#like what you post about or have interacted with?

[prettygirl-gabi]

Title: Slicked Back & Smitten

Rating: Mature Audiences

Warning: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!!, spicy, wlw smut, mirror sex, Paige's biceps, paige fucking you while having you in a headlock, !top paige, !bottom reader, light oral (fem reseving), !purple strap Paige, !slick back ponytail P (yes this deserves a warning), fluff

Paring: Paige Bueckers x fem reader

Fandom: Uconn's Women's basketbal

Summary: Slicked Back ponytail P... and she's swollen in the right places too... oh you're down bad baby

Tag: @elliesglock , @elalfywhore , @paxaz535

The morning of the UConn vs. Butler game was absolute chaos. With a 1 p.m. tip-off, I had been up at the ass crack of dawn, running errands before heading to the arena. Meanwhile, Paige was at home, usually getting her game day braids done by Kayla—her routine, her thing.

Except today, Kayla couldn’t do them she was getting over being sick, didn't wanna risk Paige getting sick.

And I? I was too busy being the responsible, errand-running girlfriend to even offer to do them myself.

So, Paige had to figure something out.

By the time I arrived at the arena, the team was already warming up. I greeted a few of the staff members before spotting Kayla on the sidelines, watching the girls get their final shots up before tip-off.

"Did you see what she did?" Kayla asked as I approached.

I was confused. "Who?"

Kayla gave me a look. "Your girlfriend."

I turned my head, scanning the court until my eyes landed on Paige in her love, Abby warm up. And, oh, did my jaw practically drop.

Instead of her signature game day braids, she had done a sleek middle-part ponytail. The gel, the clean parting, the way the ponytail laid so perfectly down her back—it was… different. It was… distracting.

I bit the inside of my cheek, shifting on my feet. "Yeah… I see her."

Kayla snickered, nudging me. "She look good, huh?"

I exhaled sharply, eyes still glued to Paige as she moved across the court, completely unaware of the effect she was having on me. The slick back? The way it emphasized her face, her jawline, her everything? Yeah, it was bad for me.

"Kayla," I started, voice low. "I don’t think you should do her braids next game either."

Kayla howled. "Oh, nah, you down bad!"

I rolled my eyes, pretending like I wasn’t already making plans to personally ensure Paige never wore braids again.

———

The first half of the game was a problem.

Paige was playing out of her mind. She was dropping dimes, hitting threes, getting to the basket with ease—and she looked damn good doing it.

I was trying to focus on the actual game, trying not to be the most obvious girlfriend ever, but every time she drove to the rim, her ponytail swung just right, her edges still perfectly laid despite how much she was sweating.

It was a crisis.

By halftime, I had reached my breaking point.

Sitting in the stands, I pulled my phone out, thumbs flying across the screen as I sent a text Paige wouldn’t see until later.

Me: You need to put me in a headlock when we get back home.

Me: And I need you to consider this slick back ponytail as your new game day hair. Like… permanently.

I hit send, exhaling as I locked my phone. Out of sight, out of mind. I just needed to get through the rest of the game without combusting.

———

Paige didn’t see the message until hours later.

After the game, she had her usual post-game press conference, with Kk and Azzii answering questions about UConn’s dominant win, her own performance, and how it felt playing without her signature braids.

Then came the locker room celebrations, the team hyping each other up, the post-game shower, and finally—finally—Paige was back at our shared off-campus apartment.

Freshly showered, she walked into the bedroom with a towel around her neck, only in her black Nike sports bra and grey boxers sitting perfectly on her waist line, scrolling through her phone finally checking all her notifications.

I was sitting on the bed, scrolling mindlessly myself, until I saw her pause.

Her head tilted. "What the hell?"

I tried to act innocent. "What?"

Paige turned her phone towards me, revealing my very suggestive text from earlier. "This," she said, raising an eyebrow. "Headlock? Really?"

I shrugged, unbothered. "You read it. You know what I said."

She huffed out a laugh, tossing her phone onto the nightstand before crawling onto the bed. She hovered over me, arms on either side of my head, that damn ponytail still sleek even after her shower.

"So," Paige mused, voice dropping slightly. "You liked the ponytail, huh?"

I reached up, running my fingers over the base of it where she had secured it with a black hair tie. "Liked? Understatement."

Paige smirked, dipping down to press a lingering kiss to my jaw. "Liked it enough to text me during halftime about puttin yo ass in a headlock?"

I exhaled sharply. "I was having a moment."

She kissed the corner of my mouth, teasing me. "Mhm. And what kind of headlock we talking about?"

I rolled my eyes, pushing her lightly. "Don’t play with me, Bueckers."

Paige chuckled, finally kissing me for real, slow and deep, before pulling back just enough to rest her forehead against mine. "So… ponytail again next game?"

I nodded immediately. "Absolutely, baby it’s your secret weapon."

She smirked, leaned closer, her lips brushing against my ear as she whispered, "Anything for you, baby. Especially when I get to have my way with you afterward."

I shivered at her words, my heart racing with anticipation. There was something intoxicating about the way she claimed me, the way she took charge. I loved every moment of it, even if it made me feel vulnerable.

Paige stood up suddenly, her playful demeanor shifting into something more commanding. “Come here,” she instructed, her voice firm yet sultry. I followed her, curiosity piqued, as she led me to the full-length mirror on the wall, right next to the bed.

“Look at yourself,” she murmured, her fingers brushing against my neck as she turned me to face the glass. I could see the reflection of us, a flush creeping across my cheeks. “You’re beautiful,” she said, her voice dropping to a low whisper. “But I want you to see what I see.”

Before I could respond, she slowly pulling my satan mini sleep dress, off revealing my body to herself as if she was claming a prize. My heart raced as I realized her intentions. “Paige…” I started, but her smirk silenced me.

“Shh,” she said, a playful glint in her eye. “Trust me, watch me the whole time, ma. ” She walked to the other bed side table to pull out the purple stap, taking the boxers off and expertly securing it around her waist.

I watched her through the Mirror not taking my eyes of her once.

“Now,” she said, walking back to me and now her breath warm against my neck, “I want you to look at yourself in the mirror and think about how good you can be for me.”

She wrapped her strong arms around me, pulling me back against her chest, and I found my breath catching in my throat as I felt her biceps flex around my head.

“Paige, I—”

“Good girls do what they’re told,” she interrupted playfully, flexing her biceps around my chin so I could look up see my own reflection. “Look at you. So pretty, so willing. You’re perfect just like this.”

I gazed into the mirror, my heart pounding as I saw the way she held me—her strength juxtaposed against my vulnerability. I felt a rush of heat surge through me.

“Tell me what you see,” Paige urged, her voice steady yet sultry. “I want to hear you say it.”

“I see…” I hesitated, caught between the thrill of her hold and the desire to please her. “I see… me. I see us.”

“Good girl,” she praised, her voice dripping with satisfaction. I could feel the tension in her body, the way she leaned into me, the heat radiating off her. “Now, tell me how much you want me.”

“I want you, Paige,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. The honesty of my desire sent a thrill through me, igniting a fire that burned deep within. “I want you to fuck me.”

“See? Was that so hard?” she teased, her lips brushing against my ear, sending shivers down my spine. “You’re learning.”

Paige turned me slightly, enough that I could see her in the mirror too. Her eyes sparkled with mischief as she gazed down at me, and I felt a rush of exhilaration at being at her mercy. “Now, I want you to remember this moment. How it feels to be my good girl.”

With that, she pressed her lips against mine, capturing me in a kiss that was both sweet and demanding. I melted against her, surrendering fully to the sensation of her body against mine. Each kiss deepened my desire, igniting a passion that coursed through my veins.

“Look at us,” she murmured between kisses, her voice low and seductive. “You’re mine, and I’m yours. Together, we create magic.”

Once back on the bed she had me face down ass up, still facibg the mirror.

I gasped as she took her tongue and gave my much needy pussy attention, “You’re so beautiful like this,” she whispered, her breath warm against my thigh just before kissing and biting at it. “I want to make you feel everything.”

After a few mins of practically making out with my pussy, Paige, pulling me up by my hair before locking my head in her biceps again, her lips brushing against my ear as she trailed kisses along my jawline and neck. I could feel her warmth, her desire, and it sent waves of pleasure coursing through me. “Tell me how it feels, and don't be quiet about it either, baby” she instructed, her voice a tantalizing whisper.

“Good,” I breathed, my heart racing. “It feels so good.”

“Good girls deserve to be rewarded,” she replied, her lips curling into a smirk. “And you’ve been so very good, so keep watching in the mirror for me, yeah mamas”

She guided my gaze back to the mirror, forcing me to watch as she explored my body, her hands roaming, her kisses igniting every nerve. “Look at how much you crave this,” she teased, her voice a sultry melody. “You want to be my good girl, don’t you?”

“Yes,” I gasped, the thrill of her words sending me spiraling deeper into desire.

“Then let’s make this a night to remember,” she said, her eyes sparkling with mischief and passion.

Before I could fully process her movements, she had me pinned, face down ass up into the satan sheets, every inch of my body electrified by her touch. The strap slid deeper, an intoxicating sensation that made my heart race and my mind spin.

I could feel every pulse, every inch of her as she filled me, her confidence radiating through the air. Letting out a groan as if she could actually feel me clenching around her. “Fuck, baby you takin my dick so good. Pussy just swallowin me whole, shit.”

“Paige…” I managed to whisper, but the words were swallowed by the thick tension that hung between us. My body was responding, every nerve ending alive with the thrill of the moment. She held me captive, and I was more than willing to surrender.

Her fingers tangled in my hair, guiding me as she thrust deeper, the rhythm slow at first but building in intensity. I could hear her breathing, a mix of pleasure and desire, and it sent a shiver down my spine. “You’re so perfect for me,” she murmured, a sultry smile playing on her lips. “I could do this forever.”

With every thrust, she drew me closer to a precipice I had only ever dreamed of. The world outside faded away; there was nothing but the two of us, lost in our own universe. I could feel the heat pooling within me, a delicious tension building that threatened to consume us both.

“God, you feel so good,” she breathed, her voice thick with desire. “I want you to look in the mirror when you cum f'me. Watch yourself fall apart on my shit, ma.”

I surrendered completely, allowing myself to be swept up in the waves of pleasure she was creating. The way she moved, the way she filled me—it was intoxicating. I could feel every inch of her, the connection between us palpable, electric. It was as if we were two bodies entwined in a dance as old as time, a rhythm that only we could hear.

“Paige, I…” My words faltered as she hit a spot that made my entire body quiver. I could feel the tension building, spiraling higher and higher until it felt like I might burst.

“Shh, just look in the mirror and feel,” she whispered, her breath hot against my ear. “I’ve got you.”

Her words were like a spell, wrapping around me and pulling me deeper into the moment. I lost myself completely, every thought dissolving into a haze of pure ecstasy. Looking into the mirror watching with way she had my arms pinned behind my back, the determination on her face to make me feel so full. Watching the way my juices leaked on the bed, the way the base of the strap milky white from the way she was pounding me into the bed. The world outside ceased to exist; all that mattered was the connection between us, the way she moved, the way she touched me.

As she pushed deeper, I could feel the heat rising more and more, the pressure building within me. I was teetering on the edge, and I could sense that she was too. And as a last minute act she put me in a headlock again, hips still hitting all the right spot. “Yes, just like that, watch yourself f'me” she urged, her voice a low, sultry whisper. “Let go for me. Yeah ma, cum on my dick.”

With a final thrust, everything exploded, watching myself fall apart on the purple strap. I felt the world around me shatter into a million pieces, the sensation overwhelming and all-consuming. Waves of pleasure crashed over me, leaving me breathless and trembling.

“Just like that, baby. That’s it,” Paige encouraged, her voice a sultry murmur that was so encouraging that I could cum again. “You’re so beautiful when you cum, f'me baby.”

I could hardly respond, lost in the aftershocks of pleasure that coursed through me. I felt her slow down, her movements becoming gentle as she brought me back down from the high. My head resting back on her shoulder for a few seconds before I look at our sweat, cum dripping bodies, in awe

“Are you okay?” she asked, concern flickering in her eyes as they met mine through the mirror.

I nodded, still catching my breath. “More than okay,” I whispered, a smile breaking across my face. “That was incredible.”

Her lips curled into a playful grin, and I could see the satisfaction shining in her eyes. “I’m glad to hear that. But I’m not done with you yet.”

Before I could fully comprehend her words, she shifted her body, and mine her movements fluid and graceful. The strap was still there, a reminder of the connection we shared, and as she positioned herself above me, as I am now on my back, I felt the excitement build once more.

“Just relax and enjoy the ride,” she said, her voice low and enticing.

With that, she began to move again, her body rocking against mine in a way that sent shivers coursing through me. Every thrust was deliberate, every movement intentional, and I could feel myself responding, eager to meet her rhythm.

“God, you’re amazing,” she breathed, her eyes locked onto mine. The intensity of her gaze sent another wave of heat through me, igniting the fire that had only just begun to simmer.

“Paige, you have no idea…” I gasped, my hands finding their way to her hips, guiding her as I tried to keep up with her pace.

