#please I would be so happy if this existed

[hoshifighting]

Can you please do svt members who eat out their girls because they want to pleasure them vs those who genuinely fucking love the taste of pussy vs those who are so into eating out they might just cum totally untouched while eating you out

why svt like to eat pussy?

WARNINGS: pure putaria and smut, oral (f. receiving), pussy-drunk analogy.

eats you out bc he wants to pleasure you

seungcheol: the type to give you a speech about how he’s a man of duty and literally write essays about making sure you have toe-curling, back-arching, crying-in-pleasure levels of satisfied.

seungkwan: gold star service provider. it’s giving “nothing but the best for my baby.” he type to ask for feedback mid-session like, “is that good? or do you want me to go harder?”

wonwoo: mf reads books about anatomy to perfect his technique. he’s meticulous as hell, but he’s also so quiet and focused while doing it that you’re left wrecked because how does he even know your body better than you??

seokmin: he’s just so happy to make you happy. he’s the king of telling you how good you’re doing while he’s down there, and it’s the most wholesome yet sinful thing ever.

vernon: this man’s lowkey about it. he’s not saying much—he’s just doing it. very intuitive, very chill, but still SO effective. the kind who gives lazy and broad licks but somehow leaves you shaking. and when he’s done, he’s like, “you wan’me to order some food?” like he didn’t just wreck your entire existence. would probably frown at the sight of your legs shaking. (gives this vibe of that one meme: my boyfriend just left me trembling, and now he is playing minecraft)

2. loves the taste of pussy

jeonghan: smirks while wiping his mouth this man will straight-up tell you he loves the way you taste. and the thing is, he’s cocky but he’s earned it. you’re left wondering who’s being pleasured here because he’s moaning like he’s the one getting off.

joshua: sweet, until he’s between your legs like a man possessed, act like you’re a full-course meal, and he is starving. will kiss you after, totally unbothered that you can taste yourself on his lips.

minghao: he’s the type to tell you you’re delicious with the most deadpan sincerity while licking his lips, and it’s lowkey terrifying how good he is at it.

jun: this man is an enthusiast. he’ll legit say, “I could do this all day,” and you believe him. will pause mid-session to kiss your thighs just to prolong his enjoyment. he is is savoring you like the main course you are.

vernon (again, because he’s sneaky like that): listen, once he gets a taste, it’s game over. sure, he acts chill, but he’s obsessed. you’ll hear him humming into you, vibing just like when the waiter put your fav food on your table.

3. so into eating out they might cum untouched (y’all already know these men are problems)

mingyu: he would grind against the mattress and your leg just from how turned on he is. you’d hear him moaning WITH YOU, and suddenly it’s not just about you anymore—he’s a mess, and it’s hot.

hoshi: would put his whole chest into it like it’s a performance. he’s slurping, he’s whining, and he’s holding onto you for dear life while losing himself in the process. will look up at you with those wide, starry eyes like, “did I do good, baby?” (might need a minute after because he is too into it)

woozi: his arms are locked around your thighs so you can’t run. his tongue is completely illegal. you’re sobbing, and he’s just groaning into you like it’s his orgasm. would cum untouched 100% and then smirk about it.

chan: this man is hungry. his whole vibe is;; “you’re my first meal of the day, and I’m starving.�� mf has no shame, no chill, and no limits. he’s gripping your thighs like his life depends on it, grinding into the mattress because he’s that turned on. when he cums untouched, he’s shocked AND EMBARASSED like he wasn't literally eating you out seconds ago.

[bitter-me]

Flustered Biker Boy

Lighter | M. Reader

----------

Based on one of his Trust Events, where he got flustered/shy from being called handsome. So I took it and multiplied it by three.

----------

"The Red Scarf," "the Undefeated Champion," "the Champion of the Sons of Calydon."

So many titles just for one man. He must be a legend if people speak of him in such a way. Someone that could be considered as a myth. So surreal that there's no way someone like him truly exists. It's impossible to think one person has the ability fight at least 50 men. Alone. All at once. And emerge victorious.

Yet it's all true. That man does exist and that man...

Is currently trying to hide his face with his scarf.

[Name] laughs at Lighter's reaction. He had just called him handsome and he's already so flustered? Is this the same Champion they talk about in the Outer Ring? But hey, he's not complaining. It's cute~

"Is something wrong? Your face is red." To see Lighter's face slowly rivaling the red of his scarf is a sight to behold. A sight.. only for him to see. Oh what privilege.

Lighter didn't respond. Instead he just cleared his throat. "Anyways.." He tries to act all cool and suave. As if being called handsome earlier didn't affect him in such a way which only earned him another laugh from [Name].

----------

Hanging out with Lighter had always been a joy. Despite his appearance and the whispers about him. He's quite the character. A man of power who sometimes has a childish streak. Someone who can play along and have fun but act all serious when the situation demands it. Who wouldn't love someone like that? Someone from the Outer Ring?

"Oh, they have a couple discount on the milk tea." [Name] thought out loud the moment he read the sign in front of the store. With a cheeky grin he glances over at Lighter and instantly links his arms around the other, making a B-line to the store.

Lighter was about to ask what's wrong only to be cut off by [Name]'s next words. "Excuse me, we like to take the couple discount, please."

Heat instantly makes its way onto Lighter's face. He originally thought that they were in some kind of danger. That someone was stalking them and planning to strike, which is why [Name] linked their arms like that. Trying to lead both of them to safety or something, but no. He was wrong. There wasn't some bad guy for him to fight. No, this is a different fight. A battle against..

..Economy.

Oh the things they do for a discount.

Meanwhile [Name] is extremely happy with himself. They've gotten milk tea for half the price and saw Lighter trying to hide his flustered face by drinking his milk tea.

What a great day to be alive.

----------

In this quality time of theirs. The two decided to go to the Outer Ring. So far [Name] had always suggested something in New Eridu, making excuses that Lighter should learn a few things about the city. But this time it was his turn to learn about the Outer Ring with Lighter as his guide.

But of course, time flies by fast when you're having fun.

Getting off of the bike [Name] stretched out his limbs with a groan. He had nearly forgotten how long the ride was from the Outer Ring to New Eridu. However it was more than worth it.

