#none of the implications of anything are explored

[gatheringbones]

[“Instead of presuming trans femininity’s coherence in advance and then using history to certify it, this book examines where and when trans femininity became a fault line in broader histories, including the repressive practices of colonial government, the regulation of sex work, the policing of urban space, and the line between the formal and informal economy. In this way, the method of this book is deceptively simple: it uses the history of trans misogyny to understand where trans-feminized people were lit up by the clutches of violence and how they responded to its aggressions. In doing so, we learn what makes trans misogyny unique and get a glimpse at how wildly diverse people around the world have come to find themselves implicated in trans femininity and trans womanhood, whether or not they wanted to be.

For these reasons, I maintain a difference between trans femininity and trans womanhood or trans women. The first is meant to signal a broad classification by outside observers, including aesthetic criteria and the history of ideas attached to people who have been trans-feminized. Trans womanhood and women, on the other hand, name people who saw themselves as intentionally belonging to a shared category—in other words, who tried to live in the world recognized as women, whatever that category meant to them contextually. Everyone in this book may have been trans-feminized, and all may have been brought into the orbit of trans femininity, but only some considered themselves to be trans women in response. These careful, empirical distinctions remind that trans misogyny has had the effect of pulling huge swaths of people into relation with one another, like Black trans women in New York City and kathoeys in Bangkok, who but for the accidents of history may never have seen each other as having anything in common. It does not weaken the category of trans femininity, or the political project of trans feminism, to examine trans women alongside hijras, street queens, transvestites, and Two-Spirit people, even if few to none of the latter would identify as trans women. On the contrary, it reveals just how narrow the Western definition of woman has been, since many groups of people reject it as a colonial limitation, even when it arrives in a trans idiom.

Some of the fault lines this book explores remain sources of major friction to this day. Is trans femininity best understood in relation to womanhood, or does its history suggest that gay men’s culture is its better reference? Much would seem to be at stake in the answer, for if trans women are women, period, as the adage goes today, why does so much of their history involve gay men? From late-nineteenth-century sexology’s concept of “the invert” to present-day fights over whether trans women belong in drag, the mixing of gender and sexual frameworks has long produced anxiety directed at trans femininity. Rather than pretend that deciding in one direction or the other is desirable, let alone possible, A Short History of Trans Misogyny emphasizes how gender and sexuality, or what is gay and what is trans feminine, have generally been blurred for most people. This book explores what kind of womanhood trans women acquire by doing sex work and considers the street queens of the mid-twentieth century who answered to the word gay precisely because their trans femininity had made them the queens of something called “the gay world.” Gay men turned to them to reflect on the electrifying promise—or horrifying possibility—of falling down the proverbial rabbit hole from effeminacy into outright femininity. Street queens appear all over the gay male cultural canon because their proximity to gay men represented the threat and freedom of “going all the way.”

Trans women and trans femininity, from this book’s perspective, aren’t so definitively excluded or erased as they are degraded and punished by those who lust after them in anger, fascination, and affection. Though I bracket trans-femininized people from other kinds of trans people—namely, trans men—this book has no separatist impulse. It doesn’t argue that trans women or trans femininity must be taken up in isolation to do them justice, or that trans misogyny is the responsibility of any single group, including men. Nor does it subscribe to the simplistic notion that some kinds of people are inherently affected by trans misogyny while others are cleanly exempt from it. A Short History of Trans Misogyny stresses that gender categories are intensely social, even if they are arranged in hierarchies. Trans femininity, just like non-trans womanhood or male heterosexuality, doesn’t come into the world on an island. Each one of us emerges as individuals to know ourselves only through our entangled relationships to those who are not like us—which is, strictly speaking, everyone. Indeed, the root fear common to trans-misogynist women, gay men, straight men, nonbinary people, or even certain trans women comes from needing the trans femininity of others as a foil for their place in the world.

Gender as a system coerces and maintains radical interdependence, regardless of anyone’s identity or politics. Trans misogyny is one particularly harsh reaction to the obligations of that system—obligations guaranteed by state as much as by civil society. The more viciously or evangelically any trans misogynist delivers invectives against the immoral, impolitic, or dangerous trans women in the world, the more they admit that their gender and sexual identities depend on trans femininity in a crucial way for existence.

Understanding this primary interdependence between gender and sexual positions in the hegemonic Western system, this book pairs trans-feminized subjects in each chapter with people whose relationships to them are disavowed in misogyny. By telling stories through their enmeshment, this book refuses to pretend that trans-feminized people are alone, isolated, and suffering because they need rescue. This book refuses to pretend there is only one form that trans womanhood and trans femininity take, or that the Western model of gender identity and bourgeois individualism, with its simplistic understanding of oppression, is all that useful except as a tool of discipline and domination. And though it cannot tabulate every relevant entry in what would be an impossibly long list, this book insists on holding everyone accountable for the degradation of trans femininity. The collective power of trans-feminized people, including trans women, lies in how many others rely on us to secure their claim to personhood.

In other words, the dolls hold all the receipts, and the time has come to call them in.”]

jules gill-peterson, from a short history of trans misogyny, 2024

[twodoorsnotone]

Why is no one talking about how shit the WWDITS ending was I just watched it and I've not seen a more anticlimactic, unsatisfying and disappointing ending in. Forever. Especially disappointing because I have enjoyed this show so much :/

[audliminal]

Survivability Bias Pt 2

Masterpost

Danny spends the next few days exploring the town more, while he considers the implications of everything he’d learned  at the library. He’d taken notes, but they’re not exactly the best. Danny’s never been that good at taking notes, after all, but he has a pretty good memory, so the various key words and few quotes he’d scribbled down are plenty useful in reminding him of all the wild shit he’d read about.

There’d been a lot of history involved in the whole meta situation. It seems like these so-called meta humans, and various other races (species? Danny doesn’t know nearly enough about the cultural implications of that) have been around long enough to have had a significant impact on the world at large. And yet, at the same time, there really hadn’t been a lot of personal information on any of the heroes. Oh, there’d been plenty on some of the villains - and of course there’d still be villains here, he’s not lucky enough to escape that - but aside from various speculation about their romantic lives, and a few acknowledgements of family ties here and there, there’d been very few details about where most of them actually came from.

Superman, for example (he seemed to be this world’s go-to example of metas and superheroes), is listed as being an alien, who’s powers come from his biologies unique interaction with this planet’s atmosphere, although it doesn’t explain anything about what that means. Interestingly, there seems to be almost no speculation about Superman’s so-called secret identity. Only about half the listed heroes seem to have one according to the public, but Danny knows that song and dance too well to fall for it. Honestly, they’re even more likely to have a secret identity than Danny himself, seeing as Danny’s alter ego is literally dead. Not that ghosts seem to be much of a thing here.

He’d felt so silly looking up information about ghosts, right before leaving the library. Compared to the deep dive into recent history, googling “are ghosts real” must have looked insane if anybody could see it. The answer he’d returned had been not unlike the way things had been when he was ten or twelve. Before the portal, you’d see dumb ghost hunter shows where they never actually saw much of anything. Ghosts were, like, poltergeists that moved your furniture around and slammed the doors shut. The results here had been a little more interesting - clearly in a world where superheroes are a fact of life, fantastical stuff is a little more rational, and the speculation was clearly affected by that fact, but it still had been, seemingly, all speculation.

Of course, none of that really mattered when it came to Superman. Danny was at least ninety percent sure he wasn’t a ghost. And even if he somehow was, it didn’t change the fact that he either has a secret identity, or he basically never takes part in society. And if he doesn’t have a secret identity, then the question very much becomes why not. Because that means he either has no real reason to care about anyone here (which seems implausible), or he’s unable to spend that time in public. It’s that possibility that’s knocked out any chance of Danny approaching any of the heroes. Because there’s always the possibility that the endorsed heroes are being used to lure other metahumans in. And Danny doesn’t know nearly enough about this world to make any kind of judgment on what’s most likely here. After all, historically there’s plenty of examples of governments that  work with specific people among targeted groups, in order to more successfully take out the others. it tends not to end well for those people when it’s all over, but anyone who’s short-sighted or even just backed into a wall enough can fall for that.

Hell, the GIW had actually tried that line on Danny once or twice, not that he’d ever accepted. After all, they’d never realized that was actually sort of alive, so their pitches had always been... less than convincing. 

Danny blinks, reaching out to touch the brick wall in front of him. He hadn’t meant to come back here, but honestly at this point, he really shouldn’t be surprised. This random little alley on side street wouldn’t be interesting at all to anyone else. But if Danny stares long enough, he can almost see the green-tinged light of the portal that brought him here. Not that he’d ever seen the portal from this side. He hadn’t turned to look until after the light had faded. The idea of seeing his friends’ faces through the swirling green had been too much.

They had all known exactly what it meant when he came here. The difficulty of the journey was the point. Between the anti-ecto acts gaining not just mainstream awareness, but support, and the GIW gaining access to better funding and training, well, the second the GIW had started successfully ending ghosts, it seemed like all the denizens of the zone had collectively decided to stay the fuck home.

At first Danny had enjoyed it, had relaxed and been excited to finally be able to focus on just being a teen. But the GIW hadn’t calmed down, had just started going even more on the offensive, and the second he and Jazz had noticed agents showing up casually at their house, everyone had gone into full alert.

That’s how they found out that the next goal was to apparently take the fight to the zone itself.

The conclusion had been easy from that point. The portal needed to be destroyed, and fast. But with the ghost zone blocked off (and Danny’s death being the unknowing link that made the portal ever work in the first place), that would leave Danny as one of three remaining targets.

They’d all immediately agreed that Vlad could figure out his own solution. Dani- well, she had been traveling, but the second she turned up, the others had made plans to send her on her own one way portal trip too.

Of course, the likelihood that she’d end up here is probably minuscule. So he’s alone.

“Hey,” a stern voice cuts through Danny’s thoughts. He glances over to the person who’s standing at the door to a building. “There’s no loitering here.”

Right. It’s almost easy to forget, in the face of his life’s inescapable absurdity, that to everyone else in this town, he just seems like a possibly-homeless delinquent. Not that the delinquent part is unfamiliar.

“Sorry,” Danny mutters belatedly, realizing that the person is just waiting as he stares at them like a weirdo. He’s not very good with people anymore. Not that he was that good to begin with. Phantom had been a Ghostly Menace, constantly destroying the town with his fights, nobody had expected him to function as a person. Nobody had thought he was a person. But as Danny Fenton- well, he’d fallen short of just about every expectation set at Danny Fenton’s feet.

Distantly he wonders if his friends even bothered to disguise his disappearance. He’d always kind of wondered if his parents would ever notice if he and Jazz just- left. School definitely noticed, though most of the faculty would probably take it as completely expected. After all Danny Fenton was a terrible student, constantly skipping class and never doing his work, and even when he was in class he was usually halfway to falling asleep anyways. Lancer had certainly lectured him about his lack of discipline more than enough. So they might just come to the conclusion that he’d dropped out and run away.

He doesn’t know if he’d prefer that, honestly. The truth is messed up and complicated and frankly, unbelievable. But maybe if they knew the truth at least one person might feel a fraction of sympathy for all the bullshit that he’d been dealing with. Funny, Danny thinks, how coming here feels more like a death than when I actually died.

[ohbueckers]

WHAT’S MY NAME? you got that something that keeps me so off balance. baby, you’re a challenge. let’s explore your talent.

THIS IS PART TWO! part one here. pairing, paige bueckers x tutor!oc. notes, blah blah blah place name proper name backstory stuff. warnings, sexual content & interruptions.

“—and she literally asked me what my name was. you heard that? and was dead serious, too.”

the team—well, most of the team burst out into a fit of laughter, their voices echoing through the locker room. it was game day—the same game paige had invited liana to. the same game the blonde paid for liana to go to. they’d only talked about a handful the past few days, the two of them shamefully finding excuses to text each other. the last thing they’d talked about was the game, the blonde confirming everything. in her own words, the girl needed a good ol’ uconn women’s basketball experience.

“man, what’s the point of being famous if people don’t even know who you are?” ice snickered, shaking her head as she pulled her jersey over her head. nika leaned back against her locker, her laugh coming out in short, breathy bursts as she tried to catch her breath.

paige let a small smirk tug at the corners of her lips, trying to play it cool. but deep down, it was bothering her more than she wanted to admit. she was paige bueckers. everyone knew her name. and yet here was this girl, this ridiculously pretty girl, who had managed to make her feel like just another student. that wasn’t supposed to happen, but it felt good in a way.

she pushed the thought away as the team continued to poke fun, turning her attention to her shoes, making sure they were laced up tight. they would be playing maryland, and although paige thought it would be an easy dub, she hoped liana wouldn’t be in viewpoint. she wouldn’t be able to focus that way.

“yo, paige.” kk’s voice cut through the laughter, her tone a bit more serious. paige glanced up, catching the way kk hesitated before she spoke again. “i don’t know if this matters to you or whatever, but… i think liana might be seeing someone.”

the words hung in the air for a moment, and paige’s grin faltered just slightly. she raised an eyebrow, waiting for kk to continue.

“like, there’s this girl me and aubrey saw her on campus with the other day. and she’s been checking her phone a lot when i’m around,” kk added, her voice low as if she didn’t want to make a big deal out of it. but paige caught the implication, her attention immediately shifting to aubrey.

she turned to her teammate, her eyes narrowing just a bit. “you saw her too?”

aubrey looked up, hesitating for a moment before nodding. “yeah, i saw them together a couple of times. seemed like more than just friends, you know?” she tried to put it into perspective for her, but paige didn’t even look like she was listening.

for a second, paige let the thought sink in. another girl, huh? she didn’t know why, but it almost made her smirk. this wasn’t some random guy she could brush off. it was another girl—competition, maybe, but also an opportunity. it didn’t shake her confidence; it only made her more certain of what she wanted.

“bro. i don’t give a fuck about none of that.” her voice was a slight mumble. her tone easy, dismissive. she didn’t care who liana was seeing. if anything, the idea of a challenge made this more fun. “she can have my cake and eat it, too.”

more laughs, because paige truly is just ridiculous. then nika, ever the one to call out paige’s chaos, jumped in. “okay, messy boots. do you even have time for a girlfriend right now?”

“who said anything about a girlfriend?”

azzi raised an eyebrow from her seat, studying her best friend’s face. she couldn’t quite pinpoint it, but something told her that this girl, liana, was consuming her thoughts way more than a regular amount.

paige adjusted her jersey, her mind already shifting back to the game. she needed to focus. there’d be time to deal with liana later. for now, it was all about basketball.

fortunately, the team lucked out and the game against maryland went down exactly as paige had expected—an easy dub, with the final score settling at 80 to 48. she wiped the sweat off her brow as the final buzzer sounded, her grin widening as the cheers of the crowd washed over her.

after the game, paige made her way to the sidelines where a cluster of fans waited, eager for autographs and pictures. she always made time for this part. it was grounding, in a way, reminding her why she did this in the first place. plus, it was fun. she smiled as she signed a few basketballs, shoes, and chatting easily with her supporters. she even spotted a little girl in a uconn jersey who blushed so hard she could barely speak when paige hugged her. she loved these moments. they made the grind worth it.