We were lost in each other, the world outside fading away once more. The tension built again, a delicious spiral that threatened to consume us both. I could feel the heat rising, the pressure coiling within me, and I knew we were nearing the edge once more.

“Just a little more,” she urged, her breath coming in quick gasps as she pushed herself closer, her voice laced with urgency. “I want to feel you again.”

With her words, I was gone, the tension breaking like a dam as the pleasure rushed over me once more. I could feel her reach her peak too, our bodies connected in a way that felt transcendent.

As we collapsed together, breathless and spent, I couldn’t help but smile. In that moment, everything felt right. We were two souls intertwined, lost in the heat of desire and the sweetness of connection.

“Wow,” I managed to say, a laugh escaping my lips. “What just happened?”

Paige chuckled, the sound warm and inviting. “Just a little magic,” she replied, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “And I think we should do it again.”

I grinned, my heart racing at the thought. “I’m all in.”

---

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-Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

-prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️

[drafty-castle]

The comments section of this post is, well, very Tumblr. However: @slothorperhapscrow and others who are ‘wait, so he’s a Nazi but not a Nazi but is a Nazi?’ or perhaps just ‘water is wet’ about this, I’d like to give another interpretation.

I don’t think this post was made for those who already hate Elon Musk, who despise him, who have followed the money and the social media fails over years and are already aware of the kind of person he is.

I think this post was for those who still follow him, who still believe in the mask he has created, who have fallen for all the propaganda. I think the point is to hammer home to these people that he isn't who he presents himself to be, he doesn’t believe in what they believe in, no matter what signals - like the salute - he sends out because all he really believes in is his own power. Philip Low is telling the tech bros that Musk is not one of them. Low is telling the republicans who have accepted the propaganda how Musk has historically lied and manipulated his image to get him - personally -the most money, with no thought of those around him, including his friends. Low is telling the bigots and racists and even the actual Nazis in America that they're supporting someone that does not hold to their ideals and is using them to prop up his own personal power base.

I think its possible that post is even for those who are fence-sitters. People who don't like Musk - or don't have enough of an opinion on him - as a person but are willing to continue using his corporate products - using twitter/x, buying Tesla cars, etc. - all actions that continue to funnel money into Musk's pocket.

Functionally, I think this letter to the editor post was trying to break up some of Musk's middle and working class power base - his cult of personality, if you will - by bringing to light the ideological differences between him and many of his followers through symbolic actions such as the Sieg Heil. To highlight Musk's loyalty to no cause other than his own personal power and ego and dispel the idea - through the deliberate use of the Hitler salute - to all Nazi, fascists, and sympathizers that he is "one of them". As well as cut through as much of the "autism" smokescreen that has been thrown up in front of it as possible among those who have been trying to dismiss his actions as "awkward" rather than acknowledge them for the dog-whistle it was.

I don't know Philip Low, never heard of him before and don't plan on looking him up. Personally, I don't think billionaires should exist and that "self-made billionaire" is an oxymoron. That said, the 1% - hells, the 0.01% - live completely different lives than the rest of us. I am completely willing to believe that he has insight into Elon Musk's past dealings and personal interactions amongst fellow billionaires that the general public would have no way of having access to. I am also willing to accept that such a billionaire can look at what has been going on in the last few weeks - or few years - and lay out an analysis of Musk's actions and motivations that strip away all the flash and glamor to show the pathetic, if incredibly dangerous, man Elon Musk actually is.

[leyavo]

Wife/girlfriend series, I wanted to do some more for the other TF 141 guys after doing Ghost’s. John Price is much older than the others and a bit set his ways….

[masterlist] (I’ll post Gaz and Soap’s tomorrow or later)

Price is on his third wife, you.

The last one bled him dry in the divorce, but that still didn’t put him off marriage.

His family not bothered to get to know you as much as the first and second wife. As if they know you’ll get fed up with him and his ways.

You can tell why he hasn’t had any luck with women. The man is terrible at doing laundry, grumbles to himself instead of talking and smokes like a chimney. Set in his ways, he finds it hard to break away from it.

“Breath of fresh air, darling,” he says to you as you chuck his dirty laundry at him.

“Clean your own crap, I’m not your maid or your mother!” You snapped, taking the cigar from his lips and smushing the end into the ashtray.

John Price just kept pushing and pushing, liking that you set boundaries with him and unintentionally made him get his shit together. He loves it when you tell him what to do.

You never wanted him to change, just wanted him to get a grip on his life.

“I have a career too, I might not be a bloody captain, but what I do matters too.” You work for a social impact company, helping young kids and teens going through poverty in your county. The same kindness John loves as he watches you interact with the people around you.

You were once that kid, struggling to get by and caring for your mother. The one thing you didn’t want, was for everything to fall on you like it did as a kid. You’re firm with it, telling John exactly how it felt. How his actions made you feel.

Well you did break up briefly, only for him to come crawling back. He still has his moments, a little mopey and lazy whenever he’s back from a long mission, but that’s normal.

He likes that you understand his vulnerability, likes the way you whisper that he is safe and protected whenever a nightmare tears him awake. It’s small quiet moments where he loves you most. The brush of your fingers over his knuckles or you palm over his chest as he tries to catch his breath. The way you giggle as his beard and moustache tickle your neck as he kisses you there.

And John gives you a home, security. One thing no one else has. The reassurance that there’s always food stocked up in the fridge and a set schedule for the heating to come on when the temperature drops. That if you can’t do something he’ll help you do it. So nothing has to be on just your shoulders.

Helps you down at the soup kitchen now and again when he’s back home, cleaning all the dishes so that your hands don’t get a rash from the washing up gloves. Little things that make your heart swell.

How he learnt how to knit during the autumn, so he can help you make hats for the homeless. It helps him distress, sometimes even does it in his room back at base to wind down. Currently knitting you some socks too.

Even in charge of the laundry when he comes home, loves the scent of detergent that he grumbles when it’s discontinued and he has to get used to another.

“Bloody found it.” The first thing John says to you as he unpacks his gear. Accidentally letting slip where he was stationed and how he got the discontinued detergent in another country.

And when you ask why he can’t just let it go. “Smells like you, darling.” He’s liked it since the first time you did his washing. Reminds him of home when he puts his civilian clothes back on, always a set put to the side for him to wear home.

When you meet the guys you’re surprised about the dynamic. How John easily gets them to listen and lay down the rules before they enter the house. Shoes come off straight away etc. no smoking indoors but on the patio outside. Watch out for the two chihuahuas running about the house and check underneath the blankets before you sit on the sofa.

One particular chihuahua not moving from Simon’s lap, that he stays in the armchair for ages till the dog wakes up. Johnny and Kyle telling you the most embarrassing stories of the captain, that one time his trousers split in an important briefing and no one told him, but everyone noticed. John doesn’t mind though as he likes the sound of your laugh.

[4mrplumi]

(concept: redstart) batfamily x reforming criminal reader.

soft moments with redstart!reader / prequel post

> damian plays the role of being a little-brother guide, having being raised in a situation somewhat similar way as you. little moments like listening to him complain about something mundane as you’re both perched on a terrace during patrol, him trying to peel an orange and the two of you ultimately squashing it open, him doing his school homework while you watch, giving small bits of what you think.

> like this picture, but it’s reversed and the reader’s copying what he does in a way to humour him.

> reader who watches tim work on cases in their free time. asking very few questions that he’s pleased to answer, subconsciously slipping into a more articulated way of talking, using big words and metaphors to elaborate on even the simplest things. he’s very pleased to explain his work without a time constraint or worry about quality, and you’re more than happy to listen.

> i imagine they don’t really know how to communicate appreciation well in a “way that matters” since they were expected to automatically be grateful for everything in their previous family. so they learn from observing, watching people give each others gifts and presents. leaving little trinkets they find or make cleanly and neatly placed somewhere for them to find.

> is embarrassed by being recognised for it though. so the family just opts to keep it on them/use the gift in front of them so that they know they got it. reader’s happy, but keeps a straight face, voice softening in the middle of a conversation just a little when they notice.

> you’re close to cassandra too, sticking to her like glue. you both were heavily indoctrinated by your fathers that you couldn’t place the world over, healing slowly but surely. she most definitely helps you settle into your new life at the manor.

> small things, like recognising feelings you struggle to express, she notices, offering you a hand or leaning into your arm. you are neither willing to speak out what you feel, and she won’t insist. she knows, and you’re grateful that she does.

> dick grayson is a little overwhelming. it’s more of the fact that he reminds you of your other older brother than it is him offering warmth that you’re not used to. out of habit, you do try to coerce yourself into a complacent, comfortable-around-him sibling, but there’s always a little self doubt. he’s welcoming, but you subconsciously walk in eggshells around him.

> he does notice that you’re nervous around him, and brings it up one day when you, him and damian go to hang out. there’s a small conversation, and you allow yourself to open up just a bit about your struggles upon the reassuring nod damian gave you before leaving the two of you be. the pressure of being perfect, the expectations set on yourselves by yourselves, is something common between you two.

> it’s safe to say that you’re a little less weary around him after that exchange.

> now with bruce wayne things are a little tricky. he feels indebted to you for being somewhat responsible for the death of your father, something strictly against his code. you feel indebted to him the way you did for your father, for taking you in and providing you with the comfort of a home and a family.

> but on the big picture? your interactions with him are a bit difficult, awkward. ues you’ll spend time together, he’ll let you follow him on patrol, teach you about the life of a socialite too, but casual conversations are a bit stiff.

> he does try his hardest though, and you do too, to be family. the gift giving thing comes in here too. there’s not much bruce wayne can’t afford, but your small cards made with damian, origami made with cassandra and duke, and short letters describing your day written with alfred’s support warms his heart. the weight of guilt ebbs, just a little.

> if you happen to have a particular type of biscuit, or fruit juice, more often than the rest, expect bruce to remember to ask alfred to keep it in stock. seasonal fruits like guavas and oranges get imported year-round for you and the others, and that little, small extra care just makes you feel a little more appreciated. for doing nothing. your heart swells.

> solving puzzles with duke is a passtime training excersise you’ve taken up. it’s a replacement for the idle time you used to otherwise spend organising things for your father, but it’s comforting in a way other than being reassurance. whenever you get stuck on a particularly vexing crossword, he’s more than happy to sit with you and solve it. he helps you with the answer, instead of giving it, and it helps you understand that mistakes don’t undermine your efforts in anyway.

> “what matters is that you’re trying” is an oversaturated expression, but one you’ve seldom heard. and coming from him, the shared laughter and prideful “victories” from solving said puzzles, he shines an extra light through the dark window in your head that’s slowly opening up.

> jason todd is an enigma. you come across him in the manor library at dark, curious but not hostile about his looming shadow. you observe as he leaves, perceiving just a hint of hesitance from him as he climbs through the window.

> you did not much appreciate him the first time you met him, finding his opposition to bruce offensive, and your siblings slight awkward stiffness around him suspicious. you had considered him an enemy by their reactions at first, a familiar mixed rush of anxiety and impatience in your blood as you repositioned your leg carefully.

> but when he spoke, his voice wavered. just a little. and what took you up wasn’t suspicion, but familiarity. in his shadow, you saw your reflection. he was also your family.

> jason and your relationship is not much different from his with the rest. close, but only to an extent. but you understand him on a level that allows you to feel empathy for him, sadness that you couldn’t communicate it in the new ways that you learnt.

> so you slip into his dingy apartment while he’s somewhere on patrol, using your expertised ghost walking to enter without notice. you feel it’s wrong, and that there are better ways to be considerate, but you don’t care.

> alfred told you he liked to read, so you got him a book you had poured over and stuck into your heart forever. it was a little sentimental, stupid even, and you felt a bit embarrassed. he would be angry at you for entering like this, without asking, breaking in as an uninvited guest. so you reconsider your choices, and leave it in a bag outside his building, tied with a ziplock tie. you hope no one takes it.

> you’re not sure if jason ever got the book, not sure if he’d know if it was you or if he just ignored the packet and moved in. but the next time you see him out on patrol, he acknowledges you with a raised hand, before leaping away.

> it begins to feel like, your happiness is not deserved due to duty, but the consequence of your attempts at a new life. acknowledged, appreciated, noticed and even maybe loved. the moods you thought weak and unnecessary are the foundations of the stability you have found, the complications you faced with expressing them only obstacles in the face of support. sometimes you doubt their intentions are true, but even sitting among them whispers a little comfort.

> you deserve this. there is nothing you have done to not.

INTERACTIONS & Replies appreciated !!

next up: serious moments with redstart reader. the obstacles with a new life after such a violent upbringing, guilt and remorse, missing your old family, etcetera. im really just writing whatever, but do pls interact!! replies asks wtv,, it helps motivate and actually… want to write, since i kinda feel my itch to post on tumblr dying.. anyway,

thanks for reading!!

[lieutenantfloyd]

Do you know the trend where if you have a significant other in the military you say they can’t come into your house but amendment 2 or 3 which say “ no quartering of soldiers without consent”

That with cyclone or Bob

All Shook Up - Bob x Reader

Word Count: 1.0k

Summary: After seeing a trend where military spouses tell their loved ones they aren't allowed inside under the 3rd Amendment, you decide to play a prank on your sweet, returning husband Bob—that is until you get the words out, and he reacts in the only way Bob knows how.

