gave you, you still forgave him.

-

over the next few weeks, you and rafe start going out again, he fell more and more in love with you, and you felt the same about him. he had enough of it. he couldnt be falling for you.

he was high off drugs, and his breath reeked of alcohol. he was stumbling and could barely walk. there were crowds of people around him at the party he attended to.

you had also been there with rafe, but went off somewhere with kiara and sarah. you decided the topic of conversation was boring, and excused yourself with a "ill be right back." and went to find him.

he had went off into a room with some random chick, they were making out and her clothes were half off. you had almost stumbled on your feet when you walked in, your eyes had immediately began brimming with tears. to save yourself the embarrassment you walk off, quickly as possible. trying to get the hell out of there.

rafe comes outside to where you had walked off to, he immediately catches up to you since his legs were longer, and grabs your arm "whats your problem..why are you crying?" he says, trying not to slur his words

you decide, fuck it. he doesnt care anyway. "your my problem rafe. i fucking love you, i have for a long time. and you lead me on and act like you love me the same way, but then i find you about to hookup with some random girl, that you dont even know! like i dont even exist rafe, and im gonna be honest. that shit HURTS! im so sick of this, im sick of you, and your bullshit excuses, your half ass apologies. FUCK YOU!"

rafe feels a pang of guilt in his chest, even thru the alcohol and drugs. he still manages to muster up some excuse, hes trying to hide the way he feels. "i mean..y/n. what did you expect? i told you what the hell u were gettin into. i dont gain.. feelings. so quit being a damn crybaby"

it starts to rain, and you storm off, even when he yells your name, telling u to come back you dont listen. you kick your heels off, and walk all the way home in the pouring rain.

once u get home, you delete his number, and cry yourself to sleep.

he tries to act as if he doesnt care, he drinks until he passes out.

~

𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓮𝓷𝓭

[h-sleepingirl]

Thoughts on "Hypnotic Agnosticism"

I'm in a weird place spiritually because I really want nothing more than transcendent, hard-to-explain experiences -- which I have HAD -- but saying I have confidence that they are "real" (or acting like that's part of my worldview) is like impossible.

Like I'm sitting here and idly thinking "I would guess generally being open to 'woo' can facilitate more intense hypnotic experiences." But I feel like I can't fully buy into magical thinking(?) (and I also include "science"/pseudoscience like NLP in that!).

For example at a hypnosis event, we introduced ourselves with something other people may not know about us; I said "I believe in xyz" where xyz is a certain mystical concept. But, DESPITE EXPERIENCES RATIFYING THAT BELIEF over the weekend, I find myself with a lot of doubt and skepticism.

It feels similar to how NLP is bs but useful when you work within its own model; it makes sense in its own context and you can get pretty far with it. My various spiritual beliefs are "real" in that way, but on a more zoomed-out scale, I really just don't know what is what.

I guess this is basically a kind of agnosticism which is fitting for me to not know things (being a bimbo) and also to sit balanced between multiple models (being sleepingirl). But it's confusing and also pretty tiring on some level!

I do think parsing this out makes me think about agnosticism as my ideal "model" for looking at hypnosis. A measured, skeptical acceptance of all models as useful, maybe. But also maybe even a healthy balance of both skepticism and reverence for hypnosis itself.

I've been doing hypnosis for 15 years now, which feels impossible. But I am also genuinely constantly surprised by it and I think part of that is because maybe I don't fully believe it's real! BUT/AND I desperately want and am open to its intense experiences.

Maybe this ties into curiosity/surprise as being some sort of necessary ingredient for intense experiences like this? I am not sure where I'm going with this but I'm thinking a lot about the spiritual overlap, anyways.

[the-worms-in-your-bones]

I've been thinking about the societal structures built around regeneration on gallifrey lately, but also the fact that renegades do not get that. On gallifrey you can regenerate in a controlled and safe environment (obviously with some exceptions, but sudden regenerations are not the standard) where you know that an outside factor will not interfere with or influence your regeneration. And while its not guaranteed, there's some amount of reassurance that the regeneration is likely to be on your own terms and that you'll have time to recover and get used to your new body after

But a renegade is much more likely to face a violent and unpredictable death, its rare for one to live the full expected lifespan of a time lord, and when they do die regeneration is much more of a gamble, it is much easier for things to go wrong, just look at what happened with five or eight, and how an incorrect regeneration probably had lasting effects that could have easily been avoided or fixed in the hours after regeneration on gallifrey, but are now things they just have to live with. The unpredictability of regeneration for many renegades also leads to them regenerating out in the open, which makes them much easier to kill because you have access to them mid regeneration. And there also the factor that time lords are both rare and powerful, anyone knowing who they are may very well want to take advantage of either the energy a regenerating time lord produces or the vulnerable and easily manipulable state a newly regenerated time lord finds themself in, and others who don't know what a time lord is may want to experiment on them and it is much harder to fight back in a body you do not know yet

All that's to say, regeneration is probably an at least stressful experience for all time lords, you are literally dying, but it has to be terrifying for renegades. There is no guarantee that you will make it through without complications, or really at all. I mean looking at it this way its kind of obvious why the doctor tries so hard to cling onto each life they have

[georgiapeach30513]

How I'm Looking At You, Part 5

Summary: It's just you and Ari

Pairings: Ari Levinson X Reader

Rating: explicit

Warnings:  explicit language, explicit sexual content, teasing, dirty talk, oral sex (F receiving), fingering, dry humping, videoing, masturbating (M) in front of another, breeding kink, cum play, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 4K

Previous

Series Masterlist

You peek over your shoulder, smiling at the giant man that continues to get closer, and taking only one tiny step at a time, to your backside. You’d nearly finished the dishes from breakfast, and the giant form of Ari is stalking towards you. Always. Like a shadow that you didn’t want to get rid of. A playful hunt for his prey. Your talk with him was much needed, and even though there’s a paranoia of someone finding out and this blowing up in your face, you’re enjoying this time.

