#the amount of times I had to reformat this-

[kate-bishops-waifu]

Trans Skier Kate au.

Growing up, Kate would spend many winters out west skiing with her parents. While her father took her on ill advised slopes her mother would relax in the resort, taking advantage of all the amenities. Skiing with her father was her first love, and when he passed away in 2012 from cancer skiing was a way for Kate to feel connected to him.

She dedicated herself to the sport, joining first a team in middle school, then her highschool team. She earned medals in both state and local competitions, in alpine ski racing. New York was quickly becoming too small for her competitive spirit and she would go on to compete nationally, winning first place. Though this quickly gained criticism, a sixteen year old Kate would be bombarded with hate and transphobia. Though this did not stop her she would earn sponsors from more progressive companies thoroughly reviewed by her and her team. Internationally she was succeeding but her mother was, for the first time, listening to those who criticized her daughters so called "unfare" biological advantage. In early 2021 at the age of 20 in her sophomore year of college, Kate would be scouted for the 2022 Winter Olympics. When she excitedly announced to her mother what had happened they had a blow up argument, her mother wishing Kate to remain home and out of the competition and calling her "not a real girl". This would cause Kate to leave New York briefly traveling before landing where she had gone in her childhood m out west and took up a job as Ski Patrol until the end of the season where she would pick up and travel again to a new resort where she would spend the spring, summer and fall working in a resort shop before finally moving to a hotel position in January 2024. There she would have a mix up with the two "first come first serve" ski passes the hotel provided with my father, delovering it to us nearly an hour later than planned. Though very apologetic my father being stubborn was still in a bit of a nasty mood about it. She would join us for a few runs where my father would soon come around. Though I had to briefly play mediator and tell him to go easy on Kate. She would quickly take a liking to me because of my unkempt curls and demure attitude. We became fast friends and spend a season of skiing together, though she had to slow down so I could keep up, feelings quickly developed. She was boarding in a cabin which you could just about ski to given some maneuvering. We would spend many days up on the mountain and evenings in her surprisingly cozy boarding house. She lived with two others, and had adopted a dog which we would take on hikes. On a day like this, curled up on her couch after a satisfying but exhausting day on the mountain, Kate would confess.

[readychilledwine]

The First Hunt

Eris Week - Day 4 - Hounds And Traditions

Summary - Open season in Autumn always creates a fun game for you and your husband

Warnings - fingering, dirty talk, praise, signs of dumbification and pet play, signs of predator prey play, hunting.

A/n - Slowly reworking through @erisweekofficial things and getting them reformatted 🫠 Happy late day 4! Day 5 should be up this evening. 💕

🍂Eris Week Masterlist🍂Eris Masterlist🍂Master Masterlist🍂

Dividers by @tsunami-of-tears

You sighed as you walked through the fallen leaves and branches behind your husband's path. Autumn had fully fallen throughout Prythian. Leaves were changing in the solar courts, and coffee shops began to request goods from your home.

But none of that matter to Eris right now. What mattered to Eris is Prythian welcoming Autumn along all their borders meant one thing.

Open Hunting Season.

Every court had different laws regarding when hunting certain game was appropriate. With Mabon having past, Beron had opened deer and elk season. Your husband's favorite time of the year.

He spent weeks training the hounds for this, and they were as ready as their handler.

“Eris, this isn’t-”

“Now, now, my pretty bunny. Silence is the most important part of the hunt. The hounds can't find their prey if you sit here huffing.” Amber eyes stared at you, a pleased smirk on his face as you crossed your arms. “I warned you, little wife. I said this would bore you.”

“I wanted to come to the cabin, spend time with you,” you huffed again. The hounds were deep into searching. Their sensitive noses buried in the ground. They were stealthy, silent. It was as if they knew exactly what leaves and branches to avoid.

The smokehounds were one of your favorite things about Eris. It was a preview to how he'll treat your future children, a sign of the amount of love he truly had just waiting to emerge, and his patience. One of the hounds, Cyprus, came and brushed his hand before walking another direction, the others following him.

He wordlessly motioned for you to follow, bow strapped to wide shoulders again as he moved. Eris was such a graceful being. Even in his most lethal moments, Eris carried the signs of his love of dance.

You followed them, deeper into the woods, deeper into thick brush. There were no villages nearby. No fae for you to decide to leave and speak with.

You all finally stopped in a field, a cleared area in the woods with only a single ancient oak tree.

It would be the only witness to what he was about to do to you. Your back met soft ground before you could even respond and he stood above you, bent at the waist and smirking, “Little wife, on your back for me already?” His bow was carried away by Willow, weapons now long gone as the hounds began to surround the clearing, sitting in the grass to stay guard.

You pushed up to your elbows, “Huband, help me back up.” You held a hand out to him, only for him to remove his shirt. Inches of new skin was revealed before he ultimately got on top of you, caging you to the ground below, “This isn't hunting?”

“Oh but it is, sweet bunny. I ensnared you right where I wanted.”

“Did you now?”

A soft kiss found your lips, “I did.”

“What if it is I who ensnared you?”

Eris only chuckled in response, “Then maybe we are both getting what we want.” His lips found yours again, more heated and needy as he forced you to lay back again. Your own shirt was pulled of moments later before he moved to pull down the travel pants you had been allowed to wear.

His hands began to explore then, his eyes soft as he looked over your smooth skin. “This is is much better than sitting lonely and waiting for the hounds to find something,” he squeezed the plush skin of your thighs, groaning as he did.

Eris loved every inch of you. He loved the curves you carried. He loved the strong muscles of your legs. “You're already wet for me, I can smell it.”

“Eris, I'm always ready for you.”

He lifted his head at you words before glancing to where Oak had stood, “It appears we only have about 10 minutes. They've found something to chase.”

Your remaining clothing became heated, burning off to ash before a hand came to rest on the most sensitive part of you. Fingers danced through your folds, a sigh leaving your lips as you laid back. “That isn't long enough,” you whined as a nimble finger found your clit, circling it.

“Not for everything I'd like to do, no, but long enough for me to get you to finish on my hand, yes.” Eris slid a finger in while holding your eyes. “Did you really think I would not find the rabbit foot treats you hid?”

You could hardly respond as barely brushed your spot, teasing you, giving you a taste of what you craved without fulfilling the hunger.

“Did you think I wouldn't notice my hounds munching on their favorite snacks during their prehunt routine? Little wife, how silly of you to think I didn't know you were trying to get fucked against a tree.”

He began working his finger in and out, curling it just below where you needed him to touch. You continued to hold eye contact, soft moans coming from your lips as you slightly raised your hips for him.

“Gods, you're beautiful like this,” he murmured. “So responsive and soft. Who's my dumb little bunny?”

“Me,” your voice broke with pleasure. “I'm you're dumb bunny.” Eris smirked, adding a second finger and stretching you out more. His thumb grazed your clit with every movement of his hand.

Your mind shut off with every word whispered into your ear. Praising you, degrading you, the dirtiest things about how warm and wet you were, how greedy your pretty pussy was as it took his fingers so easily.

Eris began to focus on chasing your high as the hounds broke into a sprint, his fingers moving fast as the build of barking began to intimate their prey. His second hand grabbed yours, placing it on your bundle of nerves so he could focus on finding the exact angle he needed.

His free hand began to squeeze your breasts, pinching your nipples hardened from the chilly Autumn morning.

Your cries as you felt the wave approaching were drowned out to all but him. The barking now louder and insistent, indicating the hounds were closer to you and Eris, leading the prey straight to you both.

“Need you to come, bunny. Need you to a the best girl for me,” his voice had dropped, deeper as his own arousal began to grow. He kept working you, fingers pulling like a magnet and pushing you towards the sea of pleasure you wanted to bathe yourself in. “Come, bunny,” he commanded.

His spare hand forced you into a kiss, swallowing the scream of his name falling from your lips as your body found what he was working for. He kissed you through the high until he couldn't, grabbing a single bow and arrow and turning while you laid shaking on the ground to shoot whatever finally came into the clearing.

“Not bad,” he muttered as he looked between his trembling wife and the large stag. He handed you your clothing, helping you put it back on, before standing and offering all 12 hounds their individual praise.

You shook your head as Eris smiled at his first game for the season, “Good first hunt?”

“Absolutely.”

“Better than the game we played last year?”

Eris seemed to pause at that question, “Well, considering you picked the most obvious choice in distraction for the hounds this year, I would say the game of cat and mouse we played during the hunt last year was better.” Your mate, blunt and honest to a fault, looked you over. “Though, I do think you look incredibly sexy with leaves in your hair.”

Eris bent down, lifting the deer with ease, “Besides, you, my bunny, only made it 20 feet from the cabin.”

Your jaw dropped as your eyes grew wide, his laughter rang through the clearing, hounds turning in circles of excitement with him. “I swear I tried.”

He moved, kissing your forehead, “Try again later.” The invitation was soft as he whistled, rounding up 12 smokehounds. “Let's go take care of this and then I can fulfill your wishes.”

He turned and walked away, muttering to himself again, “Not bad at all.”

General Taglist:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanagers @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho @mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @loneliestluvr @eternallyelvish @azrielsmate3 @daughterofthemoons-stuff @meritxellao @aria-chikage @hungryforbatboys @lilah-asteria @fandomrejects @sleepybesson @tayswhp @itsswritten @milswrites @littlest-w01f

[littlejuicebox]

Labor and joy.

The moment all (some) of you have been waiting for. Welcome to the fanfic, baby Gale.

I'm tired so I'll do my usual header tomorrow when I have time to reformat everything. This will also be lightly edited. Ya'll got a double-feature tonight to make up for my lack of posting during my recovering from illness process.

Warnings: birth, labor, babies, light angst, light gore kinda

Disclaimer: I’ve never had a baby and I am not pregnant nor have I ever been so all this is based off friends, family, and research.

This was never ending. You had been in labor for half the day prior, and now it was well past midnight, but you still were not ready to push. Shadowheart had stepped away a few hours ago for rest. Halsin had since stepped in to take her place and did his best to stay unintrusive in the corner of your bedchambers; it was no easy task with his large frame.

Astarion had been forced to watch you for hours as your face contorted in pain. Contraction after contraction ripped through your frame, and every utterance of discomfort from you was met with soothing ministrations from your husband. He spent hours alternating between sitting beside you and behind you, offering support to the best of his ability as you endured the miserable labor pains.

No amount of screaming, crying, or massaging seemed to help. You were so exhausted, at this point you were barely making any noise as another contraction coursed through you. Sleep was not an option in this state, no matter how much you desired it. 

Astarion sat propped behind you in bed, utterly exhausted himself, and rubbing soothing circles in your back as you did what you could to focus on your breathing. He noted your nightgown was drenched in sticky pools of sweat as you rocked back and forth through sharp breaths, searching for an ounce of relief in the repetitive movement.

“My love, tell me what I can do to help.” He whispers, voice trembling with worry as he presses his long fingers firmly into your lower back, hoping to ease the tension, “I will do anything you ask of me.” 

You don’t respond. You can’t. You can barely breathe through the pain. And truthfully, you don’t know what will help. Nothing seems to at this point. Gods, you are so tired.

“Perhaps we should try a walk, Tav.” Halsin suggests, standing from his corner in the room to join you both by the side of the bed, “Let us head to the kitchen. Walking should ease the pain, and I will make you tea that can help with the contractions.” 

