#or that it doesn't matter what kind of sugar is in it because your body 'can't differentiate'

[kasumingo]

tumblr: soda is actually good for you!!

chubbyemu: there is not a single kind of soda that is actually not harmful to you

[ms-demeanor]

Okay THANK YOU for saying “your body craves what it needs” is bs because that felt like bs this whole time.

Like you don’t need more sugar if you crave sweets that is NOT what that means. Sugar is a food that people crave because it tastes good/sugar I think is an addictive food??

Idk it just felt like people making excuses when they’re supposed to be trying to eat a little healthier (healthier, not low cal, not low fat or keto or whatever. Diets are bs but craving sweets does not mean sugar is healthy thing for your body rn)

People crave sugar because it tastes good, which is not a bad thing, and there is an evolutionary reason that sugar and fat taste good to us. Carbs are your body's favorite thing because it is SUPER easy for your body to break them down into useful molecules.

I'm not a fan of the idea that any foods are addictive and I'm skeptical of models that suggest "refined food addiction" is a thing with a measurable, real-world impact; there's a lot of debate in that area of nutrition science and to me it kind of seems like the tools people use to track food addiction aren't really examining the addictiveness of specific foods, but are decent screening tools for people who have compulsive behaviors around food (for instance, one group of people who the Yale Food Addiction Scale has repeatedly been demonstrated to be REALLY good at identifying is people with anorexia).

But your body needs sugar all the time, whether that's in the form of complex carbohydrates that get broken down into simple sugars by your body, or simple sugars that you stir into your tea that then gets sent to your cells as energy. If your diet doesn't have enough sugar in it, your body has a processes to turn non-sugars into sugar so that it can use the sugar (gluconeogenesis!). Sugar is unambiguously good for you in the way that fat is unambiguously good for you. You need sugar to survive and it's not a bad thing if you want to have a cookie or a soda or some candy, and again - your craving probably isn't telling you that you're deficient in a specific micro or macronutrient, but I still think that you should listen to your craving.

Like, I don't know how much you know about psychotherapy but the attitude that a lot of diet-focused discussion takes toward cravings reminds me of cognitive behavioral therapy. "When you crave chocolate, no you don't! Don't think about the chocolate, you actually probably need starch or sugar or something, let's redirect that into having a banana, or some frozen berries, or some spinach. Point away from the unhealthy craving and into the healthy replacement, or, better yet, ignore the craving. Mind over matter. You choose how you act."

(I actually think "X craving means that I want Y food so I shall replace it with Z, which is similar" "craving salt means that I am dehydrated and need electrolytes so instead of potato chips I'll have some soup" is how this goes most of the time. I think this is a diet culture thing, not a food positivity thing.)

And you know what I think that's a garbage way to look at both food and emotions.

When I'm craving ice cream it's not because I've been mostly vegetarian for a week and am low on dietary cholesterol (AN IMPORTANT NUTRIENT. Don't be scared of consuming some cholesterol), I'm craving ice cream because sugar and fat taste good. So instead of trying to pretend that I'm getting "what I need" from a piece of salmon the size of a deck of cards with no salt and some lemon squeezed on top, I'm going to scoop out a moderate portion of ice cream and eat it while focusing on how much I enjoy it. And I'm going to do that instead of sitting down with a pint and a spoon while I'm stressed at work and eating something that tastes good to distract from the fact that work is stressful. (And sometimes it's fine to sit down with a pint and a spoon but I will say that's generally best not to do while you're in the middle of something stressful)

And if you want to relate that back to therapy I see this as more of the DBT approach. I've accepted that I want ice cream so I'm going to eat it in an intentional way and enjoy it instead of eating so much that I don't want dinner, or that it makes me feel sick, or that I eat it without noticing it because I'm using it as a distraction instead of a snack.

I'm not trying to shut down the negative emotion or shun the "bad" food, I'm accepting that I have that emotion and I'm working this neutral food into my day so that I'll feel good tomorrow and won't get heartburn overnight.

So I see that you're trying to be kind of anti diet culture here, but I don't think people need excuses to eat sugar, and I actually think that making excuses to eat it is significantly less healthy than just eating the sugar (which, again, is unambiguously healthy to eat as part of a varied, filling, nutritious diet). It seems like you may have internalized some ideas about sugar that are not great even if you are trying to separate from diet culture.

Nobody is ever going to eat a diet so healthy and nutritionally complete that they don't want candy or cake or cookies sometimes. Food is not only fuel, it is entertainment and culture and comfort and distraction and celebration and a million other things, but it is not bad. I don't think there's a single universally bad food out there, or any food that never belongs as part of someone's diet (unless it's something you're allergic to - I don't care if you're craving peanuts, do not eat peanuts if you have a peanut allergy).

So it's okay to make sugar, you don't need to make excuses. It's okay to eat sugar if you're craving sugar, even if that's not what your body "needs". But also sometimes a craving is your body saying "I'm hungry and this sounds good, please feed me" even if you're not a finely-tuned spectrometer that's craving blueberries pie because you actually need antioxidants from the blueberries (you're not a finely tuned spectrometer, you don't need the antioxidants from the blueberries, it's perfectly fine to just eat a slice of pie).

[reveluving]

Phillip Graves getting jealous because his shy wife is getting flirted on by someone else but she doesn't know how to respond?? Yes please!!

(could be sfw at first but when they get back home graves pounds his wife against any surface he sees because he can't stand seeing his wife getting flirted on right in front of him)

YUUUUH I HAVE JUST THE THING!! I know, it's been AGES with these, and this one from last year but I still hope you like it! and I know you said doing the nasty back home, but I thought "man, I'm already here. might as well!" and filthy-ize(???) it even more for good measure 😘💗

Includes; soft (& slightly mean dom) & possessive graves, fingerf~cking, unprotected sex (p in v), petnames ('sugar', 'pretty girl'), licking, biting & marking, praising, dirty talking, mentions of voyeurism & exhibitionism!!

COD x shy!wife thots closed! Thank you, everyone, for your time & amazing minds! I sincerely hope I can do this again with y'all soon! 💌

Come & check out my COD m.list!

It happens. 

A lot.

The library, your favourite diner, your flower shop—anywhere.

It happens more than you can imagine, but with Phil around, it’s mostly from afar. The kind where they could only dream about making a move on you, if not for the guard dog with the sharp tongue.

Hence, when he’s not around, he worries a little for you, but he knows you can protect yourself when needed, thanks to the self-defence lessons he has given you when you were still dating.

So, imagine the unlucky bastard who thought it was a good idea to take advantage of your gracious hospitality, not knowing your husband was around.

It happened when he had finished work, but instead of heading home, he took the route where your flower shop was. Closing time was ten minutes ago so he knew you’d be waiting for him at the cafe next door, probably nursing a cup of your favourite drink or nibbling on a pastry.

He hated it whenever he couldn’t reach you on the dot or before, no matter how many times you’ve reassured him. 

Reaching the neighbourhood shops was like a breath of fresh air, enjoying the sense of familiarity and the breeze as he turned the corner, passing by the cafe first.

But with a glance, his brows furrowed, seeing that you were nowhere in sight. He quickly took it as a sign that you were still working, though a thirty-minute overtime was almost uncommon of you.

He parked his convertible close to the entrance of your shop but still out of view, and for a brief moment, he caught sight of you through the window. 

And just his mood lifted, ready to greet you with open arms, his smile dropped.

You were dealing with a customer, a man likely in his 30s and dressed, well, if one were told to dress formally, and they did it haphazardly, then that was exactly what it was. His body language was a little awkward, almost unsure what pose may look alluring in your eyes.

Though Phil had a knack for judging certain people by their looks, if and only if their personality rubbed him the wrong way, he didn’t have an issue thinking of the worst insults about the man, if not for the uncomfortable smile on your face.

So, leaning against the wall, away from you or the man’s sight, he listened in. 

“So, your husband’s in the military, huh?” He asked, but Phil wasn’t dumb enough to think it wasn’t a sneer in disguise. Probably thought he held some rookie position, “Must be hard not having someone to hold to every night.”

Phil didn’t bother hiding the scornful look on his face.

“It’s not bad,” He immediately perked up at the sound of your voice. The gentle sound that could heal even his worst wounds, “He finds time to check up on me.” 

Whether or not you were telling the truth or if you were downplaying your thoughts if his absence really did bother you, he’ll ask you later, but for now, he wanted to tell you how proud he was. Not letting some schmuck stick their nose in someone else’s business, and your marriage, no less.

“Well, sure, but look at you! I don’t know about you but if I had a girl like you? Shoot, I don’t I’d ever get any work done,” The audacity. Phil’s jaw tightened, listening to him weakly defend himself when you didn’t respond, undoubtedly displeased by his unnecessary opinion, “But that’s just me, y’know.”

“Right, um,” You turned to the row of flower pots, using the second to roll your eyes to the back of your head before showing him the bunch of bluebells in your hands, “How about some bluebells?”

The man pretended to think, “Nah, I mean, they’re cute but I’m looking for something… more,” He then leaned in, resting his arm on the counter, “A little bland, if I’m being honest with you.”

You forced a smile, but Phil, oh Phil.

He wasn’t smiling. 

Who was this man, no, who was this kid to not see how uncomfortable you were with his god-awful ‘flirting’ skills and judge your taste in your very own store?

“That’s fine, I’m sure we can find something else.” Oh, that pitiful tone of yours. Just how long has this man been bothering you?

You bit down a sigh, placing the bluebells back into their pot before walking back to the back of the counter. You knelt, possibly looking for something else, though Phil wouldn’t blame you if you were doing so to drown him out for a bit.

Phil had listened long enough. Moving off the wall, he clicked on the lock button of his car keys. He spun his keys on his finger as he entered the shop, the rattling sounds prompted the man to follow his figure. His eyebrows knitted further, more so when Phil casually stopped right in front of the counter as if used to coming over.

His eyes darted from Phil’s attire; simple yet sophisticated, and how he carried himself, then the convertible behind him. The sudden insecurity forming in the guy’s mind was a no-brainer.

You must’ve heard the extra pair of footsteps and the keys, “I’ll be right with you!” 

He didn’t respond, opting to eye the man—Chad, which he would later learn—with full of judgement. The latter flinched when their eyes met, though he tried to act cool soon by clearing his throat.

But the stare may have been too much for him, as he asked, his voice less confident than before, “Do I know you?” 

“You tell me.” He responded loud enough for you to hear, and just as he hoped, you straightened, visibly lighting up at the sight of him. 

“Phil!” You cheered, already forgetting about the customer as you rushed over to your husband for a hug, “I thought you wouldn’t be back until tonight?”

He shrugged, wrapping one of his arms around you while he caressed the apple of your cheek with his free hand, “Change o’plans. Drove here as fast as I could.” He gave you a lazy smile, more so when you jutted out your bottom lip, pouting at his statement. 

“Phil, you know how I feel about you speeding home,” You sighed, despite leaning into his touch, “But I’m glad you’re back. Safe.”

You couldn’t stay mad at him, not with that cheeky smile of his before he pressed his lips onto yours. You could feel the upturn of his lips when you yelped, and he didn’t even bother hiding his amusement—his delighted huff when you returned the kiss.

But before he could feel you, before he could melt into your hands as they held his face, you broke the kiss, almost hiding in his chest for a moment before motioning to the man watching—his face that of panicked realization.

“Phil—Customer…”

Ew.

Well, at least he learnt he had messed with the wrong married woman.

Phil suddenly grinned, and a painfully fake one, judging by the lack of positive emotion, or any emotion in his eyes as he looked at Chad.

“Y’here for an arrangement?”

“U–Uh, no. I’m just… looking around. Thinking of buying one for my, uh, girl.”

The man wasn’t dumb enough to think the smirk on Graves’ face wasn’t the face of mockery. A man who has done enough interrogations to know just how much he was bullshitting.

“Huh, Y’must be lookin’ for a special one if you’re makin’ my girl workin’ overtime,” He glanced at the clock just hanging by the door, his arm not leaving you once, “Y’sleepin’ in the dog house or somethin’?” 

“Phil.” You hissed, and ever so cutely, might your husband add. You briefly apologised to Chad, even if you wanted nothing more than to send him on his way.

“Sorry, sorry,” If you noticed his lack of sincerity, you didn't call him out on it. Graves held his hand out, the corner of his lips twitched when Chad took a step back, “Graves. Commander and CEO. Proud husband of this pretty girl right here.” 

Chad accepted, albeit hesitantly, nearly squawking when Phil purposely squeezed his hand. He had a feeling he wouldn't mind breaking his arm if it weren't for the obvious repercussions and well, you being there. 

“Mr Thompson was just looking for a bouquet for his girlfriend. It might take a minute so you can hang around for a bit while I help him.” You explained, standing close to your husband, now that he was with you.

“Or,” Phil spoke, and you should’ve suspected something was up just by his tone, despite his so-called generous offer, “I help him look for what he needs, while you go ahead and close up, get your bag, lock the back room and all.”

You raised your brows, “Phil, are you sure?”

He hummed, “C’mon. ‘Bout time I put my flower knowledge into good use. And who knows?” He glanced at Chad, sharply. With his eyes on the unwanted customer, he leaned to your side, as if whispering, despite making sure Chad heard him loud and clear, “It’s probably nothin’ more than a lil’ trouble in paradise. Nothin’ I can’t sort out, man to man.”

You thought for a moment. You had your suspicions when Chad stopped by the same time your shift ended. And while you wouldn’t have minded, he wasn’t exactly helpful about his request either. Giving you doubtful answers such as his supposed girlfriend’s favourite colour or the occasion. 

Plus, you were a little eager to be away from Chad, even for a short while.

In the end, you nodded, much to Chad’s horror.

“Okay, I just need to organize a few boxes in the back,” You squeezed Phil's arm, “Thank you. I won’t take long.”

Sliding his hand down your arm, he raised your hand to his lips before letting you go.

“Take all the time y’need, pretty girl,” And as soon as you were out of sight, his voice dropped, the upturn of his lips now in a manner that Chad knew this was going to be anything but a quick talk amongst men about which apology flowers were the best, “Take all the time y’need.”

His smile was nowhere to be seen as he leaned against the counter, crossing his arms as he watched Chad pinching a leaf of random flower in the guise of interest.

But by the third flower, Graves had enough, surprising Chad with his authoritative tone.

“Y’just gonna stand there and ruin my wife’s flowers or are y’goin’ to buy somethin’ and get out?” 

“I’m…” Chad began but Phil didn’t give him the satisfaction to explain himself. He didn’t need to.

“Look. I’m really fuckin’ tired, and my girl is, too, but I’m sure you’re too busy trying to look down her dress to notice that.”