It’s lighthearted, just like the books say it should be. Well, depending on which type of book you’re reading, but you’ve almost guessed which ones are a bit more dark. Yes, you do judge a book by its cover, but only because there is usually a difference. Not always, but the darker themed stories always had a particular look about them.

You didn’t hate those stories, but they didn’t fit Ari. You liked stories that you could see Ari in. Sometimes he was a hockey player with his fast talking mouth. Sometimes he was a cowboy; sweating and showing off his work made muscles. Other times he was a teacher, and you really liked him being a teacher. Letting him explore your body, and teach you all the ways to sin. It was close to real life.

You finish the last dish right before Ari crowds your body with his own. His heated breath is on your neck, causing your feet to spread apart. His mouth presses up against your heated column, and he chuckles. Giving a nip at your neck before pressing his pelvis into your ass. It’s cruel the images and thoughts that you have running through your mind. You feel him, but not enough at the same time.

Your imagination is running rampant with all the ways he could have you. “Uh uh,” he tsks, rolling his hips into yours, and you mewl out his name, “Don’t go in your head, stay right here with me at this moment. Tell me what you’re thinking.”

That is what you want to do, but he makes it so damn hard, and he’s so hard, pressing into you. And he’s clouding your vision, and your judgment. He rolls his hips into you again, and your knuckles lighten with how hard you’re clinging to the sink. “A-a-are you going to inspect me again?”

“Is that what you’d like?”

“Uh huh,” you want so much more than that. You want to feel him on the inside. You want him crawling into your being, and truly claim you. Ari kisses his way down your body. Starting to sink down to his knees, and he grabs the hem of your dress. Inching higher up your body. Exposing more of your tender flesh.

“My my, this is a pretty pair of panties you have on,” you were a bit bold when you walked up to your room. The lingerie is sheer, and show everything. “And you’re so wet, Darling,” your slick has stained a darkened spot right at the gusset of your panties, and he spreads to your thighs. “I think you’re very frustrated, can I help you with that?”

“Yes, please,” you whisper, unable to raise your voice higher than that. He slowly pulls the fabric down your thighs, stopping at your feet, and he gives them a little tap, and you step out of the underwear. Peering behind you when Ari stuffs them into his pocket.

“I’ll save this for later,” he smirks up at you before looking at your drenched folds. Ari’s tongue flicks over your velvety lips, moaning at the taste of you before he slaps a hand on each cheek, and pulls you apart at the seam. He gawks at your delectable body. Ready to devour you. “Have you had anything inside of you?”

“No. I’m scared.”

“Can I try?” You nod your head, whispering please, and his index finger immediately starts its exploration. He runs the digit up and down your split, gathering up your arousal. Teasing at your entrance before playing with your clit. His mouth hangs open in awe as he fondles you, and then he rubs over your entrance.

Adding enough pressure that a tiny bit pushes through, and you want more. You back your ass up towards him, pushing more of his meaty finger inside of you, and Ari gives a swift bite on your cheek, “You’re impatient today. I’m not working in the field. And I told the idiots to go buy some much needed seeds. Apparently I’ve run out. And right now, I really want to play.”

“And I — I need friction,” he rolls his eyes, looking up at you expectantly, “That’s what the books say.”

“You read trash, you know that?” You push your butt back towards him again, and feel his finger slightly breach through your walls, and a pornographic moan wails out of your lips, “You are a filthy girl. How does this feel?” He sinks his finger fully in. Circling his finger inside of you, and watching your body accommodate him. Your pussy stretches around him, begging for another finger. Holding himself there, while you try and regulate yourself. “Is it that good that you can’t speak?”

You aren’t sure what it is. You just know that even one measly finger has receptors flaring up throughout your body, and you can’t make sense of time. The only thing you recognize is Ari. He is both the beginning and the end.

He plunges himself in and out of you, smiling as your body starts to rock with his rhythm. Pulling his finger fully out, before sliding another with it. “Oh, you look so pretty taking me like this. Stretched out and full.”

You preen at his words. Cheeks heating up from embarrassment and pleasure. Everything is fire as he works your body. Diving in and out of your wetness, and he sticks his tongue out, cleaning your skin of the excess honey. Moaning just as much as you are. His hips buck, mimicking your own movements.

“It’s like you were made for me,” Ari’s thumb starts to circle your clit, and he removes his tongue from you to watch how much your virgin pussy is stretched over his thick fingers. He feels everything. Can feel your walls caving in as he takes you to the edge of pleasure. Damn, you were a minx begging to get out. You were too perfect for this world. Even for him.

“Darling, you’re almost there. Will you let go for me? You’re doing such a beautiful job,” whimpering his name, he drives harder, “There ya go. You’re doing so well. Let go, baby. Just let go,” his words are shattering everything inside you. The buildup isn’t slow it is a crash into whatever sin wagon he is taking you on. “Fuck yeah. Yeah, you’re coating me with your cream. Oh god, this is beautiful.”

His fingers slow, coaxing you through your high, and you look over your shoulders, “Before you take it out, can you show me?” His eye lifts up, and his finger wiggles inside of you. “I mean with your phone.”

“Do I have to delete the picture after?”

“No. I just want to see it. Can…you can video it,” it’s doubly forbidden because there’s not supposed to be photos or videos of you. But the idea of being able to watch Ari from multiple angles, see yourself take him, makes you weak in the knees.

Ari gulps as he reaches for his phone. His fingers press down on it before you feel him push and pull out of you. Hearing the squelching sounds of your pussy before he removes his fingers. Stretching you wide open for the camera, and then zones in on your exposed hole. He clicks on his phone again before he leans forward, sucking and licking around your pussy. Cleaning you up in his way.

“I don’t think you know what you do to me.”

“Can you show me?” He leans back, gazing up at you with such a fascination that it makes you squirm. The intensity in his gaze makes you feel weak in the knees. “I’ve shown you what you do to me,” garnering as much confidence as you can muster, you let your dress fall back down, and turn around. Leaning back on the counter, you look down at Ari. “Ari, you’re not talking. Can I see you? See how you — no, what you do when you think of me like this?”