“You can’t be serious, druid!” Astarion snaps, unable to contain his mounting concern for his little love, “Just look at her! I don’t think Tav is in any position to–” 

You haphazardly place a flimsy, trembling warning hand on Astarion’s face and the rest of your husband’s admonishment dies on his lips. You simply nod at Halsin, and gesture for the other elf to help you out of the bed. Two large arms pull you up with relative ease, and you sigh with some relief as the sudden change to standing removes some pain from your lower back.

Astarion moves to follow you, and you wordlessly shake your head as you lean further into the druid. His brows crinkle in a silent question as he watches you; he thinks he’s done something wrong.

Your eyes soften for a moment, and you offer the slightest smile you can muster through your unbelievable discomfort. Your voice is a hoarse whisper when you say, “Stay here, my love. You need a short break. I will be back in mere moments; Halsin can watch over me until then.”

“Tav, it is my job to–” Astarion starts, about to argue the point with you, but Halsin is quick to cut in.

“It is your job to support Tav how she asks you to throughout this process and listen to her desires and needs.” The druid responds, kindly but firmly, offering an encouraging nod to your husband, “We will be but rooms away.” 

The silver-haired elf takes in a sharp breath as he watches your face nervously, mustering all of his patience to acquiesce. The druid is right. Astarion knows it. Your husband nods slowly and sighs while using every ounce of self control within his body to lean back and settle into the bed once again, “If you are certain, my love, then very well. Call for me with the bell, should you two need anything.” 

Halsin grabs the bell from the side table and nods with a final reassuring look at Astarion. And then the two of you begin the slow journey to the kitchen, the druid’s large frame easily bearing the majority of your weight. Your limbs feel like lead beneath you, but the pain is significantly lessened as you pace down the hallway.

Thank the gods for small miracles.

Before long, you are sipping tea in the kitchen as Halsin works to distract you from another vicious contraction with a story about Arabella and Mol. Your head tilts back as you chuckle– the first laugh you’ve had all night. Suddenly, you feel copious amounts of warm, thick fluid dripping down your legs.

“H-halsin, I think it’s time to push.” You gasp, staring down incredulously at the puddle now pooling around your feet. 

“Are you certain, Tav? Shall I check?” Halsin offers, quickly coming to your side, and you shake your head vehemently, far too embarrassed to let the druid perform such an exam, no matter his level of professionalism.

“No— just ring the bell, it will bring Shadowheart and Astarion.” You hiss as another powerful contraction assaults your body, paired with the overwhelming sensation of intense pressure in your pelvis. You are clutching the swell of your abdomen and leaning over the counter as you breathe through the feeling. You don’t know how you know it’s time, but you’re quite certain.

Halsin obliges, and moments later both Shadowheart and Astarion are bursting through the kitchen doors. Shadowheart is in her nightclothes, and her white hair is flying around her shoulders as she makes her way to you. Astarion is wide-eyed in panic on the heels of the cleric, his curls just as disheveled and pajamas crinkled from the stress of the night.

“I think– I think it’s time to push.” You grimace, and Shadowheart quickly performs an exam to confirm your suspicions.

Astarion’s face is creased with some mixture of relief and apprehension as he rubs your back and murmurs, “Come, darling, let’s get you back to the bedroom and–”

But he startles because you’re screaming as another contraction rips through you, practically compelling you to push. And you’re certain there’s no time to move. You’re adamant that you have to push right now, that you want to deliver right here in the middle of the kitchen. You aren’t moving. You can’t move. You need to push. Now.

Now. Now. Now. Now. 

Halsin is quickly behind you as you instantly move to a half squat. His arms thread underneath your armpits, supporting you as you bear down. Shadowheart is hastily searching through drawers, looking for linens and other materials to spread beneath you in an attempt to contain the growing mess of liquid as you wail and continue to push as if life depends on it. 

In some ways, it does.

Nothing has ever prepared you for this feeling. No book, not even the several you read on the subject, could ever adequately describe it. 

“I don’t— what do I do?! What should I do?!” Astarion is barely containing his own panic, frozen in place and flitting his gaze between Halsin and Shadowheart as the two work around you with the easy expertise of two healers that have performed this task more than once.

“Get ready to catch the baby, you git!” Shadowheart hisses as she shoves Astarion down into the nest of linens she’s spread around the floor.

“Catch the– WHAT–” Astarion shouts, but then the cleric is grabbing his head, forcing him to look upwards, and he’s peering under your nightdress with wild eyes. The baby is crowning. All Astarion sees is a shock of silvery-white curls.

“Oh! Oh gods! Tav, I see Gale’s head!” He exclaims, somehow both panicked and excited as he awkwardly positions his shaking arms in the way Shadowheart directs.

The cleric has dropped down to her knees beside your husband, and the two of them are watching as you continue to push with renewed vigor, encouraged by your husband’s exclamations. 

There is a long moment where you feel sure you’re ripping in two, and you almost give up, but then a sudden feeling of relief washes over your body. The kitchen is filled with the wails of a new infant.

When you open your eyes, the first thing you see is Astarion, his curls wild, his face wide eyed and shocked, and his arms covered in various fluids and vernix. And then you see your little wriggling baby, covered in that same fluid, wailing at the top of their lungs. Their little shrieks sound like music to your ears.

Halsin is gently lowering you to the ground and into the nest of linens as you slowly come out of the fog of pain and overwhelm. Astarion is both crying and beaming as he places the infant in your arms before pressing a loving kiss to your temple. He’s trembling with the inexplicable wave of emotions flowing through his system as he whispers to you, “My love, look, just look at our beautiful baby boy. You did so well, darling.”

You are crying and speechless as you stare down at your newborn. You didn’t think you could love anything in the world more than you loved your husband. But now you know you were wrong.

Later, after all three of you have been cleaned up and relocated to your bedchambers, you feel Astarion’s body shaking from where he sits behind you as Gale attempts his first feed. You are sitting between your husband's legs, your back leaning against his chest. A sideways glance reveals he is laughing.

“What is so funny, Astarion?” You ask quietly, still aglow and in a haze from the hormones pumping their way through your system.

“It’s just… our child, named after Gale, the man that was once our camp cook and would never shut up about food, would decide it best to be born in the kitchen.” Astarion responds with another chuckle as he brings his hand to stroke the cheek of the little baby in your arms.

Astarion studies the newborn’s two pointed ears, ten fingers, ten toes, and the little curls on the baby’s head as he speaks, “And our Gale absolutely drenched me in blood and guts in our kitchen – something I’d never been willing to do in the camp kitchen for his namesake.”

You chuckle softly as your little one utters a soft coo of assent in your arms, slowly drifting to sleep as he suckles. 

“I’m sure that will be one of many firsts, my love.” You say through a yawn, caught between the warmth of your newborn and your husband. The comforting sensation is lulling you to sleep; it is truly a wonder you’ve managed to stay awake this long. Gale is still nursing intently in his slumber, searching for the nutrients only you can provide.

The silver-haired elf emits a happy hum as he wraps his arms underneath yours, content to hold his two little loves and watch over them as they both rest. He will sleep later, he thinks. But for now, reality is better than any dream his mind can conjure.

As the first rays of morning light peek through the bedroom window, Astarion realizes his newborn son’s name is more than fitting, because it perfectly describes his feelings in this moment.

Joy. Absolute joy.

[xfancyuu]

~ now i draw a luxury nxde. [aemond targaryen] 18+ SMUT

because it's the beginning of spring i wanted to post for that so in universe it is also warm and flowers are blooming! reader is afab with she/her pronouns & my requests are open! this could be read as though it's in the same universe as my other bolton!reader works, though she's married to aemond and is referred to as lady targaryen. there are no appearance indicators in this fic, this is kinda canon divergence. also i didn't bold the dialogue for this one and i actually think i'm gonna go and reformat my other fics to match! this fic is also known as frolicking and fucking so yeah that's what you're in for. smut will be indicated with a different coloured line break if you do not wish to read it. [1,757 words]

this fic contains: wall sex, public sex, dressed sex, choking, spitting, voyeurism, name-calling, corruption kink, attempted dirty talk? y'all are just newly married and experimenting tbh, y'all degrade each other, slight orgasm denial, cumming inside. if i missed any please lmk!

You had never imagined life as a married woman to be so blissful. You had heard from the ladies in court that they simply did their marital duty and did not enjoy spending time with their husbands. They had told you that the bliss would wear off within the year once you had children, and they would steal your beauty.

You had all but rolled your eyes at their commentary. They were rude and bitter, seeking your own mood to be as equally unhappy as their own. They nitpicked at everything you did, from reading too much to what you ate and how you conducted yourself. Loneliness truly was more appealing than spending ceaseless amounts of time with women who were your mother's age and almost as bitter. Being surrounded with unmarried women was improper, they had told you — not that you paid them mind, as your ladies in waiting were all unmarried and far better company.

You found yourself in the gardens with your ladies-in-waiting more often than not, the weather was pleasant, and you'd much rather be outside than wallow inside without much joy. Flowers had brought you much more joy than you had anticipated, they livened your mood from the dreaded time spent with the married ladies in court. They wouldn't be seen outside without reason, whereas you did not care much for the opinions and thoughts of others in court, despite being a Princess.

The book within your lap had become much more interesting than whatever your ladies were gossiping about, you hadn't cared much for the people they were talking about, but the adventure of Lady Sunderland and her times in the Reach were too addictive to put down. Your ladies' had tried to gain your attention one too many times, but you were too engrossed in the book to care for the outside world.

The book was abruptly taken from your hands, making you both lose the page you were ready and had caused your brain to be hazy. You were both mad and irritated by the actions of someone clearly trying to ruin your day. "Do you mind?" You had asked, not expecting to see your husband as you looked up.

"Is it a crime for me to want to spend time with my wife?" Aemond had asked you, extending his hand as if expecting you to take it despite disturbing your peace.

"It's a crime when you snatch my book off of me and expect me to be happy about it." You retorted, deciding it was probably better to go along with him, and took his help to get off the grass. "Lucky for you, I like you enough not to lock you up."

"Oh how merciful." Aemond responded, not removing your hand from his grasp, "the flowers are blooming, you should be looking at the world instead of living in your books."

"I'll have you know I can do both equally," You retorted, leading Aemond away from the prying eyes and sharp ears of your ladies, "Now you're here you might as well keep me company if you won't let me read, perhaps a walk around the garden would do us both some good."

"I have a better idea than touring the gardens," Aemond had pulled you into a secluded pathway leading away from the hustle and bustle of everybody else.

"Your ideas always end up with us in trouble." You weren't entirely wrong, the disapproving look of Queen Alicent would be forever engrained in your brain.

"They may be troublesome, but you always have fun." You couldn't disagree, instead you simply followed Aemond to whichever location he wanted to show you.

Aemond had abruptly left you in the morning, leaving you needy and begging for him to finish the job he'd started yet he had left you without a thought for your own well-being. You could somewhat blame your crankiness and willingness to do such a deviant act in public with the possibility of anybody seeing and reporting such acts to the Queen.

The thought that you shouldn't be doing this had crossed your mind — the words would not leave your mouth though, you had wanted to do this, neediness had seeped in, with your skirts and underclothes raised above your waist, your modesty was damned and so were you.

The carnal need and desire you felt within yourself had put all your thoughts out the window, if you were in your usual mind frame you would have told Aemond no, that it was improper but words would not form in your throat. Instead, you kissed him back with almost as much longing.