"You know, I had fun today." He began slowly before planting a small kiss on Lighter's cheek and pulls away with a cheeky grin. "See you later, biker boy." And with that he went straight towards the front door. Leaving an obviously red Lighter alone on his bike.

The red scarf had always suited him. Making him quite the eye candy. But a red face would definitely make him ten times more handsome.

[genderqueerdykes]

This is no hate to you at all (I've been following you for a while), and I'm curious as to why "man hating" isn't considered progressive. If it's because "man hating" diminishes Trans men and Transmascs the right to exist, then I can understand that. I know TERFs and radfems (they're literally the same ngl) usually go overboard about it, and are borderline supporting the idea of committing eugenics towards men since they somehow don't understand that marginalized men do exist.

I consider myself an Intersection Feminist, but I'm still learning about the concept of intersectionality. I would like to know what's the difference between man hating and having valid criticisms about men (especially cishet white men, including those who are also rich, Christian, abled bodied and neurotypical). I acknowledge that marginalized men exist, but I'm still trying to figure out what is man hating and what is just a criticism.

Anything helps! I'm just really confused by this, and I would like to see someone clarifying this.

I'm curious as to why "man hating" isn't considered progressive.

i know you're just asking a question, and i deeply appreciate that. but this particular sentence is extremely disturbing. please re-read this sentence. please ask yourself how that could ever, possibly, in any world be progressive. like seriously. i am very curious as to how you see it as progressive. please just take some time to reread that and think about it. to help, let me phrase it like this:

"I'm curious as to why "woman hating" isn't considered progressive." Is this okay to say to women?

women can and do hurt people. terfs and rad fems are women. some of the most abusive people in the queer community are literally cis women. terfs and rad fems are cis women. they're not safer to be around because they're women. abusive mothers exist. abusive partners exist. if it's not okay to hate all women for the individual acts of women who have hurt people, how on any planet in our solar system would it be okay to do the same to men?

profiling people based off of their genders is not progressive. hating men will not patriarchy go away. hating men will not stop toxic masculinity. only a very tiny percentage of men benefit from patriarchy. there's a high chance most men you meet are actually at a disadvantage, either for their disabilities, their race, their neurotype, and so on.

man hating hurts queer men. i'm happy you're asking about this, but it disturbs me deeply that people think it's 100% okay to hate even queer men. queer men. why the hell would it ever be progressive to hate gay men? that's literal homophobia. hating bi men is biphobia. hating trans men is transphobia. hating intersex men is intersexism. this affects genderfluid, genderqueer, nonbinary and gender non conforming men.

this hurts men who haven't hurt you. manhood isn't what hurts us under patriarchy. it's specific men. you should never hate someone who hasn't hurt you. that's never okay. telling men that they'll always be evil hateful abusers who can never get better strips away individual mens' accountability from situations where they hurt someone else. hating a man for being a man is removing their ability to be accountable, especially if you're deuhmanizing them.

profiling strangers based off of the way they look, act, and sound hurts everyone. there are trans women and transfemmes who have to go stealth or never transition. there are trans women who identify as men. there are trans women who received shitloads of hate for being a man before they came out. is that fair to subject them to? is it fair to subject a questioning trans woman to scathing hatred before they've confirmed it or come out?

man hating is not gender liberation. we are not being oppressed by manhood. we're being oppressed by individual men. getting rid of manhood is not gender liberation. it's literally the exact opposite. we have to liberate everyone of every gender, or none of us are free. i hope this helps. thank you for taking the time to stop by and please consider that you and everyone else needs to care about men because we are human. we are not evil abusive assholes who deserve to be hated, especially when we are queer, and the people hating us are also queer. this will never, ever be okay.

here are some more points articulated by another asker:

[notitlesapply]

I wanted to show off some more WIP on my Codywan cross stitch (and also show off my new needle minder!), and grumble a little about some things I discovered about DMC floss...

So if you look closely at the bottom, the orange of Cody's pauldron is slightly off. So story time!

The pattern I made through FlossCross originally called for DMC 3835 (apparently called Pumpkin - Pale) for the orange, but I didn't have it in my stash, so I subbed in DMC 971 (Pumpkin).

Now here's the thing! I didn't find out until later that 971 was discontinued due to dye formulas becoming regulated. So I was hoping that I would have enough orange (spoiler alert, I did not 😞). Luckily I found that DMC 740 (Tangerine) is supposed to be a 1 to 1 match. As you can see...it is not. Now part of my perfectionist brain is like: pick out all the orange and FIX IT, but I've been chanting to myself "it's fine it's fine this is fine..." (Please validate me so I can cling to my sanity lol)

(On a related note, there is a small patch of the grayish white on Cody's helmet on the jawline that looks paler than the rest and I don't know why because that thread color didn't get changed, so all I can assume is the dye lot is a little wonky which is frustrating. I itch so hard to rip it out but again I convince myself to carry on and not cry.)

Anyway, moral of this story is that Cody is a pumpkin on top and a tangerine on the bottom, and this means something maybe lol 😂 (Fuck now when I read smut I'll think of top Cody as a pumpkin and bottom Cody as a tangerine...bad brain BAD!)

On to more happy stuff. I recently learned about needle minders so I got one. It's so cute! 🥰 I got it from DecorativeSewingPins on Etsy. It's very convenient and useful. It also itches the part of me that loves pins/buttons/charms.

I also found out you can make your own needle minders using charms, pins, or buttons. I'm debating if I should make a matching Codywan needle minder for this project to be extra but I'm not sure if I want to experiment on my existing pins or if I should get a duplicate pin (because one can never have enough Codywan merch.)

Also as always this cross stitch pattern is based off artwork by @amikoroyaiart so send some love that way!

[brain-rot-central]

Sonnet of the Lone Cardinal, Ch 11

A/N: Hi I wrote way too much for the next chapter so I split it in two, lul. We get a little spicy in this one, but the big sex coming next ch I promise. It's already written; just have to revise!

As always, if you're still here, thank you so much. If you're new here, welcome to my hurt/comfort fic. Grab your tissues, your stuffies; whatever your emotional support method is. This fic is a ride. Happy to have you!