“paige, you did amazing today!” one fan gushed, shoving a poster her way.

the chatter almost always overlapped. “appreciate it,” paige replied, scribbling her signature. she tossed a few jokes, snapped some pictures, and soaked in the attention. but even with the crowd in front of her, her thoughts kept drifting to liana.

luckily, the girl had been out of sight during the game, so she was mostly out of mind. mostly. paige couldn’t help but wonder where she was—if she’d seen the game or if she’d already left.

as if on cue, paige caught sight of a familiar figure approaching from the edge of the court. her heart did a little flip that she wasn’t ready to acknowledge, so she focused on finishing up an autograph, trying to play it cool. but as liana got closer, paige found herself fumbling with the sharpie, her fingers betraying her nerves. she cursed under her breath, quickly adjusting her grip and finishing it off.

finally turning to liana, she shot her the biggest smile, her hands playing with the cap. liana’s eyes swept over her, taking in the sight of paige in her jersey, her arms still tense from the game and too buff to stay cordial. the girl’s breath hitched, and there was a moment where paige swore she saw something in her gaze—something like admiration, maybe more. it made paige stand a little taller, a little more ego-fulfilled because of what she’d picked up on.

“well, look who decided to show up,” paige teased, twirling the sharpie between her fingers as if she hadn’t just fumbled it a second ago. “you come to support your student, huh? very admirable of you, teach.”

liana smiled, her eyes still lingering on paige’s arms purposefully before meeting her gaze. “gotta support my students, right? especially the ones who are a little… extra credit.”

paige chuckled, not being able to contain her shit-eating grin as she rocked back and forth on her feet. she tipped her head back, maintaining eye contact the way she always did. “extra credit? i’ll take that as a compliment.” paige patted her chest, more specifically, her heart.

“ you should,” liana shot back, her voice light, eyebrows raised and teeth showing in a way that made paige’s chest tighten. it almost felt too good.

for a moment, paige forgot about the crowd around her. it was just liana and her, standing there in the aftermath of a game that didn’t seem nearly as important as this moment. she peeped how liana’s gaze lingered on her jersey, her arms, and even the construction of her face.

“so, listen,” paige started, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. liana stepped closer, moving out of the way so someone could get past them. she couldn’t help but feel a little bit exposed under paige’s eyes, but she liked it. not only was she taller, but she looked down at her like she was prey. liana wondered if she looked at everyone like this while talking to them. “a few of us are heading to ted’s after this. you should come.”

liana hesitated, just like before, but paige could tell she was considering it as she stuttered. “i don’t know…”

paige didn’t let her finish. “bring her.”

liana’s eyebrows shot up, clearly taken aback. “what?”

“the girl you be with,” paige said, her voice steady and accent heavy. “she can come. jus’ want you there.”

liana’s expression softened. paige bueckers had been asking about her. if not that, someone had obviously known she’d cared enough to report back. liana continued to look at her, a mix of surprise and something else that paige couldn’t quite pin down. but whatever it was, it made her feel like she was winning. and paige liked to win.

“alright,” liana finally said, her lips curving into a small smile. “maybe i’ll stop by.”

“good,” paige replied, her grin returning full force. “i’ll see you there, then.”

ted’s was buzzing by the time paige and the team settled in. the usual crowd filled the bar—uconn students, locals. the team had claimed their spot, laughter spilling from their table as they recapped the game and teased each other over everything from missed shots to the post-game interviews. paige was in the middle of telling a story, spinning it out with her usual charm, but her eyes kept darting to the entrance. she was waiting, though she’d never admit it.

it had been about 30 minutes when she saw liana walk in. but she wasn’t alone. a girl followed close behind her, as expected, and paige took her time sizing her up, sucking in a breath.

naomi had brown dreadlocks that hung just past her shoulders, neat and well-kept. she wore a black tee that clung to her frame, paired with simple jeans and boots that looked worn in but sturdy. her presence was different from liana’s, who had changed into a mini skirt and a crop top—more solid, less playful. it made paige’s fingers itch to push at that calmness, to see what it would take to crack it.

as liana and naomi approached the table, paige kept her expression neutral, leaning back in her seat, arms crossed like she was just another teammate hanging out. no big deal. but anyone who knew her knew that she was anything but unbothered right now.

“hey, guys,” liana greeted, her voice warm as always as kk pulled her into an informal side hug, the rest of the team welcoming her normally, some a little more hyper with liquid courage. naomi stood beside her, offering a polite nod to the group.

paige took in the scene, her eyes flicking between the two. landing on liana, she let out a, “hey,” her tone casual. “nice to meet you.” that one was for naomi, paige’s head jerking up in an acknowledgment nod.

“same,” naomi replied, her voice smooth and even, her gaze briefly scanning paige before settling elsewhere.

introductions were quick, and soon enough, naomi found herself caught up in a conversation with aubrey about some mutual interest that paige couldn’t care less about. she watched as aubrey expertly engaged the girl, pulling her into the group with ease. aubrey had always been good at that. it was all too convenient, really, how aubrey was handling the distraction, and paige didn’t miss the cheeky smile aubrey sent her over naomi’s shoulder. it was a silent you’re welcome that paige shook her head at.

with naomi’s attention diverted, paige turned fully toward liana. the energy between them shifted slightly, becoming more charged now that there wasn’t anyone watching too closely. paige leaned in just a bit, enough to close the gap. “drinks?” the blonde suggested, chuckling at liana’s immediate nod as she slid in next to her, dragging the menu in front of her.

“you not a usual?” paige asked, eyebrows furrowing as she looked over her shoulder and at the menu. there was a sense of curiosity beneath her casual tone, a question of why someone like liana wasn’t a regular in a place like ted’s.

“nah, i don’t go out often,” liana replied. she picked up the menu, perfectly manicured fingers following under the words and scanning it like she was genuinely considering her options, but paige could tell her mind was elsewhere.

paige made the connection easily—it explained why she hadn’t seen liana around before. she leaned back slightly, taking a moment to study her profile. something she’d grown accustomed to. “makes sense,” she said, her voice more thoughtful now. “probably why i haven’t seen you around.”

liana nodded, still looking at the menu. “yeah, i’m usually busy with work. tutoring and stuff.”

paige’s curiosity peaked, and she turned her gaze and body more fully on liana. “so, how do you know naomi?” she asked, her tone carefully casual, though the question held more weight than she let on.

liana hesitated for a moment, then shrugged, her expression slipping into something a little more guarded. “we met through mutual friends. it’s… nothing serious,” she added quickly, her voice firm, as if she needed to make that point clear.

“right,” paige replied, her eyes lingering on liana, catching that hint of uncertainty beneath her words. was she lying? why’d she feel the need to?

liana met her blue hues, her lips curving into a small smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “right,” she echoed, though there was a slight tremor in her voice. they both knew what she was trying to convince herself of, and it wasn’t quite working.

a couple more drinks in, liana and paige had loosened up a mile. they talked about where they were from, life on campus, their experiences obviously extremely different, and the blonde had even gotten around to asking her about her tattoo. the one behind her ear. it was some intricate thing her mom used to draw before she passed—right before her first year.

somehow, the deep conversation topics hadn’t made anything awkward or less easy to talk about. it was too easy. and in all honesty, quite scary.

“you looked really good on the court tonight,” liana admitted, her voice softer, more personal as she let her eyes roam over paige. definitely liquid courage, but there was denying they’d had the same amount, and there was no mistaking the interest behind those words, the way her gaze lingered a little too long on paige’s arms, her legs.

“liana!” paige groaned, sitting back in her chair as a sheepish smile took over her face. it was the kind of grin that she tried to hide but couldn’t quite manage, not when liana was looking at her like that.

“what?” she responded, her tone innocent enough and high-pitched through a giggle, though her curls bounced with each turn of her head, making it clear she knew exactly what she was doing.

“you can’t say stuff like that,” paige muttered, though her grin only widened, betraying her words. she leaned in, elbows resting on the table, her eyes locked on liana’s like a challenge.

“why not?” liana shot back, leaning against her elbow, her voice dropping into a teasing whisper. somehow, her eyes looked more doe under the dimly lit bar, more seducing you could say. “you don’t like compliments?”

paige’s eyes narrowed, but there was no malice behind it—just the spark of a challenge she was more than willing to take on. “i like them just fine. but coming from you…”

she arched an eyebrow. “what about me?”

paige chuckled, shaking her head slightly. “you know exactly what i’m talking ‘bout.” she didn’t back down despite being ultimately defeated by liana’s boldness tonight. she could get used to it.

liana’s smile softened, the teasing edge still there, but there was something more genuine beneath it. “maybe i do,” she admitted quietly. she turned away, paige licking her lips as she studied the way her lips wrapped around her straw, and—yeah, that was it.

paige reached out, her fingers brushing against liana’s as she pulled her out of her seat, not bothering with excuses anymore. the need to be alone with her, to be away from naomi and her glances every couple minutes, was too strong to ignore. and it’s not like paige hadn’t thought about doing this since the moment she laid eyes on her, so…

liana was on her in an instant, pressing paige’s back against the single bathroom wall. her hands were everywhere—fingers threading into paige’s braids, tugging just enough to make her groan into her mouth. paige’s hands found liana’s hips before strolling down to her ass, lost in the sloppiness of the kiss and everything it brought—like another heartbeat. paige’s grip tightened on her thighs, pulling her closer, up into her arms and onto the sink.

liana was perched on the edge of the sink, legs pressed against the porcelain. it was a cold contrast, but the least of her worries. the kiss grew more desperate, more consuming, until paige pulled back slightly, her breath ragged, her eyes practically aching.

“you want this?” paige asked, her voice low, fingers already moving underneath liana’s skirt, seeking and teasing at the same time.

but just as her hand slipped higher, liana’s fingers wrapped around her wrist, stopping her. “it’s wrong,” liana whined slightly, as if it was hard to physically not do this. her eyes searched paige’s, trying to find a reason to stop, but it was clear she was struggling.

paige’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, her breath still coming in short, sharp bursts. “she your girlfriend?”

liana shook her head, the motion almost frantic, her curls bouncing with the movement. “no,” she whispered, the word barely audible above the pounding of their hearts.

the blonde’s lips curved into a slow smile. “then there’s no home to wreck,” she murmured. the moment those words left her mouth, it was like their thoughts snapped back into place, sharper and more urgent than before.

liana didn’t protest again. instead, she pulled paige closer by the collar of her shirt, the movement making her gasp, tongue poking the inside of her cheek with a smirk. paige’s hand found its way back under liana’s skirt, fingers grazing over the fabric of her underwear, teasing her.. make her squirm.

“look at you,” paige taunted, watching liana’s reactions. she slid her fingers back and forth, deliberately avoiding where liana wanted her most. “so wet already…“

her breathing picked up, hands gripping the edge of the sink as she tried to ground herself, her body betraying her, though. “paige, please…” she whispered, the desperation clear as day.

paige’s reaction was more than just one of satisfaction. just earlier this week she’d been asking what her name was, and now she was moaning it. her fingers finally slipped beneath the soaked fabric, finding her heat. she traced the outline of her folds, slow and deliberate, making liana whimper with every touch. her face stayed pressed into the blonde’s shoulder, the smell of some expensive cologne and fresh laundry filling her nostrils. she wanted every part of her.

paige didn’t make her wait any longer. she slipped one finger inside, feeling the tight warmth as liana clenched around her. she added her middle finger, her movements slow and deep, making sure she felt every inch. “so tight for me… say that shit again.”

liana took a moment to process what exactly she wanted her to say, her mind not even on the right planet. catching on, she moaned out a soft, “paige…” and she groaned. she started to thrust, her fingers moving and stopping at the base where her silver rings were. they curled up at one point in a come hither motion, the sensation causing liana to screw her eyes shut, mouth open pornographically wide.

liana moaned loudly, her back arching as paige’s pace quickened, the sound of their bodies filling the small bathroom. her thumb found her clit, rubbing tight circles that had liana gasping, her nails digging into her shoulders. “yes… right there… don’t—mm.. stop,” liana panted, her voice breaking with every thrust.

paige’s fingers worked relentlessly inside of her, her pace quickening as she felt liana tighten around her. she leaned in closer, her breath warm, and whispered in her ear, “i’m fuckin’ splitting you open, baby. you feel that?“

liana could only moan in response, her body shaking as paige’s thumb circled her clit with perfect precision, eliciting a different sound between each movement. she was right there, so close to coming, her mind completely lost in the moment. but just as she felt herself tipping over the edge, a sharp knock echoed through the bathroom door. “liana? you in there?” naomi’s voice cut through to the both of them, pulling liana back to reality with a harsh jolt. if that wasn’t a slap in the face, she didn’t know what was.

“fuck,” she mumbled, frustration clear in her tone as she clung to paige, trying to keep herself grounded in the moment, even as her mind screamed for her to get a grip.

paige’s own frustration mirrored liana’s, looking back at the door. she pulled her hand back with a quickness, watching liana struggle to catch her breath, deciding to help her down from the sink. she steadied her as if nothing had just happened between them, proceeding to follow up with a few lingering kisses on liana’s lips. intimate, sure—but blondie couldn’t resist.

“imma’ text you, alright?” her words were casual, but the look in her eyes wasn’t.

liana nodded, trying to get her thoughts in order, but she was still reeling from how quickly paige could shift from intense to gentle. it was throwing her off balance, and she didn’t like that. how does she do that? how does she make me want her even more everytime she says something? she knew she needed to get out of there before naomi started asking questions, but the entire situation didn’t feel real. they’d have some unfinished business to take care of by fate.

at the door, liana couldn’t help but fake a pout, a small attempt to regain some control, even if it was just a tease. but then paige stuck her fingers in her mouth mindlessly, licking them clean with wide eyes. liana’s mind went blank for a second, her first instinct being a gasp, heat flooding to her cheeks in a swarm as she swatted at paige’s arm. “you’re so���” she started, but paige’s low giggle cut her off, dodging the hits. god, she’s infuriating. infuriatingly cute.

“go on,” paige urged with that damn smirk, and liana knew she was right. she needed to walk out first, leave paige to follow behind like nothing had happened.

with one last look, liana stepped out of the bathroom, her heart pounding. as the door closed behind her, she took a deep breath, trying to steady herself.. not look suspicious.

naomi was waiting just outside, looking at liana with a questioning expression. “you good?”

she forced a smile, nodding quickly. “yeah, just… needed a minute.”