“You want to see me fuck myself?” You nod enthusiastically. Imagining all the ways that Ari compared to the men in the books, but also how it worked. You’ve never seen a naked man before. Can only imagine what lurks below his swollen pants. “What do the books tell you about that?”

“That,” you inhale deeply, blowing the cold air out. A slow flush of heat runs up your body, and settles in your cheeks where they light on fire. “That you, um — you fist your throbbing cock. I’ve never seen a cock.”

“If I show you, you have to promise to put these panties back on,” you didn’t quite understand. He took them off of you to keep, and now he’s wanting to put them back on you after he’s finished. You don’t want to think too much because there’s an ache inside of you to see him.

“Get on your knees,” you fall to your knees immediately, while he gracefully gets to his feet. Towering over you, and palming his crotch. “All the doors are locked, and the curtains are closed.”

“I don’t care,” at this moment you didn’t. You just want to see Ari’s vulnerability like he’s yours. Your eyes roll up to gaze at him, and his jaw tenses. His Adam’s apple quivers, and with trembling hands he slowly undoes his button. The two of you keep your eyes locked on one another, and you can’t help but wiggle around with anticipation. You are finally going to see what lies beneath his clothes

His fingers grip the zipper, and pull it down ever so slowly. “Darling, you ready to see what you do to me?”

“Yes, sir,” a shiver runs up Ari’s spine, and he plunges his hand into his underwear, and brings out a behemoth of a cock. His hands fall to his sides, and he lets you look at him in all his glory. A steel rod covered in the most beautiful silky skin. Pearls of precum glitter the crown, and you see his heartbeat pulsing in a vein that you very much want to trace with your tongue.

“Can I touch you?”

“You can if you use your mouth. But this is about showing you how I get off when I think about you,” lifting up to your knees, you stand face to face with his beautiful member. Inhaling his aroma while you inspect him before touching him. “Look up at me when you touch me.”

There’s something primal in his voice. The rawness, and yet the almost childish way that he asks you to look up at him empowers you. Inching closer you look up at him through your lashes. Flicking down to his aching cock. You pucker your lips, and glance back up at him. You’re so close, and going even slower. Slower. Until your lips whisper against his mushroom head, and his essence explodes on your tongue.

Your breathing becomes erratic, but you collect yourself enough to flatten out your tongue, and lick his split clean. Moaning at his musk, while his legs tremble. “Ari, I think you should show me how you fuck your fist.”

His movements are harsh as he reaches into his pocket, and pulls out your panties. Leaning forward, he reaches under your dress, and swipes the sheer fabric through your drenched cunt. Soaking the panties in your slick before he wraps it around his cock.

His fist tightens, and he gives his cock a hard pull. Panting as he pumps himself over and over. Keeping his eyes on you. “I’ll never get my fist as tight as you. I can almost feel your walls gripping me so tight. Your juices leaking out around us, while you make the prettiest sounds. No one will ever be closer to you than in those moments. I will be inside of you. Loving every inch and every curve of your body. You’re going to feel me for days. And your cunt will be molded to me. Your body will beg for me, and my body will never get enough of you.”

His hips thrust forward, mimicking the ways he wants to fuck you, “You like that? You like imagining how I’m going to feel stretching out that beautiful pussy? How my tongue is going to paint your body, and I’m going to fill you,” his words clip off immediately. You pout up at him, but he shakes his head. Denying you what you desperately crave.

“I want to know how your cum feels inside me though,” he moans. Eyes rolling in the back of his head before he looks back down at you. “I do. I want to know what it feels like to feel you for the rest of the day.”

“You really are a filthy dirty girl, huh?” He watches. Waits. And you wiggle around. Smiling because he really was talking to you like they do in the books. “You wanna be my little slut?”

“Yes,” his breathing deepens. Every exhale is a growl more than breath, “Yes, please. Sir,” you look down at his length wrapped in your panties. Staring as his balls tighten, and the most beautiful cry of your name echoes into the room. He maneuvers the panties over his tip, and he nearly howls. Heart beating in his chest as he stills his moments.

“Did you come?” You scoot closer to him. Observing his cock, and glancing up at him. Smiling and nodding his head. “Can I see?” His breath huffs out as he opens up your panties, and you peer at the thick creamy essence of Ari. “Can I touch it?”

“You’re going to. Give me a minute.”

“Can I taste it?” He squeaks as he exhales, shaking his head no. “That’s not fair! You get to taste me.”

“Darling, stand up,” keeping your eyes on him, you get to your feet. And he opens up the soiled panties. Holding them out for you. “Step in.”

“They’re dirty.”

“And you’re going to get to feel my cum pressed up against your delicious cunt for the rest of the day,” the hesitation isn’t because you don’t want to feel him. It’s because it is so salacious and wrong, but it’s your little secret. You could go home with your panties soaked with Ari. Nobody would ever know that you have him right at your pussy. That you made him come so hard. You earned his cum.

You stand there staring at the panties, and your mouth turns devilish as you put one foot in. Stepping into the other side. You pull your dress high, letting Ari fully see you pussy as he pulls his mess up your body. His cums touches your heated skin, and you sigh. Whimpering and rolling your hips at the feeling of him. And Ari taps on your pussy twice.

“There’s a good girl. The panties are perfect to see me smeared all over your skin,” he holds up his phone, snapping a photo of your creamy mound, and he holds the contraption up to show you. “You look pretty like this.”

“How would I look if you were leaking out of me?”

“Even better.”

“What about,” you gulp, knowing you could be taking things too far. There’s a power in your words. And yet, it’s something you feel in your core. A desire that’s so deep that you can’t even explain. “How would I look if you really claimed me?”

“How so?” He calmly asks, reaching for you, he pulls you closer to him, and you lift his hand up, placing it on your belly.