Rating: Explicit Word count: 4.4k Pairing: Ascended Astarion x Female Durge (named Tav, mortal) Warnings: 18+, sexy time, descriptions of gore, references to blood drinking, liiiiight love triangle inference, pregnancy, their relationship is a mess but they love one another. It's an AA fic; idk what else to say lmao Summary: Future mom and dad try having some alone time and they're rudely interrupted! The audacity!!!! >:c!!

♥ Previous Chapter ♥ Link to Ao3 ♥ Playlist

They’re barely past the threshold before Astarion swings them around. Tav’s back collides with the wall adjacent to the door with a hard thud; Astarion is on her seconds later. He wastes little time jamming a thigh between her legs, brushing his knee against her sex. A soft moan escapes her as she clings to his shoulders.

“Up–stairs– Astarion–” Tav struggles to say between short breaths. It’s a poor attempt at getting Astarion back on track. Beseeching him to return some caution to where it’s rapidly fading to the wind. Astarion's hand is then on her hip, encouraging her to rock back and forth on the expanse of his leg, his other hand wound tight within her hair. 

Soft whines pour like rich wine from her mouth when Astarion flexes his thigh, creating a rigid surface of friction. Sparks shoot from the apex of her thighs and throughout her core, nearly knocking the wind clean out of her lungs. Tav feels herself clench as her hips begin to rock of their own accord, chasing more and more of the salacious pressure between her thighs.

“I believe I'm having a change of heart,” he growls against her ear. The vampire lord then dips his head into the crook of Tav’s neck, kissing languidly over his mark. “How am I ever expected to deny temptation when it calls my name so sweetly?”

The hall is quiet enough that Tav can only assume dinner service is winding down. Her moans reverberate against the high ceilings of the marble hall, every tiny gasp amplified. The candelabras have burned down to a faint glow; the corner Astarion has pushed them into is thoroughly blanketed in shadow. They wouldn't be caught immediately, should someone walk by. Yet the risk still exists.

“We're exposed, Astarion,” argues Tav, grabbing handfuls of the vampire's hair. It’s a farce, more than anything else; the thought delights her more than she cares to admit. Astarion so desperate for her that he hoists her legs over his hips, pulls her smallclothes to the side and slides himself home, down to the hilt. Tav moans, loud and wanton, as she continues riding his thigh. 

She struggles to keep her eyes open as the edges of her vision draw closer together. From the corner of her eye, blinkling tiredly, Tav catches a glimpse of the painting hanging on the wall. The one she saw when first stepping food in this manor, of the vampire and his prey. The vampire’s lifeless expression bores into her soul–she takes in the woman draped over his lap. She ponders what possibly transpired prior to that moment, trying her best not to draw comparisons between her current position.

A foul chill passes through her.

“Is that so bad?” teases Astarion, drawing her back to the present. He sucks at the flesh of her throat. “I’m the Lord of this manor, and I say we can rut wherever we damned-well please,” he growls, pulling her roughly against him.

Her head swims as she clings to him, arousal saturating her thoughts. Tav would allow him to take her here, she realizes. To fuck her against the wall, in clear view of anyone who dared to look. She'd allow them a view of how loudly her body cries out for him, the beautiful melody they both sing when joined.

“Oh, but I suppose you make a good point, love,” Astarion coos. His hand drifts to the outside of Tav’s thigh and he grips it tight, lifting it over his hip. “But that would involve us parting from our current position.” He grinds himself unabashedly against her center. “Is that what you really want?”

Tav whimpers at the thought of him peeling away from her. Losing the feeling of his body against hers. Tracing the outline of her body with his hands. Lips on hers, her neck, her breasts–him being everywhere but nowhere all at once. It's too much–she needs him now. 

Desperately. 

Tav snakes a hand between them, fishing for the button of Astarion's slacks. “Now,” she says, undoing his fastenings with lightning deftness. Deftness that he taught her. “If you have the gall to tease me like this, then you better take me now.”

She watches as his lips curl into a devious smile, showing just the slightest glint of a fang. “With pleasure,” Astarion purrs.

Rat bastard.

His cock springs free as she pulls him free from his underclothes. The heavy weight of him within her palm sends a ripple of pleasure throughout her body, heat coursing through her core. Tav wastes little time wrapping her hand around his shaft, giving a few experimental pumps. She delights in how Astarion growls low in his throat, giving her the encouragement she needs to plant soft, soothing kisses against the vampire’s lips, teasing his bottom lip between her teeth. Astarion reciprocates with starving enthusiasm while pulling moan after moan from her and into his mouth. He swallows them all greedily, as though nothing could ever quench his thirst for this. For her.

Pre-fluid weeps from the bulbous tip, aiding in the glide of her hand over his cock. “Tell me to stop and I will,” Astarion groans against her mouth. His cock twitches in her hand as she runs her thumb over his frenulum. Their eyes meet, lust sitting heavy within their shared exchange. Tav only nods her head and groans as she shuffles her small clothes enough to allow him entrance. He glides easily as she positions him between her folds. The rumble that erupts from deep within Astarion’s chest tells her just how slick she is–how much he longs to slip within her tight heat. “Tavaria…” he whines against her ear, nearly breathless. His tip teases at her entrance and she catches it, the head finally slipping in, giving way to a delicious burning stretch, and then–

“Well, I see we've skipped dinner and gone straight for dessert!”

The voice pierces through them like a shard of ice, freezing them solid. Tav clings to Astarion's shoulders out of instinct, but she feels the vampire tense beneath her. He pulls himself free of her, Tav whining softly at the loss, and he sneers over his shoulder at their unwelcome audience. Tav’s skirts fall to the floor and she drops her leg from his hip, Astarion stuffing himself back within the confines of his slacks with nimble skill.

“To what do we owe the pleasure, Your Grace?” Astarion hisses through clenched teeth, fastening his pants.

The duke chuckles behind them and crosses his arms over his chest. “Correct me if I'm wrong, but I'm pretty sure it’s in poor taste for the host to skip out during dinner service.” Wyll gives a wry smile, looking over Astarion’s shoulder. “Though, I clearly see why, now.”