[silawastaken]

Thinking about Chuuya- specifically in reference to school aus.

Because Chuuya is SMART okay. He is one of very few people who can keep up with Dazai's chaos, from a combination of knowing him for so long and also from just being smart himself. In stormbringer, Chuuya is shown to at least accurately estimate the answer to rather complex physics equations that cannot be done in your head. He does it anyway. He has an advantage in this where he himself needs to be very concious of gravity and its affects and how it works, and he also has years of first hand experience with how it works he can apply practically to the situation to make estimates easier based on prior knowledge and experience. However, the biggest detriment to that in Chuuya has probably never seen the inside of a school in his life.

It's reasonable to assume that he receives some form of education in the PM as a teen, especially given the fact he needs to work with numbers for running the jewel market. He runs that market with the most success it's hard in years if I recall correctly, while likely not knowing his seven times table. (In chuuya's defense- I don't know my seven times table either and I have a HISTORY with physics that is actually largely sunshine and rainbows so.)

but he does physics that people who've been in school for YEARS fuck up. Mentally.

So he's far from stupid.

However- I am a firm believer in the Chuuya doesn't preform well in school. Regularly a B or C student. He doesn't fail, but he's not scoring the marks he could be.

Because things aren't explained the way he needs them to be. He questions why things work the way they do, explores other possibilities to a point where he confuses himself over the material because school only ever covers a surface level explaination of how and why things work, and expect students to just get it.

When Chuuya does understand something, he UNDERSTANDS it. It becomes common knowledge to him, he can remember it and apply it well in classes, any grades or scores on in class work about the material is scored high. But the second he's under test or exam conditions, he just blanks. It's not the stress or pressure, because he works well under both. It's the lack of practicality to it. It's question after question with no running line he can use to tie everything together and get it the way he needs too. On top of this, he doesn't understand the questions, with nuance and implications his brain isn't wired to pick up on, taking questions literally in a way that costs him marks repeatedly.

If he was in a college or university, he would do so much better, even under test and exam conditions, but while in high school I think that environment just would not work out for him.

As I can make anything about skk, the countermeasure to Chuuya not understanding the way certain things are explained is that Dazai explains them better in a way that's understandable and fills any of the gaps in his knowledge that trip Chuuya up because it should be 'common sense'.

In my head the ada and pm have a joint study group held in Fukuzawa's classroom after school onnnnn... hm. Tuesdays. Because by then the topics for the week have been established, and they each should have had at least one of each class. They all work on their school stuff until everything is covered and then they just watch a movie on the board in the class because it shuts them up (totally not because Fukuzawa has just a little bit of a soft spot for the rowdy group of teens all pressed up against each other sitting on the floor on a random tuesday in early decemeber because none of them really want to go home and it's too cold to go anywhere else. It's not like they're causing trouble or being annoying- they're watching Barbie princess and the popstar for the third time this term.) and they're not causing any harm.

Chuuya isn't the only one who struggles like this, just maybe the one who does so the most, but he would be an incredible physicist, and through support from a few of the nicer teachers and his friends, I'm sure he'd find a way to do well anyway.

I do know he'd get to college and have a realisation like 'huh? learning is actually kind of enjoyable' and that'd be it. He'd become a certified genius. A gilmore girls extra, if you will.

anyway autistic + dyslexic Chuuya who stuggles in school agenda is real.

[themultifanshipper]

lawsunoda smut plz

Even back in the junior series, Liam knew he wasn't completely straight.

He couldn't explore much though because of how it might put his career in jeopardy. But now he was in F1, and his attraction to men was becoming a serious problem.

Warnings: top yuki, both of them being absolute idiots, wet dreams and cold showers galore, coming in pants (TWICE), tension, Liam being so far in the closet his gaydar is broken, handjobs, blowjobs, first time getting fucked, cum eating, the pacing is atrocious but if I look at this anymore I will have a breakdown

Growing up, he'd often see his friends almost naked and find them just as (if not more) appealing than women.

He'd had silly crushes, and wet dreams, and even some wank-bank worthy fantasies that had kept him occupied on lonely nights, but nothing more than that.

And in this field it was imperative to keep this kind of thing a secret, in case someone got the idea of outing you to ruin your career.

He didn't dare try and find hookups or anything of that sort in case it got out.

So that part of him stayed well hidden.

He even got a girlfriend, who he liked very much, but it certainly had the added bonus of eliminating any suspicion.

Until Daniel Ricciardo broke his hand and he was promoted to full time Formula 1 driver.

George Russell, the head of the GPDA, took one look at him and said “If anyone gives you any trouble about being gay, you come to me. I don't tolerate any workplace discrimination against my fellow drivers”

Liam thanked him, but assured him he had a girlfriend, to which George just chuckled and replied:

“Yeah, we all have girlfriends mate”

He winked at him conspiratorially and walked off , leaving Liam red-faced and sweating at the implications.

Yuki was a pleasure to be around. He was a bit flirty, sometimes bordering on pushy, but he was nice outside of racing and they got along better than most teammates did.

They'd known each other a long time, being in RedBull's junior program and being roommates back in Milton Keynes before Yuki had moved to Italy.

Yuki knew about his… preferences, because on more than one occasion they'd gotten drunk and talked for hours about all sorts of things while under the influence of good booze and good pizza, in the safe space of their apartment.

But they never mentioned it otherwise, and Liam wasn't even sure Yuki remembered those conversations because he was a massive lightweight and was always incredibly hungover the next day.

That didn't change the fact that when Liam became his teammate, Yuki’s old crush came back in full force, and he followed him around like a lost puppy and tried to rile him up 24/7.

Liam soon realised, that Yuki flirted a lot more with him than any of the other drivers did with each other.

Hell the Ferrari drivers were bad enough, but Yuki took it to a whole new level.

It wasn't outright “I like you, I want to fuck” kind of flirting.

 It was more, “poke me and I'll poke you back until we wrestle and inevitably violently make out” kind of flirting.

Which was objectively worse for Liam because like any man, he wasn’t sure if Yuki was genuinely interested or if he was making up the whole thing in his head.

And if there's one thing more terrifying than being outed by a rival, it's being rejected and then outed by a friend.

The teasing continued throughout the season, Yuki getting bolder with every move.

Yuki had been pretty liberal for most of his life, never taking himself too seriously.

He wasn't exactly out, but most of the grid knew he liked to fool around with just about anyone, and he’d had a few male lovers so far.

None of them were as captivating as Liam though.

Liam hadn't got the memo however, because no matter how hard Yuki tried, he couldn't seem to get his intentions across to him.

Every time he tried to initiate his equivalent of gay chicken, (roasting Liam until he hopefully shut him up by kissing him), Liam would just laugh it off as friendly banter.

Yuki was going to have to try a different tactic. Perhaps a more direct approach would do the trick.

The opportunity arose in the form of a bad romcom trope coming to life.

The hotel they were staying in for the Vegas GP had got the reservation wrong.

Either that or the team had purposely booked a double room to cut on expenses.

It didn't matter because either way, Liam and Yuki were going to be sharing a bed for the next few nights.

That was fine. It was all fine.

Liam was a bit nervous but Yuki was secretly thanking the universe for this opportunity.

“No matter what happens, you can't fall in love with me” Liam said teasingly in front of the poor receptionist, who had just broken the news to them and handed them a singular key, but Yuki just smirked at him.

“Too late” he snatched the key from Liam's hand “I already jerk off every night thinking about you”

Liam choked on his spit as he followed him, quickly apologizing to the woman for Yuki's joke before scurrying away in embarrassment.

“Yuki you can't just say that!” His face looked like it had been painted rosso corsa as they crossed the threshold of their room.

“Why? It's true” Yuki laughed humourlessly.

Liam didn't pick up on it though, chuckling to himself as he nervously muttered Jesus Christ under his breath.

They shuffled around the room, pulling stuff out of their suitcases, taking turns showering, and ordering room service for dinner.

“Practice is going to be chaos tomorrow I reckon” Liam said as he chewed on a barely seasoned piece of chicken from his diet-compliant meal.

Yuki hummed in agreement, this was Vegas, the entertainment capital of the world after all.

“Who do you think is most likely to get married in the chapel?” Yuki asked after a few minutes silence.

“I don't know… maybe Lando and Oscar? But they're so shy around each other they'd have to be black out drunk” he laughed and Yuki giggled.

“Definitely, but I think Charles and Max are the ones that need it the most. They both have too many sticks up their asses”

They joked comfortably for a bit and for a while it felt like they were roommates again.

They got ready for bed, both quite tired from their day of travelling.

Yuki was just in a pair of boxers and Liam froze, staring at the extremely fit man in front of him.

He was obviously a lot more jacked than in their junior days, but Liam was taken by surprise at just how fucking thick the man was.

His arms… his chest… his thighs…

Yuki caught him staring and wrongly assumed it was because he was uncomfortable.

“Sorry… I always sleep in just boxers, is that okay?”

It was unreasonable to expect Liam to remember Yuki's sleeping habits from several years ago, but he still felt like a moron as his eyes roamed across the other man's body.

“Yeah, totally cool I'd just… forgotten. You know since… when we lived together… we had separate beds and stuff…” Liam gulped and pulled his own shirt off to avoid saying anything even more embarrassing.

Yuki laughed. “Yes, usually people sleep together before moving in with each other but…”  he winked and slid under the covers, sinking into the mattress and yawning.

“Yeah…” Liam's voice cracked and he followed suit, leaving as much space between their bodies as possible while facing away from the other man.

“Night Yuki” he said quickly, turning the lamp off on his bedside table.

“Goodnight Liam” Yuki sighed, doing the same and falling asleep within about a minute.

Liam just lay there, waiting for sleep to take him, as his mind wandered back to Yuki's body.

He could feel his body heat despite the space between them.

He thought about how Yuki had changed so much since their junior days.

Not just physically, he was a lot more confident, more assertive and more outgoing despite his rather shy nature.

He was also funny and hot, and really one of the best friends Liam had at the moment. Certainly the one he'd known the longest.

He managed to fall asleep sometime around 3, and his dreams consisted of short, jacked, faceless men doing all sorts of things to his body.

The person seemed so familiar, yet so unknown as his hands trailed down his back.

One minute he was on all fours, getting railed, the next he was on top, kissing down a toned pair of pecs as his hips slapped against hairy thighs wrapped around his waist.

Despite never having been with a man, it all seemed so incredibly real and natural to him, as if his subconscious was trying to tell him this was what he was craving.

Then suddenly he was on his knees, a pair of hands tangled in his hair holding his head still as the man forced his cock down Liam's throat. He drooled around it, greedily slurping at it like a slut.

“Fuck Liam, your mouth is so good”

The voice was far away and sounded vaguely familiar, but he didn't pay it any mind, he was concentrating on the task at hand: letting this man use him for his pleasure.

He couldn't breathe, head swimming as his throat was abused over and over, swallowing every last drop of the mystery man's cum.

He woke with a start.

The bed next to him was empty and the sun was barely rising, so the room was still mostly in darkness.

He checked the time… 5:29?

They didn't need to be in the paddock before 11… so why was Yuki in the bathroom taking a shower this fucking early?

Before he could ask himself too many questions he realised that he felt damp.

Not like, sweaty damp, more like a hormonal teenager that's just come in his fucking boxers damp.

He slid a hand into his underwear to check and… yep.

That must have been what woke him up.

And another startling realisation hit.

The dream he was having was very fuzzy, but there was no mistaking the voice of Yuki Tsunoda moaning his name as he fucked his mouth.

So he'd just come in his pants from dreaming about his friend fucking his throat…

He jumped out of bed just as the sound of the shower being turned off hit his ears.

Ripping his soiled underwear off as quickly as he could, and making use of his limited time to clean himself up as best he could, he raced against the clock to try and get another pair of underwear on before Yuki came out.

Luckily he managed it, and he greeted his teammate just as he turned around to see the door of the bathroom open to reveal a dripping wet Yuki with a towel loosely wrapped around his hips.

Liam went in the bathroom after him, feigning needing a piss just to get out of the awkwardness and avoid staring at his teammates dripping body for longer than was strictly appropriate.

The first thing he noticed was that there were none of Yuki's many products in the bathroom.

No shampoo, no body wash… so he'd just got himself wet?

The other thing was a lack of steam and condensation in the small tiled room.

Yuki had had a cold shower.

Liam knew very well that Yuki hated cold showers with a passion.

Unfortunately it was nearly 6 in the morning and his brain was too tired to make any kind of deduction so he did actually end up having a piss then went back to bed and fell almost straight back asleep.

Yuki however could not.

Over on his side of the bed the mood was more one of mild panic.

Yuki had taken a cold shower in the hopes of getting rid of his erection, caused by Liam, who had been moaning in his sleep and grinding his hips into the bed until he came, moaning Yuki's name.

Liam had seemed so uninterested by Yuki's advances that the man was unsure what to make of the situation and his mind raced until it was time to get up and go.

Media day was awkward, to say the least. They didn't really speak to each other much, but the interactions they did have were short and even the RB staff had noticed how jumpy they were being around each other.

That night, Yuki didn't show up at the hotel. He texted Liam saying he was staying with Pierre and not to wait up for him.

So that was it then. Yuki knew what Liam had done the night before and this was the end of their friendship.

Liam didn't get much sleep, and Yuki indeed stayed with Pierre, ranting about what had happened for hours on end, much to the annoyance of the frenchman.

“Yuki” Pierre sighed dramatically “you are so dumb. You obviously like each other and are too scared to admit it”

“Maybe… I will try and talk to him tomorrow”

“Great” Pierre huffed “Now can we please go to sleep?”

They bid each other goodnight, but Yuki's head was still full of unanswered questions.

P1 and P2 went fine. But at the end of the day they were both exhausted and ready to get as much rest as possible for the next day.

They slid into bed, on the same sides as before, barely speaking a word to each other before passing out.

This time when Liam woke with a start, it wasn't because he'd come in his pants, it was because Yuki was spooning him.

He felt a hardness pressing into his ass and didn't take long to figure out what it was.

Yuki was hard, and gently rocking against him in his sleep.

Liam was torn. Should he wake Yuki up and risk the older man being disgusted and ending their friendship then and there? Or should he do nothing and pretend it never happened?

Somehow with the second option he felt like he was taking advantage of Yuki, given how he felt about the man, but selfishly, he decided he didn't care.

If this was to be between only him and himself that was fine.

He arched his back and pushed himself back towards Yuki, to give him more to work with, which worked a treat.

Yuki’s arm that was draped over Liam's body shifted and tightened around his middle, unconsciously pulling Liam's hips back harder against his movements.