The insatiability you had felt was consuming you, yet it felt more so annoying, Aemond hadn't truly done anything to you to make you feel this way, little touches and long stares did not warrant you feeling so flustered by the man so much you'd let him take you any which way he wanted.

You were expecting the current position you were in — being in public had never been a boundary you crossed with each other, yet he had so little patience when it had come to you, not even checking if the garden was secluded enough not to have prying eyes follow you, "Who knew my lady wife could be such a whore?" Aemond had whispered in your ear, though you could not form words of your own, "Wanting me to take her right now with not a care in the world who witnesses it."

"I think you can only get your cock up with the thought of an audience, you leave me so frustrated when we're alone in our chamber."

"You may come to regret that, wife." Aemond had always had to get the last word, "Your tongue may be sharp, but I will fuck you until you can't form another sentence." He'd begun unlacing his trousers, and you truly knew you were in for it — whatever it entailed, you weren't sure.

"You keep saying what you're going to do, but you haven't even stuck it in yet, tell me husband, are you struggling? Do you need me to help you stick it in? Can you not find the hole?" You couldn't finish your light-hearted taunting Aemond had entered you with little care, it was sloppy and lustful as though he felt as much need as you did.

You couldn't stay quiet, not with how intoxicating Aemond had felt inside, thrusting himself as far as he could inside of you, the slow pace was comfortable but irritating, you wanted it fast and hard, you wanted Aemond to show you the side of himself he hid away, the side which would make you blush if you so much as thought about it.

You were so used to being in control, Aemond had ensured you always felt comfortable and could stop at any moment but seeing him so dominant had made you tingle, then gasp as you felt a hand around your throat. "You've got to be quiet, you don't want the world to hear you, do you? Don't want the world to hear what a whore you become for cock."

The sight of your ladies seeing you in such a position had the opposite effect than what you thought it would, the idea of corrupting them as much as you had been corrupted had you clenching around Aemond's cock.

"Not so fast, princess," Aemond spoke, his pace slowing and causing the momentum and build-up to your own orgasm to be depleted. "Good girls get to cum, you've not been a good girl, have you?"

You couldn't respond, the hand wrapped around your throat had become tighter, "Going to cum inside you, princess, have you got a problem with that?" You had tried to shake your head, but with the grip Aemond had on your throat, your head hadn't moved an inch.

Aemond had increased his speed, and you knew he was close to his own peak despite ruining your own, the pettiness within you had decided if you didn't get your release neither was Aemond. As if sensing your plans, Aemond thrust into you harder, keeping you in place as though you were a doll he could do what he pleased. "You're going to take my seed, and you're going to thank me for it."

Your orgasm was too sudden for you to realise what was happening, from the words Aemond spoke to the way he was fucking you, it was far too much to process and your body reacted entirely by itself. You knew disobeying Aemond would have consequences but in the depth of your own pleasure and Aemond continuing to fuck you, you didn't care. You'd take any punishment to feel a moment of the pleasure you were currently feeling.

"Naughty girl." Aemond whispered in your ear as you came down from your high, "I thought you'd finally be a good girl, though I suppose I set my standards too high for you. Open your mouth."

You did as he commanded, not wanting to make him more upset with you. However, you weren't prepared for him to spit in your mouth — or to like it as much as you did. "You belong to me and you do as I say."

It hadn't taken long for Aemond to spill his seed within you, his grip on your throat loosening and his teeth biting into your skin. It wasn't often you had allowed him to cum inside you — the prospect of what would follow being in the forefront of your mind. "I'm yours." You reassured Aemond as he came down from his climax.

"Are you okay there?" You had asked, not used to such an intense reaction from Aemond, "I really enjoyed myself." You reassured him, you were so close and the euphoria of the situation had you cradling Aemond within your arms.

"It was just a bit... much, I didn't hurt you, did I?" He asked, pulling out of you. At that moment, you knew you'd need to bathe. The feeling of his seed coming out of you had you almost recoiling.

"Trust me, you'd know if you were hurting me." You didn't want to approach the subject of being witnessed in such an act. "Your mother may be expecting more grandchildren soon."

"Moontea exists, my dear." You hadn't been married a year yet, it wasn't entirely suspicious that you had not shown signs of being pregnant. "And for what it's worth, I enjoy our time just being the two of us."

as always, thank you for reading this! i really appreciate it. i really enjoy writing for aemond so if y'all have any requests send them my way. my next hotd fic will be for helaena so if that interests you just message me! crossposted on ao3 under the name hedonism!

[angelofdumpsterfires]

BILL'S CONTRACT FINE PRINT DECIPHERED

I'm sure someone has beat me to this, but because I decided to decipher/translate all 1000ish words of the fine print on this here totally normal contract (by hand)

Bold code is theraprism substitution cipher, the rest is the author's substitution cipher, i've reformatted the text to be more readable but i've also made a version with the more accurate, original line formatting here

YOU ARE NOW TWENTY ONE GRAMS LIGHTER

THIS CONTRACT IS LEGAL AND BINDING, WE RESERVE THE RIGHT TO USE YOUR LIKENESS, FACE, VOICE AND SMALL TOWN PLUCK IN WHATEVER NEFARIOUS MANNER IS DEEMED NECESSARY.

SANS SOUL YOUR SOULMATE WILL NOT RECOGNIZE YOU AND WILL WALK RIGHT PAST YOU ON A COLD AUTUMN DAY, NEVER MAKING EYE CONTACT, NOT EVEN PROCESSING THAT YOU HAVE EYES AT ALL. NO AMOUNT INTERACTION WILL MOVE THEM TO A PLACE WHERE THEY CAN REMEMBER - IN FEELING THE THOUSANDS OF LIFETIMES YOU HAVE ALREADY SPENT TOGETHER, EACH TIME CHOOSING WHATEVER FORM WOULD KEEP YOU CLOSEST LIKE OTTERS HOLDING HANDS IN A TUMULTUOUS RIVER. YOU WERE BIRDS, YOU WERE TREES WITH ROOTS ENTWINED, DRINKING IN THE SUNLIGHT TOGETHER. WHEREVER WE GO NEXT, WHATEVER YOU CHOOSE, I WILL ALWAYS BE RIGHT THERE WITH YOU. -

THATS DONE BUDDY, CONGRATULATIONS YOU HAVE CHOSEN BILL INSTEAD.

MCDONALDS RESERVES THE RIGHT TO PUT A GIANT YELLOW M ON YOUR TORSO AND FOREHEAD AND SEND YOU WALKING THROUGH A CROWDED TIMES SQUARE WHILE YOU SCREAM “THE FRIES, THE FRIES, THEY DON'T DEGRADE IN NATURE… ITS AN IMMORTAL FOOD… THEY WILL BE IN THE LANDFILLS LONG PAST OUR DEATHS.”

GOOD GOD, THE THINGS S I’VE SEEN, ME. WHO AM I? OH BILL'S PREVIOUS LAWYER, HE PUT MY SOUL INTO A QUILL PEN SO I CAN WRITE HIS LEGAL DOCUMENTS UNTIL THE SUN SNUFFS OUT LIKE A CANDLE IN THIS SICK UNIVERSE. I USED TO BE SO HOT. I WAS SO FINE. NOW I'M FINE PRINT.

SPEAKING OF WHICH, BILL RESERVES THE RIGHT TO PUT YOUR SOUL INTO AN INANIMATE OBJECT, A STRANGE CREATURE, A CONCEPT, A SENTENCE, A TASTEFUL BUT RUSTIC MASON JAR WITH WILDFLOWERS IN IT.

IF AT ANY POINT YOU WISH TO HAVE VISITATION RIGHTS WITH YOUR SOUL YOU WILL BE SWIFTLY DENIED UNLESS YOU HAD A COOL DAY PLANNED FOR THE BOTH OF YOU, THEN BILL MIGHT COME ALONG.

BY SIGNING THIS DOCUMENT YOU FORFEIT ANY RIGHTS TO EATING SOUL FOOD, IT WILL TURN TO ASH IN YOUR MOUTH, A FITTING PUNISHMENT FOR A FOOL WHO SQUANDERED THE ONLY TRUE GIFT LIFE OWES YOU.

BILL RESERVES THE RIGHT TO DRESS YOUR SOUL HOWEVER HE DEEMS NECESSARY, ESPECIALLY IF YOUR SOUL WAS A NERD BEFORE ACQUISITION, SOUL MAKEOVERRR!

YOUR SOUL MAY BECOME FRACTURED AND PLACED INTO DIFFERENT OBJECTS. THIS HAS NO PURPOSE AND WILL NOT RESURRECT YOU WHEN YOU DIE.

SIGNEE HAS FORFEITED ALL RIGHTS OF ANY AFTERLIFE INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO: HEAVEN, HELL, PURGATORY, BIG CORNER, FLOW STATE, THE DREAM HOUSE, THE REINCARNATION PROCESSING CENTER, AXOLOTL'S TANK AND CONSEQUENCES HOLE.

SIGNEE CAN NO LONGER BOARD THE SOUL TRAIN AND IS ADVISED TO DISCARD ALL BELLBOTTOMS.

SIGNEE CAN NO LONGER HAVE A PUPPY AS A BEST FRIEND, THEY CAN SENSE WHAT IS GONE. CATS ARE INDIFFERENT.

SIGNEE MAY EXPERIENCE OCCASIONAL DEMON POSSESSION FROM HORCULUS THE RED, PLABOS THE MERCILESS, MORBUS SON OF MORTEM, PLAGA THE OOZING AND OTHER SUCH COMMON DEMONS ROAMING EARTH SEARCHING FOR WEAKENED/EMPTY VESSELS.

TIPS FOR RIPPING YOUR SOUL OUT: WATCHING YOUTUBE COMMENTARY CHANNELS, ATTENDING AN EXTENDED FAMILY EVENT WITH AN OPEN BAR, USING GENERATIVE AI AND ASSERTING THAT YOU ARE CREATIVE, TURNING A BLIND EYE TO HUMAN SUFFERING, AMASSING MORE WEALTH THAN NEEDED, PURCHASING A BLUE CHECKMARK.

[skaboycowboy]

THROAM PRINT GUIDE!

This ones for the 20 people who liked my last post🫵lots of love☝️🙏🙏🙏🙏

I printed these using LULU , the quality of the print is pretty nice, and the site was SO easy to use. Like. Seriously. The books need to be flattened a bit more, but that’s presumably because of shipping? Nothing i cant fix though.

Speaking of, that shit was QUICK! Books took 3 days to print and only one to ship because they came from somewhere about 3 hours from my house.

Price wise— these were the price of typical books, individually cheaper actually. In total they were $60 CAD, shipping being the worst at $15, but in all honesty, $60 is the amount you would pay for books at a bookstore over here.

(Ignore the fact that I MISSPELLED THROAM??? These names don’t mean shit, it really doesn’t matter…)

As for the books: they’re bigger then i like personally, but they were pre-formatted to be 6 x 9in (US trade,) and as i took the files directly from Anna Green’s blog, they should be the same size as the OG books.

A kind soul on reddit gave me scans of the covers, as far as im aware there aren’t ANY HD copies of them anywhere online? So i had to reformat these bad boys by myself.

I tried to keep them as close to the original books as possible, this was my first time using lulu and i had really no idea how they were gonna turn out— so PLEASE TAKE SOME TIME AND REFORMAT THEM!!

The print would look wayy better if the resolution was higher, theres nothing i can do about the actual drawings, as those are straight from the scan, but the text is a tad blurred and would look a ton crisper if you upped the size.