Warnings: fluff, domesticity, husband! Bob, very mild accidental hurt/comfort.

Authors Note: This idea is so funny to me! I'm already working on Beau's version, and I'll definitely be posting that soon.

Read on AO3

The sun had just begun setting when you put your plan into motion. Grinning to yourself as you set dinner to cook in the oven, you check out the kitchen window for any sign of Bob's car. Your husband had been away on a training exercise all week and had just called you thirty minutes ago stating he was close to home.

Minutes later as you spare the driveway another glance, you see Bob climb out of his car, duffle bag slung over his shoulder. You couldn't mask your almost childish excitement as you left the kitchen and trod over to the door. Even after the years you'd been together you never got over just how handsome he was. But today you had other things in mind.

You hear the soft thud of his boots on the porch followed by the jingle of his keys before the door opens.

"Honey I'm home," Bob calls out just as you appear.

His brow furrows when you don't answer, instead just standing and watching him without an ounce of your expected warmth.

"Honey?" He tries again, "Is everything all right?"

You let another long second pass, his brows furrowing, before you answer.

"Oh, yeah," you say casually, "you just can't stay here."

Bob's eyes instantly widen behind his glasses. His gentle gaze fills with a look that is somewhere between confusion and heartbreak.

"I..What?" He questions.

You clear your throat, initial plan shattering but doing your best to follow through with your prank in light of his expression, knowing it'll be easier to explain in the end when you're both—hopefully—laughing. 

"It is my right as an American citizen to exercise whatever rights I have the liberty of holding--including the third amendment of the United States Constitution, no quartering of soldiers and related military personnel without consent," You say, still standing in the entryway opposite Bob and the half open door.

Bob blinks, expression leaning more towards the confused end of things. For a second it looks like he's about to say something, only to remain silent. He glances at his hand still holding the doorknob, then over his shoulder outside before slowly— slowly —backing out and closing the door all without a word.

You let the silence hang for a second before you yourself grow confused. You had expected him to laugh or maybe fight back, or...really anything except actually leave . Yet as you're left standing there, your first instinct is to chase after him.

Crossing the distance and pulling the door open, you see him about to get back in his car.

"Bob!" you call out, earning a hurtfully hopeful glance back over his shoulder from the man, "I'm just messing with you!" you continue.

Bob's gaze drops and a brief flash of regret goes through you. He looks genuinely bewildered, as if he's going back through and cataloging months and years' worth of interactions to figure out where all this was coming from.

With a sigh you close the door behind you and step off the porch, padding softly down the steps until you're close enough to wrap your arm around the waist of your hopelessly sweet husband.

"I promise, It's just a prank, Bob," you reassure his worrying mind, "I thought it'd be funny, not that you'd just…”

You trail off, gesturing vaguely at everything as a brief flash of knowing crosses his eyes.

"Oh," he says after a long pause, brows still furrowed but tone far less tense, "I was so confused."

He returns your embrace, setting his bag on the ground and slinging an arm gently around you.

"I thought maybe something happened I didn't know about."

You can’t help but let out a soft laugh as you look up at him.

"You thought I'd kick you out over something you didn't even know?” You ask incredulously.

"Maybe If I forgot an anniversary or didn't text you goodnight–" He stammers, raising his free hand to rub the back of his neck, "I don't know what you think is worthy of invoking the constitution over, but it felt serious."

By now a soft blush has risen onto his cheeks and you can't help but place a kiss there, his flushed skin warmed under your gentle touch.

"You are too sweet for your own good, honey," you muse with a laugh, "You thought this was it? Really?"

"Well, I...It sounded serious!" He defends again with a bashful smile.

You can't help but laugh again, looking up at him in near warm-hearted wonder.

"You're always welcome to quarter here, or anywhere else I stay, for that matter."

Bob lets out a breath of relief, whatever tension was still held in his body leaving as your words provide the last bit of reassurance he needs.

"I...really didn't want to sleep in the car.”

You pat his back with a laugh and guide him up the steps and back inside before closing the door behind you both.

"Welcome home honey," you try again, a hint of joking still in your tone, "A place you'll always have a bed."

"Good to know," he chuckles softly, "Please, don't scare me like that again."

"I promise," You smile, pulling him in for a proper kiss this time, "I'll make it up to you."

"Yes please," he sighs, only to be distracted by the smell of roasting chicken coming from the kitchen.

"You...made dinner?" He asks gently, always so surprised by the little things even when they're a part of your daily routine.

"Of course I did. Can't have you going hungry, now, can we?"

Bob blinks then nods faintly in agreement.

"Good, go get changed while I finish up down here."

At that Bob practically melts in your arms like he does every time he comes home, never more relaxed than he is in your presence—even if it's your attempt at a prank that shakes him up to begin with.

Taglist: @rosiahills22 @marchingicenotes7 @bayisdying @princessofglitterland @callsignaries @blue-aconite @oliviah-25 @luckyladycreator2 @shakira-sasha @eliseline @xoxabs88xox @lisedanie @alexxavicry @madamemelancholysstuff @dozcan123 @withakindheartx @teti-menchon0604 @sass-masterkittenmama @kmc1989

[aikoiya]

Always love to see these 2 interacting.

Though, my guess is that it's partly because of how much of a pacifist that Phoenix is. Otherwise, Layton might actually have to put some effort in.

I mean, I'm not sure how much everyone else remembers, but from what I recall, that cute little curlie-doo he gets in Dual Destiny ain't just for show. Dude's practically Kryptonian.

Like, let's make a list here:

The double doors to the Channeling Chamber were specifically noted to be sturdy, heavy, & seemed to be at least a couple inches thick. They were also secured with a big, metal lock. Probably some sort of iron or steel. Even if the door itself was made of wood, it was most likely reinforced. Similarly, the Shōji folding screen, which would average around an inch to an inch & a half, seems to be about 3/5 the thickness of the Chamber doors.

- Yet, somehow, our favorite True Blue Defender kicked them in.

Also, remember Dusky Bridge above Eagle River in Bridge to the Turnabout? 40 feet high, though the chasm itself is about a 60 foot drop with the river being 18 feet deep.

- Guess what? A fatal drop for most humans is around 20-25 feet with an ever increasing likelihood of death due to injury the higher the fall. Not to mention that the river was fast moving & the water ice cold due to the season. And yet, Phoenix fell off of it & survived, needing only 2 effing days to recover. Like, if you fall from 40 feet, half of people will effing die. Even if you land perfectly on your feet, then roll to distribute the force of the impact, you could still end up fatally injured! By all rights, he should've at least had internal injuries, fractured spine, severe head trauma, broken or even shattered bones, ect. Plus, I'm fairly sure that 40 feet isn't that far from where it no longer matters what you land on because at some point, you may as well have just fallen into asphalt for all the good it does ya. Yet all SuperLawyer needed was 2 days of flipping bedrest?! Then, add onto that the cold shock he should've experienced from the icy water he fell into, & it gets a bit flippin' silly.

Also, he later was hit by a car, flew 30 feet into the air to hit his head against a lamp post...

- Literally, walks away with a broken ankle... As in, the very next day, he walked the eff out!

Also, tiger attacks! You'd think they'd be a big deal!

- Evidently not, because Phoenix lived through one!

Like, you may as well just write, "Nokia" across his brow!

“Professor Layton vs. Phoenix Wright,” coloured due to popular demand!

[sky-scribbles]

Next up on Things I Liked About Veilguard: the faction leaders. We all know some of the factions and their NPCs did not get anything like the amount of content and character that others did (Strife and Irelin I'm so sorry, I still love you), but sometimes I take a step back and realise how wonderful the stuff we did get was.

I mean - Evka and Antoine. Everything about them is so heartfelt. I hadn't read the supplemental material, but they barely needed to interact before I understood why this sweet, smart guy and this tough, smart woman loved each other. They affirm each other constantly. They respect each other so deeply. They have written letters for the other to take to their Callings: a cipher only Antoine could read. Je t'aime. Je t'aimerai toujours.

I love how Myrna and Vorgoth are introduced, suddenly and unsettlingly there in the Lighthouse. I love Vorgoth speaking in all caps. I love the fact that nobody knows what they are. I love that they raised baby Ingellvar. I love how Myrna is calm and polished while every so often coming out with the absolute wildest shit. They're fun.

The Viper and Tarquin? Top tier. They might be my favourites, just because of how much they have going on. Each of them has a backstory, and you can see exactly how those backstories produced their personalities. Ashur has a secret identity you can piece together from notes and codexes (and it's the funniest identity possible). I love their argument over Ashur's paranoid investigation into Tarquin, because it shows that the world goes on when Rook is not in the room, and the NPCs have relationships that go through ups and downs.

I'm mildly insane over the level of devotion, with Tarquin's desperate letters to the Wardens if Ashur is blighted, begging for a cure Ashur won't take. Him standing over Ashur to defend him in the final mission, or else his devastating reaction if Ashur dies: 'It should have been me!' God, these NPCs are alive. (fun fact: I wrote most of this post, and then Sheryl Chee confirmed these two were written as being in love with each other and stupid about it. I'm so happy.)

Speaking of NPCs who love each other: Teia and Viago, my beloveds. Again, I was coming in without the supplemental material, and I was sold on them so fast. The way Viago tenderly cradles Teia from behind as they mourn Caterina. The way they're so involved in Lucanis's personal quests - they're his family, they're there for him, they love him. I love Teia's fierceness and her heart. I love their banter - so much mutual understanding, exasperation and affection mixed together. 'We know each other too well to be strangers.'

Isabela is as wonderful as she always is - I especially appreciate how her depiction in Veilguard makes it clear just how loving she is. But can we also talk about Rowan? (I don't know if she's technically considered a faction leader, but meh.) I love her poetic speech patterns; I love that she's a scholar who wrote a bunch of codex entires; I love her calm, soothing voice. I love getting to see a Rivani Seer at last. And I love how she'll suddenly turn around and say, still calm and soothing, 'Spirit of Determination: may your enemies die bitter and in pain.' Perfect, no notes.

Strife and Irelin, sadly, drew the shortest straw when it came to being fleshed out in-game. But what I do love about them is their relationships with your companions. I love the tiny detail of Irelin, Bellara's ex, helping her pack for the Lighthouse; I love how she writes to Bellara to beg her to take care of herself, because she still matters to her.

And while I am a profound Emmrook lover, I appreciate Emmrich/Strife so much too. I love their shared curiosity and sense of adventure; I love thinking that Emmrich might give Strife tenderness that his life has lacked, while Strife could help nudge Emmrich toward boldness. I love the idea of two older men who likely think love has passed them by suddenly going, oh. If the Veil Jumpers didn't get a deeper relationship with Rook, at least they got relationships with Rook's friends.

Dragon Age games always give us a fun roster of companions, but honestly? Veilguard got me invested in the non-companion NPCs more than any other game in the series. Yes, there should have been more - but what we got was so much fun.

tl;dr: Faction leaders, my beloveds.

[atleastpleasetelephone]

Sharing

A/N: This is my one year anniversary of writing fanfiction for Elvis! Thanks to everyone who has interacted with my posts, enjoyed reading my stories, helped me with ideas and proof-read my work. To celebrate, I've written this sequel to Dolly. It is absolutely unbridled filth, PWP, a smutfest etc.

Pairings: Dom!Elvis x Dolly!Reader

Joe x Dolly!Reader

Jerry x Dolly!Reader

Sonny x Dolly!Reader

Word count: 3.8K

TWs: Dolification, objectification, Elvis is dominant and reader is very submissive, dubcon, possessive kink, praise kink, voyeurism, exhibitionism, little bit of choking, gangbang/orgy, name-calling/demeaning language, reader is fucked stupid, kind of size kink, copious amounts of cum.

You’re sitting in your bedroom, carefully brushing your long blonde hair when you hear Joe start talking to Elvis. Your door is half-open and you can sometimes hear things the guys talk about in the living room, but this seems unusually clear. 

“That little girl of yours was sounding real fun the other night.”

Your ears prick up at his mention of you and you try to lean slightly closer to the door. 

Elvis laughs. “You been listenin’?”

“Hard not to, the noise she was makin’.” That’s Jerry. You wonder how many of the guys are out there. 

“What were you doin’ to her, EP?” Sounds like Sonny, although you can’t be sure. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Elvis chuckles. 

“You uh… you ever think of sharing her, boss?” Joe asks. 

There’s a long silence, where you almost fall off your chair from leaning so close to the open door. You cross your legs and rub your thighs together a little. It’s not like you’re interested in Joe, that’s disgusting. But something about the way they are all talking about you is getting you all hot and bothered. 

“What about Joan?”

You bite your lip. Elvis hadn’t said no. 

“What about her?”

“Well, she not good enough?”

“She doesn't have a body like that. And your girl just seems so… obedient.”

Elvis snorts. “‘Course she is. She’s well-trained.”

“So whaddaya think, boss?” It sounds like Sonny again. “Any chance of, y’know, letting us find out just how obedient she is?”