“That’s—”

“Cut,” He didn’t even need to raise a single finger as the tone he normally used on his team on a bad or serious day was enough to shut the man up, “... the bullshit, alright? Y’can buy all the flowers you want to impress her, save a puppy as soon as you see her coincidentally walk by at the park. Fuckin’ pick-me.”

The impatient smile plastered on his face told Chad everything about the commander’s patience.

“I know a degenerate when I see one.” Chad knew not to trust how calm Phil sounded, “And I know she can defend herself just fine. Hell, I taught her everything she needs to know t’deal with boys like you. But I can tell y’one thing; I’ll do so much worse than what she’s already capable of.”

Graves’ heavy footsteps sounded like a disaster waiting to happen in mere seconds before he stood in the middle of the shop.

“Might wanna get out while y’can.” He gritted out, and Chad didn’t waste a second to find out what would’ve happened if he didn’t that very instance, whether it was from you or your husband.

You returned just in time to find Graves appreciating the tulips, though, unbeknownst to you, he was also slightly miffed that some were stained by Chad’s hands alone.

“Oh, did he find what he needed?”

“‘Guess so. Took off as soon as he figured it out. He didn’t buy anythin’ though,” He swiftly carried the bag for you, pulling you in for a kiss on your forehead, “Sorry he wasted y’time.”

“That’s alright,” You grinning, not expecting him to apologize over that, “I just need to keep the flowers in the back. Mind helping me?”

Of course he didn't mind.

He moved with you, carrying much more stock to the cool room where the unsold flowers were kept. During his second run, he lightly tapped you on the ass, stealing a kiss before telling you to lock the register instead. You did just that, carefully organizing the cash and coins before locking it.

Phil worked with ease, pushing necessary pots and displays to one side and pulling the blinds down like the tasks were at the back of his hand. But he didn’t draw the blinds close all the way, though, leaving a small opening at the bottom of the windows where you and Graves could see the sun shining through and the feet of passers-by. 

But unbeknownst to you, he locked the front door and with great care, avoided the usual click.

He shamelessly glanced at you at every possible moment, watching you sit prettily as you focused on your task behind the counter. 

Once his side was done, he approached you, stannding in between your legs as soon as you locked the register.

“All done.” You smiled, crinkles forming in your eyes.

“Perfect.” He opened up his arms, closing the space in between as you embraced. But just as you basked in the wholesome reunion, you froze up, eyes wide at a familiar tent prodding your stomach. He didn't bother concealing his amusement, his smile grew at your giggles, showering one side of your face with kisses to hear more of you. 

“Thought he'd never leave.” He murmured against your skin with zero shame, which prompted you to pull back.

“You threw him out?” You asked in disbelief.

“He threw himself out,” He shrugged, not exactly lying but telling you the whole truth either. He cooed at your little frown, even holding his hand up in a saluting manner, “I’m serious. Scout's honour.” 

“Were you even a scout?” 

“Nope,” He responded without missing a beat, “But I do know how to tie a knot.” 

“Phil!” You smacked his arm, but it did nothing to deter him, “I wasn't even gone that long.” 

“Four minutes was all I needed.” He brushed his nose against your neck, looping his arms around you. You couldn't help but melt, sighing but more so in contentment than disappointment. Granted, you were anything but the latter, but who knows where your business would be if Phil did, well, whatever to your customers the way he did to Chad.

“He was bothering ya.” You knew it wasn't a question and there was no point denying it, so you hummed in confirmation.

“Kinda figure that out after a while,” You shrugged, though you didn't want him to worry either, “I, uh, had my suspicion as soon as I asked him what he was looking for.”

“Yeah? What did he really tell ya?” 

“Just said he wanted some pretty flowers for a pretty lady, and then,” You mimicked the awkward eyebrow-wiggles he did to you, much to Phil’s amusement and disdain, “And then said no to all of my suggestions.”

Phil’s tutting was akin to a Southern mother's, being his blood and all. That, and he was having second-hand embarrassment—to think Chad thought he'd have a chance using that line on you.

Hell, on anyone.

“It was getting a little embarrassing, honestly.” You couldn't help but snort, only for your smile to grow when he, too, expressed his amusement. 

‘A little’ was putting it lightly.

“You and me, sugar.”  

You leaned your weight against him just as he did against the counter, figuring that this was one of those days where he needed to just relax. Be around you as if you exuded great energy, and in his eyes, you were.

A far cry from the more despicable chaos he and his partnering team have to deal with for a living.

You brushed your fingers along his stubble, smiling to yourself at the familiar, prickly sensation. Ever the perceptive man, he angled his face so your lips were pressed on his instead of his cheek.

It was much needed for the both of you as he tilted his head to deepen the kiss. Though, you tried not to go too far with it, your nerves rising as your eyes flitted to the door, despite Phil’s breathy reassurance that he locked it.

Noticing your hesitance, he broke the kiss to rest his head in the crook of your neck. His warm breath tickled you, more so when his hands languidly moved up and down your body.

But then, his hands didn't stop moving upwards.

He swiftly pulled down the straps of your dress, trailing his lips along your shoulder. Though the dress wasn't fully removed, the way you haphazardly held the front of it against your chest, amplifying your cleavage which was just as alluring as you were topless.

“Phil!” You choked out, and yet, he continued. Licking across your newly exposed skin with the tip of his tongue. Starting from the collarbone, down to your tits when he squeezed your breasts together, and then, sucking on the plush at random spots. Eager to leave a mark wherever he could with shameless sounds of suckling and pops, “Here?!” 

If the way your hand shot up to his hair, massaging his scalp and pulling his head close instead of pushing him away was anything to go by, he knew dead set on making you scream.

He took a step back, encouraging you to stand up before hooking his arms under your ass, lifting you effortlessly to seat you on the counter.

His bulge was snug against you, thanks to his taller stature. The way his hands slid down your thighs prompted you to wrap your legs around him, despite the growing warmth in your face at the lewd display. There was something about the sliver of possibility of being watched that raised both your worries and anticipation, despite the opaqueness of the cream-coloured window blinds.

Plus, the shop wasn't exactly soundproof either.

He leaned forward, forcing you to lie back on the surface. His lips hadn't slowed down since, enjoying your squirms and breathless moans as he peppered your neck in kisses before raising his head.

“My wife's a beaut, isn't she?” He whispered against your temple, rolling one of your tits in between his fingers before sliding his hand down to your thigh, squeezing the plush of it, “Got these boys actin’ stupid around ya.” 

You gasped when his hand slid further under your skirt. He toyed with the waistband of your panties, teasingly pulling them up and wedging the lacy material in between your sopping pussy.

“Even I can't resist her sweet lil’ charm,” He purred, pulling your panties to the side and then bunching the hem of your dress for him to delight in all its glory, “Y’know that, don't cha?” 

He swiped two of his fingers across your lips. Even the softest touch elicited the most delicious squelch he had ever heard. 

He hummed in approval, teasing you to his heart's delight, “But she's also so, so dirty, deep down,” He made sure you made the slightest mess, letting your juices drip bit by bit, down to your tight hole and the counter itself, “And this—this is only f’me to see, right, pretty girl?’ 

He captured your lips with his before you could even muster out a breathless ‘yes’, the kiss ending just as quickly as it happened before tapping your lips with his fingers.

You didn't need to be told, but that didn't mean it was any less embarrassing. But his approving hum at your first, kitten-like lick was encouraging. It had you chasing after his praises, verbal or otherwise. 

His cock was downright throbbing, wishing it was his cock you were eagerly drooling on instead of his fingers, but who was he to say he wasn't enjoying the view in hand either? 

Once he was sure they were wet enough, he slid them out of your mouth, crudely enjoying the string of saliva for a second before dropping his fingers to your cunt. 

He mirrored your parted lips, watching your face scrunch up as he eased in one finger. Your whimper was pitiful, and the slightly wicked side of him couldn’t help but coo at you almost condescendingly, knowing you could handle something much bigger than his mere finger, even if they were much thicker than yours. 

He set a torturing pace, taking in the way your body moved, rolling your hips in hopes you’d have his fingers knuckles-deep in you. The way you half-heartedly covered your face with one hand was endearing, probably too overwhelmed by his unapologetic stare.

Then, he cranked up the speed with two fingers, greedy for more of your juices leaking out each time he moved in and out. And by the time you were clenching around three fingers, he was ruthless with his pace. 

Unforgiving. 

He looked euphoric just from bringing the pleasure to you, tipping his head back as he listened to you struggling to hold back your moans and whines whenever he pulled out to tease and slap at your clit.

“Colour?” As casual as he tried to sound, he was just as breathless as you were.

“Green…” You whined, pleading him to continue, even if it felt like you were overstimulating, “Phil, please… Please…!”

You didn’t have to repeat, for he amped up his pace and chased after the climax when the pitch of your voice heightened, arching your back like you weren’t sure if you wanted him to carry on or push him away when you were getting close.

He didn’t falter, nipping on your shoulder just a tad harder just before you trembled, cumming and clenching hard around his fingers. He cupped your face with his other hand, soothing you from your high with praises and kisses. 

“Such a good girl, my good girl. Always so brave f’me, makin’ the sweetest faces. None of those boys gets t’see what I see.” 

It wasn’t long before he carefully slid his fingers out, comforting you each time you whimpered or twitched.

Opting to continue caressing your face, he took the chance to snag a taste of you. Savouring the one taste he had been dying for each time he was away for work.

But he didn’t finish it all. As much as he wanted to, he needed to save the rest for his cock, itching to have a mere feel of your wetness.

Speaking of, he was straining, standing proud and curved a little as the tip, just a hint of red, nearly touched his belly button as soon as he pulled his trousers down. It yearned to feel you, tight and hot, his extra-vulgar actions were the results of restraining himself. 

He shuddered a little—it was entrancing, holding one of your legs up for him to brush his lips against and seeing his cock slide up and down your pussy lips. 

Even after prepping you well, it felt like his cockhead was breaching your walls. You let out a breathy sigh, tilting your head at the upside windows, tensing up at the sight of passersby’s feet at the foot of the glass.

“What do y’think, pretty girl?” He murmured against your leg, still pushing into you, “Do y’think that Thompson guy’s around, wonderin’ why the window’s closed while the car’s still out there?”

The way your head tilted back against the counter in ecstasy, the last rays of the sun shining down on your skin. Even with the AC still on, it stopped neither of you from sweating. The thinnest layer of perspiration, especially gathering along your throat, down to the valley of your breasts—oh, what a shame it would be if he didn’t have even a single lick of it.  

And he did just that, leaning in to give one of your tits a teasing lick.

Those half-lidded eyes, that drunken smile—oh, he was losing it.

He felt like the most blessed man in the world.

“Eyes on me, bunny. He can listen all he wants but this—it’s you and me.”

And it wouldn’t take long for you to reach your peak, Phil kept his eyes on your facial expression because if it wasn’t the sexiest look he had ever seen before he, too, cums with you. In you.

Holding himself up with one hand beside your head, he used the other to caress your face, allowing you all the time in the world to catch your breath. But truth be told, he had fucked the senses right out of you.

“You alright?” “Mmm…” Your murmurs had him chuckling as he carefully gathered you in his arms.

“Can y'walk? Or do I have to carry you? Because y'know I don't mind either way.” Not especially the latter. He may not be as buff as some of his team but he feels good being able to prove the assumptions wrong. So wrong.

You shook your head, and though none of you were even certain what your answer was, Phil somehow understood, but not before letting you collect yourself for as long as you needed. There was no need to rush. Not now.

“Alright, pretty girl. I can do that.”

˚ · . f i n . · ˚

[vampiricgf]

Because I love you enough to turn around

(I will never turn from you)

leon kennedy x f reader

wc: 1k +

warnings : alcoholism, self guilt, self shame, mention of a noose as imagery, angst into like hurt comfort sort of thing

sorry im sick n also been thinking heavily about orpheus and eurydice and what it means to love someone enough to turn around (promise it's not all angst but it's pretty heavy on it)

You're in that twilight space between sleep and wakefulness when the door opens. There's no need to startle because you already know who it is, know from the heavy footfalls that make a particularly loose board on the floor groan as he slips off his boots. Know from the softer padding you catch turning the left hand edge, into the bathroom and just as you think it you hear the light click on.

Not every day can be a good day.

It's what circles around and around in your mind as you catch the sound of the taps squeaking on, the sink running at full blast. At least he has the decency to not climb into bed with you reeking of whiskey and possible bile. But you don't resent him for it.

You've never resented him for anything. Never begrudged him anything. Not the constant distance, the secrecy, the occasional white lie you knew was for your own comfort so you never told him you knew he was lying. Never asked him about details, never pressed him, never let yourself get so overwhelmed you dissolve into hysterics no matter how many times you felt yourself reaching that point.

And you don't do any of that now, as you feel the mattress dip with the additional weight and feel him staring at your back. You'd forgotten you put on one of his old t shirts, just to comfort yourself against the uncertainty of if he'd be back before the sun, aggressive and ever constant, demanded you get up and face another day.

Being with Leon was like being stranded on a sheet of ice. Uncertain of its thickness, if it could handle any fluctuation in weight or pressure. Terrified of every crack and fissure that threatened to spread, to send the portion you found yourself on plunging into subzero depths that would stop your lungs and squeeze like a vice grip over your heart.

But it was exhausting to constantly monitor for those hairline fractures, to be the loving partner while wishing you could just grab his shoulders and scream in his face about how desperately you needed him to get his shit together. But you'd never do that, know he doesn't need it from you of all people.

But you don't turn around. You don't give any indication that you're awake and aware and grieving like some old war widow for the millionth time in your short life for a man that still has breath in his body.

Not even as his fingers run down your bicep, hesitant as if he's touching spun sugar that threatens to melt with the slightest heat.

"I know you're awake."

You don't respond, let the silence hang heavy and imposing as a noose from a solitary beam, but you do turn then to finally take him in. And fresh chips are dug out of your own heart as you do, a proverbial ice pick gradually working to cleave you in half.

God has he always looked so tired?

"You should get some sleep," your hushed voice sounds flat, even to your own ears and you hope he doesn't take it as cruelty when it's not. It's a kind of bone deep, spiritual exhaustion. An unspoken wish for a rest so deep the entire world could collapse around you and you would be none the wiser, uncaring as the sky above and just as unseeing.

"I'm sorry." He says it to no one in particular as he turns away from you, stripping off socks and pants.

As you turn back over your eyes burn in the dark, like someone stuck two searing hot coals into the sockets and you bite your bottom lip hard enough to feel a sting. It's good, it's grounding. You shouldn't cry, not like this, not now. Just another burden added to the lump sum is all it would be.

So you don't, you level your breathing as best you can as you feel him climb back into bed fully this time, tentatively putting a hand on your hip as his chest presses against your back. He touches you like he's afraid.