Liam let out a shuddery breath as he let it happen, indulging in the strength of the other man, letting Yuki use his body to get off, and he had to reach down and squeeze a hand around his own cock to avoid a replay of the other night.

He only had so many pairs of spare boxers.

He briefly wondered whether Yuki would come against him, whether it would wake him up or not, and whether Yuki would hate himself for it in the morning.

The universe decided to be even crueler than that.

Yuki moaned Liam's name instead.

Quite loudly. And Liam's dick throbbed.

Yuki was dreaming about him?

Was the man's subconscious on drugs?

Why the fuck was he having sex dreams about Liam?

Yuki continued the gentle movement of his hips, letting out soft whines against the back of Liam's neck.

After at least half an hour, and an increasing sense of urgency in Yuki's moans, Liam thought the older man was finally going to come in his pants.

What happened was much more mortifying.

Yuki's body jolted slightly and he froze completely, halting his movements and his moans as the silence became deafening.

Liam knew Yuki had woken up, but Yuki didn't know whether Liam was awake, so they both stayed like that, hard and internally panicking, trying to pretend to be sleeping, for the next several hours.

Well, obviously they were exhausted the next day and did terribly in qualifying, both of them getting knocked out in Q1.

“This has to stop it's not healthy” Pierre said after Yuki had turned up in his hotel room, yet again.

“You don't understand. I want to fuck a straight man, there is nothing more terrifying than that”

Pierre rolled his eyes in exasperation.

“Yuki listen to me. Liam is not straight! It is obvious like the nose in the middle of the face but you refuse to see it”

“He has a girlfriend! He obviously does not want me!” Yuki whined and Pierre almost slapped him.

“Okay fuck this” he took his phone out and texted Liam to come over to his hotel, now.

Liam was a bit confused but he did as he was told, almost sprinting the short distance between the two hotels.

When Pierre opened the door he looked almost murderous.

“Tell Yuki you want him to fuck you, because you two are driving me mental. I am going to stay with Charles. Please don't get cum on the bed.”

And with that he left the room, slamming the door behind him.

Liam stared at a mortified looking Yuki sitting on the bed.

“What is Pierre on about?” he asked tentatively.

Yuki sighed.

“I used to have a crush on you back when we were roommates, you know?”

Liam shook his head. “No I did not know that”

“And when you became my teammate this year it came back… And you told me before that you weren't completely straight but every time I have tried to flirt you have brushed me off so I assumed you don't want anything to do with me. Until the other night when you dreamed about fucking me”

Liam's jaw was on the floor at this point, and he blushed at the mention of that night.

He didn't quite know what to say, so the first thing that came out of his mouth didn't register in his brain until after he said it.

“Actually I was dreaming about you fucking my throat but yeah…” he corrected and they just stared at each other.

They didn't say anything for a long time, trying to decipher what this all meant.

After what felt like an eternity Yuki said:

“Can I please fuck your mouth?”

And Liam didn't hesitate, he dropped to his knees and crawled towards the bed.

“Please” he said, and Yuki groaned, rushing to get his pants down.

This was finally it.

Liam could have cried with relief as the salty taste of Yuki's precum hit his tongue.

He sank down to the base and Yuki choked on air as he watched Liam deepthroat him immediately.

Despite Liam never having been with a man, he’d tried and tested his gag reflex and had found out early on that he just didn't have one.

Yuki was the first lucky bastard to bear witness to that gift of nature.

The older man threaded his fingers through Liam's dirty blonde hair and held him in place while he thrusted his hips up into his waiting mouth.

Liam was in heaven, he was letting his throat be used for Yuki's pleasure and his cock was hard between his legs, so he squeezed a hand around himself.

He couldn't breathe because of how deep the other man was inside his throat, so Yuki pulled him off for a second, and stared at his hooded eyes and the line of spit linking his tip to Liam's swollen lips.

“My god Liam how many guys have you been practising on?”

“None” he rasped “You're my first”

He was about to take Yuki back into his mouth but the older man kept his head still and groaned.

“You have never been with a man?” he asked.

“Nopee…” Liam whined, trying to fill his mouth, but Yuki wasn't letting him. “Please, Yuki”

Yuki almost combusted on the spot.

“Please what?”

“Please fuck my mouth!” he cried impatiently.

Yuki didn't tease him any longer, he rubbed his tip on Liam's tongue teasingly before shoving himself back in to the base.

Liam moaned and his eyes rolled back into his skull as Yuki's balls slapped against his chin every time he buried himself in his throat.

He was floating, almost like in his dream, and his own cock was throbbing between his legs at the feeling of being used like this.

He shouldn't have been so turned on by a blowjob, but he could feel himself slowly edging closer to an orgasm as Yuki's hips stuttered.

“I’m going to come, where do you want it?” Yuki rasped.

Liam answered non-verbally by grasping his hips and shoving him as deep as he could down his throat, while looking up at Yuki with as much submissiveness as he could muster.

Yuki was a goner. The sight of his long time crush completely fucked out, greedily swallowing his cock was so fucking hot that he came down Liam's throat, toes curling at the sudden white hot pleasure coursing through his body.

Liam heaved in a breath as soon as his mouth was empty and it took him a second to realise he had in fact, come in his pants once again.

He was a grown man for fuck's sake.

Yuki had fallen backwards and was trying to catch his breath while staring at the ceiling, so thankfully, had not noticed.

Liam shuffled forwards on his knees and hugged Yuki's midriff, hiding his very red face.

The older man looked down and giggled. His hand went to stroke Liam's hair, fingernails scratching lightly at his scalp.

“Do you want me to repay the favour?” he asked, as Liam's body shuddered.

“No…” he whined into Yuki's shirt “I already uhh… came”

His voice squeaked in embarrassment and Yuki simultaneously melted and twitched with arousal.

“You came from giving me a blowjob?” he asked, bewildered.

“Yeah…” Liam moaned pitifully.

The silence stretched on and Liam was worried that Yuki was weirded out so he opened his mouth to apologise for ruining everything.

But before he could get a word out, Yuki sat up and pulled Liam up into his lap.

Liam was so shocked by the fact that Yuki had just lifted him up like a child, he felt his cock twitch at the casual display of strength.

“Can I see?” Yuki asked breathlessly while his brain short-circuited.

Liam undid his pants and Yuki wasted no time sliding his hand in and wrapping a hand around his half hard cock.

The stickiness made his own semi throb and he pulled his hand out to inspect it.

Liam was holding his breath, surely he wasn't going to-

He was.

He did.

Yuki licked his hand clean of his cum, while making full eye contact.

He hummed at the taste and when he’d finished, he put his hand flat on Liam’s chest to feel his heart beat.

Liam gasped and his hips bucked, brushing against Yuki's rapidly growing bulge. They were both getting extremely turned on again, and the heat in the room was becoming almost suffocating.

Yuki's hand went back into Liam’s pants and curled around his cock once more, to start jerking him off slowly, aided by the slick remnants of his cum.

His other hand went to the back of Liam's head and crashed their lips together in a heated kiss.

It had been a long time coming. A very long time coming.

Yuki could taste himself on Liam tongue and he groaned, tightening his grip which made Liam groan in turn and wrap his arms around Yuki's neck.

As they made out, the hand on Liam's neck went down to his ass and squeezed at the supple flesh, making Liam whine into the kiss.

“Yuki, I need you to fuck me, now” he gasped.

Yuki grunted and turned them around so that Liam was now lying on the bed with his legs hanging off the edge.

Yuki made quick work of both of their clothes and spread Liam's legs, hungrily taking in the other man’s vulnerable state.

“Wait, have you done this before?” he asked, suddenly remembering what he’d said earlier.

Liam shook his head and grinned at him, crossing his hands behind his head, which distracted Yuki slightly because the movement made his biceps flex invitingly.

“Nope… you get the honour of deflowering the great Liam Lawson”

He wasn't sure where this sudden cockiness was coming from, but Yuki just rolled his eyes and went over to the bedside table to grab a bottle of lube he knew Pierre always carried around with him. (Don't ask)

The first finger pushing inside was an odd sensation, but not unpleasant, Liam thought.

Yuki was very generous with the lube, determined to make Liam's first experience as comfortable as possible.

The second finger stretched him out a bit more, and he keened when Yuki accidentally brushed his prostate.

The new sensation sent a jolt up his spine and Yuki chuckled.

Soon enough he was ready, and his cock was angry and leaking all over his stomach.

Yuki somehow resisted the urge to lick it all up, instead he lined himself up and pushed in just an inch.

Liam moaned at the stretch and his hands gripped at the sheets.

“Relax Liam…” Yuki soothed him with a hand rubbing circles on his hip.

“Yes Yuki” he gasped and took a deep breath before the older man managed to push himself in further.

Once Yuki was fully sheathed, Liam could hardly breathe.

Yes it was his first time, but Yuki was big.

But he was also incredibly gentle, letting Liam adjust in his own time before starting to rock his hips in a slow rhythm.

Liam was on fire (in a good way).

He wrapped his legs around Yuki’s waist and pulled him down into a kiss.

The sound of their hips slapping echoed in the room, along with Liam's little ah… ah… ahh’s as Yuki's cock grazed his prostate on every increasingly powerful thrust.

“Yuki!” Liam cried out, overwhelmed by the sensations that were completely new to him.

They looked into each other's eyes as they got closer to their ends, foreheads pressed together making them go cross-eyed. (They looked like lovesick idiots)

“Yuki- fuck, christ I'm… I'm going to- I’m coming!” Liam sobbed as his orgasm washed over him in waves while Yuki chased his own.

“Liam!” he gasped into Liam's mouth as he came inside him, hips grinding against the spot that made him see stars.

They panted and moaned into each others' mouths, coming down from the intense high as Yuki found Liam's hand to intertwine their fingers.

“I love you” he muttered as he kissed down Liam's neck and across his chest.

Tears sprang to Liam's eyes. “Yuki”

The older man looked up at him expectantly.

“I love you too” he whispered and Yuki smiled.

They kissed again, softer and more controlled than before.

They had time.

Pierre wasn't coming back anytime soon so they made use of the en-suite bathroom to take a nice long shower, soaping each other up and giggling like children as they felt each other up.

On their way back to their room, Yuki shot Pierre a quick text.

“We did not get cum on the bed, but you will need to buy more lube”

Pierre must have been waiting with Charles for a sign of life, because his reply was immediate.

“For fuck’s sake, Yuki. I told you to stop stealing my lube!”

“But congratulations or whatever”

[everythingannoyingpjo]

i really don't like how Riordan wrote Octavian in HOO. during SON, it really seemed like he had something planned for him, some backstory or reasoning for his actions, but when he saw the way fans hated on him he decided to just make him a laughingstock. he's supposed to be this powerful guy, Hazel even says so, and he's supposed to be able to talk the senate into almost anything, and yet we don't see any of this past SON. and the hypocrisy for him! with Luke, people forgave him even though he tried to literally destroy Camp Halfblood, gr00med children, and obviously did not care if his own allies got killed. his main reasoning was "I don't think my dad cares about me so I'm just gonna injure and/or off dozens of children!". Octavian does try to destroy Camp Halfblood (which I'm not gonna say is okay, bc it isn't) but he has an actual reasoning! his home had been attacked and the people who did it just ran away with no explanation. yes, Leo had been possessed, but nobody even told Octavian that! so his rage was absolutely reasonable. and he actually cares about his allies. he waits to attack several days to a week just so the onagers would arrive, that way there would be no casualties on his side. plus, it seems like people just ignore the fact that he was manipulated by Gaea and was obviously having a mental breakdown near the end. it's constantly brought up in arguments for Luke like "he was manipulated by Kronos!!" but when a similar thing happens to Octavian, nobody mentions it or seemingly cares.

Note: OP has a negative opinion of Luke and of some fans differing reactions to Luke and Octavian as antagonists. However this is not a fandom complaint or character complaint blog. It is a book complaint blog. This ask was sent before that point was clarified. Please try to limit complaints and discussions to what occurs in the source material only.

Yes, I agree. I tried to make a list of your points below for clarity.

during SON, it really seemed like he had something planned for him, some backstory or reasoning for his actions

It did seem that way. There are a lot of implications behind Octavian and not much fact.

It is implied he was raised in New Rome. This means he was raised in a culture that promoted suspicion of/aversion towards greek demigod culture. (You can see this aversion in the way people/the laeres react to Percy when he arrives at CJ.)

It is implied he has prophetic powers.

It is implied that he is unwell/unstable. It's implied he is being manipulated by Gaea.

It is implied that public opinion of him is favorable.

It is implied he wants to go to war, specifically against greek demigods should they exist, though he should have no proof of their existence.

It is implied that he killed Gwen.

It is implied (in TOA) that he has a connection to the triumverate.

None of this is ever explained/explored/given more detail. Why does he believe Apollo supports him? What is the extent of Gaea's influence on him? Why does he angle for war before the attack on Rome even happens? What does he know and how?

he's supposed to be this powerful guy, Hazel even says so, and he's supposed to be able to talk the senate into almost anything, and yet we don't see any of this past SON.

Given every implication above, he should be powerful, or competent, or at least have the backing of competent people. We never see that. We never know why he makes the decisions he does and how he accomplishes his goals is almost never shown or explored.

Octavian does try to destroy Camp Halfblood (which I'm not gonna say is okay, bc it isn't) but he has an actual reasoning! his home had been attacked and the people who did it just ran away with no explanation.

Octavian was pretty clearly angling for war even before the attack, but certainly that cemented the legitimacy of such an action in his mind. Yet from SoN onwards Rick treats Octavian as a complete joke. Which honestly, I do think Octavian is funny, but I also think the story would have been better if I believed Octavian was a legitimate threat. And I don't because he basically disappears from the narrative at this point except to exist as some sort of omnipresent boogieman. None of his actions, motivations, or reasoning is ever explored. Any shadow of substance he had in the previous books is flattened. He becomes completely two dimensional.

It's hard to even be mad at people for not seeing the legitimacy in his attack when it's the result of Rick completely ignoring his character. After SoN he basically only exists to create a sense of urgency in completing the quest.

and he actually cares about his allies. he waits to attack several days to a week just so the onagers would arrive, that way there would be no casualties on his side.

I mean, this is largely supposition. The narrative heavily implies the wait for the onagers is because he wants to win with overwhelming force. But you are right that his compatriots safety could be the reason he wants to win with overwhelming force! But we don't know, because again, he was never fleshed out!

plus, it seems like people just ignore the fact that he was manipulated by Gaea and was obviously having a mental breakdown near the end.

It's pretty clear he was being manipulated. I think one thing it's easy to forget is that all these characters are teenagers. Octavian is a child. He has been put in a position of responsibility that should be reserved for an adult. It's hard to think Octavian is 100% evil or that he 100% deserves to die. EXCEPT that Rick has prevented us from being allowed to see him as a real person. He has made him feel like a complete caricature of a human being. And even then, it still disgusts me that Rick made his death a complete joke, something to laugh at.