There’s another long pause, and you wonder what exactly Elvis is considering. 

“Maybe.”

You actually do lean too far this time, and when you overbalance you end up dropping your hairbrush on the floor trying to catch yourself. 

“Dolly?” Elvis’ smooth baritone calls out to you. 

“Yes, Daddy?”

“Come in here a minute.”

You take a deep, steadying breath and look at yourself in the mirror. You’re a little flushed already, just from listening to them talk about you, but your make-up is all done nicely and you had almost finished brushing your hair when he called. Smoothing it down, you stand up and check your dress is sitting where it should. Then you open the door and walk across the corridor and into the living room. As you stand in the doorway you look around, realising that you had successfully identified all of the voices, and their owners are now all looking back at you with ill-disguised lust. 

“Good girl. Come and sit on Daddy’s lap.” 

Elvis is looking particularly good today, his eyes are shining and so is his big, gold belt. His shirt sleeves are rolled up to just above his elbows, and his forearms flex as he grabs either armrest to adjust his sitting position in preparation for you following his instruction. 

You walk over slowly, realising as you start to step that you’ve forgotten to put your heels on, so you end up padding across the thickly shagged carpet in just your stockinged feet. Trying not to look at the other men as they look at you, you settle yourself onto Elvis’ lap and feel his hardness pressing against your lower back immediately. Excitement and trepidation bubble in your stomach. He really doesn’t seem like he’s going to say no to sharing you. 

“Now Dolly, the guys here have a proposition f’ya,” he tells you as his arms wrap around your waist and hold you to him tightly, his breath tickling your cheek. 

There’s an awkward silence in the room, and the men go from openly staring at you to looking nervously at their feet. 

“C’mon, guys.” Elvis’ voice is laced with irritation now, “if you want her ya have ta ask her.”

It turns out that Jerry is the brave one, though he looks up at you nervously, the mass of curls on his head bobbing as he swallows hard before finally opening his mouth. 

“We were, um… talking about you,” he begins, uncertainly. The other two nod and mumble their agreement, encouraging him to continue. “And um… you’re real pretty and you made some er… real pretty noises the other night.” Jerry is blushing now and you think it makes him look kinda cute. 

“And?” Elvis snaps, when the silence after Jerry’s last sentence stretches out for a few minutes. 

“And we want to know just how much of a dolly you really are, Dolly,” Joe announces. 

You frown. “Oh, Joe. I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” you tell him, tilting your head to one side and biting the side of your thumb. You even bat your fake eyelashes for the full effect. 

“H-he… um…” Jerry starts up again, looking for all the world like he wants the earth to open up and swallow him. “He wants to know if you’d like to have a little fun with us…” When your facial expression doesn’t change from the exaggerated look of confusion you’d given Joe earlier, Jerry continues. “Like… with our clothes off. Y’know. Would ya like to please us like you please Elvis?” Jerry lets out a big sigh at the end of the sentence, as if he’s just said the most difficult thing ever. 

“Oh!” You exclaim, putting a hand to either side of your face and making Elvis chuckle. “But Joe, what about your wife?” The question makes Elvis chuckle all the more. 

Joe clears his throat a little awkwardly. “Well. This would just be a one-time thing you know. We wouldn’t need to tell her. Just our little secret, isn’t that right, boss?”

Elvis holds both hands up. “Nothin’ ta do with me, she’s your wife.”

His hands go back to your waist and you lean your head back against his chest a little. Rewarding you with a kiss to the temple, he looks around the room at the three men. 

“Think we need some ground rules ‘fore we start.”

“I didn’t say yes!” You find yourself squeaking, sitting upright again in shock. 

Another, darker chuckle. “I wanted the guys to ask ya ta be polite. Not ‘cause I wanted yer opinion, Dolly.” Pressing his nose against your face, he kisses your cheek. “Yer jus’ my little doll, ‘member. No opinions of yer own.”

You nod, realisation slowly dawning that you’re in a room with four men who can do whatever they want with you. His lips trail down your neck until his teeth find your collarbone, nibbling it a little before moving off you entirely and looking back at the rest of the room. 

“Ground rules,” he reiterates. “She’s my little Dolly. So if I say stop, ya stop, okay?” The three men nod and mumble, “yes boss,” and “yes EP”. “Good,” he replies. “This pretty mouth,” he squeezes your cheeks to make you pout, “and this pretty pussy,” his hand moves to pull your legs apart and give the assembled group a good view of your panties, “are fair game. Her asshole’s mine. So don’t even think about it.”

Elvis waits for all three of them to affirm what he’s just said before continuing. You squirm in his lap under the weight of their gazes, all three trained right between your legs. 

“And one more fer you, darlin’,” he coos, turning your head to look at him. “No more thoughts from now on, sweetheart. Want ya ta be a perfect little doll for me and my friends.”

Looking into those bright blue eyes you nod slowly, but you’re not sure. Of course you trust Elvis, but there are a lot of big strong men in this room. Men who could easily overpower you and outnumber him too. Your lower lip wobbles a little. The hand that’s currently cupping your cheek holds it a little more firmly as he looks back at you, seeming to try and see right into the brain you’re supposed to be emptying of thoughts right now. 

“Daddy will take care a ya,” he murmurs, eyes flicking over your face, searching for clues. “I won’t let anyone hurt ya, sweetheart.”

The tenderness in his voice almost has you undone without any need for him to touch you. A whimper escapes your lips and your arms go around his neck as he kisses you lovingly. Your little audience all seem to sigh in unison. 

“Okay?” He asks, as he pulls back, running a thumb over your plush lips. 

“Yes, Daddy,” you reply, your earlier nervousness bubbling over into excitement again. 

“Good girl.”

You squeeze your thighs together at the praise and as you turn back towards the room you realise everyone saw you do it. You blush and bat your eyelids again, eliciting something that sounds a lot like a moan from Jerry. 

Elvis’ hand sweeps up your thigh, pushing the material of your skirt with it, showing your panties to the room properly this time. Joe is the first to obviously touch himself through his pants but it’s not long before the other two join him, especially when Elvis points out the damp patch you’ve made on your pretty pink panties. 

“She’s filthy, EP.”

Elvis chuckles, softly. “She jus’ likes doin’ as she’s told, don’tcha, Dolly?” 

“Yes, Daddy.”

He slips your panties off and throws them at Sonny, clearly seeing the hungry look on the brunette’s face. You smile at the way he almost jumps when they land in his lap, his attention being completely captured by your bare pussy. Quickly recovering a second or so later, he balls them up and stuffs them into his pocket. 

Elvis kisses your neck as he pulls your legs apart, putting you on display for the other men. The cool air of the room hits your open pussy and you moan a little, feeling his fingers digging into your thighs and desperately wanting him to touch you. 

“That’s a nice pussy, man,” Sonny declares, sounding a little drunk on just looking at it. 

“C-can we… uh… see her tits?” You’re surprised to hear such a vulgar word from Jerry, but the way he stumbles over the words makes him seem cute again. 

Elvis clicks his tongue and pushes you into a more upright position so he can pull the top of your dress down, exposing your pretty pink bra. Jerry groans. Elvis’ fingers slip underneath the straps and slide them over your shoulders, and then he’s pulling your bra down too. The cool air hits your nipples and they stand erect. You’ve never felt so looked at before, and part of you wants to run away, but the other part is bathing in the attention. 

“C-can she come o-over here with those tits?” 

Elvis laughs. “Ya like her tits, Jer?”

The mass of curls bobs up and down as the younger man nods his head. “God, they’re perfect.” His eyes are like saucers and they’re trained on your nipples. 

“Go on, Dolly. Go and see Jerry.”

He gently pushes you off his lap and onto your feet, and you make your way over to Jerry, who spreads his legs wide as he unbuckles his belt and pulls out his dick. You watch him stroke himself as he tells you, a little nervously, to kneel down in front of him. Still stroking, he fondles your breasts with his other hand, letting out a little hum of appreciation. 

“Push ‘em together, honey,” he instructs, and you do. “That’s right. Oh God,” he mumbles, still touching himself as he stares at them. “Can I just… E? Can I put my dick between them?”

“Sure,” Elvis replies, and you think you hear the sound of his belt clinking. 

Unclasping your bra and removing it, Jerry rearranges you and him so that his dick is between your breasts, then pushes them together again himself. He groans as he starts to move, sliding up and down as best he can. It's obvious he’s getting very excited, you can tell from his flushed face and the cuss words falling from his lips, but he’s not about to finish any time soon and the other men quickly become frustrated. 

“C’mon Jer, I need this pussy,” Sonny grumbles, from the other side of the room. 

“Yeah Jerry, you’re hogging her,” Joe joins in. 

Jerry sighs and stops what he’s doing. “Alright. Who’s next?”

“I said first,” Sonny replies. 

You turn to look at them and see Joe about to open his mouth to say something, no doubt in an attempt to contradict the other man, and then they’re both silenced by Elvis. 

“She’s my girl. She’s comin’ to me.”

You settle between Elvis’ legs as he guides your mouth over his dick, holding your hair and bobbing your head on him, gradually helping you take more and more until your nose is buried in his pubic hair and you’re gagging. He holds you there until your throat relaxes, and then starts to thrust. Your eyes water a little, but you can hear the appreciative sounds in the room and they spur you on. Gasping for air when he finally pulls you off again, you sit back on your heels and look up at him, worshipfully. 

“Good girl,” he affirms, then looks up. “Who wants her?”

Sonny manages to speak before Joe again, so Elvis instructs you to go to him, on your hands and knees this time. He’s taken your dress off properly, so you’re naked apart from your stockings, and he gives your ass a low whistle as it moves away from him. You eagerly take Sonny all the way in, he’s a little smaller than Elvis so you don’t choke so much when he starts to fuck your throat. 

“Oh God. She’s so pretty, EP. So pretty choking on my damn cock.”

Your eyes are watering again and you can tell Sonny likes it. There’s probably mascara running down your cheeks too. 

“Please tell me I can fuck her.”

There’s a low growl in the back of Elvis’ throat, something protective that makes you somehow even wetter. “Not yet. Give her to Joe.”

Crawling over to Joe, you’re relieved he’s even smaller again, and taking him is no trouble at all. You’re so engrossed in the blow job that you don’t notice the other guys getting closer, and then suddenly you find yourself on your back in the middle of the room, Elvis pushing inside your pussy and Sonny back in your mouth. Jerry kneels on one side of you, stroking himself as he looks down at your body, and Joe is still where he was, on the sofa. 

Elvis’ dick stretches you, making you moan around Sonny, but you’re so wet he slips in and out easily anyway. 

“She loves it,” Sonny declares. “Such a pretty little cockslut you’ve got here, E. Such a perfect little whore.”

You moan again around his dick and he slaps your tits. 

“Such a good little lovin’ doll,” Elvis coos, holding your thighs as he slams into you. 

They keep going in that arrangement for a while, but then after some more complaining from Sonny, shift so that he’s inside you now, and Jerry is in your mouth, his big fat balls slapping against your forehead. Sonny is as sadistic with your pussy as he was with your mouth, jackhammering into you in a way that isn’t exactly pleasurable. After that, Joe comes as a blessed relief. You don’t like him much, and you definitely don’t find him attractive, but he fucks you kind of gently and for a moment or two you don’t have a dick in your mouth and you find yourself moaning and arching your back. 

“Is she gonna cum? Joe, you’re makin’ her cum!” Sonny is clearly shocked at the turn of events, and to be honest so are you, but something about the slightly twisted up position he’s got you in is hitting the right spot and Sonny is right, Joe is making you cum. 

“Ohhhh. Ohhhhh.” You moan, eyelashes fluttering as your orgasm washes over you. 

“Let me go again. I wanna make her squirt. I bet I can make her squirt.”

“No, Sonny,” Elvis’ voice is deep and firm and brooks no argument. “It’s Jerry’s turn. Let him try.”

The angle Jerry was at when he tried to fuck your mouth earlier meant you couldn't fit much in, so you don’t realise quite how big it is until he starts to push inside your pussy. And then you really realise, when you look down and see the bulge it’s making in your stomach, the other guys whooping and cheering about it. Jerry is big enough to hit your g-spot easily, and he’s thick enough to make your head flop back and your eyes close, and you to just generally lose a good portion of your grip on reality. 

“She’s cock-drunk.”

“Look at her, Jerry. You’re fucking her stupid.”

“God, she’s perfect,” the hushed, reverential tone is Jerry, and you try to peel your eyes open again to look at him. “Taking me so fucking perfectly.”

You manage something between a moan and a whimper, and then you feel it. Your second orgasm, lurking just beneath the surface, ready to explode. Jerry obviously feels it too, his thumb starting to rub your clit as he picks up speed, fucking you so hard Elvis has to hold you in place by pushing down on your shoulders. You’re sure your guts are going to be completely rearranged by the end of this. 

“C’mon Dolly, cum for me. I can feel ya gripping me, honey. You can do it.”

