#their orders of priorities are fucked tbh

[godhead-of-turntech-variety]

because i have only the geatest opinions known to man heres an objective minecraft doors tier list and if you disagree we have to duke it out in the the center of the minotaurs labyrinth

[breelandwalker]

#30 What do you think is a scam in witchcraft? (Go off!)

Wow, y'all had your priorities in order, didn't you. 😆

There are SO many things in the witchcraft community that I think are scams. Here's a sampling, in no particular order.

The Law of Attraction / Assumption / Lucky Girl Syndrome / "Manifesting" (aka victim blaming, thought policing, and confirmation bias dressed up in buzzwords). The whole Burning Times / Unbroken Line narrative. (In fact, any narrative that paints the victims of witch trials as actual witches as we define the term today just pisses me off, it's so fucking disrespectful.) All the ancient aliens / star people / indigo children / pyramid conspiracy bullshit that gets passed around in pagan circles. The "need" for a bevy of expensive crystals and tools and clothing and accoutrements in order to be a "proper" witch.

The idea that you have to abandon belief in science in order to believe in magic. The essential oils racket (where it overlaps with magical practice). The way that some witchcraft and pagan spaces push homeopathy and naturopathy over modern medicine because Witchy Reasons.

People who offer familiar spirits or astral helpers for sale (especially the ones with the clickbait descriptions). People who market themselves as pagan self-help gurus who can "fix" your mental health or life issues through magic. People who offer ridiculously overpriced classes or courses to "uncover the secrets of the universe / discover your past lives / realize your psychic potential / whatever."

But tbh I think the biggest scam in witchcraft is the idea that there are people out there waiting to curse anyone and everyone that crosses their path, just for shits and giggles, and that they can ruin your life just by knowing the slightest thing about you or your practice. And on the heels of that, I think the idea that being a witch or practicing magic makes you more visible and appetizing to spirits / demons / evil forces and therefore you need SO much protection Or Else is equally scammy. It just rubs me the wrong way when anti-Catholic or anti-witchcraft scaremongering rhetoric gets incorporated into community beliefs.

witchcraft ask game

[sant-riley]

Domestic Simon Riley? 👀 -🪴

[With you] [Simon 'Ghost' Riley domestic headcanons]

(Romantic Ghost x Reader)

Summary: Simon is your disconcerning boyfriend, to most people it seems as if he'd be incapable of gentle touches and affection, you know better though.

More info: You're apart of 141, no one knows you two are dating, you are younger than him and are shorter than him in this.

Warnings: usage of the word Girl once but it is more geared towards fem! (This is so fucking self indulgent im sorry) possibly ooc for Ghost (idc tbh) , do these even count as domestic? Idk ive never dated someone, nothing else that I know of but do let me know if there is anything that needs to be tagged!

Ghost is so painfully subtle in public with the way he treats you, he'll never outwardly do anything romantic but his actions and how he looks at you while he does it makes people pause.

In your own quarters or homes though, its different.

He's extremely attentive to you, your wants, your needs, your dislikes, he knows it all, he classifies it as important as missions. Simon didn't have a good father growing up, he didn't get to see what a good husband was supposed to be like, he's learning from the bottom up and he takes it seriously.

You'll never have to ask him to make breakfast, he's always up before you and has it cooked on the table with your drink.

Knows exactly when it's the time you wake up, and if he's able he'll go wake you up personally, brushing your hair out of your face and gently running his fingers through to detangle it from your sleeping.

Despite how cute you are sleeping in just his large hoodie, he won't let you sleep in, y'all got stuff to do.

He'll pick you up and bring you down to the table, pressing a kiss to your temple, if that doesn't wake you up (you usually will look up for a real kiss), he isn't afraid to grab your face in one hand and just, smoosh your face, he knows you hate it but it's gonna wake you up bc you're trying to slap his hand away.

He sits across from you, but reaches out one arm across the table with his palm facing up so you can grab it whenever, he likes it when you play with his hands.

Don't get me started on Simon and washing dishes, he always takes over washing duty and let's you dry ‘em. But every other time, he's gonna let his hands stay wet and will tell you to “think fast” and flick water over you (if you truly hate it, he'll stop though)

you know that saying of peeling oranges? He's the biggest proof that there is somewhere out there that will do it for you without question. Doesn't matter what it is, if you don't prefer driving, he has no complaints about driving you everywhere, if you don't like washing your hair? Just tell him what products and what order you use them in, just sit there and relax.

If you wear makeup and you're too tired to take it off yourself, he'll do it for you and it makes me emotional.

In your shared bathroom, he sets you on top the counter and uses one hand to gently grab your chin, taking the remover and firmly rubbing off your eyeshadow/eyeliner/blush/etc, afterwards he'll murmer a “that's my girl.” (He loves you with or without makeup, but he loves you for you, doesn't matter which you choose to do that day or any day)

He covers the corners of the meeting tables when you bend down to grab at the pen you dropped, it's just second nature for him to protect you from hurting yourself. He's yanked you from the street, picked you up just with one arm to make sure you don't walk into something gross on the street, gotten in front of strangers who try and get in your face for something. His body completely covers your own, and he always has weapons on his person, he isn't afraid to resort to maiming someone for you, you're his number one priority.