(Okay so my cameras pretty shitty, but hopefully you can tell that it’s far from perfect. I have no idea what to do about that aside from redrawing the art, so you’re on your own for that one.)

Another problem is the size of the back cover, it just looks big and not even at all. So just size it down, It’ll look SOOO much nicer.

The last problem you should fix is the side bleeding onto the front. I put the cover together on lulu’s site on my ipad, so i couldn’t really tell, but it should be pretty easy to fix up.

This is where i leave you!

THESE are the files

and can do the rest….this wasn’t like. A complete guide. But. Um. This is my contribution to the fandom. I love these books so bad and im absolutely psyched about having physical copies. So spread your yaoi wings and FLY LITTLE BIRD!! FLY!!!!!!!

If you do end up reforming the covers, please send them my way to add to the drive! Also, dm me if anythings off or u need help! ^_^

[a-very-bored-blogger]

"feverish encounter" || damon x reader

pairing: damon albarn x fem reader

word count: 600ish

warnings: porn without plot, pure smut, filth, cr*ampie, degradation, fingering, p in v, i can't think of anything else.

Note: very bad at writting smut. I'll reformat this soon enough. This is just porn without plot, pure filth.

"Mmph, Damon too much!" The girl moaned out. The Englishman simply giggled, tracing his fingers around the girl's soft thighs, sending electric waves onto her spine. He gets closer, sending a husky whisper into her ears, his voice deep and his accent strong.

"Love, ya feel so fucking tight." He says, digging digits, thrusting deeper and deeper into her pussy, his fingers moving forward and backwards as squelching noises emitted from her honeypot. "Fuck yes! Damon! Ah fuck!" The girl screamed, clasping in between sweet cries of pleasures and lustful moans. Damon still gives her the same shit-eating grin he has, as he feels her getting closer, and closer to release. Her insides tightened around his fingers as her mind went blank, orgasming and releasing everything in her body.

He sneered, looking down on her, satisfied with the feedback that his work has given him. He takes out his polaroid, and snaps a photo of his girlfriend naked, utterly fucked out of her mind, legs sprawled and a wet pool of zesty juices mixing together with the bed sheets. 

And Damon wasn't satisfied.

The man smirks, getting on top of her, a full view of her perky tits as he touches the bud of her right nipple. Her body shudders in response, a small moan being let out. He strokes his shaft, up and down before teasing it around her clit, swirling it before her wet pussy

"Are you ready, doll?" He asks, with a deep sultry accent. The girl simply nods.

Damon inserts the full might of his cock into her tight entrance, grunting at how tight she is despite loosening her beforehand. The girl lets out a scream of pain, her entrance being stretched wide open by his shaft.  

"Fuck fuck, you feel so good love." He mutters out. The girl holds his right arm and gives him a nod to let him know that it's alright to move. 

And move, he did. 

Damon moved forward and backwards, the feeling and pleasure he gets from the feeling of her pussy squeezing him tight. He thrusts ever so fervently, feeling so good around her. (y/n) simply screams, pleasure and pain mixing together, her eyes rolling back and forth as she lays in a phase of being awake and passing out from the intensity of it all.

Damon could feel himself getting closer as he gets faster, deeper and sloppier. His mind goes insane as he crosses his eyes a bit, panting and grunting, even letting out small moans in between them. Dirty words escaped from Damon's mouth.

"You think you're so elegant and innocent but look at you, getting fucked in the most dirty way possible. You're just a slut deep down. But it's alright love, at least you're my slut. My beautiful fuckdoll." He said with a dirty and charming smirk, incredibly pleased knowing that he has this beautiful girl collapsing into putty beneath him. 

And after those range of words, he lets out louder grunts and pants before releasing deep into her, ropes of thick white semen spurting deep inside her. Soon enough, (y/n) eventually gave out her final orgasm of the night, losing count of the amount of times Damon had made her release. The girl utterly has no words at all. Her mouth laid agape to let out some drool before Damon gives her a quick chaste kiss on her forehead.

"Rest up love. I love you, my beautiful girl." Damon slowly says before holding her close to his chest, as they both fall asleep till the next wake of the sun. 

[theproperweirdo]

( I totally forgot I had this screenshot from the whole Lord thing so here’s a fun theory time while I clean my camera roll and reformat my Bryon/Lorsan headcanons google doc to something manageable. )

I always found this specific interaction interesting because on multiple occasions Lorsan brags about being the one to find Merlin. Which even Lyca points out he didn’t really do shit lmao.

However…

When he has the ‘Lord Lorsan’ title thrown back at him he actively humbles right the fuck down. It’s weird

If you choose the alternative dialogue option and call Lorsan shameless he doesn’t have the same reaction. It’s only if you call him Lord.

Why would a character who’s shown to be a tad bit conceited reject an actually well acknowledged, difficult to achieve, and revered title like that?

~ for your consideration ~

Lorsan hates the title of Lord because he never had to actually do anything to get it. He was born smart and born talented and was given his title off pure luck and maybe a mild amount of work.

Compare that to Lyca, who worked tirelessly to become captain of the dusk patrollers (and still doesn’t think she’s as impressive as her brother)

Compare that to Eironn, who’s entire character arch across two games is him striving to become a better swordsman and someone who wants to become worthy of being the scion of the lucent tree

Hell even Bryon had to work to become (in his words) “capable” as a wind whisper

Lorsan hates his title because he doesn’t actually feel like he deserves it

So much of Lorsan’s character arch is dedicated to him not feeling like he’s strong enough. And he’s not. And he knows it.

I’m gonna preface what I’m about to say next because it’s gonna sound mean but I do love this rabbit dearly

I got the angst potential bugs and they’re out for blood

In terms of the quest to save the Dark Forest Lorsan is practically useless

What’s the point of being the best of the perception faction when the decay and death of your home it’s impossible to miss? What’s the point in trying to fight back if Lorsan and everyone around him acknowledges he’s not a strong enough fighter to do much besides get himself killed? What’s the point of being the most gifted wind whisper if all it ever does is convince him to abandon his own safety and everyone who’s loved him in favor of seeing a cruel but beautiful world beyond the tree line? What’s the point in having a title if it’s just empty words that put him above those he desperately wants to stand besides?

How do you live with that?

He doesn’t take credit for his title because he doesn’t want empty praises. He does take credit for finding Merlin because that’s the one thing he actually did with his own two hands to save the forest. And even then it’s still someone else’s strength he’s hiding behind

Genuinely I think what drew me to Lorsan’s character is because he’s so desperately a person who wants to become something greater. He’s genuinely kind, and considerate, and tries to make up for some of his shortcomings. He still tries his best even when he knows it’s likely not enough.

(As a former gifted kid who outgrew all their talents but still wants to be something good enough the projection is real)

Also sry this really rambled lol. His character is so fun I love dissecting it :3c

On that note, PLEASE LET HIM BE RECRUITABLE SOON I NEED HIM

I love this!!! 😭😭❤️❤️ you’ve written him out so well!

Do you think it’s also why he was a troublemaker in school? Maybe he knew that this was all too easy for him, and that everyone else worked so hard while he got the easy route. Maybe he didn’t want to stand with his peers and possibly bring them down, and so he skipped classes and ran around on his own. All his friends struggled and learned through their own experiences, but he didn’t have that.

Arden probably knew, and it could’ve also been an underlying issue he was trying to help him out with during their teachings together. 😢

Also here’s the end bit of Lorsan’s story because I think it’s really cool

I love his last line there, “what can you tell me that the wind hasn’t already?” It’s so cool, and really emphasizes his close relationship with the wind (｡ ́︿ ̀｡)

[bisexual-horror-fan]

Do-Over-December 30th. Begging. "Accidental And Unexpected Benefits." Leslie Vernon X AFAB! Reader.

It is here! Second to last day of Kinky December, I forgot what a fucking banger this one is! I didn't do much to it but some fucking about and reformatting. I hope you all enjoy it!

—

Rating. Explicit. Length. 2.8K. Warnings. Teasing. Public Fingering. Making Out. Biting. Edging. Orgasm Denial. Begging. Extreme Frustration. Crying Reader. Thigh Riding. Oral Sex. Blow Job. Cunnilingus. And Of Course Leslie Being Leslie. 

—

He had far too much fun with this. Leslie was a playful kind of guy, and this was such a surprisingly enjoyable game for him. 

However, it was discovered accidentally. 

He had a thing for hooking up in places you both probably shouldn’t be. For a guy whose career is largely built around killing people he caught in the act of having pre-martial sex and similar such debauchery, he sure seemed to love and get off on it himself. The amount of times when an ‘innocent’ date became so much more than that was notable to say the least. I mean, you enjoyed it too, so you weren’t about to complain. You liked the danger just as much and found yourself initiating often. 

The thing was about doing something like this as often as you did, that you were bound to get caught eventually. 

It couldn’t have been at a worse time, either.

It had begun with the two of you out on one of those aforementioned dates. A movie, seemingly empty, have you ever had one of those days? Where you get a whole theatre to yourself? Some weekday matinée on a day off of yours. 

You kissed him, soft and sweet, slow, it didn’t stay that way, he escalated it. A hand on your knee, deepening that kiss as his touch moves up your leg, when his knuckles brushed over the exposed skin on your thigh, nudging between your knees you pulled back with a breathless laugh- “What are you doing?”

His mouth on your neck, a soft moan crossing your lips, you could feel that impish grin against your throat, a light laugh of his own, more kisses, nipping at your skin before saying, “What? No one else is here.”

Your thighs tightened, trying to slow his hand, his other hand is immediately on your opposite leg, his grip is strong, and you aren’t able to stop him. He spread your legs, forcing them apart, that made you pulse unexpectedly. Whenever he showed off his strength like this, you couldn’t help the small sound that you let out in response, you speak hush and hurried, “Not the point I was trying to make! Leslie we-”

You tried to close your legs again and his grip tightened, holding them open, he bit down on the side of your throat, and it made your sentence stop dead-cutting off with quiet- “-oh.”

He pulled back just a little, he looked at you in that way that made you swallow hard, “We what? ‘We shouldn’t?’ All the more reason if you ask me.” 

Fucking heaven above, the way he said that, that teasing and mocking way he uttered ‘We shouldn’t?’ my God, if you weren’t wet before you certainly were now. 

“Now. Be good and keep em spread for me.” He said it firmly, a statement, not a question. 

You listened. 

He was leaned in close to you, one of his hands sliding up, resting between your spread thighs, under your skirt, palm cupping your already wet cunt through your underwear. You caught yourself admiring his hands often, they were very well worked and capable, and of course for this reason right here, how he used them on you just this well.

He started off touching you through the thin material, teasing you lightly through the quickly dampening fabric. You would attempt to protest further, but it felt so good, how could you? Why would you?

The lights dimmed. Advertisements started up.

“Bet I can make you cum before the movie starts.”

Well now that sounded like a wager you could get behind. If you were doing this, and you were, he had started, and you were sure he had no intention of stopping, not when he got his mind set on something, and there was no one else here.

You’d be an idiot not to take him up on the offer.

He was too fucking good at it. 

You lost yourself in it. At some point he had moved his hand into your panties, and he touched you just so, circling your clit and fingers dipping inside, curling and dragging over that spot that made your legs tense.

It was no contest. 

You were breathing hard, trying to rein in your moans, no one was in here, but you were still trying not to get caught. Leslie was being well Leslie and trying to get you to make some sounds, and he was succeeding as expected of him. 