And you're powerless against the way that one single touch acts as a battering ram, destroying the hurriedly constructed emotional dam in a spectacular splintering of wood, and you feel yourself start to tremble. The moisture from your nose is the next signal of disaster, the sign that there is no undoing what has just occurred. And your eyes are suddenly full of all the water in the world, as if you've drunk dry every sea and river on earth only to refill them from yourself.

It feels more like watching someone else weep and sniffle as if their life depends on it, being the unattached observer before turning away, hand over the mouth to hide the shape of words. Glad it isn't me.

But it is.

His arm comes around you, tightening up as he presses his own face against the back of your neck. And the tears flow ever faster, spurred by the shame of being the emotional one. The one that can't help but be naked in their weakness.

You don't move to shift him away, don't move to get up or hurry to the bathroom. You simply can't be bothered. If nothing else he can witness your grief, and there is a strange sort of comfort in that.

You could wail, berate him about breaking his promises of things being different, being better but what's the point of shooting at something that's already dead?

And it's then that you feel it: wetness spotting against the skin of your neck, rolling down your back before being absorbed by the well worn cotton. You feel it and you turn and your heart breaks again seeing his blue eyes twinged in red, one of the many different shades regret dresses itself in. Your reflection is drowning in saltwater, as if trapped in the sea with no hope of rescue.

So you cling to him, arms around his neck and fingers lacing a crown as you hold each other and you cry as if it might be endless. As if all that might exist for eternity is this: the longing and the waiting and the grieving and the sobbing. But in his embrace there is a hope, a small light that peeks through the cracks, so faint you could almost swear you imagined it.

He doesn't smell like liquor.

And for some reason it makes you sob harder, like you're trying to form the shrieking gale force winds of a hurricane from one small human vocal chord.

"I got hung up when we got back, I tried calling- figured you were asleep." His voice is a fragile thing, shaking as a newborn foal on its unfamiliar feet.

For all that you don't begrudge him neither does he towards you. He can't muster up indignation that you doubted him, not when recently he's given you no reason to believe in him. He knows the biting amber liquid is both a crutch and a dog collar with inward facing spikes. Hasn't ever been able to trace the exact point when he stopped seeking comfort in you and instead sought it in sticky bar tops and grimy shot glasses, a flask snuck into a jacket pocket. But it hardly matters when the damage is done.

He spends every day choking on each word he can't say to you. Each time he comes home like a stray that got in a fight to collapse on your doorstep, it bulges and sticks fast in his throat. Every time you cradle his jaw with your fingertips and clean blood from some fresh wound his esophagus caves in on itself. Every time your eyes get unfocused as they linger on his drunken form before you turn away he feels more of the paint peeling off himself.

All of you has felt so out of focus. So he clings to you now, squeezing your body against his like he might be able to absorb you into himself, tuck you away for eternal safekeeping, if he just tries hard enough. Like if he presses his lips to your cheeks, nose, forehead, again and again you'll gain more opacity with each one, be returned to flesh and blood like a princess turned to stone in a story. Awakened by true loves kiss.

So he kisses you, over and over and over. With each pass of his lips you seem to reanimate, hands fliting around his body like you can't decide where they belong, can't decide what part of him to touch or if you should touch all of him. His own drag the worn out shirt over your head, bare your body to his stinging eyes and it's like a salve for all the wounds that still feel like they're split open and oozing all over the floor.

Your kiss tastes of salt and of pain and of loss and of guilt. He wishes he could unhinge his jaw like a snake, swallow all of that ugliness in one pass and leave you as pristine as you were in the beginning. Before he ruined you. Turned you into a hollowed out city, teetering on the edge of uninhabitable.

But renewal, rebuilding, it's all possible. Crumbling structures can be fixed without ripping down the entire framework. They do it every day, how many does he drive past at any given time?

So his lips carve a tender path down the column of your throat until he's hovering over your heart, placing a kiss so chaste against the skin of your chest it's almost religious. You gasp, wrapping your arms around his neck to hold him still, hold him in just that perfect space above the thundering muscle echoing in his ear as it presses against your warm body.

Not since he was a child has anyone held him so firmly, so tenderly. Not that he would even allow it anyway, not from anyone outside of you. You were the first taste of softness. The first time you whispered that it wasn't selfish to want to be held he felt the fault lines erupting inside himself. It wasn't brave or righteous to continually deny himself or to self flagellate through every word and action, it was nothing but one continual act of self desecration.

But you poured all your love into an empty man, made him whole again and watched as he wasted it. Fresh tears pooled between your breasts, dislodged to drip down your ribs with every breath. He could cry for eternity and it would still never properly express the depth of his shame. Shaking fingers crawl spider like up your sides as he struggles to keep a firm hand on his own breathing, not give into the temptation of rapid, lightheaded madness.

Your fingers marking light trails through his hair soothe him, like calming a thrashing rabbit kicking against its cage. Slowly he can hear his own heart falling into sync with yours, his own chest expanding and sinking in time with yours.

It feels like maybe the world has stopped, stopped and fallen away and all that's left is this room and the two of you. One eternal embrace, stretching out across time like summer saltwater taffy.

And he swears a new promise, whispering against your skin like he could brand the words there forevermore.

I won't waste it.

[roosterforme]

Covering the Classics Part 11 | Bob Floyd x OC

Summary: When Anna hits rock bottom, she knows she needs to figure out how to put herself back together. But she also knows that leaving Kevin behind once and for all will require her to give up the only thing she wants from him. Maybe a shot at happiness with Bob would have been worth it.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, adult language, 18+

Length: 4400 words

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Female OC (this story is part of the Beer Boy/Sugar and Jake/Jessica universe)

Covering the Classics masterlist. Check my masterlist for more!

If this wasn't rock bottom, Anna didn't want to know what was. She spent Sunday night laying on the floor next to her bed alternating between crying and hyperventilating. Apparently she couldn't do both at the same time, because her body kept giving each activity its full attention before switching again. When she finally started to fall asleep around three o'clock, her ribs were aching so much, she didn't see how she would be able to teach in a few hours. But it didn't matter. She wouldn't be going to campus anyway.

When she woke up at six, she crawled to her computer and emailed everyone in her classes, informing them that she would not be in today and to work through the syllabus independently until their next class with her. All of the other professors pulled this kind of thing all the time, but she still felt guilty which triggered more tears. If Kevin somehow cost her a full time tenure position along with her happiness, she didn't know what else she had that he could possibly take from her.

When she thought about Bob, it hurt so badly she had to run to the toilet. And when she thought about Advanced Calculus and Advanced Physics, it hurt almost just as much. She was in love with so many things in San Diego, but she'd dragged her past here along with her even if she didn't want to acknowledge that fact. She'd brought this dark shadow along that tainted everything and left her wondering if she could fix any of it at this point. If she could even figure out how to start.

As she hiccupped alone in her bathroom, she knew she needed to mentally backtrack to New Jersey for the first time in a long time before she could focus on San Diego. When she crawled back toward her bed, she located her phone and found the contact information for her lawyer's office. It was late enough on the east coast that someone answered after one ring, and soon Anna had to use her scratchy, raw voice to try to communicate.

"When will my divorce be final?" she managed to ask as she propped herself against the wall. She left herself hungry every day, and she was living in this tiny room simply so she could pay these people to help her sort out her life, but the response she got was not ideal.

"Ms. Webber... your husband still has three days left to comply, but he has not done so yet."

Anna wanted to scream, but her throat felt like it was constricting. Why wouldn't he just let her have the one thing she wanted? She wasn't asking for anything extra, just the thing she worked so hard to make her own. She didn't even care about all of the money. But he wouldn't let her have it. Even though she didn't want to fight for anything else in the house, he still wouldn't comply. He was making hundreds of thousands of dollars now, and she wanted none of it back, but he knew that her manuscript was the one thing meant something to her. He would happily drag this out until she had nothing left.

She knew she needed to wait it out. It was her fault she hadn't filed sooner. She let Kevin's words destroy her even when she knew he was sleeping with Alyssa. She let him convince her that she needed him for way too long. "What happens in three days?" she finally asked.

"If he doesn't comply, then you can restructure your end of the divorce agreement, and we can try again."

Anna knew what that meant for her, but she didn't know if she could pull the trigger. Restructure it? There was only one thing she could remove. Kevin would come out clean as a whistle, and she would lose everything she hadn't already.

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When Bob knocked on the door at seven in the morning after barely sleeping at all, Jessica looked concerned when she opened it, and Jake looked annoyed. "What's wrong?" she asked, reaching out and running her hand along his stubbled cheek. "Why haven't you shaved? Why do you look so upset?"

"Why are you even here?" Jake called from the kitchen where he was cooking breakfast in his uniform.

"I need to talk to you," Bob croaked, and Jessica pulled him inside and gently guided him toward the couch. She rubbed his back and didn't rush him as he sat there, and Jake even stopped turning to glare from in front of the waffle iron.

"Did you know Anna's married?"

Bob could tell by the sharp intake of breath and the way Jessica's hand came to a screeching halt on his back that she had no idea.

"She's what?"

"Married," he repeated without any feeling whatsoever. The handful of hours he'd spent around her were some of the best of his life, but he would have never let his friends try to push them together if he'd know. He should have let her keep him in the friend zone when she tried to let him know that's what she wanted. Mutual attraction be damned, she'd made marriage vows to someone else. He just wished he would have known.

"No," Jessica said adamantly. "How? She's got no rings, and she said she lives alone. She mentioned an ex before, but I'm virtually certain he's still in New Jersey. She... struggles with certain things, and if she was married, someone would be helping her make ends meet. I don't know where you came up with this, but no."

Bob took his glasses off and set them down on the arm of the couch while he ran his hands over his exhausted eyes. "Jessica. She told me she was."

"Well," his friend said as she wrapped her arm around his shoulders, "I'll ask her about it at lunchtime today. There must be some sort of miscommunication."

"I don't think so," he groaned softly. "We... slept together, and those were her parting words as she ran out of my house."

"You slept together?!" Jessica practically shrieked. 

"It's about damn time!" Jake called from the kitchen, clanging his spatulas together and whooping loudly.

But Bob was shaking his head and staring at the floor through his slightly fuzzy vision. He had his phone in his hand all night, trying to decide if he should call or text her, wondering if she went home to climb into bed with her husband. Scared that this was the reason why she squeezed herself into her apartment door before closing it abruptly when he drove her home.

"I should have backed off when she friend zoned me the first time. I should have never believed that I could be with a woman like her." A woman that inspired the best poetry he'd ever written in his life. A woman who made him want everything.

It finally dawned on Bob that there might be an irate husband in his future, and he would just have to take whatever came his way. Because there wasn't a chance that Anna didn't have her spouse wrapped around her fingers. Even if she had a lapse of judgement when it came to Bob, Anna's husband would know how good he had it and want to fight for her. Bob would just have to take it on the chin.

When Jessica kissed his cheek and whispered, "I'll try to sort this out," he just nodded with his shoulders slumped and his elbows digging into his thighs. But there was nothing to sort out. Anna would never be his, and now he would have to pay the price for the way she told him she was married about an hour too late to take it all back. Honestly, he never thought accidentally sleeping with a married woman was something he would ever have to deal with in his wildest dreams, and now that he was forced to do it, he was getting pretty mad.

-----------------------------

Anna managed to give her Classics lecture on Tuesday morning with a sore throat after screaming into her pillow off and on for most of Monday afternoon. She hadn't eaten in days, and if anyone noticed her puffy, red eyes, they didn't mention it to her. She had quizzes to grade and reports to read, but when she went back to her office, the overwhelming scent of bread from the cafeteria made her gag.

There was a pack of peanuts in her desk along with a room temperature can of ginger ale, but she had no appetite yet. She was just in survival mode until she decided what to do when Kevin's time was up. Until she worked up the courage to talk to Bob and apologize.

He was the sweetest man she had ever known, and her lapse of judgement was going to cost her any chance with him in the future as well as her friendships. In fact, none of them were ever going to want to speak to her again, and that's what she deserved. If she would have just been honest with Bob, she wouldn't be in this mess. But San Diego was like a balm for her senses, making her feel normal where she knew she wasn't. Maybe Bob would have been willing to wait a few more months until she figured out her next steps. Maybe he would have accepted that she was legally separated from Kevin if her husband would just sign the fucking paperwork.

Tears were burning her eyes again just as someone knocked on her office door. She sat perfectly still, silently begging them to go away, praying that everyone would leave her alone until she could sneak out and go home later.

"Anna?"

She knew that voice so well, and she was shocked to find that it sounded more concerned than angry.

"It's just us," came the second voice, and without another thought, Anna was on her feet, wrenching the door open as she started to sob. "Oh, Anna," whispered Jessica as she collected her into her arms.

Anna stood in the middle of her tiny office and cried and cried in Jessica's arms while her other friend studiously locked the door and dimmed the lights before reaching for the box of tissues on the shelf. "Here," she whispered, and Anna accepted a wad of tissues from her.

She tried to mop at her face, but it was a lost cause. Jessica pushed the loose strands of her red hair back from her eyes as she said, "Anna, we're here for you, but I think we need to talk. For real."

"We have some... concerns."

Anna tried to take huge gulps of air into her burning lungs as she gasped, "I'm really not okay. I hurt Bob."

Her friends looked at each other before Jessica said, "I think it's time you backtracked a little bit. Maybe all the way back to New Jersey."

"I hated it there," she told them immediately, wiping at her eyes as she sat on the edge of her desk, bracing herself for the interrogation to come. 

Advanced Calculus eyed her sympathetically before a look of steel locked in her gaze. "Are you married?"

Anna nodded slightly, cringing as she pictured Kevin's face. "Technically, yes."

"Anna!" Jessica exclaimed. "You slept with Bob!"

They knew. They knew everything. Bob told them, and they knew what she'd done. She cradled her forehead in her hands and said, "I didn't mean for any of this to happen. I hate Kevin. I don't think we were even married two years before he started cheating on me. I'm trying my best to divorce him, but he just won't fucking let me."

"What do you mean he won't let you?" Advanced Calculus asked, cutting off Jessica before she could screech again.

"He is ruining my life," Anna whispered, finally starting to feel more anger than anything else. "Like an idiot, I've let him ruin my life. I put him through medical school. I dropped out of Princeton to work two jobs to put my husband through medical school." Her voice faded into a soft yet harsh whisper. "Kevin promised he'd take care of me after that so I could finish my Ivy League PhD. But then he started cheating on me because I was always tired and boring and no fun. Because all I was doing was working to pay his tuition for four years straight while he fucked another medical student between classes. I caught them having sex in my car."

"No," both women gasped at the same time. But she just nodded as the memories she had tried so hard to keep at bay since she moved to California came roaring back.