Simon loves having you sleep on top of him, he finds the weight a good reminder that you're there, you're not going anywhere if you do, he'll notice right away. If you get up to go to the kitchen, he'll sleepily follow you and just stare at you for an uncomfortable amount of time til you realize he's there. He'll make fun of you too “You should know ‘m right here, what kind of soldier isn't aware-” “Simon, I'm literally in just a bra and boxers right now.”

He demands your attention, this is one he'll do on bass in front of others bc technically he can get a with it. You're next to a recruit he doesn't like? Suddenly there's papers on a recent mission he needs your signature on, or he needs you for special 141 training reasons (he wants you to come with him to the dining hall, he's hungry and he doesn't want to go alone)

Dude stands right up against your back, in every scenario. His chest is probably an inch away from your back. He's playfully called your shadow by Price and the rest of the guys.

He grabs your hips alot, usually just to rest his hands there, occasionally rubbing small circles into the flesh, humming.

Simon will try and subtly leave as well if you leave the room, he gives it 10 minutes before he makes his way out to find wherever you wandered off too 

Price finds it fucking hilarious, he'll look down at his watch and mentally countdown to when Simon makes his escape. Simon can fool most people but not John, the way Ghost will tap his foot and roll his shoulders are tell tale signs that he's had enough of being there.

He'll dance if you want him to, though he simply sways with you in his arms, if you're of a specific culture, he'll try his best to learn it but no promises, while he is fast learner and perfects everything he does, he's a big man, he's not that graceful.

Without thinking if he sees you're cold, he's stripping off his jacket to give it to you, he doesn't ask, he just moves behind you to drape it over your shoulders.

He'll take off his mask with you, and let you trace the scars that litter his face, let you trace his features too, he's fallen asleep to you doing it and he doesn't know how much you cried silently when he did.

Simon practices new jokes on you, to get your opinion of them until he can tell the others, the louder you groan the better the joke is in his eyes.

Soap asks why you don't even react anymore and you just sigh. You are tired.

When he's especially annoyed and done with the day, he just shoves his head into your shoulder, wrapping his arms around you in a death grip while he takes deep breaths, in the least weird possible, your scent and body so close to him helps him destress.

One thing he makes a huge point to do is to clean your guns for you, yes you should do it yourself but ever since y'all have gotten together, he's taken it upon himself.

He's scared, more scared than anything that something will go wrong when you're both not on the same mission, this is just a way he can ensure your gun will fire correctly and efficiently, that you can defend yourself when he isn't there.

Speaking of weapons, he gives you one of his personal knives for you to keep, he'll ask for it back only to sharpen it, everything has to stay in its best shape.

Likes when you drape yourself over him when he's sitting, alas he is just a man so he likes to feel your chest against his back.

Pulls you into his lap if you walk by, he'll let you get up if you truly want to but he'll position you to sit sideways and will rub your legs as he watches whatever is on the TV.

For anyone who has arthritis, Ghost will take the time to rub your ointments into your hands, he knows what weather makes then worse and keeps his own tube of it onhand so he's prepared.

He's always buying you things, he knows that it's not necessary but for him, it sees it as ‘if for some reason I fail at something else, at least I can provide this’ someone hug him he's fighting for his life.

Stocks up on every single essential you can ever need, your comfort food and snacks? Always on base and always at your flat, if you two are walking around the shoppes and he sees you eyeball anything, bet your ass he's going online to order it for you immediately, and when it shows up, he just shrugs. He doesn't see it as a big deal, it's just money. Which is very cute but also a ps5 is NOT cheap sir, you can't just-

[harrystylescherry]

A/N: wow, what amazing timing. let's pretend i did this on purpose. happy birthday, harry! fyi, this is vol. 2--you don't have to, but i rec reading vol. 1 first :)

*warning: spanking/paddling, mild pain, orgasm denial

what this is: pure smut tbh - vol. 2

word count: 5.5k

let me know what you think :)

MASTERLIST

It had been three agonizing days–three and a half if you were going to count this morning…and you were, because the ache between your legs and the need thrumming at your core was the only thing you could think about. 

Your boyfriend was punishing you in the worst way: orgasm denial. He’d work you and edge you until you were just on the brink of release, one…two…three times…then release you from the restraints, or pull you up from his lap, and go about his business. As if you weren’t a puddle of need, dripping between your thighs, angry and wanton and sorry. 

Because that was the whole point of this–for you to be sorry. To show you not to misbehave, or shirk direct orders. 

In your eyes, it was a minor infraction. He had left on a business trip for five days, and told you, explicitly, not to touch yourself, not for a teasing second, not to come. Then, he made sure to clarify that none of the sex toys at his place or yours were to be used either, knowing how much you loved a loophole. The two of you had been together for just over a year now, and you had taught him well to be specific and exact with his instructions. On more than one occasion, he’d tell you that you should’ve been a lawyer–a comment that was as much of a compliment as it was a chastising for being bratty and pushing his limits. 

The instruction was a punishment in itself, though he’d never admit to it. He wanted you to go with him, so between the stressful meetings and boring client calls, he could have moments of peace. He wanted to show you around a new city (though he’d only ever been there once before himself), discover hole in the wall eateries and dive bars together, fuck you in places not exactly meant for fucking, and, of course, have you on his arm for all the client dinners and drink-night-schmoozing he was expected to do. Unfortunately for him, you were only three months into your new job as an assistant editor/junior staff writer for The Wire, an indie music magazine based in London that mostly focused on independent artists and underground scenes. Were you cool enough for the job? Probably not, but you were open to anything and everything–your 134 very specific spotify playlists proof that you didn’t discriminate. 