“Oh? Did you miss me, darling?” A touch of sarcasm laces Astarion’s tone as he huffs a laugh, alongside impatience. “What is it you really want, Wyll?” Tav swears the tips of his fingers are sharpening into claws as he clenches his hands into tight fists. The turquoise gem of Astarion’s ring glints in the dim firelight of the hall.

“I'm searching for a certain soldier who possesses hair resembling a roaring campfire.” Wyll lifts his brow in question. “Have you seen her?”

Arousal still clouds her mind, though through the murkiness, Tav realizes that Wyll isn't immediately aware of her presence. She's unsure if that’s a good or bad thing–mostly because Wyll believes Astarion to have stolen away for a quick romp with some random person. Or, conversely, he doesn't believe Tav to be the type to allow herself to be taken in the middle of a dimly lit hallway. A sinking feeling overtakes her stomach with each thought.

Either way, neither theory bodes well for her.

Cautiously, with her heart nearly clamoring out of her throat, Tav pokes her head out from around Astarion's form. “I'm here, Your Grace,” she says, feeling the heat of the blush currently rising to her face. To her horror, Marceline, Oscar, and Lester stand behind Wyll, their eyebrows also raised in silent question. Gods above, she thinks, embarrassment flooding her. I really couldn't have waited a bit longer?

A few heartbeats of silence pass over them. Astarion scowls heavily as Wyll looks them over, turning now to meet the young duke. Wyll’s mouth opens and closes repeatedly, as though to say something, but no sound is ever produced. Oscar snickers, his cheeks still possessing the rosy color from his drinks earlier in the evening. Lester adverts his gaze, choosing to look over the decor along the walls. Respectful, as always. But it's the look Marceline gives her that tugs on Tav’s heart. 

The two women have never discussed Astarion, nor Tav’s past involvement with him. Tav only ever spoke openly with Shadowheart about him, her having laid witness to the romance unfold during its infancy. But perhaps Marceline had known, somehow, that this deeper part of her existed. Maybe in the way she carried herself, or how she avoided looking upon expressions of affection between others. Perhaps it was enough to tell Marceline, quietly, that her heart had been broken once before. Almost irreparably so, and given the well-known fact that Astarion was a prior traveling companion, Tav knows without a shadow of a doubt that her colleague is actively putting the pieces of the puzzle together.

How foolish she likely seems to Marceline, having allowed the man who wrecked her so thoroughly back into her life. To still give him so much power, so much sway over her heart. To be carrying his child. Though, that’s something none of them are aware of.

Yet. 

Tav lets out a heavy sigh. A wave of strong nausea rushes through her, prompting her to hold back the urge to empty her stomach onto the floor. Either that, or to perish within a moment’s notice. Anything to stop how mortified she feels at this moment.

“Ah,” Wyll muses, finally speaking. He clears his throat. “Well, I just wanted to wish you farewell.” His gaze shifts to Astarion, then back to Tav, mouth falling into a hard line. “I expect to see you tomorrow morning, bright and early.”

Tav nods softly. “Of course, Your Grace.” A barely audible sound rises from the back of Astarion's throat as she addresses Wyll, his nails nearly breaking skin as he tightens his fists.

Wyll gives a slight bow of his head. “Goodnight then, my friends,” he says in jest, “Don't stay up too late!”

As the entourage exits the manor through the foyer door, Tav realizes Wyll hadn't corrected her use of a formal greeting to him. She'd said it twice–twice–and he’d failed to invite her to use his name instead. Her stomach twists again.

The door clicks shut and Tav tears herself from Astarion's hold, drawing in a deep breath. “That wasn't good,” she says aloud, unsure if it's to herself or Astarion.

“Oh, please,” Astarion says from behind her, rather cooly given the situation, “he's upset because we're having the fun he only wishes he could have! I’m sure he'll get over it.”

Tav shakes her head, turning to face him. “I wouldn't be so sure about that, Astarion. This is different. He's…” She pauses as she chews at the inside of her mouth, thoughts flooding her mind. “He doesn't approve of us.”

The vampire laughs. “Of course he doesn't! So long as I’m involved,” Astarion places a hand over his chest, “I doubt he ever will.”

“Could have fooled me by tonight's performance. You looked a touch more friendly,” Tav says.

“What can I say? I know how to play the part of a dashing rogue all too well,” he answers, a lilt to his voice. Astarion then approaches her, lifting a hand to cup Tav’s chin. He lifts her face to meet his gaze. “But I can’t help but feel as though his disapproval bothers you,” Astarion ponders. His eyes are soft, contemplative, as he looks at her.

She sits with the thought for a minute before answering. “No, it doesn't bother me.” A half truth–she doesn’t need Wyll’s approval. “But it does concern me how I'm going to continue working with him as my superior.” She shakes her head as the questions rack her brain. “Will he continue to be fair, will he hold this against me, will he–”

“He's not going to do anything,” Astarion interrupts, gruffly. “Not to you, at least. He'll settle all of his grievances with me.”

Tav blinks as her mouth hangs agape. “You?” she asks. “But you're already working with him!”

“Indeed, but it seems as though our dear, sweet Wyllyam still possesses a few heartbeats that belong,” the hand on her chin lifts, Astarion tapping the tip of her nose gently with a finger, “to you.”

Tav rolls her eyes, turning away from him. “Oh, Astarion!” she laments, marching for the stairs. “He does not!” She clutches handfuls of her skirts as she begins her ascent. Astarion quickly follows behind her.

“Is it truly so hard to believe?” he calls after her in mock question.

Tav reaches the top of the stairs and whips around, glaring heavily at Astarion. He halts his approach, leaning a hand over the stair rail. “Were he to still possess feelings, Astarion, he would have used the time you and I spent apart to his advantage.” She tilts her head to one side and narrows her eyes. “Don't you think?”

The vampire scowls, mouth twisting into a hard line as he resumes following her up the stairs.. He stands tall over Tav upon reaching the top of the stairs. “No,” he growls, “I don't. Because the reality of the situation, my love, is that he was giving you space.”