"That's not a marriage," Jessica practically growled, reaching out for Anna's hand that she hadn't even been aware was shaking. "Not really."

"You're right," Anna agreed. "I'm a joke." She honestly felt like one. Images of Bob's face and the memory of his kind voice flooded her system. The way he looked at her and touched her felt like love. The things he wrote about her had her almost convinced he could love her back.

"You're not a joke, Anna," her friend told her. "You're a smart, capable woman who should have come to her friends months ago with all of this information."

"I hate Kevin!" Jessica shrieked before biting down on her own fingertips, and it was so comical, Anna might have laughed if she was in a better frame of mind.

"Yes," Advanced Calculus agreed. "Kevin sounds like an asshole. But you know who isn't an asshole? Bob. But right now, he kind of feels like one."

Anna closed her eyes as the tears started welling up faster. "I tried so hard. You have to believe me. But Bob is perfect. And he didn't think I was boring. But I wasn't planning on falling in love ever again."

"You love him?" Jessica snapped loudly. "You love him? Because Bob thinks you are in a loving marriage with your spouse!"

"Jessica, go sit in the desk chair and calm down," the other woman commanded, and Anna watched the petite, bespectacled blonde stomp around her desk. "Now, Anna, why didn't you explain this all to Bob before you rocked the man's whole world and then ran off into the night like Cinderella?"

"I freaked out," Anna whispered, swallowing hard. "He's the perfect man. He did everything exactly right, and he was exquisite." She looked down at the floor as she said, "I haven't been touched like that in years. Like I was worth something. I'm not even thirty yet, and my husband ditched me for someone else while actively bankrupting me." She was mortified by what she was telling them, but she couldn't stop herself now. "Kevin always said I should dye my hair, and he loved it when I wore makeup. But Bob... he likes my hair and my freckles. He likes the books I read. He thinks I'm smart." She felt her face warm up as she thought about his poems. "We had sex, and then he was looking at me, and he started talking about us. I can't be an us with someone when I can't shake Kevin."

Anna could practically feel Jessica freaking out in the chair behind her, but she kept her eyes on the floor. "If you need help with Kevin or money for a lawyer or something-" Jessica said, but Anna cut her off.

"No. I'm fine. But he's going to force me to decide if I'd rather have my freedom or my self worth. And right now, I can't decide what I want to let him get away with when he already took so much."

"Hey," her much calmer friend said softly, and Anna finally met her eyes. "We're here for you. Anything you need, okay? But I need you to promise you'll talk to Bob. The sooner the better." Then Anna watched her reach for her tie dye lunch box which she apparently brought in with her and pulled out one of her fancy containers. "Bradley made you some hummus, and I packed you crackers and veggies to go with it. Please make sure you're eating. And please talk to Bob. I need to go teach Differential Equations, but I'll text you later. Jess, you have Physics III in fifteen minutes."

Anna received two hugs that she barely returned, and when the two women were gone, she sank into her chair and managed to eat some of the hummus without gagging. Then she texted Bob, because if nothing else, she needed him to know how sorry she was for running out on him. How sorry she was for all of it.

---------------------------

Anna wanted to talk to him on Thursday evening. Bob had to fight the urge to offer to pick her up on campus and save her from having to take an Uber to his house, especially after the few details that Jessica told him about her finances. She confirmed that Anna was married. She also promised him that there was no angry spouse waiting to jump him in the In 'N Out parking lot. She also told him that he needed to give Anna a chance to clear the air. So he agreed. He was free on Thursday. It wasn't like he'd been doing anything except going to work and coming straight home all week, even avoiding Suzanne as much as he could. And he wasn't going to break his promise to Jessica, even though Nat told him to delete Anna's number.

Bob sat in his living room, staring at his new bookshelf in disgust. He'd let himself fall into a fantasy where he imagined someday Anna's books would get mixed up with his on the shelves. Where all of her dog eared novels would live alongside his pristine ones. He'd been subconsciously thinking about it since he met her.

His insides were churning with anxiety. Part of him wanted to scream at her that none of this was fair to him, but the other part knew that no matter what, he still didn't want to see tears in her brown eyes. He couldn't let her take all of the blame for this anyway. He'd even told Jessica that she pushed a little too hard and that she shouldn't do that again in the future.

When there was a knock on his door, it was hard for him to stand up. How was he supposed to do this? He dragged himself across his living room to his front door and carefully opened it to find Anna with the saddest expression imaginable on her face. She looked somehow smaller and paler than she should. She looked like she hadn't slept. And that's when Bob realized he must look the same way to her.

"Hi," she whispered, brown eyes darting around his face nervously. She held out a small bouquet of blue flowers and the books she had borrowed in his direction, and Bob noticed her hands were shaking. "Um, I got these for you. They look like the flowers on the cover of the Whitman poems, and I thought of you when I saw them at the store."

"Anna," Bob groaned as he took them from her along with the books. He moved out of the doorway so she could come inside, and somehow he still couldn't decide if he was angry at her or not.

"I'm sorry," she gasped, turning to look at him once she was halfway across the room. There were several feet of space between them, but he could smell her hair. She was wearing the jeans she wore last time she went to the Hard Deck. He knew what that shirt felt like between his fingers. He could tell she was trying not to cry as she said, "I'm just really sorry."

"Why didn't you tell me you're married?" he snapped, unable to hold back. He knew his tone was harsh as he added, "Why didn't you tell anyone?"

"Because I should have been divorced by now!" she practically shouted, and Bob was instantly more soothed by that sentence than he should have been. "You think I want to be married to the worst man I know?" He had so many questions already, but something told him to just let her keep going. "That's why I'm here. In San Diego. He was supposed to sign the papers so I could get on with my ridiculous life, but he won't!" She sucked in a deep breath before she said, "And it's eating me alive knowing what I kept settling for when you exist! Knowing that I could have been with a man like you."

Her lips were moving like she was shivering, and her eyes were wide and watery. Red blotches covered her freckled cheeks, and Bob just knew she was going to panic again. She made a helpless noise and rushed forward, ready to run, but this time he caught her in his arms, the books and flowers falling to the floor. He let her struggle for a few seconds as she cried, but he held on tight.

"Anna," he said softly. "You can't keep running."

Her body slumped against his. She looked up at him as he held her, and a few seconds later, she let her cheek come to rest against his chest. She nodded against him as she whispered, "I don't really have anywhere to go anyway."

-------------------------

Bob kept his distance while also somehow always being nearby. Anna knew he was probably expecting her to vanish again if he turned his back for too long, but she was too mentally and physically exhausted to move from his living room couch while he fixed some tea. It was getting dark outside, and it was nearly impossible to try to think about anything other than Sunday night when she felt truly free for the first time in years. 

Similar thoughts must have been on Bob's mind, because he was still occasionally looking at her like he used to. Then his cheeks would turn pink, and he'd duck his head before showing her a completely neutral expression. She took the mug of tea he handed her and whispered, "Thank you," as he sat down as far away from her as he could. She cleared her throat as she looked into her drink and said, "You're one of the kindest, most generous people I've ever met." She forced her gaze to his face. "I'm sorry I took that for granted. And I'm sorry I wasn't honest with you and the ladies."

Bob nodded but didn't speak for a minute. His voice was as gentle as always as he eventually said, "I'd like it if we could talk."

"Yeah," she agreed softly now that she felt like the fight inside her was gone and the tears had finally dried up.

"Where's your husband?"

She pictured Kevin standing in the perfect kitchen in the beautiful house on the cul-de-sac. "In New Jersey."

"Right," Bob replied in a reassuring tone. "You said you should have been divorced by now, so does that mean you don't want to be married to him?"

"I hate him," she whispered, back to staring into her mug. "And I'm sure he hates me, too. No, I don't want to be married to him any longer."

"You're separated?" he asked softly.

Anna shrugged, wishing more than anything that she could scoot a little closer to Bob and feel his hand on hers. "Not legally. He won't sign anything."

"Right," Bob repeated again. "Would it be too much for me to ask what happened? Because I really don't understand. I'm trying, but I'm still so confused, Anna."

Her brain was screaming at her to start crying again, begging her to fall apart or hyperventilate, but she didn't even have the energy for it. She took one long sip of her perfect cup of tea before setting it aside and turning to look at him. Even now, he had sympathy in his eyes. Whether that was because he now knew she and Kevin weren't really together or because he was always this sweet, she couldn't say. But he was everything she wanted and would never have again. 

"The short version is that I put him through medical school while he cheated on me. The long version is that he used up every bit of my money, let me work myself ragged, prevented me from finishing my PhD at Princeton, belittled me, and flaunted his extramarital relationship in my face. It was humiliating knowing he was cheating. It's humiliating eating sandwiches and peanuts for every meal now. But the worst thing is that he is holding my manuscript hostage, and no matter what I do, he won't let me have it back."

"Jesus, Anna," he gasped, making the slightest move like he wanted to reach for her before pulling back.

She slowly stood, and he looked up at her, trying to gauge what she was going to do, but she just looked down at him as she tucked her shaking hands behind her back. "You're perfect," she whispered. "You're Sky Writing. You're the handsome man from the bookstore who smells like tea and soap. You're Bob, the guy my friends knew I would fall in love with as soon as I met them." She took a step back, barely able to handle how he was looking at her like she still mattered. "But I don't know how to be an us with you. I know that's what you want, but I never wanted to fall like this again. I tried my best not to. I can't do this with Kevin's shadow behind me all the time. And I'm just really sorry I let it go as far as it did. Because now that I know so much about you...."

That's when the tears arrived, and that's also when Bob stood up. "Anna, I feel like-"

When he cut himself off, leaving the sentence hanging in the air for a few seconds, she took one long, last look at him and whispered, "I'm going to go." He didn't stop her from stepping over the flowers, walking out the door, and heading to the end of his street where she waited for a ride as the night air made her shiver, and her tear streaked cheeks finally started to dry again.

----------------------------------

Oh, they both fell for each other. I'm not sure if Bob feels better or worse now. Kevin is an absolute dick, and we will hear from him in the next chapter. Keep fighting, Anna. Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 12

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@eternallyvenus

@sgt-barnesveins

@kmc1989

@libbyaller

[7ndipity]

Bts as Doms

Ot7 x Reader

Summary: Headcanons about how the members would be as Doms

Warnings: +18 mdni, smut. Mentions of bondage, oral(f. and m. receiving), degradation, spanking, choking, free use, edging, orgasm denial, one daddy joke(and this is the only time you will ever see it on this blog) not proofread

A/N: Thanks to @a-gayish-unicorn for requesting this! This list is a bit of a mess, but I didn’t want to leave you guys hanging all week without anything. As always, If y’all have any additional thoughts, feel free to add them in the notes!

Masterlist

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

Jin:

He’s mainly a soft dom, but he also gives Brat Enabler vibes. Like, he kinda loves when you sass him and act up in the same ways that he does when you’re in charge so that he can punish you.

Loves when you’re good for him tho and let him use you however he wants, holding your hair as he guides your mouth up and down his length, cooing at you whenever you gag around him.

Teases you constantly, making you tell him exactly what it is you want from him before he’ll do anything, letting his hands just ghost over your body and making it increasingly difficult for you to think.

Big fan of restraints and edging, pinning your hands over your head while he pushes into you, slowing his hips just before you both cum. “You can take it for a little longer, right Sweetie?”

Somehow still manages to make everything feel intimate and romantic. Like, he could be absolutely railing you from behind, but he’s whispering the sweetest things in your ear as he is doing so, telling you how good you’re doing for him and how much he loves you.

Tends to only be rough or mark you up when he’s feeling particularly needy or possessive, wanting to make sure that people know you’re taken.

Yoongi:

I’ve said it before, but he gives soft pleasure dom vibes. Like, he might get a little rough with you sometimes, but he really doesn’t have it in him to be overly strict or harsh with you.

Has certain petnames that he only uses for you when he’s in these moods. “Kitten, can you come here please?”

Drives him crazy to see you spread out or on your knees for him, so pliant and waiting with that desperate look in your eyes.

Similar to when he’s subbing, he’s not too crazy about degradation, but he really loves to tease you, always mixing in some sweet words so it doesn't sting too much, but still makes you blush and flustered, calling you his needy little baby while you ride his thigh.

Absolutely loves overstimulating you. Man will eat you out for hours till you’re in tears and writhing in his hold, begging for a break.

Super soft aftercare is always a must with him, no matter what kind of scene you just played out. He really enjoys the quiet intimacy of cleaning up and looking after you while you come back down.

Hobi:

Hobi is a hard, but very nurturing dom. Like, he’s super strict and not afraid to be rough with you, but everything he does is accompanied by soft guidance and reassurances in a low voice that makes your mind go a little hazy. “You gonna let me take care of you, Sweetheart?”

Rigger for sure, he loves shibari and thinks you look so pretty tied up in different styles. Would definitely take pictures of you like that if you’re comfortable with it.

Almost every time he doms ends with you face down, ass up, with one of his hands wound into your hair so he can pull you up to hear your moans while he pounds into you.

He’s also a fan of spanking for sure, be it on your ass, your thighs, etc. He has a slight sadism kink that peaks through now and then, but he never takes it very far.

Partially because of that tho, he tends to be extra sweet during aftercare, needing to balance out any harshness or punishments by being as close and soft with you as possible to help ground both of you afterwards.

He gives Sugar Daddy vibes, tbh. He loves spoiling you and buying you pretty things like jewelry or lingerie to wear for him. Also really into non-sexual shows of domination, like resting a hand on your back when you’re out together, it makes him feel like your protector.

Namjoon:

Daddy-Sorry what?

But fr tho, although he gives hard dom vibes, I think he actually leans more to the soft side, bordering on pleasure dom energy. He really gets off on your reactions and being the one to take care of you.

Obviously has a thing for dirty talk, as well as a slight humiliation kink. He loves making you tell him exactly what you want/need from him, because 1. Communication is super important and sexy, and 2. He knows it embarrasses you a bit and helps push you further into subspace.

Very big fan of bondage and sensory deprivation. He loves how sensitive and reactive it makes you, the tiniest touches making you twitch and wine.

Big fan of manhandling you into whatever position he wants, his favorites being mating press or having you ride him until he gets impatient and starts thrusting up into you.

Loves edging and orgasm denial, seeing how close he can get you to the edge every time before you finally fall apart. “Hold it. Don’t you dare fucking cum yet.”

Jimin:

Surprisingly stern dom with slight Brat Tamer energy. Like, don’t let the angel eyes fool you, when he gives you an order, he expects you to follow it or face the consequences,

Biggest fucking tease and the teensiest bit of a sadist, he will edge and overstimulate you within a inch of sanity, cooing sickly sweet little remarks in your ear. “Poor baby, can't even handle a couple rounds? We’ll just have to build up your stamina, won’t we?”