The job was a lot of work, and you were busting your ass to prove to the close-knit team that ran it that you were worth keeping around. Your ninety-days of entry-probation had just ended. Taking time off wasn’t a good look (not that you had even racked up enough hours to take off an entire work week), and while working from home wasn’t off the table, you didn’t want it to seem like you didn’t want to be there. On the ground, toiling away at your tiny desk with the other two assistants and three interns. It was fun. You loved Harry, but your priorities right now were what they were. He understood it, though that didn’t mean he had to like it. And clearly, he didn’t, as evidenced by his very unfair and petty instruction. 

You had done well the first three days, despite the teasing texts and naughty photos meant to bait you–which is why you’d been so strong. He wasn’t going to trick you into breaking a rule. 

Day four was what broke you. You hadn’t heard from him all day (which only made you want the teasing and photos now that they were being withheld), you had stupidly started an erotic romance novel that was essentially 320 pages of pure (ungodly and delicious) fucking, and you were so stressed out from work that your body was begging for a release beyond what your favorite workout could give. 

You were just a girl. A horny, needy, sexually frustrated girl. It’s not your fault that the desperation was too strong for you to deny the call of the clit sucker you kept buried in your underwear drawer. It was society’s. 

In the moment, the rationalizing was totally sound. And in the moment, the orgasm was worth it. 

Then, Harry’s facetime came through only a few minutes after you’d come down, as if he had some sort of sixth sense when it came to your orgasms. 

“Hi,” you said after checking to make sure your hair was fine and the toy was safely tossed beneath your bed. 

His brow furrowed on the screen. “Hi, baby.”

“How’s your trip?” You settled into the pillows behind you. 

“Good,” he mumbled. His lips twitched. “Did you touch yourself today?”

“W-what?”

“You did, didn’t you?” His eyes narrowed. “When? Just now?”

You scoffed. “Harry, come on. Of course not. You said–”

“I know what I said. And I know that you didn’t listen.” His voice was stern and it sent a jolt to your core. 

“That’s–”

“Don’t lie to me. I know what you look like after–and it’s all over your face.”

Your cheeks flamed. You were caught. 

“It’s not my fault!”

You could see he was fighting off a smile–a devilish one. “Whose fault is it then?”

“I…” You didn’t really have an answer. 

“That’s what I thought.” You watched his jaw tick through the screen. “I’ll be home tomorrow night. I expect you to already be there when I do. Now, get cleaned up and go to bed.”

He ended the call before you could respond. No ‘goodnight’ or ‘I love you’. You were screwed…and not in the way you would’ve liked. So, feeling a little guilty, you moved into the bathroom, took a shower, and climbed beneath your covers at 9pm. 

The night he got home, he restrained you to the bed without a word. Flat on your back, with your limbs pulled to each respective corner of the bed, he teased your nipples with a paint brush, then your clit, until you were a squirming, writhing mess. Then it was over. He brushed a hand over your cheek and went to take a shower. 

Each night since, the edging had progressively gotten worse. 

You were aroused constantly. Getting through each work day felt like an impossible feat. All you could think about was the nights before–the pleasure in all the teasing–and then the pain in going without any relief. Unfortunately, that only made you wetter. 

You were a zombie through your morning meetings. You nodded when you were supposed to and took down notes just so you didn’t completely check out. You’d been staring at the commissioned article in front of you for almost forty-five minutes, not an edit made because you couldn’t tear your focus from the steady throb between your legs, when a text from Harry came through. 

Same time tonight. 

That’s all it said, though it didn’t need to say anything else. A shiver moved through you. Another night of torture. You held in the groan of frustration (with maybe a bit of anticipation), hoped that your punishment would be over tonight and white-knuckled through the rest of your day. 

You knocked on Harry’s door at exactly 8pm. No dinner together was part of the punishment, and so was not being able to use your key. Those were always part of the punishments, though, and served to remind you of your place in this area of your relationship–that you were not in control, could only come and go as much as he wanted you to, and all the other things that you already knew…and that you sometimes needed reminding of. 

When were you going to learn that being rebellious was fun until it wasn’t (though, punishments could still be kind of fun–not that you would ever tell Harry that)? 

It was a rhetorical question, since you had never exactly been one to submit without a fight.

“Little brat,” he said when he opened the door. “Straight to my room. Take your clothes off in the hall.”

No kiss hello, no smile, no sweetness–just like the last three nights. Maybe the punishments weren’t always fun. Your eyes went to the floor in shame as you went past him and up the stairs. He followed behind you, his footfalls even and sure. He leaned against the wall with his arms over his chest as you pushed your jeans to the floor and peeled off your t-shirt. 

When you went to move into the room, Harry tsked in disapproval. “You know better than that. Don’t make this worse for yourself, sub.”

Your entire body lit up with embarrassment. It was a mistake. You were nervous and anxious to get it over with, not thinking. You knew you weren’t getting a release tonight, could see it in his face, hear it in his voice. Your hands shook as you unclasped your bra, letting it drop to the floor, followed by your panties. 

“In the room, hands against the wall.”

You took a shaky breath and did exactly as he said. 

The thin paddle pressed against your bare ass when he came up behind you and your body clenched. You weren’t exactly a fan. He slid it down the back of your thighs and gave your skin a light tap. 