Jerry’s praise tips you over the edge and suddenly you’re screaming and squirting and flailing about on the carpet. You can hear all the men groaning and then you feel yourself suddenly empty, Jerry is cussing and then he’s moaning as you feel something splattering over your chest. Unable to manage to open your eyes again, it seems like you're floating as you feel the next dick inside you, somehow recognising it as Elvis’. More wetness on your belly, and what sounds like Joe moaning out your name.

“I wanna cum on her face.”

You finally manage to open one eye to see Sonny kneeling over you. 

“Alright, man.”

“Eyes open, honey. Look at me.”

You do as you’re told, watching as Sonny beats himself off, groaning until cum starts shooting out of his dick, all over your face. You close your eyes again at the crucial moment, but when you reopen them you’re conscious of the wetness beading on your lashes, like raindrops.

“Fuck. You look so pretty with my cum on your eyelashes. Perfect little slut.”

You bat them a little, unable to help yourself trying to look cute even with the state you’re in now. Elvis thrusts inside you a few more times and then pulls out, stroking himself until he cums on your pussy. He groans as he paints you with his release, and you suddenly realise how much of a mess you are, the cum of four men all over you. You bite your lip. You really are a slut. You start to smile, thinking about it, thinking about just how much fun being told what to do was, how much you enjoy switching your brain off and doing what other people want you to. 

Elvis kisses your knee, gently. “Thanks, baby,” he whispers. Then he looks up at the other guys, expectantly. 

“Yeah, thanks Princess,” Joe joins in, tucking himself away and sitting back up on the sofa. “That felt really good.”

Jerry looks down at you with soft, loving eyes. “Thanks Dolly. You were perfect.”

Sonny coughs and looks a bit awkward, like someone suddenly realising how they’d been acting when they were horny and now feeling kind of embarrassed. 

“Thanks honey. Sorry about your um… face.”

You can’t help giggling a little, and you look over at Elvis who nods his approval. You can stop just being an obedient doll now. 

“It’s okay, Sonny. I had fun.”

Sonny rubs his face with his hand and nods, still looking awkward, before getting up and mumbling something about going for a drive. Jerry gets up from his kneeling position too, suggesting he and Joe go out and get some dinner for everyone. Joe looks very much like he’s about to say he’d rather just stay right where he is, but Jerry’s head tilting to the left and his eyes widening must finally give the clue that he’s trying to suggest they clear out and give you and Elvis some privacy. 

Then it's just the two of you, and he scoops you up in his arms and carries you into the bathroom, helping you into the shower and then getting in with you and cleaning you up. You stand there in shock as he dries you gently with a big fluffy towel, and then swathes you in pyjamas and a robe, waiting as you push your sooties into soft pink slippers. 

“Come to my room, Dolly.” 

You’re not often allowed in Elvis’ room, it’s his sanctuary, he likes to repair to it when things get too much for him. Even in the LA house it’s much more decadent than the other bedrooms, and it’s darker than yours, all purple and gold. It’s also freezing, and you shiver as soon as you step through the door. He holds you to him for a moment, humming softly as his body heat warms you, and then helps you into his big brass bed. Settling you into the comforters and pillows, he gets in next to you and shows you the controls for the electric blanket. 

“Thanks,” you murmur, looking up at him through your normal lashes. Those falsies had gone straight in the trash. 

He brushes your cheek with the backs of his fingers and kisses you softly. “Y’okay?”

You nod quickly. “I’m good.” Moving your legs a little, you squint. “Pussy’s a little sore.” 

“Mmm.” He kisses you again. “Ya were so good, Dolly. Such a good little girl for me.”

One of your hands rests gently on the back of his neck. “I um… I liked it.” You look down, biting your lip a little. “I shouldn’t, should I?”

His hand moves to your chin, tilting your face up so you have to look at him again. “I’m glad ya liked it,” he murmurs, conspiratorially. “Though I hope ya didn’t like any of the guys more ‘an ya like me…”

Your heart leaps in your chest. You’ve never known him to be this vulnerable. “I could never, Da- Elvis. I love you.”

“I love you too.” His hand envelopes your whole cheek as he pulls you in close for a proper kiss. “My precious, perfect little doll.”

***

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[unluckycactus]

Stuff I picked on and appreciated about OgCale from his interaction in canon with KRS!Cale:

The way he immediately but indirectly claimed Cale as family.

I found it curious how he purposefully avoided possessive pronouns during most of their chat when speaking in present time, except when it was time to say goodbye. He used them when speaking in past-tense mostly.

He didn't ask 'how's my family?' but 'is the family doing well?' and later on he didn't say 'go to my mom's tomb' but 'go to mom's tomb.'

He didn't treat nor did he make Cale feel as an outsider despite being the first time they met.

He told Cale/ogKRS that he was going to save his (ogKRS) world.

Anyone who thinks ogCale is just having an easy time should probably watch the first minutes of Kaijuu no 8 to more or less dimension what kind of post-apocalyptic shit is going on there.

Not to mention, filling shoes as big as ogKRS' is not easy either. But he's doing it. He's working hard. And he will keep doing it, because he assured Cale he would save his world.

And what I like about that is that he didn't need too many words to convey: I'm gonna do my share, don't worry about that.

He wasn't weird about telling Cale about his mother's AP location

We know his mother was the most important person to him, but there was absolutely no weirdness or shadiness when giving Cale instructions to,,, y'know,, basically rob his mom's tomb

He's probably the only person thus far that actually gave Cale useful advice on how to become a slacker LOL

He was like 'there's no way you will get to slack if you don't get through Violan and Basen, bc they won't let you give up the heir position'

And I don't think anyone has been so upfront with Cale about that before. At least not during the whole Book 1.

Cos people usually sigh in exasperation or dismiss Cale's dream as nonsense, they don't even tell him why they think like that.

It was nice seeing someone giving Cale the heads up for once.

[ebsmind]

⏾ IT'S ME, HI, I'M THE PROBLEM, IT'S ME | jack hughes x singer reader smau

summary : daniella starts being messy, vince is still in your likes, but yet it never mattered to you.

warning(s) : mentions of weed and weed consumption, daniella HATE (shes messy and mean for the plotttt), vince hate, and a couple of curse words I think

a/n : IT'S TIMEEEEEEEE anways i LOVE this chapter and I hope you do too!! also ik the girl in the last insta post isn't olivia but that's the only picture i could find! enjoy pookies 💟

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liked by ynnation, jackhughes, vincedunn and others

ynuser Lavender Haze MV out now!! stream it and I’ll give you a kiss 💋

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user1 OH THIS GIRL LOVES GETTING HIGH

user2 SHE SMOKES???

user3 can we talk about how beautiful the flowers are?

urbsfuser can we talk about how she gave us her feet for free pls

| ynuser STOP THIS MADNESS

_quinnhughes making jack and luke listen to this

| ynuser 🫡

user4 QUINN COMMENTING?? JACK LIKING??? LUKE LISTENING??? my worlds are colliding fr

canucks stop by and sing the national anthem for us?

| ynuser maybe 😉

| njdevils wait no us!!!! ❤️ by author

ynnation making our entire personality Lavender Haze and damned if we do give a damn what people say 💁‍♀️

user5 Y/N SINGING AT A HOCKEY GAME THAT ISNT VINCES TEAM??? like y/n said…don’t get sad get even 😏

| user6 OH UR SO SMOOTH FOR THAT

user7 girl vince’s new girl is being petty on social media

user8 not vince still following y/n and liking all of her stuff 🙄

user9 this girl is FEEDING us with back to back music videos

liked by user2837, ynupdates, anonymous360, and others

deuxmoi DEUXMOI EXCLUSIVE…singer & songwriter Y/N Y/L/Ns ex-boyfriend Vince Dunns new girl has been seen liking tiktoks, instagram posts, and tweets about the singer and hockey players break up

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user1 oh fuck no she’s ugly

user2 basic

user3 bye y/n is way better

user4 guys let’s not bring the other girl down :(

| user5 girl bffr she knew about them let’s not duck ride daniella she knows what she’s doing

user6 classic mean girl

user7 y/n deserves better!!!

user8 fuck vince!!!

user9 oh she bad

user10 who told her she was eating….

ynuser just posted on their story!

liked by njdevils, jackhughes, nicohischier, and others

ynuser i didn’t get to sing but i had a blast!!! thank you devils ♥️ officially a fan for life

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user1 OMG?????

user2 OH GET HER TO SING IN THE PLAYOFFS

| njdevils planning on it 😉

_quinnhughes what happened with the canucks??

| ynuser you guys are sooooooo far away :(

user3 Y/N AND QUINN????

user4 gonna start watching hockey now

nicohischier 🤙🏻😈

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user5 omg they’re all interacting with her omggggg

kristin.haula you have to come back!!! ❤️

❤️ by author

user6 AWWWWW KRISTINNNNN

user7 my two words are COLLIDING OMG

lhughes_06 LFG!!!

user8 the way she started with no jersey to a custom one at the end of the night 🙈

user9 the tiktok she did with kristin is so cute omg

jackhughes lookin good in red

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ynuser just posted a new TikTok!

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instagram : jackhughes sent you a new message

[nanasrkives]

navigation : main masterlist the eclipse secret track! the jjk secret track

── .✦ "LINES WE CROSS" ─ Gojo Satoru

Finally posting the gojo smut, took me two goddamn weeks to write it MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! content : fem!reader. mentions of alcohol. heavy tension. explicit smut. oral fem receiving. oral male receiving. piv sex. overstimulation. 5779 words.

The bottle of whiskey had long been drained to the last drop, leaving a haze of alcohol in the air and a certain buzz between you and Gojo that neither of you had planned for.

The silence had grown heavy with unspoken words, but the words didn’t matter anymore. The air between you was too thick with tension—tension that had been building ever since the first mission you’d worked together. That first time you’d hooked up, the night of wild abandon that had made you swear off ever letting Gojo in again. Once was too much. And yet here you were again, barely holding on to any kind of rational thought.

You leaned back against the couch, your arms folded across your chest, the same way you always did when you were trying to hide how much his presence affected you. You’d done this dance too many times before. Every little push, every little tease—he knew exactly how to get under your skin. But you also knew exactly who he was, the strongest. Untouchable. Someone who would never truly let anyone close, least of all someone like you.

You swirled your glass, watching the amber liquid slosh around. “I should have just left when I had the chance,” you muttered, more to yourself than to him, though you knew Gojo had heard every word.

He tilted his head, his lips twitching in that damn smirk that always made your heart skip. “What’s the matter? Changed your mind? Don’t think you can handle another round?” His voice had a teasing edge, but underneath it was that dark undertone—the same undertone that had caused you to make one of the most reckless decisions of your life the first time you let yourself fall into his orbit.

You ignored the heat that crept up your neck and looked him dead in the eye. “You know exactly what I mean.”

A chuckle escaped him, low and slow. “Don’t act like you didn’t enjoy the first time.” There it was — the exact moment you both had been dancing around for months. The hook-up that never should have happened, but had — and now, it was looming like a shadow between you, taunting you both.

You turned your gaze away, staring at nothing, trying to fight the memory of that night. His hands on your skin, the way he had kissed you like you were the only thing that mattered for those brief moments, the way everything had blurred together in that dangerous combination of recklessness and desire. That night had made you question everything you thought you knew about him... and about yourself.

But you couldn’t afford to get lost in that again. Gojo was chaos wrapped in a pretty package — too powerful, too untouchable, too... dangerous. The world knew him as the strongest, but you knew the truth. You’d seen enough of what that meant —enough to know it wasn’t a title you wanted to share with him. There would be consequences, there always were.

“I can’t do this again,” you said, more to your own sanity than to him, the words slipping out before you could stop them. But your voice was shaky, and you knew—he knew—it wasn’t because you didn’t want it. It was because you did.

He was close now, too close. The heat of his body radiated against you, his hand casually resting on the back of the couch just a few inches from your shoulder. You could feel the air between you thicken, the undeniable pull that always existed whenever he was near.

Gojo’s voice dropped an octave, the teasing gone. “You really think you can just walk away from this, huh?” His fingers brushed against the back of your neck, slow and deliberate, a touch so light, yet so heavy with meaning. The last time he’d done that, your breath had caught in your throat, and you hadn’t been able to stop yourself from leaning into him.

And there it was — the tension, crackling in the air like lightning. You clenched your fists, trying to steady yourself, but his proximity was too much. His presence always was. The way his eyes locked with yours, like he could see right through every wall you’d carefully built between you.

“I’m not some easy fix for whatever twisted thing you think you want tonight,” you said, your voice low, trying to convince both him and yourself that you weren’t already halfway lost. You tried to ignore the sharp pang in your chest—the ache that came from the truth you’d buried too deep.

Gojo’s lips curled up into a smirk, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. There was something darker there now, something that made you hold your breath. “You think I don’t know exactly who you are?” he asked, his voice softer, almost a whisper. “I’ve known from the moment we met, how rational you are, how you try to keep yourself in control. But tonight…” He trailed off, stepping closer until your heart was pounding so loudly you were sure he could hear it. “Tonight, you’re just like me.”

You felt his thumb trace along the curve of your jaw, and your breath hitched. That was the problem — he was right. You were just like him. Just as reckless. Just as hungry. And the truth of it — of what was happening between you right now —terrified you in a way you couldn’t put into words.