She looks around, attempting to ascertain which direction Astarion’s bedroom is in. To the left is hers–she can only assume that it lay in the opposite direction. Her feet begin to carry her forward. “Space for what?” Tav inquires, slightly annoyed.

Before passing too far out of reach, Astarion extends a hand to grab her arm, halting her in place. “Tavaria…” His voice trails off into a whisper. “You don’t trust that I know longing when I see it?”

A heavy feeling settles within her chest, eyes drifting closed. 

Perhaps Astarion is right–maybe Wyll's kindness hasn’t been simply out of the goodness of his heart. She knew of the duke's prior feelings for her, assuming that he put them aside when she chose a path with Astarion. Her mind races through their interactions over the last few months, down to the most minute of gestures: all of the smiles, the kind words, the gentle touches.

Wyll is no stranger to her state of being after her separation from Astarion. She may have not spoken with him about how she felt, but he'd kept his eye on her. Watched patiently from afar, always making sure he was available should she need him. Wyll has been ever the gentleman; he’s never insulted her, nor raised his voice at her. Calm, cool, and collected under the most intense of pressure, always an ear open to her lead, her suggestions. Never giving her anything less than the respect he believes she deserves. 

But as Tav recalls their moments spent together, during their journey and beyond, she can now see so clearly the distinct gleam in his eyes when he holds her gaze. Hears the softness of his tone ringing in her ears, feel the ghost of his hand running delicately down the length of her arm…

A shiver runs down her back as she stares blankly at Astarion. 

As much as she hates to admit it, Astarion has a point. Wyll was allowing her time to heal. Giving her heart the space to repair itself, even if to only swoop in once patched back together. He’d never gotten over her. No, quite the opposite, really. Wyll had simply hardened his heart, choosing to bide his time. Waiting for Astarion to slip up, for their love affair to end with finality, all for a chance to play hero. And now that they’ve chosen to rekindle their flame, Wyll is forced once again to grin and bear it.

And she didn’t see it. Rather, didn’t believe herself worthy of his affections. They’d met during a strange time–Tav hardly recalled anything about who she was. She’d awoken in an Illithid dreadnought, newly tadpoled, learning she had all but a handful of days before death came to claim her for good. And when that didn’t happen, each day brought her closer to reclaiming her identity. But not without a few bloody missteps.

And then, there was Wyll. 

Precious Wyll–the son of Baldur Gate’s Grand Duke Ulder Ravengard. Bred and groomed to be the perfect aristocrat to assume his father’s title. Suave, polite; even his insults were kind, albeit backhanded. He is a stunning example of the type of man you bring home to your family for dinner. Perhaps not her family, but to just about anyone else’s. Why would he want to be tangled up with her? She craved blood, murder, gore. Death. She would sooner tear her hands through his abdomen, cracking open his ribcage, just to caress his spleen. To feel its curve along her fingertips. To remember the touch of the delicate blood vessels between her hands.

She would have killed him, all in the name of her Father. There’s no way to tell if she would have, but she’s sure she would have tried to on more than one occasion. Tav would have killed him and lain within the aftermath, sleeping as soundly as a newborn babe after a feeding.

She chose Astarion, in part, to spare Wyll that fate. She may have not realized it at the time, but she understands now. Astarion was already dead–she still craved to carve him from navel to neck, but she knew his heart was cold. The urge wasn’t as strong. Wyll was young, strong, and clean. Fresh. A perfect sacrifice for her Father.

Her heart sinks. 

The love she holds for Astarion can be compared to none other she’s known throughout any point in her life. But the acknowledgment that she gave up an opportunity to be with Wyll out of self-doubt…is crushing.

There is, of course, the chance that Astarion’s concerns are merely playing into paranoid delusion, as he’s so prone to doing. Tav sighs, turning to face Astarion once more. She gives him a sullen expression as tears begin stinging at the corners of her eyes. But despite her hopeful optimism, the longer the thought sits with her, the clearer the image becomes. Astarion threads his fingers between hers, pulling her closer. Sobs bubble up within her chest, threatening to rupture.

“Oh, my sweet little love,” he whispers, inviting her into his chest. He wraps his arms around her waist, resting his head against hers. “Do you now see what’s been clear to me this entire time?”

She still isn't entirely convinced, holding out the smallest bit of hope that this is all one giant fallacy, though the thought alone is enough to upset her. Tav shakes her head in disagreement. “I’m still not sure,” she says, voice wavering. Foolish as it may be, a small part of her still wishes that Wyll's kindness is of his own merit. That it isn't as Astarion claims, that he doesn't wish for something in return.

For once, she wishes someone was good–kind–because they simply wanted to be. Without expecting something in return. Astarion speaks through the lens of his past, she knows. From being forced into a life where what he could give stood as a basis for his worth for over 200 years. And she knows he speaks out of an abundance of caution for her, not wanting to see her go through any semblance of the life he knew. To protect her.

“I just…hope this is different,” Tav admits, quietly.

“Ever the optimist,” Astarion comments, peeling himself from her. The smile he gives her is disingenuous; more for her sake than his. The reds of his irises shine in the dim light of the upper level. The sharpness of his face softens from the shadows cast over it; his skin takes on an amber glow.

He truly is the most beautiful man she’s ever seen. Man, creature, fiend–it matters not to her what he is. It never really did. His beauty is simply an added benefit. All she’s ever cared for is his heart and soul, and his willingness to share both with her. The song he sings simply for her and no one else. She wonders if she, too, sings for him? She wonders if he can hear it. Do they sing a gentle harmony together, or are they a harsh clashing of contrasting pitches?

Tav raises a hand to hold the side of Astarion’s face. She settles her gaze on his lips, lifting to his eyes as she says, “I really don't wish for this to ruin our night.”

This time, he smiles earnestly. Astarion whisks Tav into his arms, earning a surprised yelp. She wraps her arms around his neck. “Then let us continue.”

Once she's sure she isn't going to slip from his hold, Tav allows herself to rest her head against his shoulder. The tip of her nose rests within the crook of his neck and she breathes in. It's not as strong as earlier in the evening, but his cologne still lingers. She allows her eyes to trace along the small glimpse of his collar bone, up to the scars embedded in his neck. Warmth spreads throughout her, knowing an artery lay beneath those marks–thick and plentiful with life sustaining blood.