“Legs apart.” You obeyed and he hummed. “Keep your arms and legs straight, and eyes up.” You took a deep breath in preparation. The paddle came down on your ass and you flinched. “Do I need to repeat myself?”

“N-no, sir.”

“So, you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

Whack.

There was no warning or warm-up. He took turns with each cheek, hitting hard and then easing up, so you never knew what to prepare for. At least he didn’t make you count them, not that you thought you could. You were too focused on not letting your knees buckle, fighting not to lean against the wall. 

It went on like that for a while, until the searing burn turned into the kind of sharp numbing that left you dripping. 

After what had to be at least twenty strikes, he dipped his hand between your thighs. Like always, shame slithered in; the embarrassment that all of this turned you on. It disappeared, like it always did, the second Harry made his sound of approval. That little hum that told you he was pleased, even though he wouldn’t vocalize it the way you wanted him too. It was a punishment, after all. 

He brushed his knuckles over your clit and you almost crumpled to the floor. You were so turned on, so needy, that the slightest touch was a straight shot to your core–electric. Two flicks of his fingers and you knew you’d come, which meant even more trouble. 

He touched you again and you hissed. 

“You don’t come. Not until I say.” As if you needed the reminder. 

“Yes…sir.” He chuckled at the breathiness of your voice. It was mean–and hot. He knew it, too. 

The paddle against your skin again, then his fingers moving through your slit. “Such a dirty girl,” he whispered. You squeezed your eyes shut and tried to think about anything else besides the pleasure strumming at your core. His fingers were too skilled, they knew your body too well. 

Your left knee buckled–for less than a second–but he caught it. Goosebumps raised across your skin when you heard the three tsks from behind you. 

“I–”

“Shh…” 

You pressed your lips together, forcing the plea back down your throat. 

“On the bed.”

Silently, and with your head down, you walked on shaky legs to sit at its edge. Harry pushed your chest back so you laid down. 

“Don’t move.”

He walked to the wardrobe and pulled out the spreader bar. He strapped in each of your ankles so you couldn’t close your legs and then moved it up, so your knees were bent into your chest. Your breath was ragged and you fought to keep any whimpers from slipping out when he secured your wrists in the cuffs attached to the center of the bar. 

You couldn’t stretch your legs, couldn’t close them–couldn’t move. Completely open to him, you were in the perfect position for him to do whatever he wanted. 

He hummed as he moved back to the wardrobe, opening and closing drawers. He seemed to be making a decision. When he turned back to you, there was a smirk on his face. You took a deep breath when you saw the pink device in his hands. 

He pushed the curved vibrator into you, until the fit was perfectly snug. He made sure to position it so the pad pressed right against your already too-sensitive clit. Then, he went and sat in the armchair a few paces from the corner of the bed. 

It looked as though he was simply scrolling through his phone, his posture relaxed in the chair, head propped against his closed fist–but you knew better. He was making you sweat it out. You knew what was coming–and the wait was agonizing, just as he intended it to be. 

When it came–the sharp buzzing both inside and out–your whole body jerked. As he moved his thumb up and down his screen, the vibrations followed, growing stronger and then mellowing out. 

This was one of your favorite toys, except maybe not anymore. Holding back your orgasm was feeling closer and closer to impossible. Your hips bucked against the mattress, each attempt to get away from the intense vibrations futile. You wanted to cry–knew you would if this didn’t end soon. 

You uselessly struggled against the restraints, your legs trying to close on sheer instinct. The sounds that escaped you seemed more akin to those of an animal than a woman and your entire body was covered in a sheen of sweat. 

Without even thinking about it, you were begging. 

“Please, please, please.” Harry stayed silent. “S-sir, god, please!”

“No.”

The vibrations stopped and your body sagged in a false sense of relief now that the fight was over, though there was no [real] relief. He still refused to let you come.

The whining was involuntary. Each nerve ending was a live wire. If he touched you just once, just [barely] you’d explode. The squirming of your hips against the slick silicone was what pulled him up from his chair. He pulled the device from you, leaving you empty and aching. 

After releasing your wrists and ankles from the restraints, he patted the inside of your thigh. “Go take a shower.” 

That’s it. Nothing else. You felt the pressure behind your eyes as you stood from the bed. You nodded and whispered your “Yes, Sir” as you moved into the en suite. 

Your joints were sore from all your struggling, and all you wanted was a hug. It seemed his point had been made–at least in your opinion. You broke a direct order and then tried to lie about it. That was bad, you got it. Wouldn’t do it again. 

It wasn’t that you couldn’t take the punishment because you could. If not, you would’ve used your safe word. He only ever gave you as much as you could handle and you trusted him with your body entirely, without question. It was the lack of aftercare that was getting to you. During this punishment, he’d been doling out the bare minimum. All you’d gotten was maybe a kiss to the forehead and little love pats to your thighs. You were used to falling asleep in his lap, being wrapped up in a blanket, or being tucked into his side as he prepared you a snack or (upon request) ice cream sundaes. 

Under the hot water, you wiped the tears from your cheeks and let your body relax. You washed your hair and lathered your body using his products (ignoring the ones he kept for you on the shelf) since that was as close to him as he’d allow you to get this week. 