“No more games,” he murmured, leaning in, his breath hot against your ear. “One more time. Just one more time, and then we can forget about it. You don’t have to feel anything.”

You closed your eyes, fighting the wave of desire crashing over you. You hated that he was making it sound so simple. You hated that you did want it.

But you knew better. You always knew better. You’d seen the way he was with others, seen the damage that followed in his wake. Being with him once had been a mistake. Being with him again? That could break everything. You could break everything.

But you also knew that tonight—this moment—was slipping out of your control. And part of you wanted to let it.

“I won’t be your damn distraction,” you finally whispered, breathless. But even you could hear the lie in your own voice.

Gojo didn’t need to hear any more. With a sharp, almost predatory move, he closed the distance between you. The kiss was hard and demanding, the kind that said words were pointless now. His hands roamed down your body, tugging at the hem of your shirt, as if he couldn’t wait any longer.

You should have stopped him. You should have. But you didn’t.

The kiss deepened, and your hands instinctively tangled in his hair, tugging him closer. The urgency of it was almost frantic, like you were both trying to find something in the other — something you couldn’t name. Something dangerous. You could taste the whiskey on his lips, your teeth clashing as his lips moved against yours in a way that had your pulse spiking. It was messy. Reckless. Just like the way you both lived your lives.

Gojo’s hands were on you, too quick, too desperate. His fingers slid down your back, tugging at the fabric of your shirt, pulling it free from your waist. There was no hesitation in his touch — no second guessing. It was like he knew exactly where to touch, where to make you gasp, where to make your body respond. He was good at this. Too good. And you hated it, but you couldn’t stop yourself from reacting.

His breath was hot against your lips when he pulled back just a fraction, his voice low, almost guttural. “Still think I can’t handle you?”

You swallowed, trying to steady your breath, but his words sent a sharp tremor through you. “Don’t get cocky,” you managed to say, but it came out more breathless than you intended. Your heart was pounding in your chest, and you hated how easy it was for him to break through your defenses.

Without warning, his hands unclasped your bra, fingers brushing the curve of your ribcage, sending a shiver down your spine. You wanted to pull away — wanted to remind yourself of who he was, what he was — but your body was betraying you. You could feel the heat rising between you, could feel your body inching closer to his, craving that contact, that release.

Gojo didn’t waste time. He took one of your breasts in his hot mouth, twirling his tongue around your hard nipple while his fingertips pinched your other nipple, making you bite down on your lip to stifle the moan that threatened to escape. He was so confident—too confident. You felt him smirk against your mouth, sensing your reaction, and it only made everything worse.

His lips moved down from your chest, planting soft, deliberate kisses across the curve of your ribs, trailing lower with each kiss, as his breath warmed your skin, making its way down to the sensitive skin of your lower stomach until, without warning, his teeth sank lightly into your sensitive skin. The sudden bite made your body jerk, and you gasped, "fuck! Gojo!" before a breathless moan escaped your lips, as the sharp sensation left you reeling.

“Satoru,” he corrects, his voice thick with amusement, before his hands pulled your skirt down “If you’re gonna scream my name tonight, might as well get used to it now.” His fingers ghosted over your inner thigh, dangerously close but never quite where you needed him. Then he paused, a smug grin tugging at the corner of his mouth as his fingers brushed against the damp fabric, feeling the heat radiating through. “Damn, this wet already ?” he murmured, voice dropping to a low rasp, “just for me”

Gojo slid your damp panties down, peppering kisses in your inner thighs until he was face to face with your leaking pussy. He spread your thighs gently, settling between them like he belonged there. His eyes met yours, holding your gaze as his mouth lowered, a silent promise hidden in his cerulean irises. The first touch of his tongue was slow, deliberate, as if he wanted to memorize the way you tasted. He never looked away, even as your back arched, even as your breath hitched—like he needed to watch you fall apart.

Before you could catch your breath, he did it again, this time with more pressure, his tongue flattening against your lips, deliberate and unrelenting. A sound slipped out—half gasp, half moan—and you hated how easy it was for him to pull it from your mouth. His fingers tightened, thumbs digging into the soft skin of your hips like he liked the way you were already unraveling for him.

"Fuck, right there," you breathed, head tipping back against the pillows, your fingers instinctively sliding into his hair, gripping like you needed an anchor . His hair was soft, but there was nothing gentle about the way he worked his mouth against you—teasing, tasting, like he had something to prove.

He pulled back just enough to speak, his breath hot against my slick skin. “So sensitive,” he murmured, voice dripping with amusement and something darker, more possessive. His tongue flicked against your core again, quick and sharp, and you choked on a moan, your thighs trembling around his shoulders.

“Satoru,” you gasped, not even thinking, just feeling—too much, too fast, not enough.

That smug grin curved against you before he growled, low and satisfied, “Yeah, just like that.”

Then he was back at it—faster now, tongue and lips working in tandem, relentless in the way only he could be. Your body arched off the couch, heat coiling tight in your stomach, every nerve ending sparking like you were going to come apart right there in his hands. And maybe you would. Maybe that’s exactly what he wanted.

Just when you thought you'd found your footing—breath ragged, heart pounding—his mouth shifted slightly, and you felt the slow drag of his fingers sliding along your inner thigh. The anticipation was unbearable, your body already hypersensitive from the relentless pull of his tongue. Then—

His fingers slipped between your folds, slick with your juices, and the sudden contrast of his touch—cooler, firmer—made you gasp, your hips bucking helplessly into him. He didn’t miss a beat. One finger eased in, slow and deliberate, like he wanted to feel every inch, like he wanted me to feel every inch. You clenched around him instinctively, a breathless moan spilling from your lips.

“So fucking tight,” he muttered against you, the words a low growl vibrating right through your core, making you shudder. He sounded almost wrecked himself, like the effect he had on you was doing something to him, too.

Then he added a second finger, stretching you just enough to make go into euphoria, his movements unhurried but devastatingly precise. His fingers curled inside you, searching—finding—that spot that made your vision blur for a second, a choked cry slipping past your lips.

“There it is,” he murmured, smug and satisfied, like he’d just solved some impossible puzzle. His tongue didn’t stop, circling, flicking, sucking—his fingers thrusting in a steady rhythm, hitting that perfect spot over and over until your thighs trembled around his head, until you were gasping his name like a prayer you didn’t believe in.

“Satoru—” It was barely a whisper, more a broken sound than a word, but it made him groan against you, the vibration sending another wave of pleasure crashing through your entire being. Your fingers tightened in his hair, anchoring as the heat coiled tighter, sharper, until it felt like it might snap.

His pace quickened, fingers curling with more purpose, tongue dragging slow, deliberate circles around your clit before sucking it between his lips, and that was it—

The tension snapped, sharp and blinding, pleasure crashing over you like a tidal wave. Your back arched off the couch, a broken moan spilling from your lips, too loud, too raw to care. Your thighs clamped around his head, shaking as the orgasm ripped through you, white-hot and endless, every nerve in your body lit up like a live wire.

He didn’t stop—not right away. His fingers kept moving, coaxing every last ripple of pleasure from you, his mouth softening from relentless to tender, easing you through the aftershocks until you were nothing but a trembling, breathless mess beneath him.

When he finally pulled back, his lips shiny, his grin wicked, he looked up at you with that infuriating glint in his eyes—the one that said he knew exactly what he’d done.

“Told you,” he murmured, voice low and smug, “you’d be moaning my name.”

You were still catching your breath, your core still pulsing, when he moved to hover over your figure, his grin lazy and smug, like he’d just won some unspoken game. But two could play at that.

You pushed at his chest, flipping him over with a burst of energy you didn’t know you had, straddling him before he could make some cocky remark. His grin widened, clearly entertained by your sudden boldness, but it faltered just a little when you leaned down, your mouth brushing against his ear.

"Your turn," you whispered, your voice still ragged from the moans he’d pulled from you moments ago.

His breath hitched—not that he’d ever admit it—and you felt the shift in his body beneath your hips, the tension winding tight as you kissed your way down his neck, nipping at the spot just below his jaw that made him suck in a sharp breath. You didn’t rush, dragging your lips lower, over his chest, pausing just long enough to let your teeth graze his skin. The way his muscles tensed beneath you was addictive.

By the time you reached the waistband of his pants, his cock was already hard, straining against the fabric. You shot him a look—half challenge, half promise—before sliding them down, watching the way his chest rose and fell a little faster, like he was finally feeling the same edge he’d left you on for far too long.

You wrapped your fingers around him first, just to hear that sharp inhale, the way his jaw clenched like he was trying to hold back. Smug bastard deserved a little payback.

Leaning down, you licked a slow stripe along the length of him, watching his reaction out of the corner of your eye. His head tipped back slightly, a low curse slipping from his lips, but that wasn’t enough. You took him into your mouth, slowly at first, letting him feel every inch, hollowing your cheeks as you sank deeper, your tongue working against him.

His hand found its way into your hair, fingers tightening reflexively as you set a rhythm—slow, then faster, alternating just enough to keep him on edge. You could feel the tension in his thighs, the way his hips twitched slightly, like he wanted to thrust but was holding back. Good.

"Holy fuck," he breathed, his voice low and rough, a stark contrast to the usual cocky confidence. “You’re really trying to kill me, huh?”

You pulled back just enough to smirk, your lips slick and swollen. “Who said I’m done?”

Then you took him back in, deeper this time, your hand working in tandem with your mouth, determined to unravel him the way he’d done to you. His groans grew rougher, his grip in your hair tighter, his control slipping with every flick of your tongue, every bobs of your head, until his head fell back with a strained moan, completely undone beneath you.

"Shit, shit, fuck—," his breathing grew ragged, chest rising and falling in quick, uneven bursts, but it was the way his fingers tightened in your hair—just enough to make your scalp tingle—that told you he was close. That cocky edge in his voice had long since faded, replaced by something raw, his control slipping with every flick of your tongue, every twist of your wrist.

You didn’t ease up. If anything, you went harder—sucking him deeper, your hand stroking the base in perfect rhythm with my mouth. His hips jerked slightly, instinctive and desperate, a low, guttural groan spilling from his lips like he couldn’t hold it back anymore.

"Shit—” His voice was wrecked, strained with the effort of holding on, but you weren’t giving him the chance to recover. Your free hand gripped his thigh, feeling the tension coil tighter beneath your fingertips as his muscles locked, his whole body straining toward that edge

You glanced up through your lashes just in time to see it—the way his jaw clenched, head tipping back against the pillows, eyes dilated and wild as he met your gaze. That look alone sent a rush of heat through your soul, like you were the one unraveling.

"Fuck, I’m—” The words cut off with a sharp inhale as he finally let go, hips bucking slightly despite the grip he still had on your hair. You didn’t stop, didn’t pull away, swallowing every last bit of semen as he came, his groans low and ragged, spilling into the thick, heated air between you.

When he finally went still, chest heaving, you pulled back slowly, wiping the corner of your mouth with the back of your hand, smirking just enough to let him know weren’t done having the upper hand.

His eyes found yours, half-lidded, a lazy grin spreading across his face even as he tried to catch his breath. “You’re trying to kill me,” he rasped, voice rough and satisfied.

"Maybe," You shot back, your voice low, leaning in just enough to brush your lips against his. “Or maybe I just like watching you fall apart.”

His breathing was still uneven, chest rising and falling in heavy waves, but the lazy grin on his face didn’t last long—not when you shifted, straddling his hips again, feeling the hard line of him still pressing against your core already recovering. His hands found your waist, fingers digging in like he needed to ground himself, but there was hunger in his eyes now, something darker and sharper beneath the smugness.

“You think we’re done?” you whispered, your voice low, teasing, rolling your hips just enough to make him curse under his breath. His fingers tightened, dragging you down until there was no space left between you both, the heat of him pressed right against where you were still aching, slick and ready.

“Not even close,” he rasped, voice rough and frayed around the edges.

In one quick motion, he flipped you, pinning you beneath him, his mouth crashing against yours—desperate, all teeth and tongue, tasting your lips like he couldn’t get enough. His hand slid between you, fingers gliding over your sensitive skin, teasing for just a second before lining himself up. Your eyes met, breath mingling, the tension stretched so tight it felt like something might snap.

Then he pushed in, slow but relentless, filling your pussy inch by inch until the stretch stole the air from your lungs. Your back arched, nails digging into his shoulders, a broken sound escaping your lips before you could stop it. He groaned against your neck, his control unraveling as he bottomed out, the heat and pressure overwhelming, perfect.

He didn’t move at first, just stayed there, buried deep, like he wanted you to feel every inch of him, to know exactly what he was doing to you. Then he pulled back, hips snapping forward with a sharp thrust that made you gasp, your body clenching around him instinctively.

“Fuck, you feel—” he cut himself off with another thrust, harder this time, his rhythm quickly losing that teasing edge, turning into something rougher, more desperate. His hand slid under your thigh, lifting it to angle deeper, and the new position made you cry out, fingers clawing at his back, trying to anchor myself against the onslaught.

“Oh my god—Satoru,” you gasped, your voice barely recognizable, wrecked and breathless.