As harsh as he might be with teasing and punishments, he’s equally as generous with rewards when you’re good for him.

Big fan of guided masturbation, having you spread all pretty for him as he tells you exactly how to touch yourself or him.

Definitely likes experimenting with different themes and toys/tools. The type that would have you wear vibrating panties when you go out together so that he can tease you by turning them on randomly and watch you squirm.

Super soft with aftercare tho, handling you with the gentlest touches and sweet words. He always wants to make sure you know just how much he loves and cares for you after every session, holding you til you fall asleep.

Taehyung:

Super soft dom, he absolutely loves getting to baby you, kissing and touching you all over until you're a pile of mush in his arms. “Can I make you feel good, Baby? Please?”

He’s very much an aestheticist, he loves roleplay and setting the scene, as well as buying pretty little outfits for you to wear for him.

Praises you constantly, telling you how good you feel, how well you’re doing for him, how much he loves getting to see you like this, etc.

Definitely into taking photos and filming the two of you. Probably has a whole photo album of pictures, ranging from blurry polaroids to more professional shots he took with his film camera or phone.

Torturous levels of teasing. He will finger you for hours, bringing you to the very edge before stopping, kissing you as you cry in frustration.

Really loves the idea of free use, gifting you a special necklace or bracelet for you to wear as a sign to him that he can do whatever he wants with you. The idea of you always being willing to take him makes his ego(and other things) swell with pride.

Jungkook:

He has his softer moments, but I think when he doms, he tends to lean more towards hard dom. He really loves being in control and going all out on you.

Big fan of breathplay. He loves the way it makes you shake and clench around him, tattooed hand snaking up to hold your neck and squeezing just enough to make your eyes roll back in your head.

He fucking loves to overstimulate you, making you keep count of how many times you’ve cum before he’s even inside you.

When he’s in a teasing mood tho, he’s so fucking mean, denying and ruining you orgasms, laughing when you get frustrated. “I’m sorry baby, were you gonna cum?”

Loves leaving marks all over on you, be it hickeys/bitemarks, handprints, etc. His favorite tho is probably cumming inside you, watching it leak out before pushing it back in with his fingers(feel like he has an untapped breeding kink, but-)

Also really loves looking after you in non-sexual ways, be it paying for your meal or just helping you get something off a shelf that’s too high for you. It makes him feel needed.

Taglist: @sopebubbles-replies @btsw1fe @this-must-be-my-tardis @whitefoxgirl @bethanysnow @coffeedepressionsoup @main-bangtansmauyeondan @feminympho @a-gayish-unicorn @dfqcsqueen @mother2monsters @captainorangegoose @k4ngelz

[lastoneout]

Something I've noticed that is like...concerning but also just really annoying about online discussions about basically any topic these days is something that probably already has a name but that for now I'ma call "death of nuance via strict binary thinking" which leads a lot of people to get very angry over the idea that two things can be true at once, or that bringing up someone else's problems does not overshadow or invalidate your own, or that you can uplift a group of people without tearing down another.

Because like, I've had this happen on several of my posts now, where I say a generally harmless, factual statement, and several people rush in to either outright accuse me of saying a different, more extreme statement or annoyingly "correct" me to fix the supposed ~dangerous implications~ of my words, which I'm not gonna lie is as infuriating as it is confusing.

I can't make a post about how sugar is one of the main things the human body runs on and thus trying to remove it entirely from your diet is dangerous and harmful without people showing up to be like "are you saying it's okay to eat an entire bag of sugar by the spoonful??" and "well if you ate nothing but oreoes and ice cream that would make you sick" even though that doesn't contradict or really have anything?? to do?? with my original statement??

I can't make a post talking about the issues men(trans or cis) face under the patriarchy without people showing up and getting mad at me for "making feminism about men" despite the fact that the majority of my feminist activism DOES center women and taking a moment to explore the ways the patriarchy harms us all in no way harms women. And I can't make a post pointing out that marginalized men, especially black, disabled, and fat men often have malice read into their very existence and maybe that's bad without people showing up to get mad at me for saying marginalized men are incapable of harm which is not what I said at all.

And this one is a bit different but still one I see a lot, which is an over-correction seeped in the idea that we can only uplift one group at a time, or if x group is good y group must be bad. Like I am all for pointing out that there's nothing wrong with not wearing makeup and having body hair and not wearing deodorant, and women who live like that are fine and valid and can still be seen as sexy and desirable, and yes there ARE things to critique about the beauty industry for sure...but then that manifests into thinking women who do shave and wear makeup and deodorant are ugly or weird or brainwashed and should be mocked, which..no? Or when the dialog shifted to talking about fat people being hot suddenly we had a lot of people acting like skinny women were ugly and weird when that actually doesn't help with fat liberation AT ALL.

(Also just to clarify I think the occasional joke about these topics is okay given how much mockery fat, hairy, and non-feminine women get BUT there is a point when you go to far and some groups of people are racing over the line.)

And like yeah you could say the internet has always been this way but there's been a real noticeable uptick in progressive leftists coming at complex issues with this kind of no-nuance thinking, when it used to be something I really only saw from conservatives. I'd see stuff like "well feminism is bad because men also have problems" and "oh black lives matter? are you saying other lives don't??" and "oh you think drug addicts aren't inherently dangerous well what about the ones who DO hurt people" or "we can't talk about trans women's issues that would take away from talking about cis women's problems" and "we can't have a fat character that's glorifying ob*sity" and we used to MOCK them for that shit. This was seen as RIDICULOUS and was generally considered a conversation ender because it's clear the people doing it aren't actually interested in having a conversation they just want to yell at you for something you didn't say or pull a huge "I am uncomfortable when we are not about me" which just...ough please stop.

So seeing like actual progressive people pull this shit is really weird and it happens so often I legit can't ignore it anymore. I don't really have a solution, but I just feel like some of us really need to wrap our heads around the idea that just because someone said one thing doesn't mean they're saying this other thing too. Which, when you put it like that, sounds like the kind of thing you learn in kindergarten but I digress. Someone saying it's okay to eat sugar, your body actually needs it, isn't necessarily saying it's okay to eat so many oreoes you get sick(or excluding diabetics or being a corn lobby apologist or whatever the hell else people on that post are accusing me of). Someone bringing up the ways the patriarchy hurts people who aren't women isn't making feminism about men or saying women don't have problems. Trans men talking about their issues isn't implying anything about trans women just like bisexuals or asexuals talking about their issues isn't taking space away from allo gay people. Someone talking about how assuming marginalized men are threats when they're just existing is bad and gets innocent people killed isn't saying OJ Simpson did nothing wrong.

Two things can be true at the same time. Nuance is important and making space to talk about one thing isn't taking away from someone else. There's no contest, no slippery slope so dangerous we can't even state facts, no pie you have to fight over. Oppression isn't a math problem where whatever you do to one side of the equation must be done to the other or a scale that can't be balanced. This kind of thought process isn't productive and will not lead to a better, more equal world. Just one where someone else is wearing the boot.

Just...idk please just stop coming onto posts assuming the worst, doing bad faith readings and then getting pissed about something the person didn't say, assuming someone else getting a seat at the table means yours is in danger, being so desperate to be a good ally that you start doing lateral violence and calling it punching up, and just full on stealing conservative talking points and argument styles and trying to make them progressive.

We're supposed to be better than this. That's all I've got really, we're just supposed to be better than this. And while I don't always engage with people like this for obvious reasons, I'd like to think they aren't beyond saving and maybe this post can change a few minds. You guys aren't wrong to be angry and want to help and protect people who need it, but this is not the way to go about it and it never will be.

[theglitterypages]

JJK MEN PRESENTS: What kind of woman they'd fall in love with and how they would fall in love. Featuring Toji Fushiguro/Zenin

•Judging by Toji's history with women in the canon verse, I believe that Toji's type of woman is the woman that is like Megumi's Mother.

•Let's put it this way, Toji left his clan broken, misunderstood and he had no one to make him feel what love really is.

•After he left his clan, Toji was a sugar baby, that's for sure. Older women loved this man and even if Toji didn't really like that part of his life he had no choice but to use his body to survive.

•Toji was more used to handling older women, he knew how to please them and as he got older, a woman at the same age as him just doesn't seem like a good fit for him.

•Toji has given up about finding true love because of this, so he just kept on accepting clients to clients and survive, as long as he's not back to that shitty clan, he'll be fine.

•That was when Toji met an innocent, young lady who only sees the good in life. He has no idea why he was even interested about whatever you do in life. You moved in at the unit next to his, you just graduated from college and you have a decent job, but Toji thinks that you're too nice.

•He first saw you when you were talking to the old man who lives across your unit. Toji just received a call from his client, and as he locks his door, he couldn't help but listen in to your conversation with the old man.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

You were busy talking to the old man across your unit, he was talking about how he loved the cookies you baked last time. You gave jars of cookies to your neighbors when you moved in and you appreciated that this old man loves it. "Thank you for the kind words, Choji-san! Don't worry, I'll make sure to save a jar for you once I baked another batch." You smiled. The old man smiled back and held your hands. "I'll look forward to it." he said as he caress your hands for quite some time, you weren't uncomfortable but you didn't want to pull away because you realized that he was a man who lives on his own he's probably missing his daughter or something.

Toji narrowed his eyes at the way that the old man was eye-fucking you while he was holding your hands. It's obvious that you have no idea what kind of a pervert this man was and Toji wanted to step in but your phone rang and you excused yourself to the old man politely and made your way to the parking lot.

Toji gave a firm look at the old man and the latter immediately entered his unit. Coincidentally, your car was parked next to Toji's, and even if he promised not to mind something that's not related to him, he couldn't help but want to give you a warning.

"Oi, Unit 27..." since he doesn't know your name, he just decided to call you by your unit's number.

You turned upon hearing a deep voice behind you, you recognized the man living next to your unit and you smiled. "Hey, good morning Unit 26." You giggled a bit.

Toji was taken aback by the warm smile and your sweet voice, it's no wonder that the old man can easily get away from being a perv with you, you look too innocent.

"You should choose who you befriend wisely." He said before he climbed up his car to go to his client's location.

It was obvious that you didn't get Toji's warning and he decided to take matters into his own hands for some reason.

He started matching his schedule with yours, sharing little moments of short chitchats and bumping into each other at the convenience store nearby. Whenever Toji is around, the old man won't make an attempt to talk to you and he made sure that he wouldn't have a chance to.

Toji wasn't sure when did he even start falling in love with you, all that he remembers and realizes is the fact that he seemed to forget anything bad whenever he's with you. You look at the brighter side of life, you're nice, you're sweet and you're too innocent for this cruel world.

Toji realized that he didn't want your innocence to be taken away from you, he wouldn't want to see that sweet smile of yours to fade, and he realized he wanted to be the one to protect that smile of yours.

His life was all about his own survival but this was the first time that he wanted to care for someone, he never knew how to because he never felt cared for before. But you showed him how, making sure he's not eating take outs, you wouldn't fail to check up on him from time to time to see what he was up to, your eyes sparks whenever he sees you.

Before he even knew it, you became the center of his life.

"Toji-san?" You waved your hands in front of Toji when you realized that he's been quiet for a long time. Toji snapped out of his thoughts and he realized how close you were.

You smiled when you finally got his attention, but blushed when you realized how close your faces are, you can see the scar on his lips up close, and for some reason, your body moved on its own.

Toji felt your warm hands touch his scar, he froze, but you gently traced the scar on his lip that he almost forgot how he got it in the first place. It was a living evidence of his family's cruelty, of how he was abused and treated like a trash.

But the look on your eyes makes him forget all of that, his hands found their way to your waist and he gently placed you onto his lap, your hands still busy tracing each of his facial features.

You softly gasped when he held you tighter and you blushed, stopping yourself from touching his face. "I'm sorry, Toji-san. I got carried away." You tried to stand up but Toji held you close.

"Drop the honorifics, doll." He breathed out.

"D-Doll?" You asked, not sure if you heard it correctly because all you could hear was the fast beat of your heart.

Toji smirked and nip your chin in between his fingers to tilt your head so he could see you better. "You look like a doll sitting on my lap right now. You're tiny and pretty." He said before pinching the tip of your nose.

You were scared, not because of Toji but because of your own feelings. You don't know if you're supposed to feel this safe in someone's arms, is it right to desire to caress his face and be this close to him every time you have the chance?

Whenever you're with Toji, he makes you feel safe, love, and cared for. You want nothing but to ease that tensed jaw of his, to bring sparks in his eyes, and if it's even possible take away everything that hurts him.

Toji could read the look in your eyes, you were silently begging and longing. He decided to be the one to take the risk and close the gap between the two of you.

The moment that he felt your lips against his, Toji could swear that this is what heaven feels like, he couldn't hold back his smile when you tried to keep up with him.

He made sure to kiss you gently and slowly, because he wouldn't want this to end anytime soon. Kissing you was not a job or something but his whole life depends on it.

When Toji pulled away from you, he let his forehead rest against yours.

"I love you, Doll."

[satancopilotsmytardis]

oral fixation?

Dabi has a bad habit of playing with the staples in his cheeks. Of all the ones all across his body, that set is the one that has gotten messed up the most, and it's entirely because he couldn't help biting at them all the time. But medicine is expensive, so he tries to kick the habit. Unfortunately, that meant that he started chewing on his nails, and that had gotten so bad that his fingers were bloody and also open for an infection. So he had picked up smoking just as something to keep his mouth occupied. That wasn't good enough either and was expensive. Chewing gum was less expensive, but that didn't give him the kind of satisfaction that he was looking for. Getting his tongue pierced had been the closest thing that he'd found to make that persistent need to have something in his mouth ebb slightly. And then he had gotten into a place he was desperate enough that he had started doing sex work to get by. Hand jobs in back alleys to make sure he had enough money to get food, blow jobs in bathrooms to get money for medicine, and whatever a client wanted in love hotels when he just couldn't manage anything else. He doesn't like the work for the most part, but his need to survive outweighs everything else, no matter how unpleasant. 

And, at least, he actually enjoys giving head. He likes having his mouth occupied and he likes that when he has a client wrapped up in a fruity condom that tastes like the worst gum on the planet, but keeps him from tasting their skin or smelling them in case they're not as clean as he would like, he can just float away. That's what he does for most of his clients. But he makes some special exceptions for his favorite. 