The pleasure built quickly, you were almost there, your nails were biting into the armrests on either side of you, eyes squeezed shut, you breathed his name in warning. 

He didn’t slow, your chest rising and falling, nearly there, about to tip over and then-

It happened too quickly.

His arm around your shoulders, pulling you even closer to him, your face ending up in the crook of his neck, his hand slipping out of your panties, meeting your outer thigh, forcing your legs closed and tightly together. 

You wanted to groan out in protest, being left on the very edge like that, before you could even consider protesting he whispered in your ear, “Shhhh. Someone else just came in. Play it cool.”

You pulled back and looked and yeah another couple came in. So much for being alone. Worst timing in the fucking world. Once that other couple was seated a few rows ahead you were tempted to beg him to finish you off, you could be quiet when needed. Before you could though his hand on your thigh squeezed gently, his fingers were still wet from having just been inside of you as he whispered, “Be patient. I’m not done with you.”

Should have known better. Leslie always prefers when he can hear you and true while you would have been quieter due to your public setting he still would have gotten what he wanted. Getting you off with other people so close you wouldn’t have been able to hear you at all, and that simply wouldn’t do. 

You nearly shivered from what he said, and you settled back into your seat, crossing your legs and getting ready for the longest movie going experience of your life. 

He had timed it perfectly. If that couple didn’t come in, you would have before the movie actually started. 

Now, he didn’t mean for it to happen. Really he didn’t. He could have sworn at this time on a weekday you two would have been alone, but sometimes things happen, everyone, even the great Leslie Vernon himself made mistakes. 

But this didn’t turn out to be a mistake.

Not really. 

He had enjoyed the movie a lot. You thought he didn’t notice, but of course he did, he was observant. He was always paying attention, especially when you were around and you, throughout the whole movie, were tense. 

When the movie was done, and you had gotten back in the car, he could tell you were restraining yourself. You somehow made it back to his place, and when he finally got you back there, you were so amazingly-what would be a good word-receptive. It all seemed heightened for you, frantic, needy, so eager to please and when he finally did make you cum, it didn’t take long once he got started, when he did, and he brought you relief you were the most beautiful sight. 

How you arched and cried out his name below him, something was just different enough about it to pique his curiosity. 

So an experiment was needed. 

He had to make sure it wasn’t just some kind of fluke, and why not do it? Just for the fun of it.

Another similar event. 

He initiated something, it was hot and fun, intense, he got you close and oops-you were interrupted again. “Weird, right?”

What a coincidence. Lord knows, he would never plan something like that on purpose.

It worked.

He pushed it further. He managed to sneak another edge in, well-timed once more, having to cut it short before you would be exposed. You took a little convincing, your nails biting into your palms, you looked like you wanted to finish yourself off right there, he held his hand out and urged you, that same slight edge to it that did you in every time, “Come on, you don’t want anyone to see you like this, do you?”

You bit your bottom lip and with a shake of your head you took his hand and allowed him to help you up. A laugh and a shake of his head as he pulled you close to him as he said, “Thought so.” 

Couldn’t stay still, you kept shifting your weight all night, trying to find a comfortable position where your soaked panties weren’t sticking to you so damn closely. Weren’t teasing you and giving unwanted extra friction to your already too sensitive self.

When he got you alone later on, you were practically vibrating with need. He took one look at you, eyes dragging up and down your nearly trembling form and with a lopsided smirk he said, “Get on your knees.”

And you did so, dropping to your knees in the damp grass, and you fussed with his belt with shaking hands, and soon he was in your mouth. He found his own release with his fingers in your hair. You had nearly sucked the life out of him and almost brought him to his knees in kind. Turns out a little edging and denial turned you, an already good little cocksucker, into an insatiable dick hungry slut. You fucked your own mouth and throat on his ample length, spit ran down your chin and neck, and soon he came into your mouth, and you showed him your tongue coated with the evidence of his pleasure before swallowing it all back. 

You worked him over with a fervent passion previously unseen from you, and he liked it.

Well, obviously it wasn’t just a mistake or a one time thing. 

So this was his new game now. Seeing how many times he could manage to edge you, bring you so close before giving you what you wanted. He wanted to see you break. Wanted to see how far he could push your resolve, and wanted to see what it would take for you to not be able to stand it any longer and beg him for your release. 

Today was going to be that day.

He could feel it. 

Previously he would always let you cum before leaving, making sure you were spent and satisfied, he was doing this and enjoying the fuck out of it but didn’t want to let on to the fact that he was.

You hadn’t picked up on it. But last night. Last night he didn’t. He left you hanging, literally. 

There were gallows at Eugene and Jamie’s for ‘training’ purposes. You had your hands curled around the rope of the noose, holding on to it for dear life. He had already edged you a few times throughout the day, it was a little funny to him that you hadn’t caught on yet considering how often the two of you and been ‘conveniently interrupted’ but he wasn’t going to question a good thing. You were so damn close, and then he cut it short once again. You nearly wanted to scream from frustration.

Not only that, but you didn’t take care of yourself that night because you knew that it wouldn’t be as good as when he did it. So what would be the point? It would be more depressing than satisfying. A regret instead of a relief. 

I mean, sure, you felt like you were literally on fucking fire and were leaking like a faucet and couldn’t stop thinking about him and the pulsing need between your aching thighs, but you persisted. 

You waited. He knew that you would too. He knew you so well, of course you waited for him.  Now you were fucking starving for it already when you met up, but he wouldn’t give in so easily. 

He teased you with the threat of it. Maybe too much, I suppose it depends on your definition of too much. Was nearly all day too much?

It certainly was for you.

You finally gave him what he wanted. 

Your back pressed against one of the beams in the barn, your head was currently swimming as you were mid-makeout. One of his legs between yours, you were grinding on him, unashamedly and utterly desperate. He attempted to pull away for what had to be the fifth fucking time that afternoon, and you’d finally had enough. It was too much. Your hands fisted in his shirt, and you tugged, keeping him close to you, not wanting to lose contact for even a second.

“Les-please!”

That small smirk, his hands on your waist, he pressed his leg harder into you and let out a strained moan as he asked, in a faux innocent tone,“You okay, baby?”

You shifted your hips and a bit back another moan, it was hard to string together a coherent sentence when all you could think of was your throbbing cunt. Another grind that had you gasp out the word, “Fine!”

All you could manage after that was a, “Fuc-please?”

You sounded so good to him like this. Brushing some of your hair aside, his forehead was nearly pressed to yours as he asked, “Please what?”

He knew damn well what, but it wasn’t good enough, not yet. He needed to hear it. You whined, head resting against the wooden beam you were against, you clearly needed to be pushed just a little further. He dropped to his knees in front of you, strong hands gripping your hips, looking up at you as he prompted, “Is this what you need?”

His mouth pressed to you through your clothes and that was enough to make you gasp, hands on his shoulders, a furious nod. He shook his head with a laugh, a tsk before saying, “No, no. If you really want it, you gotta use your words. Guess you don’t want it that badly-”

He made an attempt to get up, and that was unthinkable. You had him here in front of you, he was close to you, about to give you just what you needed, you spoke up, cutting him off.

“No! I-I’m sorry, please, please, fuck, stay?”

You sounded so in need. It certainly had his attention, he remained on his knees, looking up at you. You kept going. 

“I need it, okay? Need you, I-I can’t focus, can’t do anything! All I’ve been thinking about since last night is this-”

And as you began begging, his hands started to move, slowly starting to remove what was still on below your waist. Your voice wavered but didn’t stop, your heart pounding, you were so excited, you couldn’t mess this up, not now. “Oh, you NEED me, do you?”

Another nod, his fingers brushed over your clothed slit and your hips arched into his touch, another moan accompanied your admission, “Yes! I need it Les, fuck! Please, please, fingers, your tongue-fucking all of it.”

A kiss finally pressed to you through your panties and the moan you let out, my God, talk about wanton and laced with desire. You were shaking by this point, you couldn’t recall a time you wanted something more, he finally decided to slip your panties down and when you felt his bare fingers brush against you?

You sobbed.

Literally.

He made you fucking cry with need, with the sheer weight of the desire he had whipped up inside of you, eyes shut tight, hot tears sliding down your cheeks. A deep shuddering breath that ended in another fucking gasp and a cry of his name as his hands cradling your hips titled you closer and his tongue ran over your aching clit. 

He never thought it would go this well. Actually making you cry with how badly you needed him? An amazing feeling. What power and control he had over you at this moment. What a fun game, it might be his new favourite. 

He let out a moan of his own against you from your taste, he pulled back, and you whimpered, looking down at him, fuck that look in his eye, oh you knew you had him now.

“Desperation tastes so good on you.”

And mercifully he leaned in again, this time he didn’t stop. You still didn’t take the chance and practically begged him the entire time, but all that did was fuel him. Your cries of ‘please’ and of his name and curse after curse filled the open space in the barn. Of course, one wasn’t enough.

I mean, what is an edge, really? Getting almost impossibly close to the promise of an orgasm and denying it, and let’s just say he made a lot of promises he had every intention of making good on. 

And much later, when you were picking hay off of your sweat slick legs, you couldn’t help but think that maybe this was your new favourite game too. You couldn’t help it as you had the thought later that night back at home.

“How would he react to being on the receiving end?”

[asterekmess]

The more I write, the more I understand why Google (in this case, specifically google drive) has such a chokehold on the world.

There is just no other platform that covers all the bases when it comes to the different services and abilities I want to have available for my work.

Google Drive offers a cloud storage i can access on pretty much any device that can download the app or access a browser, and if I'm willing to stoop to using chrome (im not), I can even access/edit my files offline. I can share my files with anyone else that also has access to the app or a browser easily and directly, and give them varying amounts of access to the work. I can have conversations with them INSIDE the document, either in the chat window or through leaving comments on the work itself, all in real time, and easily respond to suggestions from others without having two versions of the project open and skimming for the differences.

There's even an ao3 script I can use for google docs that adds in the html coding I need to make my formatting work properly on the archive.

In an attempt to move away from google drive, I tried a few other options, and none gave me the freedom/services that I need/want from a writing platform. There are file-sharing websites that would let me send a document to someone else, but no way to transfer back comments unless they reformatted the file, edited it, then sent it back for me to reformat. Plus those websites almost always require the other person to also have an account with them. There are offline options, like Scrivener, which is what I use currently for a few different fics, and while it has lots of options, there are almost none that relate to intercommunicative work with editors or Betas or anyone else. Because everything is saved to my computer rather than a cloud, I can work offline, but I'm limited to only being able to access my work from a single device, unless I save everything to an external harddrive and plug it in whenever I want to work. I can't access it on my phone, or share it with others, or leave comments within the work for referencing later. Because it uses its own formatting, I can't even copy/paste writing into it or out of it. In order to put anything in ao3 from scrivener, I have to download the file in a specific format, then re-upload it to google drive and run it through the script i have, THEN copy/paste it into ao3. In order to get any perspective from an editor/beta, I still have to download it and upload to drive, then share the file with the person I want. Then, either I make the changes in the drive document, then Re-download and Re-upload it to scrivener and have to completely recreate the chapters/files that I had working for me, or just have both versions open and only make changes in the scrivener version and just keep downloading/uploading it over and over again to drive. I believe the mac version of scrivener is supposed to let you send documents more easily to other people who ALSO own scrivener, but it's not the kind of back and forth sharing that I would want. It's just a faster file-share than downloading and e-mailing it to someone.