“How would I look if I was swollen from your seed?” He growls. A deep rumble moves up his chest, and his fingers pulse on your stomach, “Do you want to fuck a baby in me? Let me walk around always full of you, and everyone would know that you fuck me like your personal breeding slut?”

His pupils blow wide. Black pools replacing the most perfect beautiful cerulean. Ari’s lids close slightly, staying half mast. His fingers tremble on your body, “Have you fuck me so deep that you start growing in me?”

“You can’t say things like that,” he struggles to get out. The timbre of his voice an octave higher. Your hand roams down his front, and you cup his hardening cock. “Darling.”

“Why not?”

Ari spins you around, and pins you to his front. Rocking his hips forward into your ass once, and his mouth attaches to your neck. The heated breath from his mouth sending chills throughout your body, “Because, I want to bend you over that fucking table, and breed you like you’re my personal whore. Fuck you so deep that my seed grows inside of you. Have you walking around all innocent, while you have a secret, and it’s that I’m growing in your belly.”

“I want you to,” your voice chokes out. You tug and pull at his hands and arms. Trying to force his touch where you want it. “Ari, use my body. It’s yours. Fuck your baby in me!”

“My god,” walking you forward, Ari inches you to the counter, slamming you down onto the wood. And his hips buck into your backside. Hunching into your body like a teenage boy with no self control, “You can’t say things like that to me.”

“Why? Ari, I want you to!”

“Because I’ve never made love to you. I’m not going to use you for breeding. I want to. My god, I want to see your belly swelling, and know it was me that did that. I want everyone in this fucking town to see you happy, and glowing. I want to be the one that gives you all your firsts, and take you to heavens you have never been to. But you don’t need that right away. Your books are such glorious beautiful trash, but for the sake of my fucking sanity, quit talking like that.”

“Will you fuck a baby in me one day?” He pistons his hip bones into you harshly. An infuriating way to mimic fucking when you just want him in you.

“Darling,” he’s so rough as he pretends to rut into you. Pinning your hands onto the counter. Controlling you in ways that you don’t fully understand, but you want to go to whatever sweet sin he’s taking you to, “I will fuck as many babies in that pretty pussy as you’ll let me. I will own your body, your pleasure, and every one of your disgusting thoughts.”

One more hard push forward, and warmth invades your backside, and you moan at the feeling of his warm cum sullying your dress. If everyone wanted to call you the town dump and a whore, they could. As long as you are Ari’s whore. “But let me first take you on a date or maybe teach you how to kiss. Sex is clouding your brain because you’re so uptight.”

“Then just fuck me,” your words are teasing, but you’re serious. “If you just fuck me then I can focus on everything else.”

“You’re so needy.”

“Fuck me!”

“Not yet, sweetheart,” his lips leave a gentle kiss behind your ear before he stands up. Popping his neck while he checks out his spunk soaking your cotton dress. “You’re beyond frustrated. Why don’t you grind yourself on the arm of my chair? Let me sit on the couch while you give that pussy some much needed friction that you keep talking about.”

“Are you making fun of me?” Spinning around you glare up at him, and he just smirks. of course he’s making fun of you. He’s experienced, and you’re a sniveling child begging for his cock, and he won’t give it to you.

“You’re a grown adult acting like a child because I won’t sink my cock into,” it isn’t fair! The women in the books got the guy so quick. You just want to feel him. “It’s adorable, and I understand your frustrations. There are times I look at you, and just want to swipe everything off the table into the floor, slam you on that wood, and spread your legs while I rail into you. But you’re not ready.”

“How come you’re the only one that gets to decide?”

“Because all you’re focusing on is sex. I’m trying to be an adult because I know that you’re spiraling. I understand it. And I will let you be that way, but know that I am making a hard — very hard. I just came twice, and that’s not easy to do. And I haven’t even been inside of you. You seriously can’t understand what you do to me,” his resolve is failing. If you continue to talk to him like that, he will have his way with you. He’d lick up every tear that spilled out of your beautiful eyes if he had to.

“In time,” your eyes fall to his chest. Staring at a patch of hair that is peeking out of the top. “Would you be willing to do some of the things to me that’s in the books?”

“Like what?” You piqued his interest. His body is practically vibrating with giddiness.

“You said sit on the couch, while I grind on you,” there’s certain things in particular you like in the books. You can’t explain it. Possibly because of your upbringing and the fear and punishment you feel when you’ve done something wrong. You like the bit of humiliation. With boundaries.

“Can — can I be naked?” Ari bites his tongue, groaning again. “I’ve never had someone suck my — my titties. A-a-a-and I want you clothed. And talking dirty to me.”

Your curiosity and willingness to try the things you’ve read about astounds him. It’s like you were this perfect woman that was plucked out of the sky and placed right on his lap. Amazing. Just amazing how filthy you are, and yet there’s an innocence because you don’t understand. From what Ari has gathered, sex is vanilla here. But you want to be naked, while you make yourself get off. You want him to suck your tits. All while you straddle and ride him. Ruining his pants with your juices.

“I like it when you talk dirty to me because I know when we’re not in this space that you would never do that. James told me what you said to Jacob,” his fucking name was James? Just James? “Thank you. I’ll be your darling out there, as long as in here I’m your whore,” the shame of it turned you on. You aren’t even going to try and make sense out of it. You just want Ari to own your body. You want him to destroy it. Use it. Do whatever he wants to do as long as it’s him.

“And I’d like to make us a picnic, and we have our first date by the river. Okay?” His mouth turns up into the most beautiful smile you’ve ever seen, and he nods his head.

“How does my cum feel on your pussy?”

“I think it’d feel better in my pussy,” without another word, you turn towards the stairs. You would like a nap, and to read a bit more from a particular book. You didn’t care what Ari said, you want him to fuck you, and fill you up. You’d already made up your mind about this life. And it wasn’t worth living if Ari couldn’t be inside you.