When you opened the shower door, he was standing there, waiting with a towel. “C’mere,” he said as he held it open for you. You stepped into him and he wrapped it around your body, then rubbed his hands up and down your arms. You snuggled as close to him as you could and he kissed the top of your head before saying, “Get dressed and I’ll take you home.”

You wanted to cry again, but didn’t. The punishment would end eventually, and you weren’t going to be weak about it. 

*

It was day four and you were so sexually frustrated, you wanted to cry. Literally. At this point, you were nothing more than a bundle of needy hormones. You had chosen to wear a dress into the office for no other reason than you wouldn’t have been able to deal with the seam of your jeans rubbing against your clit all day. Why torture yourself when Harry was already doing more than enough?

Halfway through your morning, you got a text from your boyfriend requesting that you go straight to his place from work. Thankfully, he couldn’t hear you sigh in annoyance. You didn’t want to be denied anymore. You were tired, and your body was still a little sore from the night before and you were mad at him. He never restrained you like that without some kind of massage afterwards. 

Each time you stood, your knees ached just a little and your hips had been stiff when you got out of bed this morning. Your body–and your brain–had had enough. 

You left work a little later than usual, staying to finish an edit that didn’t need to be done until Monday. The tube ride to his was spent trying not to work yourself up. You leaned back in your seat and listened to an album that your boss had been talking about all week, hoping to distract yourself. It worked until you were standing in front of his door. 

It opened without you having to knock and he smiled softly when he saw you. “Long day?”

So, apparently, you looked as tired as you felt. “I guess.”

He motioned for you to come in and, hesitantly, you did. He took your bags and set them in the entryway. 

“Help me finish dinner?”

Dinner. You tried not to get your hopes up that the punishment was over, but he was relenting. You’d take any allowance you could get at this point. 

“Sure.”

All that was really left to do was make the salad while he pulled everything out of the oven and set the table. 

“Go ahead and sit down,” he said as he took the bowl from in front of you. 

You took your seat and watched him move around the room, back and forth from the table with the roast chicken and sides, to the racks where he kept his wine. He poured you a glass and squeezed the back of your neck–a gesture that was both possessive and comforting. 

As you ate, he asked about work–the kinds of things you were working on, how you were settling in, etc. It was the most conversation the two of you had since he came home and it felt good. Almost too good. As much as you tried to fully relax back into your normal routine and dynamic, you couldn’t lose the last bit of tension in your shoulders. 

You wouldn’t be lured into a false sense of comfort–and Harry knew it too. He tried to hide his little half-smile, and if it were anyone else but you, it would’ve been missed but you knew him too well. 

When you put your napkin on the table signaling you were finished, he cleared the table without a word. He whistled along to the song playing throughout the main floor as you scrolled on your phone, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of your attention. 

Really, you were in no place to be petty, but your nature was your nature. You flinched when you felt his hands on your shoulders, massaging into the knots that resided there for months, since the beginning of your new job. It was from stress that you didn’t necessarily mind, since you were doing something you loved. His fingers climbed up the back of your neck and into your hairline, pressing in soft circles. You hummed in satisfaction. 

“Is that good, baby?”

“Mhmm,” you said as your eyes fluttered closed. A quick tug to your hair pulled them open again. So, it was starting. “Yes, Sir,” you corrected, and were rewarded with more kneading at the base of your skull. 

“C’mon, we’re going upstairs.”

Your body buzzed with anticipation as you followed him up and into his room. He kissed your cheekbone as he passed in front of you to go to the wardrobe–the one that you’d come to see as the bane of your existence this last week. 

“Strip and lay on the bed for me.” You did as he said. All he returned with was a pair of soft handcuffs. Once your wrists were fastened together in front of you, he pushed your legs open and took a step back from the bed. 

“Hm.” He pulled his bottom lip between his thumb and forefinger as he looked you over. “Pretty.”

The whimper was involuntary as you preened beneath his gaze. You could feel the pulse of your core. You were so sexually frustrated that it took nothing more than his approval for the desire to pool between your legs. The smirk on his face told you he could see it. 

“You didn’t listen to me,” he said as he stepped to the edge of the bed. He reached down and casually traced the outline of you, making sure to keep away from your clit and your center. “Why not?”

“I-I was horny, sir. You kept s-sending me–” You cut yourself off with a needy moan when Harry dipped his fingers in just enough to coat them with you. 

He spread it over your folds until the slickness touched your inner thighs. “Keep going.”

You took a shuddering breath and tried to focus. You also forced your hips to stay down, knowing that if you rocked yourself into his hand, he’d probably pull away. You couldn’t risk that, not when he was being so nice. “You kept sending me texts and photos o-of yourself–oh, god–and telling me all these…things.” 

He brushed his fingers through your folds as you spoke, skirting around the bundle of nerves perfectly primed to set you off. 

“So?”

“So, it made me want you and you weren’t there.”

“So?” He pushed a finger inside and your back arched off the bed. “Eyes open,” he said when they fluttered shut. 

“So, it wasn’t nice. You were teasing me–torturing me on purpose. It wasn’t fair that I had to wait and you didn’t.”

“Life isn’t fair.”

“I–”

“You hate when I say that, I know.” He pushed a second finger inside and you moaned. Your hips tilted forward on their own, seeking out something–anything–for relief. 

He removed his fingers. When he brushed his wet knuckles over your clit, a strangled cry replaced the disappointed sigh that escaped you. 

“Is that what you want, baby?”