No matter where I look, i cannot find any other platforms that offer the ability to save your work to a cloud (without it ONLY being hosted on the cloud, like Drive. I just want to be able to save a copy of it so that my work is in two places) then share it with others easily, and allow them to make edits/suggestions/comments within the document, while still letting you retain the ability to work on your documents offline when you so choose. Why then, do I not want to use google drive, if it offers everything I'm looking for? Because google fucking sucks. If my documents get to more than like 60 pages long, the entire page starts lagging, as if I'm asking the page to load a massive picture instead of basic text. There is no fix except to make an entirely new document and repaste the words. Drive also kicks me offline at random, despite my internet working literally everywhere else on my computer, and while my work is offline, I can't make any changes, so I have to deal with random pauses in my writing where i'm just waiting for it to reconnect. I can't use the offline edits feature without using a chrome browser. Plus, it breaks constantly, buttons on the screen going missing and documents corrupting in strange ways. In short, it's google. I don't want to use it. But for some reason NO ONE else has made a platform that actually works like google drive, but isn't shit. I don't know whether what google drive offers is actually that difficult to recreate without the concessions that google forces people to put up with, or if no one making websites/platforms understands that this is what people need/want.

The hoops writers have to go through in order to do any collaborative work (and in fandom, that's SO Much more common) outside of google drive is infuriating, and made more so Because google drive exists. I wouldn't be so annoyed that I'm not getting All the options that I want from one platform, if it weren't for the fact that drive is sitting RIGHT THERE proving that it's totally possible for it to exist. it's just that no one's made it, or if they have, it's locked behind a massive paywall.

[aizawasnumberonefan]

Hi! I was wondering if you still need some ideas? I really like your writing and would like to see how you would interpret a young All Might (or him in his prime) receiving a surprise kiss for the first time! Can be on the cheek, lips, nose, knuckles, idc

I feel like he would be all blushy and cute

Thank you!

this is literally so cute i am in love!!! i'll come back and reformat later but i need this out rn rn rn

Sweet Treats

All Might x Reader

It’s been a long day out for the number one hero, All Might. Between interviews, meeting civilians, and defeating villains, the poor man has hardly been able to catch a breath. He practically falls through the door to his apartment, collapsing in a muscular heap on his sofa. His blue eyes shut as he finally allows himself a moment of peace at the end of his day. He doesn’t notice how quickly sleep overtakes his overworked body until he hears a timid knock at his door. Toshinori stretches, yawning as his dreams slowly drain from his mind. Once again, he hears a knock against his front door.

“One moment!” He calls, his husky voice still muddled with sleep. He stands and his apartment fills with the sound of both him and his sofa groaning in response. He half-heartedly messes with his hair in an attempt to fix it before making his way towards the door. He barely suppresses a yawn as he opens it, but finds himself a little surprised to see you, his neighbor. His eyebrows raise slightly in response. “How can I help you?”

In the amount of time that you’d been living in your apartment, you’d hardly taken the time to meet your neighbors. You knew that All Might, the young, buff, blonde that the entire world was in love with lived next door, but you’d never busied yourself with heroes or their work. You appreciated them, but you weren’t as involved in their lives as many people seemed to be.

“Hi, I’m so sorry to bother you so late.”

“It isn’t a problem.” Toshinori replies with a reassuring smile, glancing at his clock on the wall to confirm that he had indeed been asleep for several hours and it was now approaching midnight.

“I’m baking for a get together tomorrow and I just melted my only mixing bowl on the stove. I know it was a stupid mistake, but no stores are open right now and I promised that I would bring cupcakes. Is there any way that I could borrow one of yours?” You ask, subconsciously returning his smile. You’re embarrassed by the admission, but he can tell by the flour in your hair and on your shirt as well as by the frazzled look on your face, that you genuinely tried every alternative before coming to his door.

He chuckles, opening the door wider and stepping back to allow you in. “Of course. I’m glad that you felt comfortable asking me.” He says, closing the door softly behind you after you step inside. You wring your hands in front of you, but don’t gaze around in awe, which he would expect from most of the public. It’s refreshing, he thinks, to be treated like a person instead of an untouchable item.

You watch as he moves, muscles flexing passively as he goes through his kitchenware to find a bowl suitable to your needs. “I’m Y/N, by the way. I’m sorry, I don’t think I’ve introduced myself before.” You say, holding out your hand with a smile.

He turns to look at you, face lighting up with a grin of his own as he feels the pleasure of introducing himself as, well, himself, instead of his hero persona. “Toshinori Yagi. It’s nice to finally meet you.” He says, grasping your hand for a firm but warm shake. “Will this bowl work?” He asks, holding up a large bowl adorned with the pattern of his costume.

You nod eagerly, taking it as he holds it out to you. “Thank you so much Toshinori. You’re a lifesaver.” You say, pulling him in by his hand to stand on tiptoe and kiss his cheek. “I’ll return it tomorrow.” You say with a sweet smile before disappearing back out his door and into your own apartment.

Paralyzed in shock, All Might feels his face slowly heat up as his cheeks and the tip of his ears turn a burning red. His signature grin replaced by a soft smile that slowly grows until his cheeks hurt. Slowly, his hand moves up to touch his cheek where you kissed him, shaking him out of his temporary paralysis. “You’re welcome.” He says quietly, to the closed door that you left behind you.

The following day was decidedly a good one for All Might, despite it being busy. Throughout his morning and afternoon, his thoughts had been consumed by your smile and your kiss. He knows that it shouldn’t be as big of a deal as he is making it, but it was the first time in a long time that he had been seen as something separate from All Might. He returns home around the same hour as the day before to be greeted with something on his doormat. His bowl, sparkling clean, sits patiently for him, holding 3 beautiful cupcakes. While the cupcakes were divine, he found that his favorite treat that you gave him was a thank you card with your phone number on it.

[craetor]

Another Death Note book, another Tumblr post of overanalyzing details within it

This is a literal reformatted Twitter thread that was collected as the book was read, so, in theory, one could just flip through the book & find the things addressed all in order. Enjoy my needlessly high IQ going to town on this damn legendary expansion pack AU spin-off novel...

This obviously contains spoilers to L Change The World

.

"I'm no good with girls" - L Lawliet, like 2004? (He probably had a real good time having Misa around)

L calls the kids of Wammy's House "letters" (*tries not to explode*)

It's verified that the orphans are entrusted with solving cases as grave as murders to prove & train themselves

Beyond Birthday is mentioned to crack his neck in LABB, which is oddly enough also a habit of Ryuk's. Shinigami urges, especially those of the rather unhinged kind

Suruga heard that L never even showed his face to Misora, meaning she kept quiet about their encounter to everyone until her very death. Which is pretty nice.

Tbh Beyond wasn't too far off about mocking L's behavior. He does tend to crawl when he's being frantic & is also a messy eater (from getting food on himself when not provided with utensils (even when he is...), to consuming excessive amounts of sweet toppings)

There's too many "god"s in DN names... ('Kagami' can be translated to 'nurse god' which is so stupid & uncreative /affectionately)

"L's back grew rounder as he sat on the sofa with his knees tucked tightly against his chest. [...] He seemed to be burdened by the weight of something very heavy that she could not see". L's slouch gets lower after Watari dies under his surveillance. Nothing new, just fantastic symbolism that I love about him.

Also how actually well L suppresses his emotions while working on cases is really outlined in this book. It gets to a point where he seems apathetic, as people who've seemingly gone through trauma reunite over tears in front of him, while minutes beforehand, he's exuded real sadness over Watari's passing. (this is not inherently negative or positive)

His reputation with the FBI really sticks to him like a tick, yet it's suppressing his humanity that gets L to do what's needed & initiate measures necessary (which earned him the ill-willed reputation of kinky bizarre murder-loving detective. Whereby I still can't quite locate the origin of the "murder-loving" part..)

"Nobody would think anything important to be in a bag of potato chips, don't you think?" Honey, first of all, how did you fit an entire notebook into a bag of potato chips without it looking like it's your 1 pound hershey's chocolate stash... Oh, and L has a pattern of emulating tricks that people have used to try and fool him

It seems that L wasn't lying when he said that he's a fan of Misa's work, though idrk what to make of that... Not everything in the half-canon is canon, kids. M went a bit too hard on that 'L is weird & creepy' at times. Until it's not even goofy and ridiculous anymore, I'm just.. concerned?

L seems fulfilled and glad when he's stressed about saving the world. Nothing like a superiority complex, just very INTJ.

L will know to evaluate people so much as to accept food from the ones trying to deceive him, if he knows they're pacifists. Having them vacuum his room & stuff, letting them think they're earning his trust. A side of him we haven't seen thus far, just thought it to be important to share.

Watari, now officially L's mentor and father figure (we knew this but i love it)

The fact that L prones to share sweets with anyone compatible to himself or whoever he wants to tempt is not just a quirky gesture of respect, but actually seems to write out, more than anything, 'let's put us on the same level here. Have this thing that indicates gross luxury within societal hierarchy while also being the thing that keeps me going on an everyday-basis'

Fem-disguise flirty L. He's enjoying the vibe & living vicariously. That's it that's the jot

And then there's page 151. And i wonder, am I needed here at all?

The "L-organization" Blue Ship made up is comically the truest hypothesis that has existed as a theory about L. After all, Wammy's House is the founding ground of 26 Ls each generation to come

Watari seems to be involved with the Wammy's kids more than initially thought. But this could also be Kujo's illusion, as having any contact with the one closest to L at all would be a big deal and in her mind more prominently

And finally, the relationship that was created between L & Light is closer to love and worship than friendship. Even best friends. L's reliance on the thought of Light even exists as comfort in heavily emotionally distressing situations. Your definitely romantically touched soulmate-other-half-comfort-human can be your best friend too is what I'm trying to say. Like, you don't have to choose. Just add it to the list.

Verdict: I assume the main point of the book is literally to clear up misunderstandings about L, hence information about him is being blatantly pointed out and aggressively reinforced around every corner. But I'm here anyways because page 151 exists for me and me only (and everybody else who's done their thing correctly before having read this thing) as a pat on the back and a hearty 'good job'. It was fun to have found a couple more hidden details along the way too though. L called Light his 'best friend' like he called Misora 'some guy in the US who told me about capoeira'

[passportclown]

I don't have the confidence to share my art yet, but I feel ready to share my ideas for my Transformers AU.

I only have concrete ideas for Starscream and Shockwave (My favorite characters, not a surprise.)

Warnings: Racism(?) , Deadly Scientific Mishaps , Morally disgusting acts of science , technical torture , neutrality to torture , That's honestly all I can think of. Lmk if there's anything else I should add.

-

Starscream -

Starscream was forged as a performance flier. Specifically made to light up the sky and perform during events. He was heralded as the fastest and most beautiful flier in Vos. He was constantly decked out in flashy colors, bright paints, etc. Some of the future seekers for the Decepticons were fliers like him.

Starscream loved flying, he loved the attention, but he hated being reduced to a pair of (gorgeous) wings. He was more than his flight skills. He was intelligent, strong! But nobody else seemed to notice.

So, out of spite, he enrolled in the Academy of Science in Iacon. Having to bribe his way in.

He excelled in his classes, and met a fellow flier named Skyfire. Skyfire was a shuttle, existing specifically to haul and move cargo. But he had a genius mind. Starscream essentially forced Skyfire to be his friend, seeing many similarities between them. And Skyfire was too soft-spoken to refuse. They did develop a genuine bond, however.