Next

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @peaches1958 @seitmai

@smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @cjand10 @midnightramyeoncravings @kmc1989

@floral-recovery-blog @pandaxnienke @rogersbarber @buckybarnesisdaddy @theinheriteddutchess

@patzammit @steviebbboi @jeremyrennermakesmesmile @kandis-mom

[em-prentiss]

drunk in love

----

Aaron’s lips messily trace her knuckles. “Do you need a ride?” His voice vibrates under her hand.

“Nope,” she shakes her head. “My husband’s pretty drunk so I’ll be driving us home tonight.”

“Husband?” Aaron frowns, letting go of her hand. “Who’s that?”

Oh, this should be good.

Or, Aaron is drunk. And really unable to contain his love for his wife.

Word count: 2k

----

She feels warm inside. It’s hard not to, after a delicious dinner and flowing conversations and good company. Dave’s living room seems to always provide her with all three. Emily feels the heat of a gaze burning her cheek and turns to find Aaron staring at her, a goofy smile on his lips. 

“Hi.”

His dimples are deeper than they usually are given present company, a distinct gleam in his eyes that immediately tells her the reason for it. Emily knows that shine all too well; it doesn’t come very often, but when it does she knows she’s in for a treat.

“Hi.” 

“You’re really pretty.” He informs her, a slur to his words that she never hears in times other than these.

Emily presses her lips together to hide a smile. She’s glad for Aaron’s low voice even while drunk, his flirtations kept just for her in a room of their friends.

“Thank you,” she says, briefly feeling ridiculous for the heat in her cheeks. “You don’t look too bad yourself.” Her hand moves to the collar of his button down of its own accord. Emily smooths it down needlessly, and when her fingers dip inside, Aaron holds her hand there.

“Where are you sleeping tonight?”

His slow pulse beats under her fingers. Emily smiles at him and feels it start to quicken; she bites her lip to hold back a laugh. “At home. Where are you sleeping tonight?”

“Anywhere with you.” He mumbles, curling his fingers around her wrist. Emily grins. Aaron’s lips messily trace her knuckles. “Do you need a ride?” His voice vibrates under her hand.

“Nope,” she shakes her head. “My husband’s pretty drunk so I’ll be driving us home tonight.”

“Husband?” Aaron frowns, letting go of her hand. “Who’s that?”

Oh, this should be good.

Emily can’t conceal her grin this time. “You.” She says, twisting her body to properly face him. His usual frown pulls his brows together, only it’s confused rather than displeased.

“Me?”

“Mhm.”

His pupils are blown wide. “Goddamn.”

Emily bursts out laughing. She claps her hand over her mouth too late, the voices of her friends already dwindling down at the sound of her bright—she hates to admit it—giggle.

An enamored smile spreads across Aaron’s lips. 

“What are you laughing at, princess?” Morgan tilts his head, his eyes jumping between her and Aaron.

“Nothing,” Emily clears her throat and stands up hastily, holding her hand out for Aaron to take. “We were just leaving, weren’t we, Aaron?”

Aaron nods solemnly as he takes her hand. “’d go anywhere with you.”

Emily’s cheeks heat as she tugs him up, his voice now carrying in the silence of Dave’s living room. While Aaron is never shy about his love for her, he is quiet; careful to keep it something between them, even in somewhere more casual like Dave’s. Only the walls of their home fully know the extent of his love, and Emily wants to keep it that way.

Tonight, her wish is far from fulfilled.

“Mm, you said that already,” she murmurs, hooking her arm around his waist because he looks like he’s about to topple—she doesn’t remember him drinking that much—and steadfastly ignoring the hot gazes of her friends.

“Is bossman drunk?” Penelope asks.  

Even without turning Emily can sense the giddy in her voice. She makes a face as she reaches for her purse, knowing Aaron wouldn’t like being exposed like this.

“He’s a fair bit intoxicated, yes, so we’re going home now.” Emily gives them a tight smile as she cranes her head to look at them, not really able to twist with Aaron leaning half his body weight against her side. She catches Dave and Morgan’s smug looks, JJ’s stifled amusement, and she squeezes his waist, “C’mon, hon, let’s go.”

“Can’t believe I’m goin’ home with you.” Aaron sighs into her neck. “’Cause you’re my wife. She’s my wife isn’t she?” His head pops up again, his eyes meeting Rossi’s. “Dave, she’s not lying to me is she?”

Dave chuckles and shakes his head, the gleam in his eyes making her irrationally irritated. “Nope.”

Emily’s heart pinches at the insecurity lining his voice. “I wouldn’t lie to you about something like this,” she says softly. Aaron turns to her and she only barely holds herself back from kissing him breathless, just to prove it to him. “I’ll show you some pictures in the car, hmm? Proof.” She gently pushes away the soft hair hanging over his forehead. 

Aaron smiles. “Y’have pictures?” He asks, looping his arm around her waist.

Before anyone else can say anything, Emily gets her feet to move, channeling all her strength and tugging Aaron with her. “I have lots of pictures. Night, everyone,” she tosses over her shoulder.

“Hey, let me help you with him.” Morgan says, quickly crossing the floor and reaching them.

“My wife’s all strong Morgan, she doesn’t need your help.” Aaron mumbles. 

“Yeah, back off, Morgan.” Emily reiterates, winking at him to soften her words.

“Alright, alright.” He steps back, holding his hands up in mock surrender. When she looks at him his gaze is less unabashedly amused, some genuine concern in his eyes as he hovers over her shit-faced husband.

Emily relaxes a little. “Thanks, though.” She smiles at him over Aaron’s head.

“Anytime.”

By the time they reach the car and Aaron is settled into the passenger seat, the ache in Emily’s shoulder is almost enough to make her regret rejecting Morgan’s offer.

“I just don’t get when you drank this much,” she mutters as she leans over the console and gently swats at Aaron’s unsteady hands, buckling his seatbelt instead. “You were right next to me.”

Aaron isn’t listening. He reaches out to touch a lock of her hair, gently curling it around his finger before he tucks it behind her ear. Even drunk, his movements clumsy, he’s gentle as he pins it back. Emily smiles at him, the heat back in her cheeks.