If Rick was trying to say that "people who think this way are a joke" he should have shown us more of Octavian's thoughts. He should have given us the oppurtunity to see the point he was making by laughing at him.

Instead we have the implication that there was more, and no answers. He never even gave Octavian a last name. I do not like Octavian as a character, but everything about how he was written is sort of fucked up.

[max1461]

only tangentially related but sometimes I wonder if survivorship bias makes us view modern art as less than older art, that time and cultural memory acts as a natural bullshit filter, that actually people were just as vapid and pretentious back then, but none of the vapid and pretentious work had enough cultural value stick around to be examined now

I think it's partly this, but it's partly something else.

This is probably gonna piss a lot of people off, but I think in a particular sense, contemporary art is just... straightforwardly more advanced than older art. I know, I know, but hear me out: I don't mean that as a value judgement. What I mean is like...

Ok, take math as an example. Math started out talking about things that everybody's heard of: triangles, circles, whole numbers. But as those concepts were better understood, they got abstracted more and more. Symmetries of shapes where abstracted to symmetry groups, numbers abstracted to rings and fields, eventually it was all abstracted to category theory, and so on. And now if you look at major research topics in modern math, things like e.g. the Langlands program, as a non-expert, it often looks like a bunch of fucking nonsense about bullshit objects that don't have anything to do with the real world! But even though I don't understand the Langlands program itself, I know enough math to understand why all the levels of abstraction that I have understood are meaningful and valuable, and I can see why going even further would be too. And math is useful enough that the results often speak for themselves.

So I think contemporary art is much like this. If you read contemporary art theory, you will immediately see that it is all very meta. Art used to be made about very concrete things—people and nice looking vistas and so on—that anyone could understand. And then theorists came along and built up frameworks for thinking about art, because they wanted to understand why that art worked, why it was powerful and emotive. And then new, avant-garde artist came along and made art about the frameworks, pushing at their edge-cases or exploring their unintuitive implications. And then new frameworks were built up to understand that art, rinse and repeat. This account is, as I understand it, a little bit ahistorical—the building and the pushing of frameworks was often simultaneous and often not clearly articulated. Although, frankly, the same could be said for the history of math. But in retrospect I think a pretty undeniable picture emerges.

So, to put it bluntly, I think one of the reasons so much contemporary art looks vapid is that it isn't for you. It's about things you've never heard of, in the same way that category theory is about spaces and morphisms, and explaining that to someone who's never heard of groups or topological spaces is basically impossible. And I think there are some differences—art is obviously, you know, totally vibes based in a way that math isn't. If a big wire sculpture with styrofoam cups on it or whatever doesn't speak to you then it doesn't speak to you, no one can defend it on "objective" grounds. And art isn't useful in the way that math is, so it doesn't demonstrate its validity to people who don't get it in any way. But what I wish people understood is that there are people, who know a bunch of art theory and art history, who that wire sculpture with styrofoam cups on it does speak to. It makes them go "oh, I love how it plays off of X and contrasts with Y" etc. etc. And that isn't going to happen for you because, like, you don't know what X or Y even are! But that doesn't make it valueless, it just makes it insular. Which, you know, contemporary art really is! I think there are a lot of contemporary artists who claim to not be doing what I just described, who claim to be making art "for everybody", but I think if you read their artist statements and stuff it often becomes pretty clear that this is not the case. And this is a valid criticism of contemporary art! But "vapid" is mostly not.

Pretentious, definitely. It's pretentious as fuck.

[wingedblooms]

More precious than soldiers, than any weapon.

@silverlinedeyes’s post reminded me of one of my favorite revelations in tod. I discussed it in the witch series a while ago, but I’m talking about it again because the language is strikingly similar and could be relevant for Elain’s role in acotar. When Yrene and Chaol visit the Oasis, we learn this:

Yrene turned in place, surveying the pillars, the carvings. No caves—none at all. “Nousha knew the location, though,” she mused. “It must have been important—the site. To the Torre.”

“But its importance was forgotten over time, or warped. So that only the name, the sense of its importance remained.”

“Healers were always drawn to this realm, you know,” Yrene said distantly, running a hand over a column. “The land just … blessed them with the magic. More than any other kind. As if this were some breeding ground for healing.”

“Why?”

She traced a carving on a column longer than most ships. “Why does anything thrive? Plants grow best in certain conditions—those most advantageous to them.”

This land was important, but the reason why it important was warped or forgotten over time. Healers were drawn to it and the land blessed them with healing magic more than any kind. We know there is a deep connection between the magic in the land and the magic of those who inhabit and care for it across the Maasverse (and that was likely emphasized in hofas because it has implications for acotar). This description of the southern continent reminds me of the healing land in the Night Court, with its slumbering heart and its full history and purpose forgotten. The peaks like green hands cupping healing waters.

As their exploration continues in tod, Chaol begins to suspect that the Fae settled on the southern continent to hide something, a treasure of a different sort.

Chaol said, “I thought only one group of Fae ever left Doranelle—to establish Terrasen with Brannon.”

“Maybe another settled here during whatever this war was.” The first war. The first demon war, before Elena and Gavin were born, before Terrasen.

Chaol studied Yrene. Her bloodless face. “Or maybe they wanted to hide something.”

Yrene frowned at the ground as if she could see to the tombs beneath. “A treasure?”

“Of a different sort.”

She met his eyes at his tone—his stillness. And fear, cool and sharp, slid into his heart. Yrene said softly, “I don’t understand.”

“Fae magic is passed down through their bloodlines. It doesn’t appear at random. Perhaps these people came here. And then were forgotten by the world, forces good and evil. Perhaps they knew this place was far away enough to remain untouched. That wars would be waged elsewhere. By them.” He jerked his chin to a carving of a Valg soldier. “While the southern continent remained mostly mortal-held. While the seeds planted here by the Fae were bred into the human bloodlines and grew into a people gifted and prone to healing magic.”

“An interesting theory,” she said hoarsely, “but you don’t know if it could stand to reason.”

“If you wanted to hide something precious, wouldn’t you conceal it in plain sight? In a place where you were willing to bet a powerful force would spring up to defend it? Like an empire. Several of them. Whose walls had not been breached by outside conquerors for the entirety of its history. Who would see the value of its healers and think their gift was for one thing, but never know that it might be a treasure waiting to be used at another time. A weapon.”

“We do not kill.”

A treasure of a different sort. Or what one might call a different kind of strength.

Later, when Yrene and Chaol confront the Valg princess beneath the Torre, their suspicions are confirmed:

“Why are you here,” Yrene breathed. “What do you want?”

“You.”

Chaol’s heart stumbled at the word. Duva straightened. “The Dark King heard whispers. Whispers that a healer blessed with Silba’s gifts had entered the Torre. And it made him so very, very wary.”

“Because I can wipe you all out like the parasites you are?”

Chaol shot Yrene a warning glance.

But Duva plucked the dagger off her womb and studied the blade. “Why do you think Maeve has hoarded her healers, never allowing them to leave her patrolled borders? She knew we would return. She wanted to be ready—to protect herself. Her prized favorites, those Doranelle healers. Her secret army.” Duva hummed, motioning with the dagger to the necropolis. “How clever those Fae were, who escaped her clutches after the last war. They ran all the way here—the healers who knew their queen would keep them penned up like animals. And then they bred the magic into the land, into its people. Encouraged the right powers to rise up, to ensure this land would always be strong, defended. And then they vanished, taking their treasures and histories beneath the earth. Ensuring they were forgotten below, while their little garden was planted above.”

“Why,” was all Chaol said.

“To give those Maeve did not consider important a fighting chance should Erawan return.” Duva clicked her tongue. “So noble, those renegade Fae. And thus the Torre grew—and His Dark Majesty indeed rose again, and then fell, and then slept. And even he forgot what someone with the right gifts might do. But then he awoke once more. And he remembered the healers. So he made sure to purge the gifted ones from the northern lands.” A smile at Yrene, hateful and cold. “But it seems a little healer slipped the butcher’s block. And made it all the way to this city, with an empire to guard her.”

Yrene’s breathing was ragged. He saw the guilt and dread settle in. That in coming here, she had brought this upon them. Tumelun, Duva, the Torre, the khaganate.

But what Yrene did not realize, Chaol instead saw it for her. Saw it with the weight of a continent, a world, upon him. Saw what had terrified Erawan enough to dispatch one of his agents.

Because Yrene, ripe with power and facing down that preening Valg demon…

Hope.

It was hope that stood beside him, hidden and protected these years in this city, and in the years before it, spirited across the earth by the gods themselves, concealed from the forces poised to destroy her.

A kernel of hope.

The most dangerous of all weapons against Erawan, against the Valg’s ancient darkness.

What he had been brought here to retrieve for his homeland, his people. What he had been brought here to protect. More precious than soldiers, than any weapon. Their only shot at salvation.

Hope.

The ancient Fae planted a weapon of a different sort—healing magic—in plain sight so that it could be used to protect the most vulnerable from the Valg. They made sure the right powers would rise up and thrive under the right conditions, like plants in a little garden. It could be a coincidence, but we’ve only heard that phrase used elsewhere in reference to Elain:

The little garden beneath the window was hers: every bloom and shrub had been picked and planted by her hand; she would allow no one else to care for it. Even the weeding and watering she did on her own. (acotar)

"Why?" Elain demanded. "Shall I tend to my little garden forever?" When Nesta flinched, Elain said, "You can't have it both ways. You cannot resent my decision to lead a small, quiet life while also refusing to let me do anything greater." (acosf)

It’s a dismissive phrase meant to belittle the efforts of both the ancient healers and Elain. But in tod, Chaol sees the importance of those efforts and what they ultimately represent for the future: Hope. Hope is more precious than soldiers, than any weapon. And in tod, Hope took the form of healing magic (and is generally connected to healing across the Maasverse). Yrene didn’t need extensive warrior training or to wield a sword; her raw healing power—a weapon of a different kind—was the sword.

Which ultimately brings me back to the questions Sarah planted in acosf. Why, exactly, were all of the Archeron sisters reforged with mighty powers? Why have they been brought to the most powerful court, surrounded by the most powerful warriors? What are they still meant to accomplish together?

We cannot answer those questions without understanding the mysterious gifts of the third sister. Elain has a different sort of strength than her sisters and for some reason, she was given such powers by Wyrd. Maybe her powers are a different kind of weapon that are needed now to address an ancient and familiar enemy. One that buried its secrets beneath the earth and warped the magic of the land to their benefit.

[notebooks-and-laptops]

How to Formulate Companion Quests: Why a Lack of Theming and Overstressed Game Mechanics Got In The Way

Dragon Age: The Veilguard's companions are a lovable bunch, and it doesn't suprise me that the companions each already have a loyal and dedicated fanbase.

And yet, I do think that while I love the characters their personal storylines and quests are rather lacking. This comes down to two main issues that I want to explore in depth here: mechanics and a lack of overall theming.

So framing and mechanics; the game stresses to the player after you fail to kill the Ghilan'nain that the companions all have personal issues they need to solve to be ready to fight Ghilan'nain. The game then ascribes a tick box exercise; if you complete a companions quest then you'll get some extra swag gear and they'll get an extra cool bonus ability, as well as a nice symbol next to their tarot card.

This not only breaks immersion, but quite literally makes the companion quests an obstacle to overcome in order for you to complete the main quest. You're rewarded for completing the quests fully by making you better equipped to fight.

This by itself wouldn't have made the companion quests feel so empty of meaning, but linked to this comes the issue that Veilguard has with theming and villians.

The companion quests aren't really tied to the main story in any real way. Hardings is kind of tied to revelations you learn in the main story, but its more the lore implications than the actual current struggle against the Gods. Taash is supposedly fighting a mini-boss of Ghilan'nain but again the link between the Dragon King and Ghilan'nain is only revealed after you get to the final boss fight. The other companions are quite literally distracted by things not important to the main quest of destorying the Gods.

This is, by itself, fine. You don't neccessarily need companion quests to be linked to the main quest in order for them to feel like they're an integral part of the game. But what you do need is the companion quests to feel thematically relevant to the game.

When we were told this game was going to be about regret, I was very excited. Dragon Age has given us wonderful overarching themes before (for example, all your companions and you are in some way Dead in DAO). But none of the companion quests...actually heavily feature regret or mirror our bad guys or anti-heros struggle except for maybe Bellaras?

Harding doesn't regret touching the lyrium dagger or anything in her past. Davrin might regret losing the griffins but its more 'i need to get them back' than 'i actually did something bad that i regret'. Lucanis was locked away, and maybe he regrets his deal with spite? but it doesn't come up the way Anders/Justice's regrets and issues do. Neve regrets...nothing? Maybe 'getting her friend killed' but again, that's not actually her fault. Her theme is more about whether or not Dock Town really does need to change (a theme that's rendered kind of ridicious without Tevinter slavery being actually in the mix). Bellara regrets letting her brother die, but she didn't actually do anything that caused it the way Solas actively regrets, say, killing Mythal/Flemmeth. Emmrich's quests revolve around his fear of death. I guess he could regret not being a linch/letting manfred die, but he definitely doesn't seem to regret not becoming a lynch. Taash regrets not having it out with their mum after her quest is already over, but its not a main theme of her quest.

Now the quest line that actually works here? Is Davrins. Because while Davrin doesn't have anything to regret, Isseya does. Davrin's main villian is introduced early in the game, and is centred around Isseya who has become a monster and twisted figure of what she once was because she is tortured by the regret of blighting the griffins. This is an excellent plot! Because it mirrors the main themes of the game, and Solas's regrets too! We can feel genuinely sorry for her at the end.

But the other companion quests while fun feel like they're pulling you away from the main story, not bringing you into it. The other companion quests also only have villians that are introduced far too late in the game for us to feel a) threatened by them or b) actually care about them and very few of them have motivations beyond 'I'm evil hear me roar'. The companions who they've attempted to add regrets to - those regrets aren't 'real' in the sense that those companions are actually to blame for what happened the way Solas is the veil.

Besides Davrin, these companion quests are things that you have to overcome in order to get to the point you can do the main story, rather than a continuation of the themes of that story. They are literal distractions from the main story and then they are framed that way both in word and mechanic by the game. I feel like if they hadn't stressed this so much in the mechanics it wouldn't feel as obvious so they might have gotten away with it...but instead its just glaring me in the face.

This is a crazy choice to me. It pushes the pacing way off, and makes their plots feel like chores. Maybe fun chores, but still just chores that must be completed before we can do what we're actually here to do.

[karatekels]

Party Favours

This fic is a belated birthday request for @cortmac1989 (sorry for the wait!) who wanted our favourite silver fox to sweep her off her feet on her birthday. Happy belated, and I hope you enjoy!