Tomura Shigaraki is lithely built man, probably a few years younger than him, with pale, cool skin, red eyes, and wavy blue hair cut into an unfortunate shaggy mess. He always wears gloves when he comes to see him, but he must not elsewhere because his neck is chewed up from his nails. He also has the biggest cock that Dabi's ever had the pleasure of having in his throat and might be angling more for the moniker of 'sugar daddy' more than 'client'. He always sends Dabi enough money for a hotel room and travel, tells him which location to book, the other man seems to go all over the country, and enough money that Dabi would have to be on his back for a month straight or burning down half of a province to make outside of their meetings. He never asked for that, and when he had sent it back once when he had been sick with the flu and unable to go, Shigaraki had sent the money right back, more than doubling it, and told him that this was not an IOU or a demand to reschedule, it was a gift and that he hoped he would use it to find somewhere safe to stay and get whatever medicine he needed so he could get better. Dabi is pretty sure if he wanted a real partner, Shigaraki could get one, and doesn't know why he bothers to spend so much time and money on him instead. But he is glad he does. The least selfish reason for that is because he likes to have Tomura's cock in his mouth.

He knows his knock and opens the door for him almost immediately, tangling his hand in the other's coat and pulling him inside. The other smiles, always smiles when he sees him, and Dabi presses in for a kiss that he's given happily, Shigaraki's hands catching his hips and pulling him closer as the door shuts behind him with a heavy thud. Tomura barely can murmur, "Missed you, firefly." Against his lips before Dabi is trying to swallow his words, his hands going down the other's body and hooking into his belt, unthreading the leather through the loops. 

"Missed having your cock in my mouth." He can't say that he missed anything else. It's a bad cliche both ways for a prostitute and client to fall in love. "Can I? Please, Sir?" 

Tomura gives him another kiss, "Of course you can, baby. You can have anything you want." He hates himself for almost believing that the other would deliver on that promise. But he doesn't have to think about that for long. He won't have to think about anything as he drops to his knees right there in the entryway to the hotel room, not when he has the heavy, perfect weight of Tomura's cock on his tongue. He smells like soap and the light, natural musk that starts to build even on clean skin. He washes up before he comes to see Dabi like he's going on a date. He had brought Dabi his clean STI test the first time he'd hired him like Dabi was a porn star and not a whore. He still brings them and will still wrap it whenever Dabi wants him to. He runs his hand along his thick, pretty cock and licks his lips, but he doesn't have to get him hard before he can fill his mouth. Tomura will always let him keep his mouth full for as long as he wants. 

Dabi is pretty sure that alone could have made him fall.

[inlovewithregencyera]

transcript under cut : )

Paelford House

July 8th, 1818

*Aurelia sniffling and starts softly crying*

*Aurelia starts violently sobbing*

July 8th, 1808

Auglire Castle

Robert: Sugarplum?

Robert: Sugarplum, where are you?

Robert: And why is it so damn dark in here?

Robert: Sugar?

Robert: Aurelia, please come out. It's your birthday and I have a surprise since nobody else in this damn castle seems to care.

Robert: Aurelia..?

*Aurelia sniffles*

Robert: There you are my dear. Whatever is the matter?

Aurelia: Leave me be Uncle Bertie. I wish to be alone today.

Robert: No, no I won't do that. It's your birthday and your foolish da-forgive me, your foolish parents can't seem to remember. Your mother is still in her bed and not dressed and your fool of a father has been off riding since the crack of dawn, which is never good, he always does that when something is troubling him.

Aurelia: He's been going off riding for long periods every morning since....you know.

Robert: Yes, I know how he reacts to death but he has other children to attend to as well. Mama says he's worse than when our Father died. Had I known it was this bad here I wouldn't have been in the city so long...

Aurelia: *wiping eyes* Well, if you should know, I asked that for my birthday nobody did anything or mentioned it, so it's not their fault. All I asked for was to be alone.

Robert: Well, I'm not respecting that wish. You don't need to be alone, especially on your birthday. None of them have any sense to realize that.

Aurelia: *sniffles* But I WANT to be alone. No birthday will ever be the same again without her. I hate my birthday.

Robert: Well I love your birthday and would like to celebrate it with you and that's why I've came all the way from Winshire. Since those fools haven't prepared you a cake, you and I will go to the sweet shop and get sorbet.

Aurelia: Why should I enjoy any sweets if she never will again? It's my fault, I-

Robert: No, sugar, quit saying that. If you'd like to blame anyone then let it be me, I can bear it. I can't bear you thinking it's your fault though.

Aurelia: But it is…

Robert: *sitting down* No, no its n-*back cracks* NOT!

Aurelia: *softly giggling*

Robert: I'm glad my pain amuses you. If I could break every bone in my body a million times just for you to be happy, I would.

Aurelia: You don't mean that.

Robert: I mean it with my whole heart.

I love you, and I do hate seeing you sad. I too, know how it feels to lose a sister, you know?

Aurelia: *sniffles* Yes, yes I know.

Granny doesn't speak about her that much, neither does Papa.

Robert: They do that because it's easier for them. It's been nearly forty years, and I assure you not a day goes by where they don't think of her. I think of her everyday, and was only eight when she passed.

Aurelia: *softly* What was she like?

Robert: *smiling* Georgiana was a lot like you, believe it or not. She was kind, compassionate, and a little shy. But she didn't really prefer naturally feminine hobbies such as embroidery, cross stitching, or anything to deal with music and that upset our Mama a lot. My Father adored her, because she shared his interests. Before bed, she would often scare your Papa and I with silly ghost stories and don't tell him I told you this, but he once got so scared he wet himself in his nightgown.

Aurelia: *hysterically laughing* Really?

Robert: Yes sugarplum, really. He was around your age when this happened.

Aurelia: *sitting on lap* Uncle Bertie?

Robert: Yes sugarplum?

Aurelia: Does it get any better?

Robert: What do you mean?

Aurelia: Will I ever stop feeling so…sad?

Robert: The pain won't go away, but in time, you'll learn how to manage it better. You won't feel so sad everyday when you're older, it'll just be some days.

Aurelia: But will I ever feel happy again?

Robert: Of course you will sugarplum! You will have many happy memories in your lifetime, trust me. The happy ones outweigh the bad ones, I know it's hard right now, but I promise you eventually it'll get better, *kisses cheek* alright?

Aurelia: Alright. Can we still maybe get sorbet..?

Robert: We will go right now. *picking up* I'll even buy you a whole cake for yourself, how does that sound?

Aurelia: *gasp* Really? But what will Papa say?

Robert: He won't know. Perhaps we will buy him one too, he might need it.

Aurelia: I think Papa needs more than a cake!

Robert: At this rate...I think he does too. We will worry about him tomorrow though, today is your birthday, not his.

Bridget: Aurelia…?

Bridget: *grabbing face* Aurelia.?

Aurelia: *pushing away* Why are you in here..?

Bridget: I couldn't sleep well, my room is too hot. Yours is always cooler...

Aurelia: *sniffling* You always say this when you want to sleep with me.

Bridget: Well, perhaps I do, but I can't because you're upset! What's wrong?

Aurelia: Why does everyone have to die?

Bridget: Is this about Harriet?

Aurelia: Uncle Bertie.

Bridget: Oh, I miss him too Aurelia. What made you think of him today?

Aurelia: I remembered how he took me for sorbet on my birthday ten years ago.

Bridget: Aurelia, it's alright. *caressing cheek* You know he wouldn't want you to be like this, you can't say he would.

Aurelia: No, *wiping eyes* no he wouldn't.

Bridget: It'll be alright Aurelia. Tonight will be the best birthday of your life and I'll make sure of it!

Aurelia: *sniffles* Oh please don't say this will be the best one. I'm already sad today, I would like to at least hope for one birthday in the future where I wake up happy and not cry.

Bridget: Fine. It will be ONE of the best birthdays of your life. *grinning* Is that better?

Aurelia: A little.

Bridget: You shall dance with your future husband, and all is well!

Aurelia: *smirking* I do hope you’re right.

Bridget: When am I not?

Aurelia: Well..

Bridget: *giggling* No do not answer that.

Now, let us both go back to sleep!

Aurelia: I suppose you mean not to sleep in your own bed?

Bridget: Yes! *climbing in bed* It's too much trouble to walk back.

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook: Bad Man 🔞

In which you love Jungkook with all your heart, even if he will kill you one day.

Tags/Warnings: Non-Idol AU, bad boy!Jungkook, yandere themes?, dark in general, mentions of drugs and addiction, lovesick puppy reader, smut, mentions of SM themes but not acted upon, Dom/Sub dynamics, spit, protected sex, overstimulation, please do not leave candles unattended thank you, this is kind of dark 😀

Length: approx. 3k

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You're dumb.

He tells you this all the time, every time, but then again, he also always picks you up a little after midnight, every Friday, his loud motorcycle roaring outside as soon as he arrives. He will bring you to the beach where he first met you, will sit down on the sand next to you or sometimes he'll stay seated on the motorcycle with you in front of him, holding onto his warm body while he watches the waves over your shoulder. And in the warmer months, he will watch you shed your dress to enjoy the waves trying to swallow your body, cooling your skin.

Rarely ever, he will join you - the salty seawater curling his hair.

Currently, you're busy stepping out of the shower, drying off before you walk into the bedroom again to search for something to wear. It's cold outside, yet again. Snow had fallen just days ago. You should wear something warm- something to shield you from the harsh winds that will for sure bite at any exposed skin once he drives down towards the sea with you. But you want to be close to him, and he's always so warm. You don't want so much clothing between your bodies.

He will call you stupid again. He will scold you, click his tongue, maybe push his tongue against the inside of his cheek in annoyance. But he will also throw that old blanket from the storage bag of his Harley around your shoulders, making sure you won't freeze along the way. He will tell you to hold onto it, to not loose it, but he will ultimately place you in front of him on the seat to make sure neither you nor the blanket won't ever fall off.

Just as you pull your hair out of the neckline of your dress, you can hear the faint engine of his motorcycle grow louder outside of your opened window. You close it after a glance down onto the crown of his head, internally upset over the fact that he refuses to wear a helmet. You know it's not because of fashion, or the believe that he's invincible. He's painfully human, mortal, vulnerable- and maybe that's how he get's his own high from life. He knows every day bears the possibility of being his last.

He doesn't care. He never did, never will, even together with you. You know, because he'd told you before, bluntly so, with no sugar coating his tongue when he'd revealed those thoughts and intentions to you. He's aware of the dangers, of the aggression of the universe, of the endless possible ways he might get taken from this planet, or you as well, for that matter.

'If we go down, we go together.' He'd said once, your naked form laying on his chest, his hand caressing the side of your face as his thumb runs over the top of your cheek. 'You don't get to live without me anymore.'

It's a bittersweet memory. While it's another unsaid confession of his love for you, you also just become confused from it. He won't have you close, won't live with you daily, won't keep you at his side during the days he spends away from you, even though he makes such possessive claims. How can he wrap his claws around your heart when, in the end, he'll only take a bite and leave the rest to rot or to be eaten by the vultures circling your torn heart?

But even that, he won't accept, won't allow. No one get's to taste his leftovers, it seems.

When you come down, he immediately seems to know that something's on your mind. Even with only the almost-dying streetlamp illuminating your face, he knows, because he knows you. His cold hand grabs at your chin, angles your face upwards to inspect it better, his breath visible in puffs of smoke as he speaks. "What's gotten you so gloomy, angel?" he mumbles to you, but you just shrug, not saying a word. "And why are you dressed like you're ready for a date with hypothermia again?" he scoffs, before getting off his bike to open the storage bag on the side.

Just like always.

But the blanket doesn't warm you up this time. His arms don't help either as he lets you rest against his chest while he drives. You're simply quiet, enjoying his scent, his presence, before you'll know he will dissappear again, leaving you behind.

Only barely, do you notice how long the drive seems to take this time.

"Good to know you're not braindead." He chuckles, barely heard from over the roaring engine.

"We passed the beach-" You say, wind harshly blowing through your hair.

"I know." He simply answers. "We're not going there."

"We always go there." You say however, his hand awfully gently pushing you back towards his front, a silent command to keep on holding onto him as he drives.

"Not anymore." He simply answers. You're not sure what to think of it, but you're also not scared. Of anything he might plans on doing.

Jungkook is a wild card. He's an untamed animal, traumatized from cages he'd been forced into, now left an addict to the drug of freedom. He does what he wants, gains money from whatever finds it's way into his hands, uses guns and force to fight himself his daily dinner onto the table. Regularly he will use this earned money to buy you small little gifts, cheesy things no one would associate the tall and angry man with. Small gas-station teddy bears, or heart-shaped chocolates.

He tries. He really does. And he loves, but it's just a bit hard for him.

"Where are we going?" You ask after another long while, and he chuckles yet again, the sound echoing beneath your ear it seems.

"My place." He simply answers shortly.

It brings silence over you.

You've been together for almost two years. In those two years, you've never seen his place, have never been introduced to his parents because granted, he wasn't in contact with any of his family any longer, but also his friends are people you've not met in your life. It's like he'd always kept you separate, isolated from his daily life, an iron wall between you and who he is. It hard hurt you, frustrated you, but with every visit of his came an even bigger feeling of longing, of attachment, of addiction even. You can't and don't want to just miss him in your life. He can ruin you all he wants, break you to the point of no one else wanting you any longer. You don't mind.

As long as he looks at you with those eyes, you'll be fine.

Inside his apartment, it's dark. Cold. He doesn't turn the lights on. "They don't work." He simply explains, helping you navigate his small home, offering you a hand that holds yours to make sure you don't trip. You've got a feeling of his intentions. It tends to always happen when he's with you. There's no denying your own need for him every time he's close- even when he's deep inside you, you feel like you want him even closer.

But he doesn't seem to attempt anything this time. He just helps you sit on a mattress on the floor, quietly, before he searches for something in the dark room. An orange glow suddenly appears, a click accompanying the sight. His face is concentrated, dark hair hanging into his face, hiding his eyes from you. For some reason, his features distract you for a moment from what he's actually doing. He's lighting candles. Probably to see better.

He likes watching you. He'd told you numerous times. He calls you pretty a lot.

When he joins you on the mattress, shoes toed off and carelessly thrown to the side, you instantly crawl over to him. "No." He says much to your surprise, taking the hand that's attempting to reach his pants into his instead. It catches you off guard for a moment, until you settle close to him, blanket still over your shoulders. "I have to ditch the town." He says after a while, voice calm as you both watch the flickering candles. There's three. All different sizes.

"You're leaving?" You ask, and you hate how fragile you sound. You knew this was a setup for something. What happened to keeping you close? Claiming your soul and body? Never letting you live without him?

"I am." He simply answers, arm around you feeling heavy now. "Technically, I should already be on my way." He explains.

"Then go." You suddenly say, a little hurt. You break away from his hold, sitting up, a little away from him, his legs still next to yours. "Or do you want a quick fuck before you move on? Help me pack your shit so you don't have to do it?" You darkly threaten, feeling his palm run over your spine, fingers pulling down the blanket to expose your neck to him.