He growled in response, his pace brutal now, like he was trying to fuck the words right out of you, and maybe he was—because soon, all you could do was moan, his name spilling from your lips over and over, tangled with curses and gasps, completely undone beneath him.

"Harder, fuck me harder," you suddenly panted, digging your nails on his back. Beads of sweat trickled down Gojo's forehead as he fulfilled your plea, his hips slamming more vigorously in your tight cunt. "God you're so fucking tight baby," he moaned feeling your walls clenching as you could feel your orgasm building up.

He slid his finger to your clit, flickering it at an ungodly pace—and shit—you felt your mind going into delirium. Gojo thrusted even deeper within you, hitting in an instant your sweet spot. "shit, i'm gonna cum," you whispered, your body convulsing with pleasure from his thrusts and friction of his fingers on your clit. "fuck, fuck—cum for me baby" You clenched your legs against his hips sending jolts of electricity in your bodies, moaning his name like a mantra, until, you unfolded feeling all your senses crashing out, and you swore you could see stars.

His breath hitched as you orgasmed, feeling your walls clench impossibly tight around his length sending him over the edge. "You did so well for me baby" he whispered, stroking your head. "Now hold on a little longer for me," he rasped as he kept thrusting at a fast pace.

You can feel the tension building again, your body already overstimulated from the previous round, but Gojo is relentless, his pace not slowing down. His hands are all over you, fingers digging into your skin, pulling you closer as he presses deeper. Your body is responding to him before your mind can catch up, trembling with every movement, every brush of his body against yours.

“Satoru…” You barely manage to whisper his name, your voice shaky, desperate. The sensations are overwhelming, and yet, there’s no stopping now. You’re close again, too close to the edge, and it’s like your body has no choice but to follow his rhythm, even as your mind screams for relief from the intensity.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he groans, his voice hoarse, and the sound of it only drives you further toward the breaking point. His movements are getting faster, harder, and you can feel him tightening inside you, his own need growing, but it doesn’t stop him from making you feel every inch of him as he pushes you to the edge once more.

You’re gasping for air, barely able to focus on anything but the overwhelming pressure building in you, your body already raw from the overstimulation. The heat surges again, your senses on fire as he hits that perfect spot deep inside you, and you can’t hold back the cry that escapes your lips, a broken sound of pure pleasure. You come apart beneath him, your body trembling underneath him as your second orgasm crashes down on you like a wave, leaving you trembling, breathless, your fingers digging into his back as if you might break.

But Gojo doesn’t stop. He keeps thrusting, his hips snapping against you in an unrelenting rhythm. He can feel you tightening around him, but he’s not finished yet. The way you just fell apart under him only pushes him closer to the edge, makes his own control slip just a little more. He’s fighting to hold on, his teeth gritted, and you can hear the strain in his voice as he breathes out, voice rough with need.

“Not done yet,” he growls, his hand slipping between your bodies, fingers brushing against your clit with just the right pressure, driving you even crazier. The sensation of him so close, still so deep inside you, combined with his touch on that sensitive spot sends another shock through your body, your muscles tensing as if your body has no choice but to react. You feel like you're drowning in pleasure, the overstimulation so much that you can barely breathe, but he doesn’t stop, doesn’t slow down.

His name slips from your lips in a breathless gasp, and you can feel his control unraveling, his movements getting sloppier as the release starts to build inside him. You’re still trembling from your own orgasm, but as his pace picks up one last time, you can tell he’s close. His eyes are squeezed shut, his jaw clenched, and when he finally comes, it’s with a deep, guttural groan, his body trembling as he fills you, his hips stuttering against yours.

He collapses against you, his body heavy and warm as he catches his breath, but there’s a moment where neither of you moves, both of you feeling the aftershocks of the intense release. You’re both shaking, your bodies slick with sweat, hearts pounding as the room finally falls silent except for the sound of your labored breathing.

You’re still gasping for air, your chest rising and falling unevenly as you try to catch your breath, the remnants of your orgasm still pulsing through you. Your body is a mess of tingling nerves, overstimulated, every nerve ending still on edge as Gojo holds you close. He doesn’t pull away immediately, staying connected, his arms still wrapped around you, keeping you anchored to the present.

“Shit…” Gojo mutters, his voice rough, breathless, as he rests his forehead against your shoulder, his chest rising and falling with the aftershock of his own release. There’s a sense of exhaustion in his movements now, but his grip on you doesn’t loosen. He stays there for a moment longer, as though reluctant to break the connection between you two.

You feel the heat of his body pressing against yours, the weight of him both comforting and overwhelming. You’re still reeling, your body aching from the intensity of what just happened. Every part of you still feels sensitive, your mind hazy from pleasure and overstimulation. Gojo’s breath slows as he shifts slightly, pulling back just enough to look at you, but there’s a softness in his gaze that wasn’t there before.

“You good?” he asks, his voice low, rough with the aftermath. There’s no teasing now, no cocky smirk, just genuine concern. His thumb brushes over your cheek, his touch unexpectedly tender as if checking that you’re still intact after everything. His other hand trails down your arm, fingertips tracing the outline of your skin, grounding you in the moment, reminding you that he’s still here.

You open your eyes, looking at him through the haze of exhaustion, and try to muster some semblance of a response. “You didn’t break me, if that’s what you’re asking,” you say, your voice still shaky, but there’s a teasing tone there. It’s the best you can do right now, but the truth is, you don’t have the energy to play games. You just need to recover, to breathe.

Gojo’s lips curl into that familiar smirk, but it’s more tired than usual. It’s almost… affectionate, a rare side of him that you don’t always get to see. He shifts, pulling his arm from around your neck, but not completely pulling away from you. His eyes linger on you for a moment, something unspoken passing between you both, before he leans in and presses a soft kiss to your temple, a quiet gesture that makes your heart skip a beat.

He shifts his weight, finally pulling out slowly, and the absence of him inside you feels strangely empty, like the room is suddenly too quiet, too still. You can still feel the warmth of his skin against yours as he moves beside you, his hand finding yours, fingers curling around yours in a possessive, yet comforting gesture. He doesn’t say anything, but there’s something in the way he holds onto you—something almost protective as if he’s not ready to let go just yet.

And even though neither of you says it, neither of you moves away, as if acknowledging the weight of the moment—too much, too heavy, but still lingering. Eventually, the tension begins to settle, replaced by the quiet exhaustion of two people who’ve crossed a line they can’t easily return from.

2025 © NANASRKIVES. / do not copy, repost, edit, plagiarize, or translate any of my works on any platforms, including ai.

Taglist (OPEN). / @cherrysurf @gothamscunt

[yeoningz]

FOR LOVERS｡ ࿔✶⋆.˚ 강태현

⧼ 🎐 ⧽ 一 pairing｡ ⸝⸝⸝ kang taehyun ✗ fem!reader genre ｡ ｡ ｡ est. relationship, smut, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort

you've never had to call out your safeword before, but during a rough punishment taehyun takes it too far. luckily, he's right there to pick up the pieces when you fall apart.

warnings｡ ⸝⸝⸝ minors do not interact .ᐟ rough sex, explicit language, bdsm elements, established relationship, safeword use, traffic light system, aftercare, dom!taehyun, sub!reader, pussy slapping, vaginal fingering, degredation + dirty talk, lots of pet names (and one use of "whore" and "slut"), cuddles and kisses, sharing a bath word count｡ 1 . 8 k | ⧼ 💿⋆˚࿔ ⧽ 一 to library｡

[notes｡] this is a rewrite + repost of an old fic from last year on my old blog! i care very deeply about this cute sweet lil fic and i hope you all enjoy it for taehyun's birthday <3 caught between the pages will be finished and posted by this weekend, so look out for that! reblogs and feedback are deeply appreciated!

TAEHYUN WAS THE sweetest lover you've ever had. He just had a knack for making you feel wanted, cherished even in the simplest of moments. It was in the way that he memorized every minute detail about you; exactly how sweet you liked your coffee in the mornings, the perfect song to play when he tries his hardest to get you to dance. What flavor of ice cream was your favorite to your deepest hopes, desires and dreams, and every little thing in between. The way he would leave you notes between the pages of your books, or listen intently to your silly pointless stories, his big dark eyes like portals into his soul as he looks into yours and never looks away. He treated you as if you had hung the moon and the stars, just for him to enjoy as the two of you spend a nighttime picnic gazing up to the sky. Every day he reminds you time and time again that his heart is wholly yours.

He was a much different man in bed. Rough, controlling, mean when he's pounding away inside of you, his strong hands pinning you down and throwing you around as if you weighed nothing. He dominates you completely, body and mind, his nasty words and painful pleasure turning your brain to mush. And God, you love it— love how small and powerless he made you feel, fucked brainless, drowning out all of your worries until all you could think about was him and his cock.

Usually, when you've had a particularly hard day, Taehyun's dominance is just what you need. His big cock and his filthy mouth taking out all of your stress and leaving you sleepy and satisfied. When you had came home home from work and dropped to your knees at his feet, admitting to him that you had touched yourself on your lunch break in hopes that he would punish you accordingly, you were sure that this time was just like any other.

But something just felt wrong.

You've never had to call out your safeword before, never had it even crossed your mind in the countless times you and Taehyun had sex, but the syllables teeter on the tip of your tongue, threatens to fall from your quivering lips with every thrust of his fingers inside your sore, abused cunt.

Sparks of discomfort crept up on the onslaught of pleasure, your pussy overstimulated past it's limit— three times had he made you cum on his thick, deft fingers, and he seems to have no intention of stopping any time soon. You had told him you could take it, but now... you weren't so sure.

"Tyunnie," you hiccup, squirming underneath his broad frame as he pins you to the bed, the wirey muscles of his arms and pecs flexing from the exertion of pumping his fingers in and out inside of you. "Slow down!"

Taehyun tuts, swiftly pulling his fingers out of your wet hole, and for a swift second you breathe out a sigh of relief— but his hand quickly returns with a hard, stinging slap to your puffy pussy lips, right over your throbbing clit. You shriek from the surprise and the pain, writhing against the bedsheets and pulling hard at the ropes that tied your hands up above your head. your wrists stung from the friction, the pain clashing with the ache in your body in a way that made your head pound.

“I said don’t speak unless spoken to, whore. Stupid slut can’t even follow simple directions." Taehyun growls with a smirk, hot breath caressing the shell of your ear "Take your punishment like the good girl I know you are. What’s your color?”

He's so attentive, still completely absorbed in the scene even while checking in on you. Deep in his dominant headspace, punishing you for breaking his rules, he still always put you and your pleasure first. It makes your heart swell in your chest, overcome with outporing love, and it grounds you enough that the feeling starts to ebb away. His calloused fingertips circle your swollen pearl with practiced precision, your body trapped beneath him with one of your shaking legs hiked up over his shoulder.

“G-green.” you whimper despite your growing qualms. You couldn’t bring yourself to even call out a 'yellow'; you’ve done plenty like this before, plenty worse than this, and never once did it make you feel this way, bother you this much. Surely you could take it. You were just being dramatic. 

"That's my good girl." Taehyun purrs, his mask of anger slipping away for him to press a soft kiss to the back of your knee. He looks so gorgeous in the lamp light, honeyed abs shining, dripping sweat, that you didn’t have the focus to prepare yourself for another wet, messy slap to your pussy, this time even harder. 

It was an act you usually enjoyed, begged for even, couldn’t get enough of; but something much different than pleasure was building inside of you. Something you had never felt before... at least, not with him. Instead of hot, untamed desire, there was overstimulation and discomfort… too much for you to bear. 

You thought you would never have to say it, but one more vigorous pass over your clit has you shrieking out from underneath him, “Red!”

Immediately, Taehyun jerks back like he had been burned, dark wide in shock. “Oh god, baby, are you okay?” he gasps, his shaking hands rushing to untie your wrists from the headboard, “Did I hurt you? I’m so sorry, angel, where does it hurt—?”

You weren’t sure how you expected him to act, but you certainly didn’t expect him to act like this. All of the color had drained from his face, his eyes wide and panicked as he struggles to calm down his breathing. Taehyun was usually so stoic, so composed; you’ve never seen him this anxious before. 

“I’m okay—“ you start, but never get the chance to finish; he gathers up your wrists in his hands and brings them to his face to inspect them for injuries, rope burn; your squirming and pulling had caused the cords to dig tight into your wrists and bite irritated pink marks into your skin. You didn't even notice they were aching until he freed them, too caught up in trying to swallow down your shock. His worried gaze is so intense it burns into your skin, sends your tummy erupting with butterflies. You can’t help but let out a weak watery giggle as he gently soothes over the marks with his thumbs. “Tyunnie, i’m okay, I promise. It wasn’t the ropes.” 

“What was it then? What happened, honey?” he presses still, angelic voice soft and gentle, a high contrast to the wild look on his face. “What do you need?”

“It was just… too much.” you mutter meekly, averting your eyes, your face hot. It sounds so trivial when said aloud— you were beginning to worry that maybe you had overreacted. Taehyun wouldn't get mad at you for that... would he?

“Too much?” he echoes, cupping your cheek in his palm. “What was too much?” 