TW: oral sex (male and female receiving); bondage; graphic sex; foodplay; teasing; overstimulation

---

Party Favours

---

Terry’s POV:

“I told you I didn’t like to make a big deal about my birthday, Terry!” you pout at him in his office after the day’s lesson had concluded, your arms crossed over your chest. “That’s why I never told you when it was!”

It was adorable, really, how you thought you could keep things from him. Even if he didn’t have access to your personal information from your registration at the dojo, it would be all too easy for him to learn anything and everything he wanted to know about you. And he had, months ago, before you’d started dating.

“Did I make it a big deal?” he counters, staring down at your growing frustration with amusement. All he’d done initially was announce to the class that the rest of the week’s sessions with him were being cancelled; it wasn’t his fault that Williams had asked why. And even then, he’d only said that he would be celebrating your birthday with you for the next few days.

He hadn’t even gone into any specifics, such as the fact that you’ll ideally be too boneless to leave the bedroom by the time he’s done celebrating you tonight. And he wouldn’t dare leave you to your own devices in such a state just to do something as menial as teach a class.

“They’re going to talk about it, Terry; they always talk whenever our relationship is brought up!”

“Who’s talking?” he demands, more than willing to dismiss anyone that was causing you distress. You immediately move to deescalate, reaching out to stroke his arm soothingly.

“They aren’t saying anything wrong, love. I can’t blame them for gossiping; we’re quite the bundle of taboos between the teacher-student dynamic and our age difference… plus, from what I’ve heard, none of them have seen you in love before.”

“That’s because I hadn’t been in love before,” he says in a fierce whisper, pulling you firmly against him. You tilt your head up to give him a shy smile.

“I’m not uncomfortable with them knowing about us or anything, but I don’t want them thinking you’re giving me any sort of special treatment.”

“Firmer discipline, then?” he teases, tightening his hold on you. You start to giggle nervously before biting your lip, clearly becoming concerned that he wasn’t joking. And while there is a deliciousness to the thought of claiming you as his in front of your peers, he is far too possessive to let anyone else see you in a sexual manner.

“Only if you really think I deserve it, Sensei,” you reply huskily, batting your eyelashes up at him, and he can’t contain the deep growl emanating from the back of his throat. Bowing his head, he captures your lips in a passionate kiss, taking care to explore every corner of your mouth with his tongue.

“Fortunately for you, the Birthday Girl can do no wrong today,” he purrs once he’s let you up for air, cradling your face reverently in his hands. You always felt so delicate like this, no matter how strong he knew you were…

“No?” you ask, arching an eyebrow at him coyly. “I have immunity today, huh? I wonder what I should do with it…”

The devious smirk you give him has his cock twitching against his thigh.

“I know we have a rule about not fooling around in the dojo, Sensei, but I was hoping we could make a deal,” you trail off, your fingers toying with his obi. “No big birthday plans for me, and in exchange I’ll give you something I know you’ve wanted for awhile.”

He tries to appear unaffected, but he can’t help the way his grip tightens on your chin at the implications. Christ, he’s wanted to have you in his office for the better part of a year now, but you’d always firmly drawn a line in the sand. He usually agreed with the logic… when he wasn’t tempted, as he is now.

“Y/N…” he murmurs your name in a strained voice. “I want to spoil you, the way you deserve…”

“You still can,” you reassure him with a casual shrug. “As long as it’s just the two of us. Besides, don’t you want me all to yourself?”

He hesitates, mentally calculating the work he’ll have to do to cancel the more elaborate of his public plans for you. He does want to give you everything he feels you deserve, but perhaps more time was needed for you to warm you up to the limelight.

“You’re all I want, Terry Silver. Aren’t you going to give me what I want on my birthday?” you pout, gazing up at him with the most innocent eyes you can muster.

You’re really turning into a fucking brat.

It only gets him harder.

“As you wish, my dear. Are there any other demands, Your Majesty?” he says earnestly. He’ll encourage you asking him for things at every opportunity; all he wants is for you to depend on him, so that he can show just how reliable he can be.

“Just try to treat me like you do every other student when we’re here, okay?” you ask, untying the obi nimbly, your eyes locked with his. “After what’s about to happen, that is,” you add with a flirty smile, pushing him by the hips to lean up against his desk. God, what you do to him…

“I’ll do you no more favours in this dojo,” he promises with a growl as you lower yourself to your knees before him. Tangling his fingers in your hair, he mentally braces himself to memorize every detail of this fantasy about to come to life. “Now, get to work.”

Thanking his past self for his foresight in asking the other sensei to clear the building immediately after the lesson, he sets about savouring the benefits of compromise.

---

Later that night…

Reader’s POV:

Terry is disappointingly not waiting in the back of the car for you when Larry the chauffeur calls for you later that night, passing on Terry’s apology and saying that he was busy finalizing some last-minute plans for the evening. You nibble on your bottom lip on the ride to dinner, feeling anxious and hoping that you haven’t come off as ungrateful or ruined a bunch of plans that Terry had in store for the evening.

But when the hostess leads you up through the restaurant to a private rooftop patio half an hour later, Terry only seems happy to see you, wrapping you up in a tight embrace as soon as the other woman has retreated down the stairs.

“You look spectacular, my love,” he compliments you in a husky voice, resting his forehead on yours. “I hope that this is a private enough setting for you, my princess.”

You roll your eyes playfully at his teasing before taking a moment to look around. As always, you tended to neglect your surroundings whenever Terry was in the room.

The terrace is decorated with fairy lights and candles that give off the perfect amount of light against the rapidly darkening evening sky, with plants decorating the railings and hung from the ceiling, their flowers giving off a light, exotic fragrance. It’s a warm evening in Los Angeles, but there is a pleasant cool breeze that plays with the loose tendrils of both yours and Terry’s hair. You’re high enough in the air that the typical noise of the city is drowned out, and smooth jazz quietly plays from a sound system you can’t locate.

But most importantly, it’s just the two of you, Terry dressed comfortably, the way he did when he entertained at his home, and that means more to you than anything.

“It’s perfect, Terry,” you tell him sincerely, beaming up at him with pure joy. It wasn’t easy to convince the man you loved to see things your way, especially when it came to your preference for the less extravagant, so him giving into your desires over what he felt you deserved is a big achievement in your eyes. “Thank you,” you whisper, burying your face into his chest as you wrap your arms around his waist tightly once more.

Terry is content to hold you in silence for a moment or two, before releasing you to take your hand and lead you to the comfortable booth, guiding you into place and pouring you each a glass of prosecco before taking his seat next to you. You immediately twine both of your legs around one of his, wanting him close and enjoying the intimacy that this degree of privacy affords you – it means so much more to you than any expensive, formal setting.

“To you, my love,” he croons, raising his glass to you in a toast. “May you find happiness and joy everywhere you go, for that is what you bring to the world and everyone around you.”

You clink your glass with his and down half of your drink quickly to complete the toast, so that you can crawl into his lap and pull him down for a heated kiss, your toes tingling.

“I’m sure I will,” you murmur against his lips. “I’ll be with you.”

Terry’s gaze softens, a sweet smile stealing across his face before he pulls you in for another kiss that quickly has you both getting carried away, Terry gently turning you to lay back in the booth as he comes down over top of you. Fortunately – though that’s debatable – you are both still fully dressed when a pointed cough is heard from behind Terry some time later.

You immediately squeak, flushing an even darker shade of red while Terry remains cool as he always does, straightening up slowly and giving you a wink before turning to look over his shoulder at the server. “Another few minutes with the menu, please,” he requests nonchalantly, turning back to you before the server stammers an “Of course, Mr. Silver,” and scurries back downstairs.

You can’t help but let out a breathless giggle, sitting back up and trying to fix your hair. Terry’s gaze runs up and down your body, and you reflexively slide away from him slightly, knowing that you need to establish some boundaries before you get carried away.

“Don’t even think about it, Terry Silver. I don’t care how alone we are out here, we are not having sex in public!”

With an exaggerated huff and a pout Terry concedes, though he does pull you closer until you’re half-sitting on his lap once more. You both look through the menu together, your head tucked against his chest as you read, and he passes on your orders to the server when they return as you can’t bring yourself to look them in the eye, faint traces of a blush still dusting your cheeks.

You sit in comfortable silence for a few minutes after they’ve left, before Terry suddenly slides you off of his lap, an unusual jitteriness to the way he moves that you aren’t sure what to make of. He takes your hand in one of his own, bringing it to his lips and brushing kisses across your knuckles, his gaze scorching.

“I truly can’t fathom how I am the man lucky enough to spend this day with you, Y/N,” he coos softly against the delicate skin of your hand, and you shiver with pleasure. “I must start thanking you for every day you choose to share with me.”

“Terry…” you breathe, overwhelmed as always by the devotion in his words and his touch. He doesn’t push you to say more, instead continuing to kiss his way up from your knuckles to the back of your wrist and slowly up your forearm. He pauses halfway to your elbow, leaning back and staring at your arm with a perplexed expression. You try not to squirm, your brow furrowed as you look up at him inquisitively.

“What? What’s wrong?” you ask with concern after he remains silent for longer than you can stand.

“Something is missing,” he informs you seriously, before reaching into his pocket and retrieving a flat, square gift box. “Happy birthday, beautiful.”

You slap him lightly in the chest for his theatrics before reaching for the box with trembling fingers. Inside is a stunning diamond tennis bracelet, the gemstones artfully arranged into vines, leaves and flowers. You nearly drop the box in your shock, but Terry’s quick reflexes have him catching it before it’s even fully left your grip.

His lips are quirked in amusement as you try to stammer your thanks, but you can barely get any words out in your shock; you know that money is no object for him, but this must have cost a fortune. By the time you’ve composed yourself he’s already secured the bracelet around your wrist, giving your now-decorated wrist an approving nod.

“That’s much better,” he purrs, lifting your hand and watching the bracelet catch the light at every angle. “Though if I had my way you’d be covered in jewels and not much else,” he adds, his thumb delicately rubbing the sensitive skin of your wrist in a way that has heat coursing through your veins.

“Terry, it’s absolutely spectacular! Thank you so much,” you gush, unable to take your eyes off of it. You’re vaguely aware of Terry humming contentedly – he’s far more accustomed to you trying to reject gifts of this magnitude, and is clearly pleased by your easy acceptance.

“I assure you, it doesn’t hold a candle compared to the woman wearing it,” he says with a wink.

The servers arrive then with your meal, and while you’re briefly irritated by their timing, you soon see it as a good thing; had they arrived even two minutes later, you know they’d have found you in a completely compromising position.

---

The meal is delicious, and you and Terry are enjoying the night with one another in a comfortable sort of bubble that belongs only to the two of you. Terry’s arm around you is all the protection you need against the growing chill to the air, and you’re more than content to curl up on the bench seat and into him further.

You’re absent-mindedly toying with his hair, out of its signature ponytail – you suspect he wore it this way on purpose, knowing your preference for it – and humming contentedly along with the soft music, when you chance a glance up at his face and notice him looking down at you with an anxious expression.

“Is everything okay, Terry?” you ask, moving your hand to stroke his cheek. He immediately leans into your palm, a pleased sigh escaping him, and he moves to take your other hand in his.

“More than okay, Y/N. I wanted to give you this at home, but I can’t wait anymore.”

With uncharacteristic nervousness, he withdraws another box, slightly thicker than the first, from his coat pocket, placing it on the table. Your mouth goes dry.

“Terry, another one? This is too much, I can’t –” you protest, sliding the unopened box back towards him. In a flash, one large hand covers your own, and the box beneath it, gently caging them against the table.

“You can, and you will,” he says in a low, firm voice, giving you an intense stare. “Open it, please.”

He releases your hand, sliding it and the box closer to you, and you bite your tongue as you lift the top off of the box.

Unlike the jewelry you’d expected, a small set of silver keys lay neatly presented in the box.

You stare at them for a long moment, your jaw falling open slightly, before you force your eyes upwards to meet his own.

“Move in with me,” he requests in a soft voice, his expression vulnerable. “Please?”

You’re utterly speechless, your heartbeat thudding loudly in your ears, and it takes you a moment to remember to breathe. When you look up, Terry’s brows have started to crease in worry, and you realize that you have yet to answer him.

Throwing your arms around him, you gasp out an acceptance as you pepper his face with kisses, tears streaming down your cheeks. You feel Terry’s arms embrace you tightly as the tension leaves his body, and he lays reverent kisses across the top of your head as you hold one another.

“Really?” he asks, his blue eyes seeking yours for confirmation. “You’ll live with me?”

His rare show of insecurity has your heart melting, and you rush to reassure him.

“Yes, Terry; God, yes!” you whisper breathlessly, and the smile he gives you is dazzling.

“Now, tell me there aren’t anymore surprises left for me tonight – I don’t think my heart can take anymore!” you joke with a sniffle, wiping at your tears.

As if on cue, the sky erupts in brilliant colours, light popping noises scattering through the night. You immediately turn to look at Terry, concerned that the fireworks are going to trigger his PTSD, but he seems unsurprised by the sudden explosions.

“Oops.” Terry mumbles under his breath, more to himself than to you.

“Are… are these –” you stammer, turning all around you to see the colourful display circling you from every direction in a giant ring that spanned blocks.

“For you? Yes,” Terry admits, smiling down at you fondly. ���But nobody else knows that.”

And it’s that little detail, more than anything else so far this evening, that tells you that Terry Silver is the man you were meant to be with.

“May I interest you in the dessert menu, Mr. Silver?” a server asks during a pause in the fireworks.

“Just the bill, thank you,” Terry says dismissively to the waiter, keeping his eyes locked with yours. You raise your eyebrows in surprise, even as desire coils in your belly from the way he’s gazing at you in the candlelight.

“I’ve got plans for dessert back home.”

---

Terry’s POV:

It’s an incredible test of his self-control to not have his way with you in the back of the limo on the ride home, but he knows that once he starts he’s not going to stop until you’re both spent.

Instead, he elects to focus on how soul-deep, over-the-moon happy he is right now, that his house is to become your home; it’s everything he’s ever wanted. He leans down to kiss you again where you’ve settled in his lap, one arm curled around you possessively while the other toys with the sensitive skin behind your knee, making you squirm pleasantly against him and letting out cute little moans that he greedily swallows into his own mouth.

He can tell that you’re partly surprised by the fact that he’s (mostly) keeping his hands to himself, and he chooses to keep up the behaviour if only to see how you’ll respond to it. Now that you’re taking this next big step in your relationship together, Terry finds that he wants to spend all of his waking hours watching you react to life around you. You’ve enthralled him like nothing else.