His hand wraps around it, holds, even sways your body from side to side a little. You let him. Even while talking to big, you're just a doll for him.

"You're dumb." He chuckles behind you, his grip tightening a bit before his hand runs down your spine, his entire body moving to sit close behind you. With the way his face dips into the crook of your neck, his lips running over the skin he exposes by pulling on the loose neckline, he proves to you that you're unable to be strong. You're dumb. Just like he says.

His arms wrap around your middle like snakes attempting to strangle you. Maybe he will. Would you mind?

"I don't need any of this shit." He explains into your skin. "There's nothing to pack here." He tells you, and you sigh, as he suddenly nips at your skin. "I'll only take you. Right here, before I'll take you with me." Jungkook jokes darkly, and your eyes glaze over.

"Where.. do we go?" You ask timidly, and he shrugs, one of his hands already finding its way underneath your dress.

"Straight to hell, darling." He simply answers. "And you know I'll take you with me."

You don't mind.

Turning towards him gives him better access, seems to set his desire off as he quickly rids you off any clothing that might stand in between the skin of his hands and yours. You want to apologize for doubting him. You want to say sorry. But he won't accept it anyways.

So you just stay quiet and attach yourself even stronger to him.

You don't know this, and you probably never will, but in his entire life, Jungkook has never really loved anything. He never liked anything to the point of believing that it was a necessity to survive, nothing except you. You're stupid in his eyes, not mentally, but emotionally, and he reminds you of that not to demean you but to warn. Because you always fall back into trust, into giving it away to people who will just eat it up and spit it back in your face. And he hates watching it happen. He hates watching you cry. He hates seeing you sad.

Jungkook doesn't know why it's him for you. He doesn't understand why you seem to like pain and suffering so much to the point of loving him, but even so, he accepts it, indulges in your masochistic tendencies, because they keep you close to him. Your heart is chained to his, forever, and he will make sure of it.

He doesn't lie when he says that he will make sure you'll die together.

And he will die, horribly so, gruesome if he doesn't attend to his death himself. He's a wanted man, someone who's made enemies, someone who simply never cared about who's list he might get on with his actions. Because he never had to truly care about it in general. He's always been on his own, and if he died, there'd be no one to mourn over him.

Until you happened.

Now he can't imagine a life without your soft and warm skin underneath the palm of his hands. The sex is great, it burns itself into his mind every time, but it's not in the slightest what he craves from you. You're more than carnal desire from him, more than just a body that provides pleasure. He doesn't want to fuck you because you're pretty, or because you're simply willing- he needs to feel you close, closer, closest, as close as he humanly can get. It's become something emotional again, something meaningful. Even the dirty blowjobs and cum stained dresses of yours are sacred to him, in a way he will never be able to describe.

He loves you.

There's no future he cares about, no past he remembers, no present he truly feels himself actively participating in. He floats as he eats you up like fresh prey, squirming body already needy for anything he wants to give you. It's gross, everything about it, from the saliva he spits onto your more than wanting cunt to the way he can feel himself begin to sweat as he thrusts into you with strong rhythm. But you seem to enjoy it, and maybe you'll even call it romantic with the candles in the room.

Even though it's cold around you both, you're warm in each other's embrace.

You gasp out his name and its music to his ears. Your chants and ragged breaths are melodious in his mind, a song only ever played for him and only him.

Maybe it's simply the fact that he has you, that you're his when you could be someone else's baby, maybe that's what sets him off so much. The knowledge that you're his, that no one else gets to see you like this, gets to touch you, fuck you stupid like he does, maybe that's what fuels his ego to the brim every time he's with you. He knows he's been cruel to you, leaving you all on your own this entire time, but in a way, he wasn't sure how to deal with everything in a different way. He's not good at this. He's good at shooting, at breaking bones and dealing drugs.

He's not good at feeling, loving, and caring.

You're better at that. You smile when he can't figure out how to do it. You hold him even when he doesn't return the gesture. You nurse his wounds and lick at his stinging cuts like a dog trying to soothe it's young.

You're just like that.

So it's no wonder he's just as bound to you as you're to him, clinging onto his arms while he's busy shaking your body, strength of his hips steady as the sound of skin against skin obscenely echoes around you. He doesn't care if you scream, wake anybody up, and everyone can hear how he's claiming you for himself. It's going to be a remnant of him and you left in this place when he's going to leave it later on.

He hopes he doesn't make a mistake by stalling his escape like this.

One might think he must be the stupid one for choosing to rail his girlfriend in a place that's been cut off from electricity and water for weeks now, while simultaneously being on the run from people who won't care if they have to shoot his naked ass and yours just to get it done and over with. It would be a fitting end, in a way.

Cruel, but fitting.

Deserved, maybe.

Even well, after your orgasm and his own, he keeps his hands on you, forces another one out of you until he can see the first tears escaping your eyes. You'd take more, anything, and he knows this, but he's also aware of how much you can take.

And he wants to keep you at his side for as long as he can. He won't break you. Not yet.

Cleaned but still out of breath, he holds your naked body close, legs entangled and breathing evened out by now. He's awake, on alert, unable to quite sleep yet. He's not been able to do so for a long time now. And right now, he definitely can't find rest with you so vulnerable in arms. You're asleep. Dreaming, maybe. Of him?

Hopefully.

There's no telling if he makes it out with you. There's no guarantee that you'll both be alive tomorrow morning.

But that's never going to be the case. Neither here, nor ever somewhere else.

So the gun close by, silver metal reflecting the flickering candles, serves as a simple insurance. It's his final promise of love to you. Because you've told him of your fear of being left alone. He knows you've been abandoned way too many times in the past, and while he can't undo the past, he for sure has the future in his palms. Or next to him, for that matter. It's his way of making sure that if he has to go, he will go with you.

You'll never be alone again, not even in death.

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[apoptoses]

JESS i’m having louis/armand/daniel brain rot again, i wanna know your thoughts 🥺 specifically like, are there any things that armand and daniel enjoyed during their DM years that you think they might pick back up with louis at trinity gate? i feel like in my head, daniel is always kind of the third wheel (at trinity gate, at least), but i’m really fascinated by the idea of LOUIS being the one to step into their world for a change

oh man oh man, I LOVE this question!! and i have so many thoughts!!

Movies: we know Louis watches movies from how he kept showing up at Lestat's in body thief to stare at his tv lol But I think Armand and Daniel have so many inside jokes from all of the weirdo movies they used to watch, or quotes that they repeat and Louis doesn't get it. So I think they'd really enjoy sitting him down and subjecting him to the Worst Hits of Armand's Movie Phase.

And Daniel especially would enjoy the validation that some of these are fuckin terrible films LOL They could mind gift back and forth about how insipid Louis finds the plot until Daniel is sitting there choking back laughter because finally, someone who agrees Time Bandits isn't that funny.

Video Games: I don't mean modern console games, I mean like classic arcade games and pinball machines. Which Armand probably has a whole room of them in the basement somewhere, lovingly restored and in perfect condition. And I think Louis would be a little hesitant- he seems like the type who acts 'above' certain things just because if he tries it and sucks at it he'll feel humiliated. But even he can't resist the siren call of PacMan and eventually he's knocked them both down on the scoreboard and taken the top spot.

(Also they like to go out a lot so sometimes they end up at like, Dave n Busters LOL Which is far more contentious because ugh, it's noisy and tacky and smells like that radioactive 'cheese' mortals cover their nachos with. But your jock!Louis headcanons have bewitched me and I think they could soothe him by getting him to shoot hoops on the basketball game)

Going Out-Out: Louis is such a homebody when left to his own devices and now that they've got Trinity Gate, home to whatever vampires want to stop by, what's the point in spending time among mortals?

So they'd ease him in with some random one-off classes ("Come, Louis, we've an appointment to learn to make fresh pasta tonight" "Yeah, I know, what's the point when we don't eat, just don't argue with him, it'll be fun" And you know what? It is). And then they'd take him to random stuff from the meetup app (or not so random, because both of them know Louis wouldn't be able to resist debating strangers at a weekly book club).

And then they're back to running around strange apartment buildings to meet up and coming artists, and accepting invites to follow their classmates down to a local bar, and crashing the sets of night shoots around New York. It goes better when it's the three of them because when someone is over it and ready to go home there's no obligation to stay and keep their partner company. No pressure to do anything but enjoy existing together out in the world for a few hours.

Special mentions:

board games (the more obscure the better)

travel (this time Louis and Daniel are more mentally present lol)

letting armand play sugar daddy and picking their outfits for the ballet (which leads to some altercations that have armand feeling like that post about 'help my subs have unionized')

weird 70s/80s craft nights (louis ends up gifting his tie dye shirt to lestat, armand and daniel send theirs to marius)

'treasure hunting' aka scamming the wealthy out of their art collections (louis doesn't care about the value, he does however feel some righteous indignation over important historical pieces being kept in vaults as some tech bro's 'investment'; daniel is just happy to finally understand how armand does it, and take part in it himself)

abusing kitchen gadgets (doesn't matter who you are, playing 'will it blend' can catch the fascination of even the most arrogant, erudite vampires)

[morgana-ren]

Ascended Astarion is so full of veiled threats and warnings against you misbehaving and I love it.

I won't need to compel you, because you're going to be wonderfully obedient.

Meaning he absolutely will.

He also is definitely toeing the line of yandere.

"Don't stray too far. But you'd never dream of doing that, would you?"

"As much I wish to sequester you in a deep chamber of my palace and keep ypu all to myself..."

The looks and body language is so manipulative. He's so careful with what he says and how he says it. There's no definite answers to your questions or worries, he feeds you platitudes and empty reassurances without actually saying anything.

Its such a toxic, and definitely crossing the line into an abusive, relationship. Ascended Astarion feeds into my kink of being owned and subjugated so hard

Astarion is a very different kind of predator than Cazador.

Cazador was a lot of brute force. An abusive master that had no need to placate his slaves because he was bigger, stronger, and better than they were. They had to obey him by nature. He never had to worry about underhanded tactics because at the end of the day, they were incapable of hurting him. He didn't give a fuck about them beyond their usefulness to him. If they died or got hurt, he only cared because of how it inconvenienced him. When Astarion disappeared, he didn't care because he cared for Astarion in any capacity; it was because Astarion dared to disobey him and inconvenience him.

So how did Astarion survive? Through manipulation. Through subtle action. Through words dipped in sugar and sweet smiles that hid absolutely venomous lies.

Now he is the power to be feared. He is the powerful one. Sure, he could break bones or flay flesh or whatever else have you, but old habits die hard. Why use the rod when gentle coaxing will work just as well?

Astarion has a vastly different relationship with Tav than he had with Cazador. His old master did not care about him at all. He didn't care if he was miserable or in pain or in the process of having his soul utterly destroyed. Astarion was a means to an end to him. He did not matter at all. There was no need to waste kindness on him. He did as he was told or he was punished. A very simple but effective system.

Tav, on the other hand, is very important to Astarion.

Now, does that mean he won't hurt her? Absolutely not. If she gets mouthy enough, or disobedient enough, or gets out of line, he will absolutely hurt her. Not in the same ways that Cazador did, mind you, but just as dreadful. Just as soul-breaking.

His words act as a warning.

'Behave, and you'll be just fine.'

He's pulling the opposite move. He's brandishing the carrot rather than the stick. He's saying "I won't do this to you." as opposed to saying what he will do. He's leaving that part up to your imagination, but he is letting you know that your actions very much do have repercussions.

Cazador didn't really give a singular fuck about Astarion. But oh, Astarion cares about Tav. Or, perhaps care is the wrong word. He is obsessed with her.

He won't kill her. He won't flay her and mar her beauty. He won't lock her in a tomb underground where she can't be by his side. But he will make her obey. He has other ways of doing that, and he's telling you outright what they are and what he wants without technically saying it.

He doesn't just want Tav, he is demanding her.

He's effectively saying "You belong to me and are mine to do with as I please" without actively having to say it. Cazador didn't have nearly the finesse that Astarion does. He would just outright say that. But Astarion? He's a smooth operator. But it's not just manipulation at that point anymore, is it? You know he has the power to back up those threats. You know that if you anger him, you very much will not like the consequences. You don't necessarily know what he will do to you if you dare to try and leave him, but you know he will find you. You know you can't escape. You know a lot of people will die in his efforts to exert his control over you.

Astarion doesn't have to outright say "I own you" because he can say it without saying it. He has a very special way with words where thinking about the consequences of it might be worse than facing them. He tells you that he will lock you away, but says it in such a way that it sounds like there's reasons he doesn't want to do that, and that obviously if he has to, it will be your fault. He tells you he's not going to compell you, and that if he does, it will obviously be because you made him do it.

It's the beginnings of a tactic that you see a lot in abusive relationships where the partner isn't just an outright brute. It's a great way to keep someone under your thumb. It's a great way to keep someone subservient and obedient without having to hurt them every time they anger you.

"I'll never have to hurt you if you behave. If you don't behave, obviously I have to hurt you. But that would be your fault, wouldn't it?"

He is extremely unhinged, obsessed, and possessive while seeming entirely composed. He is warning Tav to stay close. To obey. To be a good girl. Because if she doesn't? Well, whatever happens to her is going to be her fault. He loves her. He's doing it to keep her safe. To keep her in line. He doesn't want to hurt her (right? oh, never, he'd never want to hurt her, surely it doesn't get him off to exercise his power over her.) He loves her.

But there's nothing he won't do to keep his beloved queen and consort his safe.

[simp4konig]

also do u think eating someone's ashes counts as cannibalism

Technically, consuming someone's ashes is cannibalism (or, at least, in my opinion, it is):

Sure, you aren't cutting up someone and consuming them with a knife and fork or freezing their body parts to preserve them for the coming months like a typical cannibal, but you can't deny that you are still consuming a human being's remains — intact, or cremated.

You could say that they were just... severely... "overcooked"... Kind of like how you can do that with regular meat if you're clumsy enough to leave chicken or other in the oven for too long. 🐔

Yet, just because the state of matter is different, it doesn't change the fact that it was a person, even if their physical state has changed drastically and they are no longer human but ash in a vase collecting dust.

...Very macabre (as if cannibalism wasn't already 💀💀💀 miss what the fuck????!! @?@?? Anyways keep these coming ill answer any one <3).

Makes me you wonder: if you would go about it by the spoonfuls, what body part[s] would you be eating? Their eyeballs? Face? Leg? Arm? Hand? Maybe in that spoonful it was their left hand mixed with their bicep. Or a foot with their ear which was once pierced. Or a finger on which a ring was worn. You wouldn't ever be able to differentiate. You'd have to use your imagination.

Still, you'd be eating their eyes, tongue, teeth, hair, skin, nails, and bone, in addition to their flesh and muscle.