Skyfire was finally recognized, and was assigned a planet to scout and study. Starscream insisted on coming with, and Skyfire agreed. They both marveled at the foreign place, studying the plants, the native species, the landmass, everything.

But there was a complication with their equipment. So while Skyfire was studying the ice, he vanished.

Starscream didn't know what truly happened at that point. But he flew all the way back to Cybertron to get help, because for once his pride didn't get in the way. He knew he wasn't enough to save Skyfire.

The officials launched an investigation and found that Starscream had set up the machines wrong, causing the heater designed to keep them from freezing to overheat. It melted the ice under Skyfire, and he was too heavy to fly out of the icy water.

Starscream insisted it was an accident, and Vos didn't want their best flier to be executed. So they vouched for him. After all, who else but Starscream could fly all the way from a foreign planet back to Cybertron in such a short amount of time?

Starscream was given two options.

He could go back to Vos and continue to perform, but never be allowed to touch science equipment again.

Or, he would go to jail for 500,000 years. He would have to study science pads daily until his release to ensure it never happened again.

He chose option 2.

His loyal side fliers got themselves arrested, not wanting him to be alone in an unfamiliar place. They already let him go to the science academy alone. And look how that turned out. They wouldn't let him be alone in prison.

He and his fliers formed a gang in the prison, and eventually.. met an arrested gladiator who had killed his own master.

Shockwave -

Senator Shockwave was a visionary. He saw no difference between different frame types. He was a scientist who worked to better Cybertron.

He came up with a reformatted caste system, one that would rank people based off of their skills and processors, rather than their frame types. But his revolutionary vision was rejected.

How could a manual laborer be given the chance to rise up to the rank of a scientist? It made no sense to the senate. They insisted there was a stark biological difference between frame types. A miner was physically inferior to a senator. There was no changing that.

Shockwave was livid. There was no proof to those alleged facts. In his mind, it was all conjecture.

So, he sought to prove them wrong.

He kidnapped 1 of every frame type he could. Insecticon, laborer, performer, senator, every single one. And he vivisected every single one of them. There were a few differences, like the Insecticons poison pouch. A nobles frailty compared to the strength of a laborer.

But nothing to suggest innate superiority or inferiority.

Obsessed with his research, and seeing nothing wrong with his actions, he brought his studies to the Prime.

The Prime was horrified, Shockwave was important, a genius, but his experiments were disgusting and immoral. Even a tyrant like The Prime could see it. He ordered Shockwave to cease his experiments and erase all of his research.

Shockwave refused.

Instead, he set up a live broadcast, unveiling his research. Crazed, he insisted that in order to truly prove his research was logical, he would even dissect The Prime himself.

There was no saving Shocksave at that point, he was arrested. But his genius mind, albeit now crazed, was a valuable resource. His body was changed against his will so none would know it was him, his emotions were smothered by new programs in his processor. Shockwave was no longer a senator. He was an experiment.

And so, The Prime acquired a new scientific assistant. One who happened to share a designation with the recently executed senator Shockwave. A sad coincidence. (This was only because Shockwave would only answer to his own designation. That was one thing they couldn't take from him.)

His new logical perspective helped him realize that his previous actions were crazy. But now, his emotions were too dulled for him to regret it all.

One evening, while conducting a dull experiment for The Prime, a spy drone fell out of his vent.

-

Thats all I have so far. I want every character to have complex backstories that explain how they are now. But its all a lot of effort.

[the73rdpostscript]

Tell me again about No Sleep Till JoeNicky - 7 - nice version and also tell me about aaaaahhhhhhh

(I know you know the background of this fic, but since most people don't I'm just gonna explain it.)

I'm writing a modern au where Joe develops really bad insomnia and discovers that the only way he can get some sleep is if he's sleeping...next to Nicky. He doesn't like Nicky but he REALLY needs to sleep before his big art show so they have to make it work and oh my GOSH wouldn't you know it they fall in love.

The first draft of this fic had Joe acting too rude for too long without adequate reason. I was essentially half-assing an enemies to lovers when the vibe of the story was just cutesy romcom stuff and it didn't work at all - even though I had some really fucking good scenes in there if I do say so myself.

So right now the story is being reformatted so that Joe is less of an asshole and the climax of the fic is no longer the two of them being vulnerable and apologizing to each other at a sleep clinic.

So since the sleep clinic climax isn't happening I'm gonna just share it here. It's a very long section but I really like what I had.

So....enjoy a massive amount of writing that is now totally irrelevant!

-

“I need to sleep! I want to sleep! And ideally I would be able to do that away from you!” Joe shouts.

As soon as the words leave his mouth, he wishes he could take them back. Across from him, Nicky has gone completely still - mouth pinched shut and eyes shifting from hurt to distant so quickly Joe would miss it if he hadn’t spent the last week looking into those same eyes every morning and every night.

“Then it seems we have no more need to keep up the charade, as you called it.” Nicky says quietly. He might as well be sitting in an office meeting with strangers.

“Nicky, I’m sorry. I didn’t-”

“I’d like you to leave now.” Joe thought he had heard the worst of Nicky’s coldness during the first fight they ever had. The ice in Nicky’s voice now would have shredded him that first day. It’s all he can do to look at Nicky long enough to nod and turn away.

-

He walks home, even though his hands are shaking and his legs feel weak. The cold air is an unpleasant sensation and he thinks he might be in trouble if it’s still better than the feeling he has after that fight.

When he gets home he walks past Nicky's shortbread and eats leftover takeout that smells questionable at best.

Maybe there was something to his false bravado about not needing Nicky, because after an hour of crying to himself he falls asleep on his couch, alone.  

-

The next day he can barely get any work done, and the Nicky painting sits in the corner, staring at him as he struggles with the other canvas – the one he was so close to finishing yesterday.

Around dinnertime, Quynh sends him an email with the options for an appointment at the sleep clinic – detailing the merits of the place, and asking for a response when he’s able. When they’re able actually. Nicky is the other recipient of the email, and though he hasn’t responded with his availability yet, Joe knows he’s seen it.

Nicky is always checking his phone – Joe’s seen him do it so many times he could paint the gesture from every angle. He would want to do one from just behind, and capture the privacy of the moment from over Nicky’s shoulder, highlighting the angle of his nose as the screen lights it up, and the clench of his jaw that he never seems to notice. Maybe Nicky would sleep better if he looked at his phone less.

The email stares up at him from his phone, and Quynh’s impatience is clear in every perfectly chosen word. There are implications there: Quynh and Nicky have spoken since last night, or Andy and Nicky. Maybe Nicky didn’t say anything and Quynh saw his mood at lunch. She’s been suspiciously quiet towards Joe since this whole thing started and it hasn’t escaped Joe’s notice that Andy introduced her to Joe after she was already friends with Nicky.

Joe’s pulse spikes at the idea of losing Quynh or Andy over this. But then he remembers the time that Booker almost hit Joe outside the nightclub, and the time that Andy disappeared for a week in the middle of her own wedding preparations. Joe doesn’t make friends with people who would turns him away over a single fight. Even if he feels like he might deserve it right now.

None of this matters in the moment, however. Joe had asked for a solution to his sleep problem that doesn’t include Nicky, and that’s what’s being offered.

With a sigh, he sends back his availability, and he only barely resists throwing his phone when Nicky responds less than a minute later with his own confirmation of a date that will work.

Before he can stop himself, Joe opens a text message to Nicky, and he gets halfway through his first sentence before he realizes that he doesn’t know what he could say that would even start to address everything that’s happened so far.

Instead he shuts his phone and pulls out an old canvas he once left half finished out of sheer annoyance. He paints until the sun comes up, and then he paints some more.

-

The sleep clinic is small. Joe only sees two assistants and one clinician. The assistants have Joe fill out forms when he arrives, perched awkwardly on a plastic chair next to Nicky.

Between the staff’s polite and distant demeanor, and Nicky’s stoic compliance, Joe feels like he’s alone in the room. It isn’t until they’re asked to detail what’s been going on that he feels a semblance of normalcy.

“So that’s why we’re here to see you,” Joe finishes, having taken point on explaining the situation.

The clinician behind the desk looks at Nicky. “Anything to add?”

Nicky shrugs, “Joe covered it all more or less accurately. I have been struggling with sleep for longer than him, but sleeping beside him has let me sleep regularly and more easily.”

“How much longer have you had trouble sleeping?” The clinician asks, looking down at Nicky’s chart.

Joe watches the lines of Nicky’s shoulder lift – tension clear in his jaw, “I don’t think that’s relevant.”

The clinician responds coolly, “I can’t help you without the proper background information.”

Glancing at Joe, Nicky lets out a sigh, “I stopped sleeping well in my late teenage years.”

Joe tries not to visibly respond, but he can feel his mouth drop open. Beside him, Nicky seems to tense more - as if he can sense Joe’s reaction.

“Any idea what caused the change?”

“I don’t think Nicky needs to share that,” Joe says, speaking before he thinks about it. The idea of Nicky being asked to tell a strangers details that he hasn’t even been able to tell Joe after a week of sleeping in the same bed feels inappropriate at best. This was not a part of his plans to get some sleep.

If Nicky has anything to say about the interruption, he doesn’t get the chance as the clinician addresses Joe, “We are not mind readers Mr. Al-Kaysani. We can’t tell you what is going on with you if we don’t have context for the things you’re experiencing.”

“That may be true, but Nicky didn’t want to share any of this with me before, and I don’t-“

“Nothing changed,” Nicky interrupts Joe with all the calm that Joe can’t feel, “I could not even guess why I stopped sleeping. I’m sorry if that hinders any part of this study.” Something in his voice sounds off, but the clinician doesn’t seem to notice as she nods.

“Okay. Well thank you for telling us what you could. I can’t promise any results tonight, but we will do our best with what we get.”

As the woman rises from her chair, Joe turns to look at Nicky. The other man is gathering his coat and his bag – avoiding Joe’s eyes.

It’s all Joe can do not to grab him and ask him if he still wants to do this at all.

-

When they’re led into a room with two twin beds, Nicky still isn’t looking at Joe.

They were directed to put on their own sleepwear before they came in, and Joe notices that the shirt Nicky picked is different than the worn out ones he usually wears to bed. Joe himself is wearing sweatpants that he normally works out in, and he isn’t even close to feeling relaxed as they get into their respective beds.

The woman speaks over the intercom to them, instructing them to try and sleep but not to feel pressure. They have time, according to her.

For a few minutes, Joe and Nicky lay in silence.

“Quynh didn’t come,” Joe observes at last, “I thought she might.”

“Her meeting ran late,” Nicky responds, voice stiff.

And with that, they return to silence.

Another few minutes pass by, and Joe knows they can’t have been there long, but he’s distinctly aware of how slow time is moving based on how loud Nicky’s breathing feels – uneven and overwhelming over the distance between them.

“I’m sorry,” Joe says, suddenly.

In the silence, Nicky’s breathing has changed, “Scusi?”

“I’m sorry that they asked you about your past, and that you have to be here at all. This wasn’t where I thought we’d end up.”

For a long time they lay in silence.

“Where did you think we’d end up?” Nicky asks.

Joe opens and closes his mouth several times before Nicky shifts in his bed and says, “We should try counting down again.” The lights of the room are dim but not completely dark and Joe can see Nicky laying stiffly under the sheets – looking as uncomfortable as Joe feels.