“Can we kiss?” He whispers.

A small laugh escapes, gentle and secret, trapped in the confines of the car as Emily stretches her body further to reach him. Her hand slides into his hair, gently cradling the back of his neck as she brings his lips to hers. 

He tastes like the multiple glasses of scotch he’d had at some point in time. Emily ignores that, relishing instead in the careful way he touches her; gently cupping her cheek, skimming his thumb over her jaw.

“I missed you.” Aaron says when she leans back.

“Yeah?” Emily murmurs. He nods and she kisses the corner of his mouth, “I did too, my love.”

Even in the dark, she sees his cheeks redden. Emily kisses one of them before settling back into her seat, a dull ache in her lower back. She buckles her seatbelt and drives off as Aaron’s head hits the headrest.

It doesn’t take long before he reaches for her hand.

Butterflies twirl in her stomach as he gently runs his thumb over the back of her hand, then her knuckles, then down the joints of her fingers. “Hey, you stopped biting your nails.” A small smile plays on his lips. He bends his head down, presses a kiss to her healed cuticles. 

“Yeah, a long time ago.” She says softly. “You helped.” Emily turns just in time to catch him beaming at her. 

“I did?”

She squeezes his fingers as they reach a stoplight. “You did. You made me wear nail polish and held my hand whenever I tried to bite them.”

Aaron kisses her fingers again. “Glad I could help, baby.” 

The rare nickname makes her breath hitch. Emily drives off when the light turns green, her heart unsteady as Aaron continues to carefully examine her hand. She feels it when he reaches her engagement ring, his thumb reverently smoothing over the band.

“That’s a pretty ring.” He murmurs, his voice hushed as he traces the diamonds on it.

Emily hums. “Isn’t it? You gave it to me.”

“I have good taste.” He says sagely.

She laughs softly, her heart suddenly feeling fuller than it did seconds ago. Aaron’s breathy laugh joins hers, echoing through the car as he sets their joint hands on the center console. Quietly, Emily hopes he’ll speak up again, but he stays silent, turning his head to look out the window at the passing cars. The sweeping of his thumb over the back of her hand remains continuous, though, and Emily stupidly longs for it in the few seconds she lets go to shift the gear.

He speaks up again when she turns the corner into their neighborhood.

“Mmm, ’mily?”

A surge of warmth rushes through her at the softness of her name on his drunken lips. She tightens her grip on his hand, chewing on her lip to hold back a smile.

“Yeah, honey?”

“Do we have any babies?” He asks.

Emily hums. “We have Jack-Jack. And Sergio.” She smiles wryly.

Aaron scoffs, “Sergio is not a baby.” He quiets then frowns a little, his voice going low. “And Jack isn’t a baby anymore.”

“Not technically, no. But he’ll always be your baby.” 

“He’s growing up.”

Chancing a glance at him, she finds a sad frown etched on his face. Emily grabs his hand off the console, sweeping her lips over his knuckles. “It’s what kids do, baby.”

Aaron huffs as she pulls into their driveway. “Wish they’d stop doing it so damn fast.” He grumbles.

She hums in agreement, letting go of his hand to put the car in park. Emily expects him to forget the topic and move on to something else, but he’s still frowning by the time they walk into their quiet living room.

It makes her sigh to herself, quietly letting go of a promise she’d made to herself a few hours ago. 

“Hey, Aaron,” she wraps her arms around his neck, gently trapping him against the front door. “I have a secret to tell you. I was gonna tell you later, but I don’t think you’ll remember if I told you now anyway.” The tips of her fingers slide into his hair.

“I’d never forget anything you told me.” He says solemnly.

“Cute,” Emily winks, “but I don’t think you’ll remember this one in your state.” She cups his face and gives him a smile, mentally shaking out the jitteriness in her body before she says, “You’re gonna have another baby soon.”

Aaron frowns.

Emily freezes.

“We’re not getting another cat, Emily,” he huffs, his scowl fit for an unsub. “One feline is more than enough, thank you—”

“I’m pregnant,” Emily interrupts, laughing at the way his jaw abruptly drops, “you idiot. Why would I call a cat a baby?” She asks incredulously, a grin spreading over her lips at his dumbfounded expression, the hazel of his eyes swirling with wonder.

“Pregnant?” Aaron whispers. Emily nods and he smiles dorkily, two dimples in his cheeks that she briefly imagines in a smaller, softer face. “My baby,” he breathes, slipping his hand under her shirt and poking her stomach, “in here?”

This time, Emily giggles unabashedly. “In here,” she covers his hand with hers, holding it tighter against her bare stomach. “Our baby.” She says softly, tears misting her eyes at the sound of it out loud.

Aaron’s eyes go glassy, too. “Fuck, I love you.” He pulls her into a bear hug, his arms tight around her back and the nape of her neck. She’s essentially trapped against him, enveloped in the scent of cologne and scotch.

“I love you too.” Emily laughs shakily, stepping on her tiptoes and kissing his jaw. “Now can we please go upstairs? My back is killing me.”

“Anythin’ you want, Emily.” His lips find her hair. Then her forehead, and her left cheekbone, and the tip of her nose. “Anything for you.”