“…Everything.” you admit after a moment of hesitation. “It was just all... I don’t know. it’s stupid.” 

“It’s not stupid.” Taehyun retorts immediately, his brow furrowing. Any attempt you make to soothe his worry seems to do the opposite.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me, everything just felt off—“

“Hey.” he snaps, cutting you off; he bends his head to look you deep in the eyes, cinnamon honey gaze so sharp and passionate that it takes your breath away. “Nothing is wrong with you, Y/N. It’s okay for it to be too much sometimes. Don’t you dare feel guilty about stopping me.”

“Well, I—“

“I mean it. Please, baby, I don’t ever want to hurt you.”

Your bottom lip wobbles a bit as you rack your frazzled brain for something to say. Luckily, Taehyun beats it to you. “What do you need, angel?” he repeats, his fingers carressing your chin.

“You.” you whimper, reaching out to wrap your arms around his shoulders. “Hold me, please?” 

You’re enveloped in Taehyun's thick arms in an instant, strong and warm as he cradles you against his chest, tucks your head underneath his chin so you can listen to his heartbeat. You’re completely enveloped by him, the comforting scent of his cologne, his chest rumbling when he starts to hum a soothing melody. Tears wet your eyelashes and you blink frantically to keep them from overflowing. 

“Of course, baby, I love you so much, my strong girl. Do you want me to run you a bath? We can take it together if you’d like— I’ll wash you, take care of you. I’ll take care of you all night.”

And he does.

The warm soapy bath water washes away all of your worries, leaves your mind blissfully blank as Taehyun massages shampoo through your hair; with your back pressed against his broad chest, snug in between his legs in the tub, you've never felt safer, more at home.

His princess, protected from all of the evil in the world. Her face peppered with gentle kisses when she leans her head back against his shoulder and closes her eyes.

“Angel?” Taehyun asks quietly, breaking the comfortable silence. His soft plump lips ghost your temple, feather light against your warm wet skin. It’s difficult to focus on what he’s saying and not just the rough, husky timber of his usually light voice. 

"Hm?"

"Why didn't you stop me sooner?"

You crack your eyes open. “…What do you mean?”

“why did you push yourself like that instead of telling me right when things stopped feeling good? We use the light system for this exact reason.” he goes quiet for a moment before timidly adding “... You trust me, right?” 

“Of course I trust you, Tyun!” you rush to reassure him, the water in the tub sloshing over the rim when you turn to face him. Neither of you pay it any mind. “It wasn’t you, baby, I... I didn’t want to disappoint you. It was a punishment.”

To your dismay, taehyuns face crumples at your admission. He tucks a strand of wet soapy hair behind your ear. “Y/N… using your safeword would never disappoint me. I don't care if it was a punishment-- I want you to use it, honey. Anytime you need to. I want you to let me know how you’re feeling.” 

“…I’m sorry.” you whisper, bowing your head— Taehyun was quick to lift it back up with his knuckle beneath your chin. Looking into his big beautiful eyes was like looking directly into the sun. 

“Don’t be sorry. Don't ever be afraid to use your safewords ever again, okay?” 

“Okay.” you echo, a small smile creeping it’s way onto your face. “I love you.”

Taehyun presses his lips to yours in the chastest, sweetest kiss of any he had given that night. “I love you more.”

𝒯O𝔐ORROW X 𝒯O𝒢E𝒯HER 𝒯A𝒢L𝒾S𝒯 ⪼

@dwaekkicidal , @11vr1 , @jjunbug , @enigmaticaphrodite , @jellymochii, @mapofthemazeinthemirror, @fullbodyblankets , @hyunj00 , @yunverie, @izzyy-stuff, @arcturus444, @love-ning, @gncbnahc

to be added to my taglist, please send me an ask or fill out the form here!

[catsconflictscopicsandchamomile]

-I personally find it far more common for fandom to be "twisted beyond recognition" when the original work is from a large/corporate creator

-sometimes talking to people about art and media is frustrating. that doesn't mean the people you are talking to need to change the way they engage with art. it just means that it frustrates you- the way that they take joy from a work is not the way you do, in fact its incompatible with your mode of interaction with the work- and yet you're both finding joy in it. and that in itself can honestly be fucking frustrating! you like the same thing in drastically different ways. if the whole fandom gets behind a fanon interpretation, it can feel like betrayal or loss of control, and people can even become toxic in defending the fanon (and THAT, and ONLY THAT, is where this becomes an issue). I've also left fandoms because of this. I've also seen fandoms bloom, transform and become something beautiful because of this.

-yes, seeing people seemingly stuck in fandoms where they do nothing but complain is really frustrating. just leave if you don't like it, right? I don't understand what people get from doing that, but I also understand that at the end of the day it isn't my business. We can't stage interventions for every online stranger seemingly trapped engaging with media that they hate (I say, basically doing exactly that in this post....)

-I do think tumblr needs to be more supportive of original works, but also some people (myself included) have perfectly feasible stand-alone stories that we CHOOSE to coat in what you described as "fandom paint". We do this because we like to! It makes us happy!

People will claim to be a fan of some thing and then hate all of the themes and motifs and story lines and plot lines and protagonists and antagonists like man I don’t think that you actually like it here

[kirlicues]

Rockwell Drive | Sims 2 Residential Lot Download

The Rockwell Drive house features quoining accents to give interest to the large swaths of red brick. It's built on a 3x3 lot and has 3 bedrooms and 3 baths.

It also has beautiful garden spaces, as well as a pool because swimming to gain body skill is so much more fun than running on the treadmill for 10 hours. Let's take a short tour and I'll tell you more about how this lot came about because you have nothing better to do with your time. Jump to the bottom of this post if you want to download it into your game. 😊

Here's what the backyard looks like:

Several years BC (before children) I found it entertaining to set up a household of Sims (Sims 1 was the only game out at the time) and just watch them interact without interfering. It was quite funny, until the kitchen caught on fire, and then it wasn't. 😧 I hate letting my sims have bad experiences, especially when I could intervene and stop them (now if only that could be the case with real life kids as they grow up)!

I decided to try this again with the Sims 2, but armed with several hacks that make the characters a little smarter when it comes to fires and a little more motivated to go to work (further reducing the chance of fires). It was much more successful and other than the sims hogging the computer (until I removed it) didn't give me near as many grey hairs. 😂

This was the house that that family lived in.

Back then it looked a bit different, but it's been freshly remodeled inside, and given some colorful wall treatments to make up for the seas of red brick on the exterior. Please feel free to redecorate it to fit your sim family's needs though.

Here's what the floor plan looks like:

1st Floor: Clockwise from bottom left: garage, sin room, downstairs family room, stairwell, kitchen, dining room, living room, entry, bathroom, and laundry room.

2nd Floor: Clockwise from bottom left: kids bedroom 1, kids bedroom 2, laundry room, upstairs family room, master bedroom, bathroom, walk-in closet, hall way, and kids bathroom.

Rockwell Drive: MF | SFS

All EPs and SPs are required.

*I highly recommend that you have the PerfectPlants mod from TwoJeffs*

I’ve run this home through the Lot Compressor so any random references to sims that aren’t there should be removed. I have also run this lot through the Lot Cleaner to remove any bits of buggy code. This lot comes with a shiny custom thumbnail so it has even more curb appeal in your Lots and Houses bin! 😄

This home has only 2 pieces of CC, which you may already have in your game. These can easily be replaced or omitted if you don’t want them though.

CC List (Included): -Maxis Match Wall Cabinets by CTNutmegger at ModtheSims -Functional Washer and Dryer by mustluvcats at ModtheSims

CC Not included: -Maxis Match Chimney recolors from Mod The Sims (I'm not sure which one I used at the moment so grab them both if you don't already have them!) -Lost & Found BENNO Coffee table from the Ikea Stuff Pack

I ALWAYS recommend using the Sims 2 Pack Clean installer to install lot files.

[makeyoumine69]

Hello dear people in my beloved American Psycho fandom! I couldn't force myself to write this post because I didn't know how to do it, but I think now is the right time. I promised myself not to bring personal stuff into my writing, but since one thing affects another, I think I should finally speak up.

This year started pretty bad for me, I was suffering from a huge apathy and my mental health was probably in the worst state in the last few years. I had to cut ties with a lot of people and distance myself, and I'm really sorry for doing that, but I had no choice because I was literally dying from the inside. When I came back to Tumblr in 2022, I was absolutely alone and I had no friends, no followers and in some ways I felt calm and peaceful. I always thought and probably still think that I should be alone and isolated from everyone, like a soulless writing machine just producing fanfictions for people to consume. Maybe this is not a bad thing, because interacting with people always carries the risk of getting bruised?

Anyway, the thing that broke me completely was the news I received in the last days of January that I would be fired in February because my company decided to close the project I was working on due to the high inflation and bad economic situation in Russia. So now I have to find a job within February because I have a lot of financial responsobilities like paying for the medical treatment my family is getting. My grandmother was diagnosed with kidney cancer and her surgery was paid for by me and my fiancé, but the medicine costs a lot, so… after I told my mom about my news, she blamed me for everything. I was not really surprised though, considering that I have been having fights with my whole family for the past few months over different topics, but mostly they hate me for my political opinions. Whenever I say that I am tired of the war, sanctions and all the other stuff that 2022 has brought, they call me a fucking traitor. My family is ready to cancel me just because I told them I was tired of living in isolation, that I had even forgotten what my life was like before the war. My fiancé is literally the only person in my family who supports me, and even though I'm going to lose my job, he told me he would do anything for me, for us, but I don't want to be a burden. I'm really scared about the future, I think I really am now.

So, I'm sorry for not finishing the Christmas fics I promised to post, I'll try to finish them soon. Also, I'm sorry for not being active with fulfilling the requests and replying to your asks. I'm really sorry. And I know some of you might think that why I keep writing new series and working on different stuff while I have WIPs I need to finish—I'm just trying to follow my muse and I can say that it's really unstable these days, but I'm really trying to do my best and deliver something good for all of you!

I also want to thank all of you who have supported me with your donations! It means the world to me! Unfortunately, my account on the platform I was using for donations has been suspended because of… DOLLARS! They think I'm a scammer or something because the dollar is such a cursed currency in Russia right now, so I don't know if they'll unban my account, I hope they will.

Okay, that was longer than I thought it would be. To end this crazy rant, I just want to thank you guys for sticking with me no matter how fucked up I might be! I believe that one day I will find my way back to myself so that I can come back strong and refreshed!

[gabessquishytum]

Okay I literally haven't interacted on tumblr for years but I scroll through dreamling stuff a lot and I see your posts all the time and I know I won't ever write this myself cause I'm an ADHD mess but I have this idea I can't stop thinking about: So you know all those fics where Hob gets amnesia for some reason or another and Dream has to take care of him cause he can't remember anything about who he his or that he's immortal. I keep thinking, what if he only lost like 30 years of memories due to a specific curse or something (idk maybe he pisses off a witch and they're like "have fun being a literal baby in an adult man's body muahahaha!") so the last thing he remembers it was 1992 and he was in the process of establishing the New Inn since he was stood up three years ago. Cut to current and he and Dream have been dating for months after reuniting and being friends for a while and falling in love (naturally) and Dream visits regularly and sporadically so while Hob is trying to figure out what fucking year it is and how he's suddenly a professor when just the other day he was applying for classes and how does he now live in the inn that he literally just started building a month ago WTF IS GOING ON!!?!?!

Cut to Dream to showing up out of the blue and Hob freaking out because his stranger is back and acting super sweet and friendly and what the actual fuck is going on!!

Dream of course figures out something is wrong and gets Hob to come clean and he is murderous, How DARE someone put a curse on HIS HOB!!! I don't really have an exact idea of how this is all rectified, maybe Dream tracks down the witch and tortures them until they take the spell back, maybe he removes the curse himself since he's just that powerful, maybe it's broken with true love's kiss?? (lmao idk, I'm not super into that trope but if that's what you wanna go for be my guest)

Omg I feel so blessed that you went to the trouble of writing this out for me, friend! Yay!!

I feel like it would be incredible to see Hob going back to post-1989 abandonment trauma. In his mind he's still desperately trying to get over the fact that Dream didn't show up. Realistically he's not coping all that well, although he's setting himself up in his new life, he's still crying a lot and making questionable decisions and getting blackout drunk at 2pm. This trauma added together with the utter confusion of being thrust into a place and time that he doesn't know, REALLY freaks him out.

So Dream has to go into caretaking mode and make sure that Hob doesn't have a total breakdown. He's a little better when Dream is around, but he's still so confused and tearful a lot of the time. He needs a lot of reassurance from Dream, lots of explanation about 21st century life, and Dream is happy to provide.

I have this idea of the curse slowly wearing off over time, because Dream has taken care of Hob so well. Maybe one of the rules of the curse was that it would last until someone truly cared for Hob, body and soul. Dream still threatens the witch though of course. He's determined that no one will ever hurt Hob again (himself included, because now he knows exactly how upset Hob was by his abandonment).

When Hob fully regains his memories he drags Dream straight to bed and profusely thanks him for his sweet and tender care. Dream would gladly do it all again for nothing... but the sex IS a nice reward.