I remember a woman on TLC eating the ashes of her late husband — that, to her, it tasted like pepper and mouldy eggs. What if each human being's ashes taste slightly different? What if its less bitter for someone, and more sweet? What if instead of eating it by the spoonfuls raw like her, you mixed it with porridge? In a soup? Used it as a substitute for icing sugar in a cake?

What a great topic to conclude my Friday evening omg,, LMAOOO💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀 I never really considered this before, but this was a creative ask ! Anywyas blink twice if you need help pooks 🆘

[quetzalpapalotl]

If you would be interested in talking about it I would love to know- how do you think IDW1 OP feels about the way Shockwave surgically altered him to carry the Matrix? It's such a wild note to me (both in what it implies about the Matrix and the whole idea of the "chosen leader" being something everyone in power understands you have to artificially construct, and in the sense of how OP understands his duty as a Prime because of it).

I'm always interested in talking about this disaster of a man, thank you.

This ended very long, I went on many tangents and for that I'm sorry, but I hope it does answer your question. Since this is about how I read OP I focused more on his character in the comics as a whole rather than what the authors were thinking.

First, I personally don't think that being altered to have a Matrix compartment really makes any difference on whether one can actually carry the Matrix. It makes it easier, but the Matrix still has a morality lock that a frame modification is not gonna pass. But then again, the morality lock doesn't end up mattering and it doesn't make the Primacy any less of a construct, but we'll get back to that.

Now, we can guess that despite having multiple Prime candidates, Orion was Shockwave's favorite. Shockwave calls him his brightest hope and entrusts him to Zeta in case anything happens to Shockwave. Yet there's a lot Shockwave didn't tell Orion, he didn't tell him about Zeta, he didn't tell him about the other candidates. He did the noncon body modification and is overall an extremely shady dude. But Orion has no distrust of him. Shockwave sort of acts like he expects Orion to rise up to do what Shockwave needs when he asks for it and Orion is perfectly willing to do it (as Roller calls out).

This makes sense, OP is a character who very badly wants to believe in Goodness, Hope, Sugar and Spice and Everything Nice, more than he actually believes in it. In a way, he's playing fake it till you make it with reality and he reacts very intensely whenever the world disappoints him. This leads to him being either very trustful or very cynical depending on the person and situation.

Orion was a very privileged kind of naive. He thought the world was fundamentally good, that all you have to do to stop bad things is to stop the wrongdoers and that everything can be solved through the right channels. His encounter with Megatron shatters this image and makes him realize that he actually doesn't know how the world works.

To this Shockwave presents himself, he genuinely wants to help Cybertron, he understands that which Orion doesn't (Orion directly compares him to Megatron on this) and Shockwave has the idea that to fix the planet they just have to put the right person in power, Shockwave is still working with the system. The last point means that change can come peacefully, which is perfect as Orion wants to avoid a violent revolution (he has ideas on who's allowed to use violence). Shockwave presents himself as the solution to Orion's firts major moral crisis, so it's really no wonder that Orion clings to him so badly.

(Side note, but Shockwave seems to be winging his whole plan. It's unclear if he found out Nominus' Matrix was a fake before Sentiel and Proteus, but he didn't bring that up in CT. So if he ever thought it was real, was his plan to kill Nominus and shove the Matrix in OP's chest hoping it would take? Was that why he had multiple candidates? After he found out he was fake, was he planning on finding the real Matrix or also use a fake? Probably whichever was more viable)

Orion himself never shows any interest in becoming Prime, never even talks about the possibility. He seems just willing to go along with it because he's willing to go along with whatever Shockwave says. He insists to Roller that he's not with Shockwave because he singled him out (tho, I think he certainly likes Shockwave's attention). And after Shockwave dies in spirit, and someone else he trusted shows up to take the Primacy, Orion is happy to go along and serve under him.

(There is a version of events where OP ends up being Shockwave's puppet Prime which makes me insane to think about)

That's right! It's time to talk about IDW1's most important character!! This was a trap!!

Zeta fills in the gap Shockwave left in Orion's life, and he even actually ends functionism!!! (officially that is), so he seems like the right person to put all his hopes in. Despite this, he isn't Shockwave, Orion is not as taken by him and does bring up the fact that this Matrix and Primacy thing is made up to him.

What I want to highlight here is that Zeta not only admits to Orion that the matrix and the primacy are symbols to be used for control, but he also calls Orion himself a symbol, even before he becomes Optimus (but in a way, progressing the path Shockwave put him in by trying to make him a Prime). Zeta jumpstarts OP's mythification by using his image for propaganda.

Orion at first doesn't think that this is very cash money, but on top of being desperate to believe in someone, this questioning happens at the same time that he loses his faith in the Decepticon due to the other stuff happening. So out of good options (at least form his POV), he decided that hey, maybe Zeta has a point. Maybe we can use the symbols for good, since things are such chaos otherwise. And even tho he would later disown Zeta, I think he still learned to wrong lesson from him.

So, Zeta turns out to suck massively, he aids in killing him, Megatron shoots him in the back and he finds the real Matrix. After things didn't work out with the 3 dudes Orion had put his hopes in, it seems that now Optimus has to embody his own values himself. But out of those 3 Shockwave didn't let him down willingly, I think Optimus still wants to pay respect to his memory and their dream. And besides, because OP is prone to question all his life choices and will spent the rest of his life struggling to give up control, I think he does wonder that maybe things wouldn't have gone so far if, instead of blindly trusting Zeta, he had become Prime from the beginning as Shockwave wanted.

Now we know from the end of Mtmte that the Matrix' morality lock reacts to your own feeling. Someone like Rodimus who wanted to prove himself felt good bonding with the Matrix because that's what he expected. Optimus feels pain, he feels the fear of war in all Cybertronians, he calls him a warning about responsibility. This all reflects what Optimus himself thinks of responsibility: that is a burden.

When OP finds the Matrix he was feeling guilty over having followed Zeta, over having let things get this bad. But OP's idea of making amends is to take on more responsibility. Every time he tries to step down he ends up coming back because he feels that's what he has to do. So it's really not so much that because the Matrix choose him that he has to become Prime, but rather that because he can use this power he has to. He morally obliged to do so because what's happening is his fault. Besides, he was already the leader of the Autobot forces going into battle against Megatron (even tho in Autocracy he also acts like a regular cop, this is a mess, but let's roll with it) so this is still his duty. And what's he gonna do? Not try to stop Megatron? (Optimus is someone cannot stay still, but his repertoire of solutions is lacking). He not only chooses to use the literal and symbolic power of the Matrix, but he also chooses to become a symbol himself, one that's supposed to embody all the good in the world. (And this is also part of why he always comes back, he made himself too big on an idea to be able to just fade)

But it is a choice, even if Optimus doesn't think he has a right to refuse. OP always frames everything he does as a choice (at least in retrospective, he can go "you leave me no choice" in the moment). So if it's something that Shockwave wanted him to do, he still did it willingly. This sense of hyperresponsability also has OP never consider himself a victim, he doesn't tend to emphasize the ways in which he has been hurt, he never ever talks about how Zeta used him and lied to him (he has no right, he hurted people). So this aspect of him is why I think he doesn't acknowledge Shockwave violated his bodily autonomy. Shockwave saved him from the Senate, repaired him and made the modifications for the greater good. So really, OP was harmed and is fine.

Anyway, even tho, OP was indeed technically "chosen" by the Matrix, he still sees the whole thing as much of a construct as Zeta's Primacy. He has respect for the Matrix, he knows it can create life, it saved him from death, it gave him a vision and there's all the powers he would use later. Still, he doesn't think it's actually divine or that bonding with it makes him that special. During the course of the war he has made far more use of the Matrix' symbolic power than of its practical uses. (Including saying that the Matrix is giving him a vision to get out of situations dhasgdkjashdas I love that)

(And he's not wrong about the Matrix not making you special. Mtmte shows us that anyone can open it under the right mindset. And even if Zeta, Sentinel and Nominus never carried the real thing, Nova did, so I wouldn't argue it is a good judge of character)

Optimus doesn't feel super comfortable using the idea of the Matrix this way, but this is far from the only and/or worse morally dubious strategy he pulls out for the greater good. He kinda goes back and forth between paying lip serive to the idea that he's Just A Dude, and using the Matrix as an ID card. Until we get to Combiner Wars and onwards where OP is fully, shamelessly cashing on the religious clout of being Prime. But he also seems so struggle managing this internally in that he tries to not buy his own hype but it does get to his head sometimes.

Also, there's something funny going on in that Optimus' Autobots don't seem to have any formally institutionalized religion. I mean, Optimus had authority before the Matrix and I don't recall any official statemen in the Autobot code or anything that the Matrix means one is Primus' chosen and that's who the leader is (Bee could be voted into position, and Optimus stll considered Bee the leader when he got it the matrix back even if he did undermine him). Now the idea certainly exists and I don't doubt it what used for propaganda, but Autobots seem to be left to their own devices in matters of faith and everyone has their own beliefs.

But even if not everyone thinks that Optimus' is Primus' chosen exactly, the idea that the Matrix is... something and that it choosing Optimus means he is special is certainly the prevalent notion. In this sense, the Matrix becomes part of Optimus' mythos rather than the other way around. Optimus idealization is so real it causes people to develop delusions. And Optimus himself doesn't do much to avoid this. Sure, this kind of thing is often beyond one's hands, especially when you're one of the few people who can go toe-to-toe with Megatron (who also mythicized himself), but even if he denies being special when asked directly (which is usually to his closer friends who already idealize him less than the average bot), I doubt he has ever gone on official record like "My fellow Autobots, the Matrix doesn't mean shit". On the most charitable of takes, this kind of thing serves for morale, which would be needed when battling a figure like Megatron.

So Optimus is always under the shadow of himself. An idea he created from the dregs of a rotten legacy that he has to live up to because it's his duty to do so, because he can't not do anything and this is what he knows what do to. And this all ties back to Barber's broader themes of symbols, stories and Optimus as an idea as well as a person. And as we know, the ultimate conclusion Optimus reaches is that yeah, no, the Primacy cannot be salvaged, no one should have that much power regarldess of intentions, it needs to die so Cybertronians can move on, so he takes it to the grave with him.

[dramaticvhs]

7 fics with 100k+ words (Teen Wolf)

I don't make a habit of reading longer fics because I get migraines and once I'm invested I can't bring myself to put them down. even if you're like me and don't read long fics, i encourage you to give these a try if they interest you. these are the longest ones I have bookmarked and I hope you enjoy them as much as I have ❤️

read tags. some fics may contain sensitive content. check pairings, ones included on this list might not be your cup of tea.

1. Don't Savage The Messenger by exclamation

(Sterek, Explicit, Graphic Depictions of Violence, 172,379 words)

There is an uneasy truce between the werewolves in the woods and the humans who live in Beacon Hills, protected by a magical boundary that gives warning any time a werewolf crosses it. Then the sheriff is taken by the werewolves and his son offers himself in exchange.

Stiles promises to serve the werewolf pack, not knowing what horrible use they might have for him. But it turns out his most useful skill is the ability to cross the boundary line between humans and werewolves. Life with the werewolves is nothing like he feared and the werewolves themselves are nothing like the hunters' stories would have him believe.

2. Bodies Can Be Bought But the Heart Cannot Be Owned; Only Given Freely by kyrene

(Sterek, Explicit, Underage and Rape/Non-con, 102,965 words)

In a world where the human race is enslaved by the werewolf race, Derek Hale struggles to recover from the damage caused to his teenage self by the human, Kate Argent. More to the point, he doesn't believe that slavery is right. But each werewolf gets a personal slave when they become an adult and he's long overdue.

The moment he sets eyes on the filthy, naked slave in the corner of the packed warehouse, Derek knows he has to bring him home. But can he ever gets Stiles, who has never known a kind owner before, to trust that he's finally found a safe place?

3. My, What Big Shoulders You Have (The Better to Help You Carry the Weight) by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella)

(Sterek, Mature, No Archive Warnings Apply, 285,568 words)

“Talia was just telling me an interesting story,” his dad informed him. Stiles didn’t have the nerve to glance over at him, because he knew no matter how much he argued, the proof was all there. The wolves had found him, Parrish had picked him up on the side of the road, he had a fucking picture on his phone. He was screwed. No point in arguing, all it’d do is piss his father off even more.

“You don’t say,” Stiles offered slowly. “What uh—you know, I like stories. Is it a uh, good one?”

“It seems to be a matter of opinion,” Talia said with another kind smile. “I hear you had quite the night last night.”

Okay, time to cut his losses. He was already fucked, all he could do was apologize and hope she didn’t press for him to get fined and arrested. Given he was her husband’s friend’s son, he had high hopes.

“I’m really sorry,” Stiles blurted out. “It was stupid and-and irresponsible and just—I am so sorry. I shouldn’t have crossed into your territory. I should’ve known better, I do know better! It was a complete lapse in judgement and I am just—I am so sorry.”

4. Where the Real Beasts Are by kaistrex (weishen)

(Sterek, Explicit, Graphic Depictions of Violence, 109,100)

Crown Prince Stiles is gifted a direwolf on his eighteenth birthday by King Gerard I of Venatia. The only instruction? Never remove the collar.

Stiles never has been one to do as he’s told.

5. But I Know (a love like this will end in tragedy) by LadySlytherin

(Steter, Explicit, Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, 175,687 words)

What happens when you combine outstanding medical bills with a werecoyote ex-something-or-other, who doesn't understand boundaries?

In Stiles' case, the answer is: Peter Hale as a sugar daddy.

Stiles knew doing this with Peter was probably a bad idea. He knew it wouldn't be easy. He knew his friends wouldn't understand. Stiles also knew he was going to do it anyway.

6. What the Hell Is This, Baywatch? by Jenetica

(Melissa McCall/Stiles Stilinski, Explicit, Graphic Depictions of Violence and Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, 101,913 words)

The summer Melissa expected: A happy reunion with Scott after his junior year of college, a slight uptick in work at the hospital, and a generally quiet couple of months.

The summer Melissa did not expect: A strangely tolerable friendship with Lydia Martin, a hellish bout of supernatural antics, and Stiles Stilinski turning into a hot lifeguard who’s decided he wants to spend his summer giving her some kind of sex-fueled conniption.

Guess which one she gets.

7. Divided Loyalties by LennaNightrunner

(Stackson, Explicit, Underage, 154,031 words)

Jackson returns home after a month spent in London trying (and failing) to start the next phase of his life there. Knowing now from experience that he’d be a fool to try to make it as a werewolf on his own, he asks Derek to take him in as a beta. Derek agrees on the condition that Jackson will do as he’s told. Jackson hopes that, despite the mess left in the wake of the Kanima, he might be able to repair his life in Beacon Hills. Of course, things haven’t really been going the way Jackson has hoped lately...