She thinks she’ll be hearing that a lot over the next nine months.

taglist: @kllingdaddy @luhwithah @cheetobreath07 @dontemilyyyyme

[freakinator]

actually i should lay out all my theories so i can get back to them later and see what i get right and wrong lmao

the server takes place in snapshots

uu and tsftlt are connected particularly in the multiversal aspect

each pov is their own reality

each "thematic switch" is its own reality (prey!parrot is different from scavenger hunt!parrot is different from prison!parrot is different from civilization!parrot)

spoke broke the fabric of reality of the server and each spoke ep signals a different reality

when spoke activated the world tearer is when the multiversal aspect of the series started, when he activated it it split the universe into one where it worked and one where it didnt which lead to even more tearing because of how weakened the fabric of reality is. we kept following the one that failed but the multiversal tearing keeps affecting orbital!spokes reality

each ep is its own reality but still runs in a linear timeline

spokes reality is the only consistent universe while parrot and wemmbu keep switching

the first session is the only one that occurs in the same time period, after that spokes pov becomes a prequel to the others

pze was the first and for a long time the only actual civilization on the server due to how expensive it was to maintain as well as the fact that the server being hardcore meant you had to be someone Really charismatic and persuasive to convince someone to become a guard for you, it became easier (tho it was still really difficult) to convince players to have kingdoms after pze became established as a powerful faction and showed that factions had their worth if you were determined and loyal enough

pze and invisible mafia are cults

wemmbu, parrot, and spoke are admins

jamatoP was never meant to be on the server but spoke having admin privilege let him whitelist him without telling anyone

zam used to be in the master builders but quit once he had so many excess resources that he decided to build his own kingdom

zam and clown have a similar relationship to ls s2 pre-series which slowly turned similar to s3

whenever mutinyduo are referencing lifesteal it means theyre getting along

whenever havocduo are referencing lifesteal it means theyre Not getting along and that parrot wants to kill himself/spoke

ls is connected to uu indirectly

ls is connected to uu directly

uu takes place in a reality where ls got disbanded after wormhole and this is the server they decided to make/join after

parrot is the only thing keeping the server/multiverse from completely falling apart somehow

minute is either never showing up or is gonna join as a clownpierce fanboy turned mercenary whos trying Really Hard to prove himself to clown

the server is slowly going from improv logic to scripted logic (not mechanics, in the characters' minds theyre acting perfectly normal, just that the rules and logic of the server is slowly turning that way)

spoke was the first post-launch invite and because of that he kept feeling left out/turned away by other players who were already in the smp mid-game which prompted him to invite his friend jamato without telling anyone

spoke was the first post-launch invite and because of that he kept feeling left out/turned away by other players who were already in the smp mid-game, jamato was the only one who took spoke in cause he felt pity for him

the reason rek is so famous is cause he was the first one to find the stronghold, leading to an early smp mid-game cause there was already an end fight when everyone was still in mismatched mostly iron armor. zam wasnt able to join the first day which is why he got bullied cause everyone felt like acting toxic from the high of having shulkers and elytra so early in the game while zam was still naked and early game

before wemmbu started getting obsessed with zam he basically only logged in for sessions

pre-series parrot logged in pretty consistently but tended to keep to himself and only really went out of his way to meet players during events (tho ppl still visited him somewhat often, mostly without permission lol, cause of how easily accessible his base is and how fun he is to mess with)

uu as a whole is a pastiche/commentary on the mcyt fandom (at least their side of the mcyt fandom)

duping fucked up the economy of uu so hard that stuff like The Wonders and PZE used to be considered Really impressive and important but are now considered normal esp after the wonders got blown up

clown took up building in-between fights and doesnt really care if they get griefed cause to him theyre nothing more than time-wasters

tsftlt!parrots grandma has multiversal knowledge, the totem in the vid was hers and is what keeps ther universe stable and safe from multiversal threats. its also what allows the invaders to travel through dimensions rather than as a fuel (planet was actually the fuel and also is the only one who can properly navigate through dimensions), what does this have to do with uu? nothing directly but this theory was spurred by this comment in spokes 1st ep:

[yuenthevoices]

Okay so I haven't seen Transformers One yet (just had midterms) but honestly from the bits i've seen of it - from movie clips on tiktok to some of the hilarious promo stuff they have Bee do - i'm ABSOLUTELY in love with it. some of my favorite stuff i've seen are the little, more niche details i don't see enough of that really show how much care has actually been put into the movie. don't worry, no spoilers for the actual movie - mostly about official promo clips and such.

for example, i saw a bit of an interview where it's said the animation team all grew up with transformers, and were even fighting to animate their favs. there was also another interview i saw where someone - i believe a story boarder/director - seemed genuinely pretty sad that they couldn't do the Megatron gladiator and Orion Pax archivist backstories because it would make the movie too long. like, there is just so much genuine love for the franchise that makes the movie so good and so interesting its crazy like ahduaogeuaisahe

alright alright so enough of my rant i know some of y'all are here for the x reader stuff soooo here's some TF One headcanons! also do keep in mind that this is from my very limited knowledge of the movie characters so prob oc? if they were to somehow meet humans

B-127 (Badassatron)

first off, he's such a silly guy and so adhd coded

but honestly, as a human, be just a bit careful around him, seeing as he accidentally knife-handed quite a few people, and some on purpose

he'd either be as clumsy as he is with his friends that he built, or would literally be too scared to get within touching distance of a human

if you want to get closer to him, honestly just listen to him - with some small input here and there to show you're listening - and he'd want to hang around you a lot more

really, just be nice, don't baby him, and let him yap as much as he wants - bonus points if you sometimes yap to him as well, i'm sure he'd be a great listening, with a lot of input from him, of course

Elita One

honestly, i wish i knew or could tell more about her, but any clips or trailers i've seen her in are pretty limited glimpses into her character

the trait i see the most from these glimpses however, is how she's ambitious and diligent

she'd probably respect you a great deal if you're as ambitious and diligent as she is, and would probably be a bit proud if you compliment her work ethic as well

i think she'd like someone who matches her, aiming for higher goals with the work and strength to prove it - especially since you're a human

bonus points if you can kick ass as well

D-16

similar case to Elita, except i think i have a bit more to go off of, considering how much he shows up in promo trailers and stuff

honestly, kinda hard for me to say?

again, i think he'd appreciate someone similar to him, considering how much time he spends with orion, it'd be a nice change of pace

someone who won't take bs, maybe a teeny bit of malicious compliance, and someone who doesn't try to hide their opinions

considering how mush shit miners seem to take from those who can transform, seeing someone else - especially some smaller, squisher being - being proactive and not taking shit, he'd probably be interested

Orion Pax

ok so only doing orion pax and not optimus prime because in total i've only seen like 3 clips of him as optimus soooo yea

i could see him with a jokester kind of person, but also with a more calm caretaker kind of person as well

being a jokester with him would be fun, and he'd probably have no problem with carrying you around to places for plans

being a calm caretaker would possibly be a little more stressful, but still fun with him nonetheless

either way, he'd still be somewhat careful, keeping in mind that he is much larger and sturdier than humans are

just don't play dead on him please, he'd genuinely freak out and run you over to D-16 and ask him what's wrong (D-16 probably won't find it nearly as funny lol)

[ryssbelle]

Drew a bunch of Marinettes in a bunch of different artists styles it was a lot of fun!!