Had she fangs, she would have supped upon him by now. A small taste, just to rejuvenate her. He'd allow it, she thinks. Why wouldn't he? Slowly she begins to lose herself to the fantasy. Swapping their blood and saliva between kisses, back and forth, until they solidified a flavor purely their own. One that none could ever replicate.

A part of her fears she may be slipping too far into him. Like a small frog in a pot of water, unaware that it’s begun to boil. But gods how she longs for this–to be so thoroughly his. For him to be so entirely hers. The sun could melt, the world plunged into eternal darkness, but none of it would matter so long as they're together.

Is she truly wrong for that? Is that not what she deserves?

Her lips find the smooth skin of Astarion's neck at the same time he leans over to open the bedroom door. A rumble of appreciation rises from his chest as he brings them both into the room, closing the door behind him. He brings her to his bed, placing her gently down on the silken duvet cover, climbing on top. Red, Tav notices from the corner of her eye. She’s resistant to relinquishing her hold on him, fearful that if she does this will all slip through her fingers. Astarion dips his head into where her neck and shoulder meet and sucks; a thin sheet of golden linen makes up the canopy draped above them.

“Astarion,” groans Tav, hooking her legs around the small of his back. She feels his hands traveling down her sides, pulling up her dress. All at once, the fabric feels too tight around her. “Help me out of this thing,” she says, more of a demand than a question, forcing herself up onto her elbows.

The vampire is silent as he complies with her urgent request. As his hands undo the zipper to her dress, his mouth lavishes attention to the other side of her neck. He peels the dress off her shoulders, Tav groaning in frustration at the brief loss of contact between them, but Astarion is quickly back on her. She pulls her slip gown over her head and pushes the emerald dress further down and over her hips, kicking it off her legs. Astarion nudges it off the side of the bed before reclaiming his place fully between her legs.

“You’ve no idea how many nights I’ve spent imaging this,” he grounds out as he travels down her chest. Tav falls back gently on the bed as smooth lips plant kisses between the valley of her breasts. He closes his mouth over the stiffened peak of one breast, kneading the other within his hand. “To have you here, like this.” He lightly rolls her nipple between his index finger and thumb. “With me.”

A moan slips past her lips as she arches into his touch and Tav dares herself to look down, just as Astarion bites the tender flesh of her breast. Not hard enough to draw blood, but she still can feel the familiar sting of his fangs over her skin. Pleasure shoots straight to her core. How could she ever go back to a mortal man after this? They could bite her, sure, but nothing would ever compare the rush of anticipation before each of his bites, knowing they may or may not pierce her skin. Leaving yet another mark on her body; a statement that it was she who nourished him.

Their eyes meet as he releases her breast from his mouth, tongue flicking over the hardened nub. There’s a blush set high on his cheeks again, eyelids heavy over pools of crimson. She lifts a hand to his cheek, brushing her thumb over his face. It’s warm in her palm, and Astarion turns his head into the touch, kissing the inside of her hand. Her thumb brushes briefly over the plushness of his lips, and she’s overcome by one of her strangest urges yet.

She needs him under her. More than she’s ever needed something in her life.

“I’m considered the Lady of this manor, yes?” Tav says urgently, the question coming out more as a statement.

Astarion lifts his head, brows pulling together as he ponders. He nods his head slowly in agreement. “I do recall saying as such, yes.”

Tav tilts her head, running a hand through his hair as she smiles. “Well, your Lady has a request, m’lord.” She speaks lovingly to him, thoroughly enjoying the wide-toothed grin he gives her in response. 

He chuckles; Tav catches a glimpse of white peaking just over his bottom lip. Astarion kisses her breast again as he says, “Oh? And how may I be of service, m’lady?”

She fills her lungs with uneven breaths, pushing herself up on her elbows again. Astarion pulls back to allow her room. Lightning races down her spine, but Tav manages to make eye contact as she states boldly, “I want you under me.”

[rosewoodcafe]

I love you, I'm sorry

Ominis x Reader

Goodluck soldiers

I lowkey died while writing this

It's also on A03 and Wattpad :*)

"In all of my years being alive, never did I think I would be able to love someone as deeply as you. Everything felt right, complete, as if everything in this entire world could be fixed with the wave of my hand." She spoke, her voice cracking ever so slightly. "All I want is for you to love me as much as I love you, Ominis."

I kept a straight face, trying to control every emotion that was pulling at my heartstrings. I couldn't be with her, my family would kill her, damn the love I felt for her. My mouth was dry, every word sitting on the tip of my tongue.

"Say something. Please." Her voice was desperate, the sadness seeping through.

Merlin I hate myself for what I am about to do.

"I- I can't love." I said effortlessly, a lie the flowed so easily it was heartbreaking. "Gaunt's are incapable of love. I'm sorry but I do not return your feelings."

Her breathing stopped, and it felt as though time stood still, every movement she mad, every second memorialized in this horrible moment. Finally she took a breath, not saying a word.

"I love you." She choked out, the slightest whimper escaping her lips. She was holding back.

"I'm sorry."

After that day I lost her. 

Months after she didn't speak to me, her silence making me regret everything I have ever done. She laughed, even sounded happy when I would pass her. Sebastian would tell me how much he loved her, how he wished he could be with her. I encouraged him, hoping that with that my feelings would leave me. I hoped I would be okay, that I wouldn't dream every night of holding her in my arms.

Sebastian did ask her, and in my shock she said yes. In anger I stormed to the Undercroft, tears threating to burst out of me. The clockface door opened, letting me slip inside, tears starting to silently slip. The passageway was something I knew without my wand, and the iron gate slammed up letting me inside of my hidden sanctuary. I kept walking, I reached the middle of the room, feeling my body tremble. My wand dropped from my hand. I felt my knees hit the floor, and I screamed.

"WHY DO YOU HATE ME?" I screamed, my fists clenched and hitting the floor. They started to become warm with a think liquid. "WHY CAN'T YOU LET ME BE HAPPY?"