You whined and wriggled on the mattress while he held his knuckles just out of reach. 

“Is it?”

“Yes, Sir. Please.” 

“I didn’t get off while I was gone.”

“Okay,” you panted, as you fought your own neediness. 

Harry slapped your clit and you cried out. “Listen to me. I did not get off while I was gone.”

“What? But you–”

“I know, the torture is the point. The teasing. I thought you would’ve learned this by now.” Another brush over your clit. Another moan. “That rule was for both of us. Did you think I wasn’t in agony? Each time you answered or sent a photo in return it took everything in me not to wrap my hand around my cock, but I have some self-control. I have patience. And I understand that whatever pleasure I could give myself wouldn’t compare to the kind I could get from you.”

When you whimpered this time, it wasn’t with need, but shame. You may have felt a little bad about breaking the rule now, and not just because it meant a little disappointment and a punishment. This was a big disappointment, you could hear it in his tone. It wasn’t just breaking a simple rule, but ruining something that was supposed to be good for the both of you. Granted, in your defense, he could’ve told you that, but you also knew why he didn’t: he shouldn’t have had to. 

“Sir, I’m really sorry.”

“I bet you are.” He gave your clit a pinch that sent a flash of heat over your entire body. “I should make you wait another week. Edge you every night until you're begging for my cock, and then still not give it just so we’re even.”

“I–”

“Quiet.” He grabbed your hips and pulled you further down the bed. He placed his knee on the mattress, positioning his thigh only an inch from your clit. “You want to come so badly, go ahead.”

Your brow lifted in surprise. “What?”

“Go ahead, come. You have my permission, but I’m not helping you. You want it, take it, or I’ll uncuff you, and you can get dressed so I can take you home.”

“Sir–”

“You’ve got less than a minute before I dress you myself.” The hard edge to his voice told you he wasn’t kidding. Not in the slightest.

You looked from the stern set of his face down to his jean-clad thigh. When you looked back at your boyfriend, his jaw was set. He didn’t move or say a word. 

Your entire body heated with something close to embarrassment, but it was also mixed with anticipation, shame, and need. You didn’t want to go home, you wanted to get off and if this was all he was offering, you’d have to take it. Especially since, if you didn’t, you’d be in even more trouble with him. You didn’t need him to say it to know. 

You planted your heels into the mattress and closed the gap between you two. When you lifted your hips, your clit brushed against the rough material and you groaned. You rolled your hips against his thigh and cursed. It felt so good. You knew it wouldn’t take you very long to cum. The only thing stopping you from instantly falling over the edge was the fact that you could only get close enough for a light brushing–there was no pressure. The only real friction came from the coarse fabric–but it would be enough. More than enough. 

Your abs and thighs burned as you held your hips up, and with every rock of your hips, the muscles in your stomach contracted with the effort. This was its own kind of punishment, you realized. He was making you work for it. 

You had kept your eyes locked on his stiff cock pushing against the front of his jeans, not sure if you wanted to know how exactly he was looking at you. 

“That’s it, baby.” 

But, of course, all it took was that little bit of praise to get your attention. The sternness was still there, but there was also heat. He wanted you–and he seemed to love seeing you like this: needy and unbelievably desperate. Because that’s what you were. Getting your release was all you could think of. 

You wanted something to hold onto, to grip onto the blankets beneath you for more stability, but you couldn’t do it with your wrists handcuffed together. You whined with the realization. 

“I know.” The comfort was full of condescension, and you wished it didn’t turn you on even more, but it did. 

You were sweating from exertion, but you were so close. 

“C’mon, baby. Rub yourself on my thigh. I can feel how wet you are, my dirty girl.” 

You looked down to see for yourself. Where you rubbed yourself was a much darker shade of blue. Your head fell back with a moan. 

In an act of undeserved kindness, Harry pressed his thigh against you, offering you the most delicious kind of friction; the kind that almost hurt. 

It was only another second before you were tumbling over the edge. You came so hard that stars erupted behind your eyes, and your skin felt white hot. You were sure you cursed and cried out his name but you were so detached from reality that you couldn’t know for sure. 

He didn’t wait for you to come down from the high. He undid the fastening of his jeans before leaning over and uncuffing your wrists. “Up.” He walked to the right side of the bed and took a seat. “Come and sit on my cock.”

Still in somewhat of a daze, you did as he said. As soon as he pulled his length from the confines of his jeans, you straddled his hips and sank down. 

“Fucking hell,” he groaned. He gripped your waist and guided your hips, holding you down so he was fully sheathed. 

You ignored the harsh rubbing of material against the sensitive skin of your inner thighs and focused on how good it felt to feel him inside of you. 

“You’re gonna come again,” he said before sucking on your neck, leaving a mark that you hoped would be gone by the time you had to go back to the office after the weekend. 

You whimpered, not entirely confident you had it in you. Your clit was overstimulated and raw from the week’s torture. “It’s going to hurt.”

“I know. You’ll do it anyway.”

When his voice was that deep and raspy, so commanding, who were you to argue?

“Yes,Sir.”

He pulled you far enough away that he could dip down and lick your peaked nipples. He sucked and nibbled until your chest and cheeks were red hot with the building of another orgasm. 

“Oh, god.” You gripped the collar of his t-shirt. 