Artists who's styles I mimicked: @buggachat @hamsternamedmarinette @ladybeug @sabertoothwalrus and @anna-scribbles all epic artists 🤟😎

[mewtwo24]

Not to be That Guy but like.

Am I the only one that can't stop thinking about how Tianlang-Jun says about Luo Binghe that he pretends to be cold-hearted like his mother. The hint of fondness there, the heartache in that utterance.

Like it drives me absolutely insane. Imagining her putting on a front of strength, cold and driven and unrelenting. Why does TLJ say that about her. Did she secretly look for solutions that meant reconciling with demons instead of hurting them when her sect wasn't looking? (I wonder this because I feel like his weird fondness for SQQ would lowkey track if it's connected to the woman he once loved.) Did he mean that she was tasked with basically assassinating him and she fell in love with him instead (re: failed step one)? Did he mean that she was fond and doting in her own way (e.g. conceding he was attractive, paying for his exploits and humoring him)? Did he mean that, like LBH, she thought that power would be the thing to protect her--and that it was disguising a person who was deeply and privately wounded? All four????? I don't need sleep I need a n s w e r s

Did she know about the Huanhua Palace Master's skeevy ass intentions before she met TLJ? Or did those only come to significant light after she fell in love with TLJ? Is that why she never anticipated that level of betrayal, because initially she had no intention of being with anyone romantically? And HHPM just assumed she would be under his thumb forever?? Was she furious at her own indiscretion or did she try to use the pregnancy as a bargaining chip, a way to try to stop the immortals of Cang Qiong Mountain from attacking TLJ (plus the bonus of marriage entrapment no takesies backsies this is where LBH gets it from)? Did she try to use that claim on her to dissuade HHPM from his covetous advances, framing herself as tainted so that she could finally escape? Did she dream of a life by TLJ's side, far away from Cang Qiong Mountain?

Like. Literally every single permutation of what this could mean guts me to hell. Do you ever just cry about tianxi because I--[loud bawling noises]

[jerreeeeeee]

i don’t know if i’m ever gonna write the fic but i’ve been thinking abt like. the eternal stockade. the implications. lup, a lich who was trapped in a dark featureless cell for a decade completely isolated with nothing to keep her sanity but her own mind. she has to put people in the eternal stockade. how many liches does she see herself in. how many liches started out just like her. how many liches are truly too far gone. and the only liches we ever see other than her and barry are edward and lydia. they’re certainly evil, but mad? they seem pretty sane. they’re not, like, tattered echoes of souls, they’re definitely still people. even as much of a grudge as lup surely has against them, wouldn’t they remind her incredibly strongly of herself? do they deserve to be trapped just like she was? for eternity? isn’t eternity what turned john to existential despair in the first place?

[dayurno]

this is somewhat of a vent post & something i said i would not do again but has been plaguing me enough that i think getting it out might feel better. so. has anydoggy else been. Baffled and upset by nora sakavic’s refusal to speak on how terribly aftg has treated its characters of color? with the author of the series coming back with a new book and starting up on her online activity again, and questions of what she’d change about aftg bubbling up, it’s particularly glaring to me that we are all playing this very long game of pretend where we ignore how badly the non-white cast has been treated & her lack of thoughts on it

and i understand not wanting to bring up nicky and thea because people pick on her for it. i’m not trying to discredit nora sakavic’s terrible history of getting harrassed online by aftg fans. but i think it is very cynical, and it is very juvenile, and most of all very cruel, that she gets to ignore the very real ways the books have set up these characters to be hated. i think it’s obvious why the characters who get the most hate are the only canonical characters of color, and i think we do not get to treat this like a deliberate decision on the fandom’s part when the books have put these same characters in degrading and embarrassing and terrible positions in the first place. aftg is not a story about nice characters with clean pasts, but there is a very specific nastiness to the only characters of color being a brown man who sexually harasses and later assaults the main character, a black woman whose only scene is her lashing out at her love interest after being ignored for the first two books, and the japanese villain who gets maybe two lines of complexity before he goes back to being a terrible person. the white cast, in comparison, while not at all free from flaws, are never shown to commit mindless evil; all of their actions are ultimately justified. the book goes out of its way to give them concession after concession. we know exactly who to side with, because aftg tells us who these people are. does nicky’s assault ever get addressed in the books? does riko’s reasoning to be the way that he is ever gets more than briefly aluded to? is thea reserved even a shred of humanity or grace in her one scene?

anyway. it’s been years of talking about this and the fandom has been constantly hostile to criticism in this regard, and more recently any criticism at all, and it’s Grating to be on the other side of this discussion. it’s exhausting to know that in ten years we do not get even an acknowledgment besides the author saying she will not answer questions about nicky and thea anymore. it’s upsetting and it’s ugly and i wish no one had to talk about this again, but we do because what i thought was common sense has been washed away by a sudden influx of no-nuance adoration for the trilogy. basically i hope we all explode

[puhpandas]

I think the reason beckory works well is that tony has a habit of getting self righteous and in his own head about things but Gregory isnt afraid to tell him off or call him out about things. the point of tony in ggy is that nobody ever told him that how hes treating other people isnt good, so that's why he got so bad. but tony would be close to Gregory and have every rational reason in the world to listen to Gregory so when he would say something like "you're treating ellis badly and that's not what a good friend does, you need to do better" hed actually listen and take it into account and improve himself