So, when the two of you arrive back at the mansion, he scoops you into his arms the moment you’re out of the backseat, carrying you bridal style up and into the house while you giggle and blush like a debutante, your arms locked around his neck and resting on his shoulder. He pointedly says nothing, carrying you past the stairs leading to the bedrooms and moving through the house to the kitchen, enjoying your look of growing confusion.

“What are we doing in here?” you ask once he’s set you on the edge of the kitchen counter.

“I believe I told you I had plans for dessert back home. What did you think I meant?” he asks with mock innocence, grin widening as he watches your face turn red. You try to kick at him with a bare foot but he dodges it nimbly, taking off his coat and hanging it on the back of a chair before moving to roll up his shirt sleeves. He catches you watching and bites back a smirk, your reactions to his body never failing to stroke his ego.

“Alright then, Betty Crocker, what’s on the menu?” you snark at him from your perch on the counter, trying to brush off the joke at your expense, but he isn’t fooled.

Terry had thought about it on the ride home, and he realized exactly what he wanted to make for you: a dessert from his childhood. He had remained a relatively private person throughout your relationship, especially when it came to his own history, a boundary that you had always respected but were clearly curious about. Now that you were starting to really, truly build a life together – his heart clenches intensely at the thought – it seems like the perfect time to give you a bit of insight into his past; God knows you’ve been patiently waiting for it.

“Bavarian cream,” he answers, taking in your expectant, curious look as you cock your head at him. He can tell by the patience in your eyes that you’re waiting for an explanation; you know that he never does anything for no reason. You know him so well, and every moment he’s reminded of that little fact sends his spirits soaring.

He’s waited so, so long for you, but it was all well worth it.

“It’s a creamy custard,” he explains as he busies himself with gathering ingredients from the fridge. “It was my favourite as a child. My mother used to make it for me.”

Your gaze softens even as it lights up – you’re clearly pleased by this new bit of information, just as he knew you would be.

“I can’t wait to try it,” you tell him sincerely, a beautiful smile lighting up your face. It’s clear that this genuinely means more to you than the hundred-thousand-dollar bracelet dangling from your dainty wrist, and he finds himself marvelling for the umpteenth time about how you truly just want him for him.

He falls into the comfortable rhythm of preparing the dessert – separating egg yolks, whisking the ingredients together, heating them on the stove, and beating cream into stiff peaks before adding it to the custard. The two of you are making casual conversation as he works, but it doesn’t escape his notice that you’ve been getting hot and bothered, your tongue peeking out from between your lips on occasion as you watch his hands at work.

You’ve been so patient, and given him so much today – starting with that blowjob in his office – on your birthday, no less.

It was time to start rectifying that imbalance immediately.

“It’ll need some time to set,” Terry explains, his eyes on the contents of the bowl on the counter between you. “Though I suppose I should make sure the flavour is to your liking first, hmm?”

He watches you swallow thickly as you watch him dip a long finger into the creamy, pale dessert, your mouth dry as he lifts the digit to your lips. Your beautiful eyes look past his finger to seek his out, and you stare up at him unblinkingly as you shyly extend your tongue to lick a dollop of the sweet cream off of his finger. Your eyes widen slightly, your pupils dilating, and you let out an incredibly sensual moan, instinctively grabbing his wrist to hold his hand steady so that you can take his finger into your mouth, sucking it clean.

Even he’s surprised by the intensity of the shudder that rocks his entire body at the gesture.

He can tell by the way that you lick your lips and avert your gaze that you’re about to ask for something intriguing, and he tries to contain his interest.

“So all that happens now is that the gelatin sets?”

“Yes,” he answers, curious as to your train of thought.

“But it’s technically safe to eat now?”

“Yes,” he replies in a hoarse voice, hoping that he’s accurately picked up on your train of thought.

Sure enough, you tug him towards you, wrapping your limbs around him and squeezing like a python as you pull him down into a fiery kiss.

“Let’s take it upstairs just like this,” you suggest, panting slightly in your arousal. “Now.”

---

Reader’s POV:

Terry somehow manages to juggle both the bowl of dessert and you wrapped around him as he carries you upstairs, kicking open the door to his bedroom – soon to be your bedroom – in his haste to get you where he wants you. You giggle in his arms, taking the bowl from him and setting it on the bedside table.

“Eager, are we, Mr. Silver?” you tease as he climbs onto the bed on all fours with you still hanging onto him.

“Yes,” he answers immediately, sounding unabashed. “You’ve spent the day entirely too unravished, if you ask me.”

Detangling your limbs from around him, he lays you out on the bed before running his hands from your ankles up your legs, disappearing beneath the floral fabric of your dress to tug your panties off.

“Speaking of eager,” he purrs, holding the damp scrap of fabric in front of your face, “you’re already soaked for me, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” you groan desperately, trying to keep your eyes focused so that you can unbutton his shirt.

Terry growls in approval, slipping his hands beneath you to pull down the zipper of your dress and gently pulling the sleeves down your arms before tearing the clothing off of you in one swift motion. Sitting up on your knees, you push the shirt off of his shoulders, but before you can get a firm grip on his belt he’s got you on your back again, pulling one of your legs up to wrap around his hips.

“We’ll have more than enough time for that later, sweetheart. Right now is all about me spoiling my girl the way she deserves.”

Not wanting to be outdone – it was your birthday, and you should get what you want – you blindly reach into the bowl of cream, gathering some on your fingers and swiping them across Terry’s mouth. He tries to snatch up your fingers between his teeth but you’re too fast for him, instead pulling him in for a truly decadent kiss, your tongue gathering the cream from his lips and sweeping it into his mouth.

The positively sinful groan he lets out has your toes curling, and you need to hear more of it, right fucking now.

Taking advantage of Terry’s current state of… distraction – you can feel his erection pressing insistently against your inner thigh – you quickly pull him to the side, rolling the pair of you until you are straddling his hips. The sight of Terry shirtless with mussed hair has you grinding eagerly against the bulge in his trousers, and you quickly reach for the bowl again, painting stripes across his chest with the sweet substance so that you can bend down and lick him clean.

The slight saltiness to his skin only enhances the flavour of the dessert, and you eagerly devour it off of him, hearing him cursing under his breath when your tongue brushes against a flat nipple. Grinning wickedly, you gather the remaining cream around his nipples, licking and sucking until he loses his patience, growling at you as he forcefully turns you over and pins you to the bed.

Pinning you in place with his hips and a stern glare, he reaches into the bedside drawer for a reel of nylon rope that immediately has you squirming beneath him. He removes the tennis bracelet from your wrist before deftly binding your hands together and securing them to the bedframe above your head, ignoring your weak protests.

“Save me some cream, at least,” you request with a pout – he’s currently staring down at you like you’re something to eat.

“Why should I? I should cover you head to toe and spend all night sucking you clean,” he growls, the low timbre to his voice having your eyes rolling back in your head as you imagine a night of him servicing you. Still, you have a point to make, so you force yourself to focus, sitting up as much as you can with your hands bound over your head and staring him in the eye.

“Imagine fucking my throat with my mouth full of cream,” you purr up at him, pleased at the nearly feral look he gives you in response.

“Christ, you’re a filthy creature,” he snarls, his grip tightening on the curve of your waist.

“Only for you, baby,” you reply with a cheeky smile. His answering smirk has you pressing your thighs together.

“Damn right,” he hisses, his hands forcing your legs apart and to either side of him. “Now, be a good girl for Daddy and then you can have your dessert.”

You nod up at him with a soft whine, trying to brace yourself for whatever is to come.

Terry – of course – had to test your limits, covering your body in the cool substance and tracing patterns on your arms, legs, neck and stomach and purposefully neglecting your breasts and pussy. He keeps his heated gaze on your face as he slowly licks you clean, wriggling his tongue on the underside of one forearm from your wrist to the crease of your elbow in a way that has your thighs quaking to either side of him.

“I still want to decorate this perfect body with jewels,” Terry promises as he languidly licks up cream off of your ankle. “But this will do in the meantime. You taste absolutely divine, beloved.”

By the time he cleans the cream from your limbs you’re a complete quivering mess, but Terry refuses to speed up. You know from past experience that any begging on your part – unless he asked you to – would only make the sadistic bastard draw things out even more.

“You’re being so patient, sweet thing,” he coos approvingly, his tongue swirling around your bellybutton while you arch up into him with a cry. “Such a good girl, letting me eat you up.”

He slowly brushes your breasts with cream next, while you do your best not to seem too affected. The custard is thickening now, each of your nipples decorated by a curl of cream.

“Ah, see? It’s starting to set. Stiff peaks,” Terry jokes before kissing the cream off of a prominent nipple, chuckling around your breast while you keen, your spine completely bowed up and off the bed. He grips your hips firmly, pressing them into the mattress as he continues to devour you, and you’re already so close that the slight pressing together of your inner thighs is enough to have you coming, your legs tightening their hold around his hips as you buck up against him.

“I love watching you come apart for me, Y/N,” he murmurs in a husky voice once you’ve stopped moaning his name and caught your breath slightly, though your chest is still heaving. “You were made for me to ruin, and spoil, and own.”

“Yesss,” you hiss, pulling him upwards with your knees until he gives you what you want, kissing you deeply, traces of cream on his tongue that you lap up eagerly. “I’m all yours, Terry. We were made for each other, love.”

Terry’s exuberance can be felt in every brush of his lips against yours, the way his fingers press into your flesh and his eyes bore into your own. You’ll be happy to affirm your feelings for him for eternity, especially knowing what it means to him.

“My sweet girl,” Terry breathes, nuzzling into the crook of your neck affectionately. “I love you so much.”

“Let me up and prove it!” you tease, tugging at your restraints. Terry smirks down at you, running a hand slowly down one side of your body.

“Let you up? When I finally have you where I want you, in our bed?” he asks playfully, and you can’t help the beaming smile that spreads across your face when he mentions this space being yours now, too.

“No dice, sweetheart, not even for the birthday girl. But I will let you choose if you’d rather have your dessert now or after I’ve had seconds…” he leers down at you, one large hand squeezing a handful of your inner thigh firmly. You shudder, thinking about Terry using you while you’re tied up; it’s one of your favourite things to do with him (though everything you do together nears the top of the list), and you’re surprised he’s letting the focus deviate from you so much today of all days.

“Ooohhh, let me!” you moan eagerly, Terry taking in your enthusiasm with smug satisfaction. He makes a show of taking off his pants, staying just out of reach and watching you squirm impatiently before climbing back on the bed, keeping his knees to either side of your body and his weight off of you, cheekily balancing the bowl of dessert on your ribs.

“Keep it in your mouth,” he commands, using his fingers to feed the cream into your greedy mouth. You hold it all inside, your cheeks bulging out, and Terry gives you a wicked smile, bringing the swollen head of his cock just in front of your lips. You look up at him with needy, pleading eyes, silently begging to give him pleasure. His eyes darken further as he stares down at you right where you were meant to be; utterly at his mercy.

“Tell me what you want, beautiful,” he purrs, his eyes glittering.

“I want to suck your cock, Daddy,” you moan through your full mouth, and while the words are mostly unintelligible, he gets the gist, bringing the tip of his cock to your full lips. You lift your head as much as you can, guiding him inside your mouth with your tongue, the cream moving to accommodate his length.

“Oh sweet fuck,” he hisses, his hips moving to slide deeper, the difference in texture and temperature between your hot mouth and the cool cream clearly driving him wild. You moan throatily around him, your tongue swirling the cream around his cock as you try to bring him quickly. Nothing gave you a greater high than making this imposing, restrained man come undone.

“Such a perfect, dirty mouth,” he growls as he quickens his pace, his fists clenched in the sheets to either side of your head. “God, what you do to me, Y/N,”he snarls before an incredibly sexy whimper escapes his lips, causing his hips to stutter. “You’ve got me so close already, baby girl, I’m going to –”

You lift your legs suddenly, your knees guiding his hips closer to your head, and the movement takes him by surprise, causing him to reach up and grab the headboard as he climaxes, thighs shaking as he keeps his weight off of you. The bitter, salty taste of his cum compliments the dessert wonderfully, and you swallow everything you can before starting to clean the remaining cream off of his softening cock with kittenish licks that have him twitching above you.

Terry, hair mussed and face flushed from the exertion, stares down at you with unblinking eyes as he watches you lick him clean with fascination.

“I’ve got to stop letting you bewitch me, woman,” he comments off-handedly as he smiles at you fondly, sliding down the bed to lay next to you. “Today is supposed to be all about you.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” you say with mock innocence, batting your eyes up at him. “I certainly got what I wanted.”

“What a coincidence – having you tied down and pleasuring me is also at the top of my birthday wishlist.”

“Why should we only reserve it for special occasions?”

He gives you a dark, brooding look. “Every day before I met you seems more and more like a waste.”

“We should make up for lost time then,” you retort with a grin. “Untie me?”

“Oh, I don’t know about that – I’m not quite done with my dessert.”

“But I need to touch you, Terry,” you coo quietly up at him, and his gaze softens. Keeping his eyes trained on yours, he reaches up to remove the rope from your wrists, taking each one as it’s freed and kissing it thoroughly, checking for damage.

“Thank you, baby,” you murmur sweetly, your fingers playing with his hair as you stare into his blue, blue eyes. They were so captivating that you often forgot your surroundings entirely…

The temperature of the bavarois against your aching clit makes you shriek, Terry having taken advantage of your distraction to work some of the cream between your legs. Before you can tighten your grip he’s slipped his head out of your grasp with a wicked smile, sliding down the bed and spreading your legs in one fluid motion before burying his face at the apex of your thighs.

“Oh fuck, Terry, Oh God,” you groan, trying to grind your hips up against his face. He watches you with feverish, bright eyes peeking out from above your mound as he makes you come apart from him again, backing off right before you reach the point of no return.

“That’s right, sweetheart, let me love you how you need,” he purrs, chuckling as you fist your hands in his gorgeous silver curls and try to tug him back to where you need him. Predictably, your attempts have no effect, and he turns his head slightly to give you a patronizing kiss on your inner thigh.

“Terry!” you whine his name, panting desperately, “PLEASE!”

“There’s a new rule for you tonight, beloved,” he informs you nonchalantly, as though you were in any frame of mind to follow along. “You want to come once, you come twice – got it?”

He dives back in to eat you out before you can even respond, and there’s no way you can be expected to form a coherent thought and make a decision. You know that Terry knows this, too, and that you’ll happily agree to anything right now if it means that he’ll let you come.

“Yes, fine! Please don’t stop,” you beg, and you can feel him smirking victoriously against your folds as he snakes his tongue inside of you. Throwing your legs over his shoulders, he takes his time, spreading the last of the dessert along your hips and thighs and devouring you thoroughly.