“Alright. 10, 9, 8,”

Nicky joins him on 7, and this time Joe is still awake when he gets to 1, so he hears Nicky’s voice slow down and drop off during the countdown. For a moment the only sound in the room is the unnatural hum of a different air system, and the steady inhaling and exhaling of Nicky’s sleep.

-

The clinician wakes Joe up, and after a moment of feeling disoriented, he looks over at where Nicky is already sitting up – waiting for one of the assistants to finish pulling the sensors off his face.

“Did you find anything?” Joe asks the clinician, not bothering to let her say anything before he sits up and reaches to help her pull the sensors off.

She catches his hands and tells him to be patient and to relax a moment, but he only lowers his hands and asks, “Did you get what you needed?”

“We got what we needed, but I’m afraid you’re going to be disappointed with what we discovered.”

Joe can’t see Nicky’s face but he can feel the tension radiating off of him.

The clinician steps back to more clearly address them both as she says, “We’ve confirmed that there’s nothing unusual about your physical readings when you sleep beside each other. There’s nothing specific going on biologically that we can point to right now.”

Joe wants to scream. “What does that mean?”

For the first time all night, the woman looks a little soft as she addresses him, “It means I don’t have any answers for you, Mr. Al-Kaysani.”

"So why cant I sleep without him?" He can’t stop himself from asking.

The woman gives him a patient look as she responds, "It could be any number of things. External or internal. Rhythms of your apartment, lack of sound, a pet, nightmares, anxiety-"

Joe doesn’t know why, but the very word makes him choke. “Are you saying that being without Nicky gives me anxiety?" Before he finishes the question he’s looking over at Nicky, and Nicky turns to look back. His face is intense and his gaze unwavering. It’s the expression he made the night that they talked about his nightmares – scared and determined and so unbelievably vulnerable that it makes Joe choke on the last word. Something in Nicky’s jaw ticks, and Joe wonders about it for a moment before Nicky speaks and the moment dissipates.

"Impossible. Anyone who feels anxiety when I'm gone has never lost an argument about something as stupid as whether or not [team] will make it to [tournament]."

Joe crushes the urge to argue and takes the offering for what it is, turning to the doctor and asking, "Do you see what I have to put up with?"

The doctor hums and looks down at her chart, "if you don't have any more questions, I'll let you both go. We have all we need for now and you'll get results in your email within a few days."

-

They leave the lab in relative silence, and as they step out of the doors, Joe asks, “Will you come back to my place?”

Nicky looks startled at the question, and Joe remembers just as suddenly what day it is.

“Oh. Right, you have that thing.”

After a brief look of confusion, Nicky’s expression turns to something that might be either frustrated or fond, “That’s not tonight. I’d be happy to come back to your place.”

The radio keeps them company on the drive back to Joe’s apartment, and it isn’t until they get inside that Joe thinks to ask, “Did you cancel your mystery guests?”

“I did,” Nicky says, sounding tired. For a moment, they stand in the hallway together – Joe leaning against the wall and Nicky with his hands on his hips. They must paint a rather sad picture – half in and half out, of both the apartment and this peace that could be something deeper if they let it. If Joe let it, maybe.

“I’m sorry.”

“So you said,” Nicky replies, one corner of his mouth lifting, “Show me where your kitchen is. I think we both could use something to eat.”

Once Joe’s gotten Nicky acquainted with the space and convinced him to keep the cooking simple, he settles himself the counter he thinks will be least in the way.

“You know don’t have to cook for me. I wouldn’t exactly want to feed me right now after everything.”

“That is why it’s good that you don’t make decisions for me,” Nicky says, digging around in the fridge, “You could do something for me though.”

“What?”

Standing up straight, Nicky turns to meet Joe’s eyes. “Tell me what this has all been about.”

-

[brandwhorestarscream]

courtesan skywarp au

so like I might of become mildly obsessed with this idea and I need to hear more. Are starscream and thundercracker still in shock from having just been saved from an assassin by a courtesan (an outlier no less!) or are they trying to find him? Or is it someone else’s idea to try and find skywarp?

1. Eeeee I'm so glad you like it so much!! 🥰

2. So, widely, yes. The two of them are very surprised and for good reason. The entirety of Vos's high society was there and now everyone knows about Skywarp. The party disperses quickly and Thundercracker is swept off by his overprotective grandcarrier to make sure he wasn't hurt. Permafrost also arranges for someone to escort the rest of the courtesans home safely, and word spreads like wildfire that there's an S-class outlier somewhere in the city.

Skywarp is taken in for emergency surgery due to having his mainline slit. He wakes up to an enormous mess waiting for him: his face is all over the evening news, his family is waiting at the hospital, and he's got no less than 20 proposals in his personal inbox from the varying noble houses, offering exorbitant amounts of money and privilege for his hand.

He's terrified, honestly. He feels like a cornered grounding up against the wall with nowhere to run. He took up sex work both because it was a job he could get without an aerie, and because he figured the noble houses wouldn't want him without his purity and chastity in tact, even if his secret was ever discovered. Evidently not. He's the only living mech with a warpdrive and his being a high class prostitute isn't even enough to make him undesirable. There's nowhere in the city he could hide, no other courtesan house he could go to where they wouldn't find him. He could get a total reformat, change his face and body and paint and even his voice, but how long until the surgeon is bribed and rats him out? He could run out of Vos as a last resort, but the ground is no place for a lone seeker. He'd probably be kidnapped and sold onto the black market. Someone might even try to steal his warpdrive to sell. And the other sky cities are out of the question: he wouldn't be welcome in Helex, and Kalis... they'd find him there easily.

There's nowhere he can go. There's nothing he can do. The staff is nice and doesn't let anyone into his room without his permission, and the first person he sees is the house mother. She looks extremely troubled. Of course, she had turned down every offer to buy out his contract in the past, not just because he's so profitable, but because he doesn't want to leave the brothel. She loves having him around, adores all of her employees and treats them with love. This isn't the first time a noble mech has petitioned to take one of her workers and it certainly won't be the last, but this. This is an extremely unique situation, because for the first time, there's multiple noble houses actually fighting over one of her workers. There's a full-scale bidding war going on, and she's got Skywarp's family demanding she relinquish him too.

He stresses to her once again that he has no aerie. They have no right to make decisions about his future now, it falls only to him and the manager. She says that she's turned down every offer so far and will continue to do so, as long as it's what he wants, but... there's one family she can't refuse. That no one can refuse. The royal family, naturally.

She apologizes and says that there's someone he needs to speak to, immediately. Prince Starscream and his fiance, Lord Thundercracker, are here to see him.

TC brought snacks, a few fine energon sweets swiped from the gourmet kitchen in his aerie tower. He thanks Skywarp for saving them, and is deeply apologetic that he was hurt in the process. Sky waves off the concerns, saying it was just the right thing to do. He couldn't just stand there, right? Starscream is a bit sour and broody at first, suspicious that it was an elaborate ploy to curry favor, but Skywarp truly has no interest in marrying into nobility, or in marrying at all. He wants to go back to work and pretend this never happened, but that's not really possible, is it? This is going to follow him forever, and the upper echelons of Vos's society can be crafty. Eventually, someone is going to make him an offer he can't refuse, and whether that's through honest means or not, no one can say. Winglord Hurricane and his two mates have naturally set their sights on him as well: an heir born with such a rare and powerful gift would be the ultimate jewel in their crown. The royal family is naturally pressuring for Starscream to be engaged to him asap.

Starscream and Thundercracker have no interest in dragging this poor mech into their ever-revolving circus of misery or forcing him to trine to them as complete strangers. It's clear as day he wants no part of it, teary eyed and flinching every time a new message pops up. They make him an offer, to buy them all some time: to come work in the palace as Starscream's personal attendant and head of security. After all, he just saved both of their lives. His ability to teleport immediately puts him leagues above any other royal guard. And there's not a noble house in existence that would dare petition the prince's firsthand mech-in-waiting. The royal trine will back off, seeing an engagement as "an eventuality". It's not a perfect solution but it will gain them all some sorely needed breathing room. They'll pay him very well and he very strictly won't be expected to perform any bedroom activities. No sex, no spark sharing, nothing. Just an extra precaution for security, because clearly that assassin was hired by someone.

Again, it's not a perfect solution. Skywarp asks if there's any way he'd still be able to perform his courtesan work, and Starscream regretfully tells him no, probably not. But it will stop the harassment cold, and he won't be forced into anything he doesn't want to do. They'll figure something out, somehow, a way to get him freed from the clawing hands that want to pin him down so badly. Consider it proper repayment for saving them, helping him wrest his freedom back.

Skywarp sullenly agrees when it comes out that, officially, legally, on paper? He's still technically listed as part of his family's aerie. He changed his name when he became a courtesan, but he never officially went to the hall of records to have himself removed. Which means, technically, the patriarchal trine of his family could sign off on a marriage contract without his consent or input if he's in a vulnerable state. Such as being hospitalized. They haven't done so, yet, because they themselves haven't realized the loophole. This is the only out he has.

The announcement that he's been elected as the Crown Prince's personal attendant sparks shock and outrage, but there's nothing anyone could do. While it's not technically law anymore that direct employees of nobility need their master's permission to marry, it's still an intense faux pas to ask. It would be incredibly shameful and embarrassing, to be so desperate they'd go behind royalty's back.

It's only meant to be a temporary arrangement. Starscream tells Skywarp to take all the time he needs to recover from his operation, and when he's ready they'll send a transport to retrieve him from the Heaven House. Later, Skywarp says goodbye to his coworkers and house mother with a heavy spark, thoroughly dreading moving into the palace.

[madmaryholiday]

work actually managed to be worse than i expected.

they did actually dismantle the electronics department, and all the stuff waiting to be processed was unceremoniously dumped into boxes to be posted by whoever.

carts were waiting at people's stations in the morning, which at least meant nobody had to wait right away, but the amount of extra work it requires means i fully expect that to fall apart immediately. carts were wildly different, with some having very few items and some being packed with like 30+ cub boxes.

i also saw someone moving jewelry totes (the big plastic boxes full of jewelry that they zip-tie closed so people don't steal shit before it gets to the locked jewelry department) being moved into the main processing area, so it appears that they might also be processing jewelry there now, too.

no idea what that means for the people who were previously processing jewelry behind a locked door because management didn't want people stealing shit.

they're also apparently not testing anything except stuff they need to reformat, so the onus to test electric/electronic items is on the listers. nevermind that the reason processing started testing everything in the first place was to reduce the number of refunds we had to give to angry customers.

jane and james no longer get to process their own stuff, either. james said at least one of the lots of mixed-genre records he got was over the weight limit shipping gave him for lots, so he split it in half to make them shippable. (previously, he sorted records into lots by genre so that people who liked one particular genre would want to pay more for a lot, but fuck that, i guess.)

i told him that next time, he should just do the lot as given to him and let shipping kick it back for a refund. we can't be breaking our backs trying to compensate for shitty policy changes.

guys i'm so fucking tired.

i've been prepping my parents for the possibility that i might actually quit my job, and while i REALLY don't want to quit, it might actually be happening soon. depends on how much worse things in general get and how offensive management's treatment of us gets. i'm still hoping to be fired instead, but if they're not even paying enough attention to us to know that my numbers have been in the toilet for the last year, idk if they'll care enough to fire me for it.

we'll see, i guess.