Every fiber of my body was on fire, and every part of me wanted to end it all. I wanted to simply be a tragic memory in the minds of everyone I knew.

~

Graduation rolled around, the last I would be around these people I have been near for years. It was a bitter end, Sebastian getting found for his Uncles murder, the only woman I ever will love completely unaware of my existence.

It is to be a Gaunt, to be alone.

The final ceremony ended, cheers ringing through the hall. I only felt hollow, an empty shell of an eighteen year old who had nothing ahead of him. Tears slipped from my eyes as I bowed my head down, attempting to disappear from this life.

Her laughter came carrying from a few seats down, an agonizing reminder that this would be the last time I can relish in the happiness her voice brought me.

I smiled. The pain of not being with her would be horrible, but at least I could have this one last moment.

I love her, more than anything.

~

Years have past. My wife sat across the table from me, eating silently. She was waiting to leave, to dismiss herself to the garden, where she would meet with her lover. I never stopped her.

Life had become dull, an everlasting pain stung into my heart. My wedding had been full of everyone who had never given an ounce of care, but you showed anyways, to give your good luck, blissfully unaware how badly I wanted you to be the one at the end of the isle.

"I don't know if I want to do this." I said to you that day. "I will forever be stuck within this Gaunt image."

"Then run with me." You said so casually, as if that decision would not ruin your life. "We can leave, never return and change our names. They would never find us."

"I..." The words were caught in my throat, just like that fated day. I couldn't speak.

"Ominis, I love you."

I felt my heart shatter and rebuild in moments. Of course you still loved me, but that never reduced the danger that I would put you in.

"I- I'm sorry." I said finally. I could hear you release a breath. Relief? Sorrow? I wasn't sure. "I can't run from this."

"I know." She said with acceptance. She knew I would respond this way. Her soft lips planted a light kiss on my hand. "I love you Ominis, always. I'm sorry I do."

Her footsteps leading out of the room haunted me, in my sweetest of dreams she always left. It also woke me.

~

I walked through the Ministry, heading to work. Amongst the crowd her voice carried, the laughter that lifted me out of that dark abyss more then once. I wanted to follow it, to tell her I want to run, that I love her as much.

Fuck it.

I followed the voice. Her voice. 

My wand carrying me, the noise of everyone else drowned out. She was right in front of me, I lightly held her arm, both of us halting in place.

"Oh Merlin! Ominis!" She said shocked. "You scared the hell out of me. How are you?!" 

I smiled by how out of breath she sounded, the way her hand moved over mine, warm and comfortable. 

"I'm wonderful," I said to her, "I heard your voice carry through the room. I knew I had to say hello again." I smiled. Everything about this was right. "How are you?"

"Oh, I am great actually. Headed to the family offices now actually."

"Family offices?" I asked puzzled at her response. Last I had known she was still unmarried. She moved my hand from hers, and placed it on her stomach. I felt every sliver of hope fade away, the dream of running gone.

"I am only about five months along, and I don't make enough money alone to support us." She said softly, my hand still over her belly. "I am hoping if I plead my case the Ministry will provide assistance."

"I can help." I said quickly, not thinking of anything but her. Her breath paused, then she moved her hand to my arm, stepping ever so slightly closer. 

"I will be okay." She laughed that wonderfully beautiful laugh. "Besides what would your wife think about you helping another woman."

I sighed. I assume she hadn't heard that my wife had run off, leaving my only child with me. His middle name shared with yours, as he became the light of my life like you are- like you were. 

"She isn't around... anymore." I said softly, gauging the reaction you had. "So by means, please, use my home to your extent."

"I- Ominis I'm so sor-"

"Don't be, please." I held her hand, just enough to try to communicate that I wanted her there. "Stay. With me."

"Okay, I will."

Without another word I began to walk us both to a floo station, heading to the home that had felt empty for so long.

I would get it right this time.

~

The sound of her cooing at the beautiful baby girl filled every crevice of my soul. You had moved in, taking care of little Oliver who was now barely a year old, and just recently having your own baby. 

A young girl, with the same silky soft skin. You told me that she had your eyes, I believed you.

I felt full, hearing my son who called you his mommy, and you, who didn't correct him. 

Life never felt better. 

~

"No you don't understand!" I yelled as she ran down the hall. 

"No Ominis! You don't understand!" She screamed out, anger flooding her voice. "I waited, for years, made myself forget you. Made myself move on. I tried everything. You expect me to just accept that you have loved me for just as long but you lied, to protect me! Bullshit!"

I felt her pain hit me, the anger like daggers against me. 

"I'm sorry lov-"

"You don't get to call me that." She snapped. "I forgave you. I let it all go, and hoped that with everything that I would never have to feel the pain that I felt because of you. Yet here you go again ripping my heart out and crushing it in front of me!" I could hear the sobs coming from her, her voice cracking as she yelled. "All I wanted was your love, and now that you are wanting to give it to me, I don't love you anymore."

Everything sunk.

My heart beating helplessly on the floor, bleeding out everything I ever had.

"I-"

"You what Ominis. Tell me how I am supposed to be okay with everything that has happened the past ten years."

"I don't expect you too." I said, tears dropping from my grief stricken body. The guilt from years of pain inflicted on her and myself finally catching up. A small smile tugged at my mouth.

"You were amazing Ominis, better then me in every way." She said croaking her response out. "But god you fucking hurt me, in so many ways."

"I'm sorry, I was horrible." I tried to hear her reaction, to know what she was thinking. "I can't change the past, but I can change now."

"I loved you! I loved you so much I was willing to loose you!"

"I lost you! It fucking haunted my life every day." I cried out, the years of pinning after your touch and laughter filling the void that was between us. "I loved you so much that I begged everyday to whatever god that there is to make you love me too. I loved you so much that I was willing to throw away the only person who made me happy for your protection. I loved you first, and that will never change."

"And I look back at those times to remind me why I can't love you again!" She shouted, her voice cracking.

"I look back at those times and remind myself why I spent years suffering." I sobbed. "I remind myself that everything I do is for you."

"I love you." She laughed, placing her head in her hands. Her sobs became muffled. 

"I- I love you." I whispered. Her breathing stopped, the slightest bit of hesitation.