“I will never get over the way you taste,” he groans with satisfaction, two fingers pumping you full while he flicks his tongue over your clit, and you come hard, screaming his name. He doesn’t relent, quickly withdrawing his fingers and replacing them with his tongue as he drinks up your release, dragging out your orgasm with his lips and purring his approval inside of you; you can feel it in your bones.

“Give me another one,” he demands in a low, husky voice, his large hands gripping your thighs tightly as he spreads them apart, watching your pussy quiver in its release. You let out a wordless whine, your hands laid overtop of his where he holds you open.

“Make… me…” you pant, staring down at him challengingly, and he gives you a wolfish grin, blunt fingernails digging into your soft flesh.

“With pleasure, my princess,” he purrs, his eyes promising that you’ll be begging for mercy by the time he’s done with you.

You’re not naïve enough to believe that this will be the end of Terry’s plans for you for the evening – and sure enough, after thoroughly scrubbing the lingering traces of sugar off of both of you in the shower, he would spend the rest of the night and well into the early hours of the morning making even sweeter love to you.

---

Well, I know what I want for my birthday! Hope you all enjoyed!

[ashaflemythal]

I haven’t seen any real critical takes on veilguard on here, so I wanted to add my 2 cents and open up a discussion bc at this moment I would say I’m beefing with BioWare lol.

Firstly, did I have fun playing veilguard? Uh, yes? I guess? Technically? I would definitely say the combat system and a lot of the gameplay itself is far better than it has been in previous games, and made me more engaged.

However, the writing issues at BioWare came to a major head here.

1) i didn’t feel like they went into the political and social implications of what was going on at all?? The elven gods coming back would bring so many other consequences beyond the destruction and blight. We didn’t see how this affected the way elves were treated, especially somewhere like Tevinter.

2) what happened to the Templar/mage conflict? The implications of the elven gods being alive and back are that then the chant and chantry are mostly wrong. There is no “magic was made to serve man and never rule over him.” This would likely make mages lash out at templars for being oppressed over what have turned out to essentially be lies. The templars then would likely split into those that leave the chant and focus on the real threats before them, and those who dig in their heels and decide that mages should still be oppressed bc of the dangers no matter what the chantry says. This would be such an interesting political shift to witness! And I’m sad we didn’t get this amount of depth

3) what happened to Solas’ followers? There was something so interesting to explore about having current elves helping him because they felt he was doing the right thing. We don’t run into any of his followers at all! And elves would definitely have more than enough reason to seek the world of the ancients and return to Arlathan given tevinter slavery and general oppression across Thedas, so what happened to that?

4) the only complex companion relationship that is allowed in-game is with rook and whoever was hardened with the treviso/minrathous choice. Otherwise, you can’t really have an antagonistic relationship with any of them. The only way to not progress a good relationship is to not engage in their content which I feel like is very weak writing. In DAI, you walk in on Cassandra and varric physically fighting and have to side with one of them. You can tell Cullen to keep taking lyrium. You can pick the wrong option in a companion quest and worsen your relationship. Where was that in this game?

5) the roleplaying, or lack there of. Sometimes I would pick the most aggressive option and it would still sound pretty nice, all things considered, where is my ability to feel differently outside of the very narrow window the game provides?

6) the STAKES of it all. The companions all seem very chill about things, all things considered. They are finding out things that would politically turn thedas on its head, and they’re having these calm discussions around a coffee table. I’m currently on my second play through, and it feels like none of these discoveries are given the weight they deserved, after three games of built up lore.

7) the gods’ allies. The motivations of the bad guys can pretty much be summed up by saying “want power” and that creates such shallow villains. Like yeah, obviously they’re bad bc they just want power and don’t care about people, but what about villains that do care about others? Villains that are complicated? I mean hell even though Alexius was mostly like “yes corypheus power” there was that grounding aspect of him wanting to save his son who was sick. I don’t feel like we had anything that tangible or real from major villains in veilguard

Ok, long post, but I do feel like BioWare has started to shy away from nuance and gray areas in a way I don’t like. It is important to show the complicated perspectives of evil people because that is the same thing we have to deal with irl. As an action-adventure game, it’s fine, but veilguard can scarcely call itself a true rpg. I don’t know, my feelings about it are complicated but all I know is that this game was quite disappointing to me especially compared to DAI, and I want to hope for better from the next game but given the way their BioWare’s last couple releases have gone I can’t say I’m expecting a lot. Anyway, how are yall feeling fr?

[crossdressingdeath]

Thinking about it having taken some time away, a revenge plot like Karlach's was I think one of the worst possible choices for a BG3 companion quest even before we get into what a half-assed fake drama story it is (why isn't her quest finding a damn Wish scroll, Larian, that would actually be fun and wouldn't cut into Wyll's quest or demand the player choose her ending if they want her to live, there are multiple spells that could fix this and we're given exactly zero explanation for why we aren't even trying to get one, you even brought Wish into the plot as a non-standard game over and then didn't bring it up here when it would be an ideal solution), because it really brings the massive double standard the game's got going on into stark relief. It's most obvious in contrast with Astarion. Like, think about it: the Gur's desire for revenge against Astarion is every bit as justified as Karlach's desire for revenge against Gortash; actually it's more so, given they have a real (though faint) reason to hope that they can actually accomplish something outside of his death, namely getting their kids back. But giving him to the Gur kills him and costs you a companion; it's a failure as far as his character arc goes, and in fact happens so early on he doesn't really get a character arc. All of that potential development is cut short and you have to see his corpse in the ritual and it is in general treated as a bad thing. The much better way of handling the Gur situation is to talk to them in act 3 and drag Astarion into atoning for what he did by trying to deal with Cazador and rescue the kids. This is good! Blind revenge solves nothing, having people pay for what they did by atoning and having to help the people they hurt as best they can is a much better solution! We love to see it!

Now you'd think the equivalent to that would be to dissuade Karlach from her revenge and instead get Gortash to fix the heart (either with his knowledge of the tech involved or—my personal favourite—his power and influence being used to acquire the use of one of the spells that could repair it or replace it with a normal heart because again there's more than one of those and it's stupid that none of them are even brought up as potential solutions), but... nope! Revenge is only bad when those outsiders do it, when it's a companion it's the only real solution! Like, yeah, she's got that thing where she complains that it didn't help at all but... we knew killing Gortash wouldn't help from the start. I don't remember if Karlach herself ever brings it up, but it's hard to miss that killing Gortash will not solve anything Karlach's got going on. And if you don't kill him you don't even get that much acknowledgement that revenge isn't a great solution. And also that's the most basic revenge plot outline, "revenge feels empty" is so fucking common as an ending. But it's just a moment that makes it so clear that Larian wasn't really interested in exploring the themes of the cycle of abuse and how aggressors can also be victims and all that with... anyone except the companions (and even then not always; see their complete unwillingness to ever engage with pre-amnesia Durge as anything but a heartless, crazy murderer despite the game itself including plenty of implications that that wasn't the case). It makes it seem less like a discussion on the cycle of abuse and more like good old-fashioned protagonist-centric morality, where the bad things the heroes do are forgivable because they had a hard life but anyone who hurts them is irredeemable no matter how hard their lives were. And it could've been avoided so easily (in a way that also gave Karlach's quest a more satisfying ending) by having a better ending to her quest that focused less on revenge and more on restitution. But no, heaven forbid we be allowed to engage with the act 3 antagonists in any meaningful way outside of killing them or acknowledge that the main thing separating them from the less moral companions is that no one helped them...

[starsreminisce]

90% of the time I see people making posts about Lucien's eye, calling it disgusting, calling him Mad Eye Moody and laughing...it's always an E*riel.

They need to stop being so obviously bitter, it's clear why Lucien being canonically hot bothers them 🤭

I sense their frustration amping up seeing we're close to the announcement

Not to mention the fact Lulu won the Hot One slot in the recent reddit post, oh they're big mad

Lucien is undeniably handsome.

Based on words, actions, and implications, Feyre, Cassian, Amren, Ianthe, and the King of Hybern have all acknowledged his attractiveness.

Lucien is canonically so hot that the creepy Hybern female twin told Feyre she'd pick Beron's son, noting that Autumn Court males have fire in their veins and they fuck like it. Nesta reminded us of this again in her own book.

Lucien is canonically so hot that three humans widened their eyes at his cruel beauty and then fell to their knees.

Lucien is canonically so hot that something Elain thought of or felt made him blush when he tried to use the bond he shares with her to see what was amiss with her.

None of the characters have an issue with his scar, only curiosity and sympathy that he has it.

Feyre: "The metal one spun as if set wild; his brutal scar was stark against his pale skin. Again he was to be Amarantha’s toy to torment."

Nesta: "Azriel and Lucien were two of the few who bore scars, both from traumas so terrible Nesta had never dared ask for details."

Ever since SJM posted that "Guilty as Sin?" song, Bloomsbury hosted a Spring Court-inspired event for ACOTAR where the Autumn Court was also featured, a Bloomsbury video discussing names mentioned the meaning of Lucien's name and hinted at his secret ancestry, her website has a "Who is Your Fated Mate?" quiz, and the song she dedicated to her husband for Father's Day, whom she felt was fated to meet, is a nod to Like Calls to Like.

SJM's latest post celebrates reaching a huge follower milestone and expresses her excitement for what's to come. Elain and Lucien's mating bond is still left to explore.

And if HOFAS tells us anything, SJM is confident in who she pairs up as mates, whether readers agree with her decisions or not.

[dragonnarrative-writes]

For the ask game, has anyone asked about Autumn Embers courting yet? The sex cake, I mean, the "courtship cake" concept was amazing. 🍰🔥

For the WIP Ask Game! Autumn Embers really is an interesting project. I wanted to use it to explore some of the weirder implications of the omegaverse and i tripped and fell into being horny about it. I really loved everything to do with The Cake. I definitely need to revisit it.

Have a bit of courting conversation.

CW: None (surprisingly)

“So!” Johnny grins at you and leans back in his seat, rolling his shoulders. “What’s an omega such as yerself looking fer in a pack?”

Kyle groans and puts his face in one hand. “Jesus, Soap.”

“I have my pack,” you answer, leaning back in your own seat to throw your own gauntlet. “Family I’ve chosen amongst my friends. And I’ve never found them lacking enough to seek anything more formal.”

“Oh, aye? They the ones who’ve helped you get all prettied up, this evenin’? C’n smell the wee blonde one on ye.”

Before the Captain can growl a correction, you point your glass at him. “Are you this rude on purpose, or is it just a natural talent?”

“Six ‘f one, half dozen the other,” the man answers easily, chin tipped up. “Wan’ tae see that hint of fang you flashed fer us. That real, or just a bit of show for the base?”

“That wasn’t for you,” you scoff.

“Fer Laswell, then?”

You cock an eyebrow. “Is she interested?”

“Oh aye, she loves a curvy thing with a bit o’ sharp edge.”

“Johnny,” Simon rumbles. “Enough.”

“Nae,” the Sergeant drawls. “She’s ‘ere, with us. If she wants something like that twat Brandon c’n offer, she’d have ‘im wrapped around those delicate fingers. She likes an alpha with a little bite.”

“Presumptuous,” you sniff.

“Yer the one drinkin’ the whiskey.” Johnny’s grin flashes his canines.

[partnerindestiny]

we are who we are!

As the month rolls over, the final night of the Ethereal Moon passes. The morning that follows is one of color and chaos. The hallways have been strung up with streamers, in patterns of rainbow and pink, blue, and white. There is a sense of community in the air, a current cutting through the student body and administrative staff alike. While the decorations may be gaudy, and perhaps the patterns unfamiliar, this is a month of celebration.

Caeda mingles among the crowd, bright extroversion encouraging people to join in on the celebration. Forsyth and Lloyd's dedication behind the scenes helps students assemble stands and banners decorate windows. Shez, for their part, plasters paint upon their face, content to engage on their own terms. Ewan's small form flits amidst the crowd, distributing sparklers in every color of the rainbow. What will you do?

Prompts

[ Confetti ] - everything in Garreg Mach seems to be covered in a layer of sparkles and confetti. Grab a handful if you like! And if you don’t mind glittering for the next week.

[ Chalk ] - across the cobblestone, people of all walks of life are drawing in brightly colored chalk. Some are simply signing their names, while others are writing sweet messages, and still more are simply drawing little pictures. What will you add to the canvas?

[ Face paint ] - palettes of paint in every color of the rainbow sit squarely upon a little stand, inviting those who pass by to “wear their colors”. Hanging at the side of the stand are some suggested color combinations and their meaning. Students are encouraged to paint each others’ faces in a display of trust. 

[ Cut & Style ] - a group of Garreg Mach’s students have decided to try their hands at hairstyling, knowing that a proper haircut can do wonders for one’s view of themselves and their expression. However, whether or not they’re good at giving haircuts is another question entirely. 

[ Tie-dye! ] - small, easily-ruptured balls filled with dye have been left in buckets scattered across the Monastery. The intent? Students have been distributed white shirts upon request, and with the donning of said shirt, invite others to shower them in color. There’s nothing stopping you from pranking an unsuspecting fellow without a white shirt on, though..

[ Lovetape - redux! ] - inspired by the celebratory event from BOEL, a gaggle of Golden Deer have decided to take their own spin on the stick-on-compliment game. Brightly colored paper with adhesive backs beckon passerby, as well as a stack of pens. The game is simple - scrawl down a compliment, and stick it onto someone else. Just remember - if you’re fast enough, you might not even get caught! 

[ Mocktail Melody ] - another station, this one in the dining hall, boasts various drinks of different uncannily vibrant colors. Some are bubbly, some are sicky-sweet, and still others are oddly bitter. None are alcoholic. What sort of mixture will you make?

[ Kissing Booth ] - less well-built than the other stands is one that proclaims itself as a kissing booth. Curiously, no one sits behind the counter - will you sit there and await company, or approach someone sitting there?

Guidelines

Reblog this meme to show you’re participating! 

As this is unofficial, there’s no real necessitated tag, but if people would like to have one space for all of this, I’ll personally be using the tag #TOAPride2024! This can also be used for any opens for these prompts, if you'd like to do that instead.

The tag can also be used for any sort of pride-related art you’d like to make for your muse, or if you’d like to explore anything else related to pride. Feel free to get creative!

There is no restriction on ages or orientations/genders that can participate in this event!

Banner credits: 1, 2

OOC note

Hello there, TOA! This is a personal attempt at organizing a little approximation for a pride month event. The prompts can be spun however people would like. I know that there are some implications that come with the idea of canonizing pride in the world of Fire Emblem, as well as the fact that pride flags as we know them are unlikely to exist, but ultimately my goal of organizing something like this is to reach my fellow LGBT muns, especially those who cannot celebrate their identities in real life. Pride is both a celebration and a memory, an honoring of survival and a remembrance of those who came before us, and I hope everyone can get a little bit of fun from this.

Happy pride!