He hummed against your skin. “That’s it. Keep going.” He held you tight enough that you wouldn’t be able to disconnect your clit from where it rubbed against the base of him even if you wanted to–and you were really walking that line. It was almost unbearable, the pleasure only a hair away from pain. 

When he tilted his hips to hit that special spot inside, the tension ripped loose. You dug your nails into the muscle of his shoulders as your body shook against his, your hips rocking frantically, both chasing the high and trying to get away from it. 

“Fuck,” he groaned into your neck as he emptied himself inside you. With a strong arm wrapped around your waist, he kept you riding him through both of your orgasms as your body filled with exhaustion. 

He peppered kisses over your chest, shoulders, neck and jaw until you felt him go soft, still tucked inside. You were close to falling asleep on his chest when he pulled out and lifted you up into his arms. 

“Shower first,” he whispered before kissing the top of your head and carrying you into the en suite. He set you on the counter and disappeared.

He came back with a cold glass of water, which you took happily. He turned the shower on, pulled two towels from the wardrobe and set them on the fancy warmer before returning to you. His hands moved from your shoulder to cup your face and he leaned in to kiss you. 

“You did well this week, love.”

“It sucked.”

He laughed. “It was supposed to.” Another peck to your lips and he helped you down. “Go ahead.”

You stepped into the shower and watched through the quickly fogging glass as he stripped. The second he stepped in you were glued to him, your head to his chest and his arms around your waist. 

You only pulled apart when he washed you. His hands moved over your body, soft and soapy, digging into the muscles he had neglected the nights before. 

“I think I owe you a massage or two.”

“Try three–at least.”

He kissed your hip from his spot beneath you. When he brought his hand up to wash between your legs, you flinched. 

“Sore?”

“A little numb, actually. Wasn’t even expecting that to hurt.” 

He kissed right above your mound. “Sorry, love. I’ll be gentle.”

He finished his task and you took over, doing the same for him. Despite his hardening length, he didn’t try to touch you again, or ask you to help him relieve what must have been a lot of pent up frustration. Instead, he held your face in his hands and kissed you, murmuring soft I love yous in between. 

After toweling each other off, he turned down the covers, put on Sleepless in Seattle and promised to make you blueberry pancakes in the morning.

[permanentreverie]

GUESS WHO BOUGHT HER WEIGHTS WORTH IN BOOKS

Going to the bookstore tomorrow you know what that means!!!!

(buying my weights worth in books)

[vro0m]

i agree with merc's driver management anon tbh. i don't even like george and i feel for him a tiny bit here because. let's see.. (bear with me i love bullet lists)

he signs with merc in 2021 when the car was good, and also when it looked like lewis would win the wdc and probably retire. at most he'd stay maybe one or two more years.

neither of these things happen. the car sucks. lewis stays because he's hungrier than ever for the 8th.

that first year, everyone hypes george up a lot. he even gets a win. people talk at length about how george is so much better than lewis but no one takes the extensive experimentation into account.

2023. car still sucks. george does a lie detector and says with his entire chest that he's faster than lewis. spends the year getting soundly beat by him. things at merc seem to be breaking down. george goes into a wall at singapore and the way merc acted you'd think the end of times was nigh. this mistake doesn't do well for his reputation as a driver.

2024. lewis is moving to ferrari. george probably thinks ok, he can finally be the priority in the team. he can be the number 1 driver, the face of the team.

let's take a moment to talk about the rookies who came up with him. lando at mclaren, number 1 driver, who finally got his win this year after a long time of working hard for it. actually quite good at playing the team game. alex, who struggled at rbr but is doing well at williams. they love him so much they fucked over logan for him. he's a solid driver and while he doesn't have any wins yet, his skills are undeniable.

ok back. 2024. mainstream fans on social media have been displeased with george since at least qatar 23 if not earlier: it seems to be hitting critical mass this year. almost all of merc's social media posts, as well as f1 and espn's, are filled with comments about george buckling under pressure, not being as good as he thinks he is, and definitely not being a good teammate. on top of that his boss is trying to offer a metric fuckton of money to get max verstappen into the seat. plays around with the idea of fernando alonso until alonso goes like "lmao girl in THAT wheelbarrow?" and even bringing seb back from retirement. neither of these three are known for sitting quietly and following team orders and would probably laugh george out of the room at the suggestion that he be prioritized over them.

and then there's kimi antonelli. this ask is long enough so i won't go into detail over my feelings on that but at this point, george, who was desperate to be number 1, is watching his boss talk up a child who should be doing Intro to Calculus, while everyone calls him the next hamilton or verstappen.

and no one knows where george is in all this, including george himself. chances are though that he has not been impressive enough to be considered a leader or number 1 by anyone and merc aren't even pretending he might be. they're looking to replace lewis not just as a driver but as a leader and that has got to hurt for george.

*mic drop* 🎤

No but really I had forgotten about Alonso and Seb too like. No wait. Let me sit up for this.

The amount of DISRESPECT George has had to deal with is astounding. And it's coming from all sides. Fans, management, drivers. You can't help but empathise.

He's also so very unlucky! Every time you'd think things are looking up for him F1 throws him a curveball.

I wonder how he deals with this. That might explain some of what some fans perceive as undue confidence / audacity. Like what else are you gonna do in his situation but wall up and assert yourself the best you can, when your worth as a driver is constantly being questioned.