"I'm sorry." She said, every emotion coming through. 

No words were spoken, but everything was communicated. The silence covering the gaps of miscommunication, showing that the two of us were broken beyond repair. We couldn't save what was there. There was truly no hope for either of us, the end drawing near. 

For in every life, a Gaunt couldn't love. A Gaunt was forever cursed to be alone. 

And Ominis was a Gaunt, a part of him he could never change.

[strawberrykoi01]

It would be VERY helpful if there was an app that would like tell me what foods I can make with the shit in my house and like it had recommendations and stuff that would be pretty cool actually.

[odo-apologist]

After thinking more about this post and the responses people have left in the notes, I have decided to add to it

Shoutout to @dedicated-eunuch-enthusiast for bringing up the Love Celibacy Society because I was not thinking about them but their online presence would be a cesspit. Their subreddit is quarantined, but it's probably thriving on 4chan. My question is whether incels died out and Love Celibacy is the return or if they happen to be two separate groups and the members of both argue the minutiae of their differences which "normies" don't understand. Do they call themselves "lovecels"? Would be happy to hear some thoughts

JMC revitalized NFTs (I'm pretty sure they're dead at this point right? Please? I haven't seen any video essays about then recently) and I can honestly see them using them as a replacement of employee bonuses or something so they don't have to pay more actual money. Rimmer has several and is unfortunately probably proud of them. Lister messes with him by doing the whole right click and download thing and claims that they're also his which pisses Rimmer off so much because that's NOT how it works Lister, you don't own them on the blockchain so it doesn't count

I did say in my tags that I think Mimas has a lot of crytocurrency users but I'm reiterating that here because I was struck by the idea of McIntyre getting his nose cut off and being driven to suicide after owing a fortune in like. Fucking dogecoin or whatever some of those currencies are called

The entire Garbage World bit in Better than Life would be so much wilder with social media. Each planet would be doing so much online platforming for their campaign, you can't go on any site without being bombarded by it. The discourse is harsh and so toxic and multiple celebrities get canceled for their opinions on it. When Earth loses you know there's hundreds of change.org petitions. They do nothing. A large amount of people find the results out through the ancient but still powerful

I focused on holograms in my original post when it came to the representation of nonhuman beings in media, but that's because they're canonically the closest one to getting any kind of rights. However, the tags from @thatsnoneofurdamnbiz had me thinking about mechanoids in media, especially since we do see that the soap opera Androids exists in the actual show, which I'm assuming existed during the same time as pre-canon? Unless Kryten found after the Nova 5 crash which is very much a possibility. Still, builfing off the former assumption, are the androids in Androids played by them, or are they human actors? If humans, I feel like there's gotta be a lot of arguments about whether it's good representation or not. As for GELFs, there are probably still some, much feebler, attempts at advocacy for them, but most people don't question their subhuman status in society

Better than Life has a Steam page. All of the reviews are extremely positive, but that's probably because they're all farmed and actual players are, you know, dead or trapped in the game and dying

I've read fics that bring up the possibility of Lister writing self insert fanfic about him and Bexley Speed, so not an original idea but I just want to say I agree 😌 Also, Kochanski can write and publish some Austen-inspired erotica as a treat

There is so much potential when it comes to in-universe social media/online interactions for Red Dwarf

JMC has the most obnoxious internet presence, trying to present themselves as a friendly brand. It has a Tik Tok account that interns are forced to make comedic content for and it gets into fake internet drama with Diva Droid as a publicity stunt. Some people try to critique how this corporation associated with the military industrial complex is trying to personify itself but are drowned out by others who think it's only funny or cringey and isn't that deep

An aspect of media discourse are people calling new movies and TV shows "woke" or "pandering" because they included holograms as characters. Some pieces of media will try to virtue signal by claiming to have hologram representation when in reality the character is alive for most of the runtime until the last five minutes when they are brought back as a hologram and those scenes can be cut/censored before being released to more conservative colonies like Io. There's debate whether living people can play holograms or whether that's problematic

As per this post, Rimmer and Lister would both seperately and unknowingly post to r/AITA about each other and once people connected the dots, they comment (among ones saying they are both the asshole and that they need help) "Why are you both still sharing a room together? Can't you get a transfer? You should move out" and both of them would respond with something like "no why would I do that" and these responses get downvoted to hell. Eventually they're both banned from the subreddit (not a new experience for Rimmer who has been banned from several). This becomes part of Rimmer's internet lore which gains notoriety. When making a video about it some YouTuber ends up stumbling upon information about Red Dwarf and JMC's unethical practices (such as the inclusion of whole prisons on their vessels) and ends up getting harassed by the company just like that one guy IRL who went down the rabbit hole of a shady politician which led to his house getting firebombed

[anna-scribbles]

they should've been at the club(infertility treatment centers)

[unriding]

me n moze say good morning to the world !!! ᕙ( •̀ ᗜ •́ )ᕗ

art by @rabbbitseason of course <3

[anonymouscheeses]

I'm gonna be shitting and screaming and starting fights if Sera becomes a villain. I can't take sibling angst, Sera loves Emily I swear guys believe meeee.

[rosecandyart]

I am very curious to know what old-school Splatoon fans thought when these dropped.

[iheartjameshetfield]

YALL I CANT DO THIS ANYMORE

[moeblob]

What Deacon thinks: what did that mean? did he want me to wear a collar too? why else would he mention my neck? i mean, if he /asked/ me i would wear one but he didn't so would wearing one be weird?

What Ymber meant: It's nice to be near someone who isn't tethered to this world to serve it with a physical reminder for all to see.

[tj-crochets]

I still have not actually quilted my scrap quilt but I spread out the backing fabric to see if I have to piece it together* and look at this!!! I saw it and started cackling. It’s magnificently loud and clash-y and every color at once and I love it so much

*I don’t but I do need to iron it

[the-busy-ghost]

Me normally: Let people love what they love

Me, after a Test Match Special commentator expresses their belief that the new All Creatures Great and Small is somehow "better" than the 1978 version: This is pure insanity and TMS can no longer be trusted on anything, how can they even be trusted to know about cricket, do they have no TASTE