[suguru-getos]

okay…. Kaveh Thirst.. he needs a good reward after a long stressful week ;__; i'm too weak for this man i want to give him a hand while kissing him when he's tired and sad, letting him relax and know that he's absolutely loved bc he deserves it!! maybe even tease him a bit tbh. this is a very fluffy thirst istg im so sorry wwwwww

pls don’t be sorry my blog’s name is kaveh’s banner name 🤭 pls be my bestie bc let’s share kaveh together i love that man sm🥲🤍 he makes me feel in awe of his personality every single day.

warnings: drunk kaveh, drunk sex 😏 fluff & comforting words cause he’s just super nice

You opened the door to a stumbling, drunk Kaveh held by his ex-roommate, Alhaitham. “Alright, Kaveh. You are home now.” He glanced at you, helping Kaveh inside and on the bed, “All yours now.” Alhaitham chimed, passing you a friendly half-smile and leaving.

You knew Kaveh absolutely loved hanging out with people, sometimes it got a bit too much given his tight knit schedule. You didn’t mind though, he had his priorities sorted & you never, ever felt that you were left out, or drifting apart.

You walked back towards the bedroom, bidding farewell to Alhaitham. Kaveh was sleeping peacefully, your heart pounded right at your chest whenever you looked at him. Awestruck with the fact that he was yours… forever if need be.

“Kaveh. Goodnight.” You cooed, leaning in and kissing his forehead.

“Don’t go—” Kaveh mumbled, pulling you atop him in a drunken haze. “Don’t you ever, go…”

You smiled tenderly, glassy eyed at the pure innocence Kaveh carried. “I would rather die…” you cooed, kissing his forehead, inching towards his lips and softly kissing him. The supple skin of his lips felt exhilarating to you, especially when Kaveh kissed you back with a much needed fervor. “I love you-”

Kaveh was a mumbling, drunken mess, hands messily touching you all over, cupping your breasts, cupping your ass, caressing your waist, rubbing your back, holding your asscheeks and letting you feel his semi. “Look at what you do to me—”

Kaveh panted, groaning out when you straddled him, humping him while you both were fully clothed. “Argh- baby-” Kaveh groaned, eyes widening; a contrast to his initial droopy, dizzy gaze.

“Let me- Let me have you….” Kaveh sounded so gorgeous whenever he would express his need. Just like now, eager to feel your cunt wrap around his cock.

How could you not comply to your man? He had left you wet enough with the makeout session, however… despite being drunk enough. Kaveh stopped you when you tried to sit onto his erect cock. “Lube yourself up baby…” his observations were always on point. Sometimes baffling you to no end.

Soon you both were left panting messes, moaning each others name, kissing each other while Kaveh leaned against the headboard, hugging you snug & rutting himself inside you. “Don’t let any of me escape. You understand?” Fuck— whenever Kaveh’s politeness faded into orders, that’s when you came the hardest. He was well aware of thr fact, smirking at the sudden clench of your walls around him.

“…and, you will ask for permission, right Princess?”

[hiddenfolk]

I feel like the fan-theory that Jimmy was the one to kill Daisuke and pushed the blame onto Swansea kind of misses the point a little tbh

See, Swansea and Daisuke's relationship is a direct parallel to Jimmy and post-crash Curly's relationship. In the same way as Swansea holds direct responsibility for Daisuke, Jimmy is directly responsible for Curly- in fact we repeatedly see him willingly and intentionally PLACING himself in a position of responsibility over Curly, participating in his care and going out of his way to hunt down Anya to ask her if he's taken his meds yet and giving them to him. While Anya may be triggered by administering meds to Curly, it IS mentioned that she can and does do it offscreen. She could theoretically handle the entirety of Curly's care alone without Jimmy, yet Jimmy CHOOSES to look after Curly. I feel like Jimmy performs sympathy and care towards Curly, in order to assuage his own feelings of guilt- yes he's irreversibly scarred and hurt him, but look! He's being extra special nice to him to make up for it!

Now I don't think it's necessarily fair to Curly, to have others decide whether he lives or dies on his behalf- but by the 5 month mark I think it's fairly clear death was inevitable for all of them. Whatever resources they have are exhausted, they only have a few months of oxygen left, and even if rescue attempts started now, they literally could not survive to see them. Death was pretty much inevitable- the choice was a fast or slow death. Anya seemed to recognise this- she left a gun by Curly's bedside after all. With her death, he no longer had a primary caregiver that was equipped to take care of his complex medical needs and 24/7 care, or meds to blunt the pain. Without Anya around, the responsibility for Curly's care now entirely transfers to Jimmy.

Swansea killed Daisuke because he recognised that they weren't equipped to take care of him. When the choice was between him suffering a slow and painful death or a quick painless one, he chose to spare Daisuke the pain. Yet as soon as Curly became Jimmy's sole responsibility, Jimmy categorically fails to prioritise Curly's comfort. He's left alone in the medbay beside Anya's dead body, carted around and treated like a doll in a fucked up birthday party, further mutilated, and then placed in a cryopod, that as many have pointed out, doesn’t guarantee he'll be found, and may in fact end up resulting in a slow painful death in 20 years. Every single time Jimmy's had a chance to shorten or lessen Curly's suffering he's failed to take it. Jimmy performs sympathy but he doesn't truly care about Curly- that's why he never even considers killing him, and why he never even considers mercy-killing Daisuke, even after condemning him to a slow painful death. His desire to play hero and fix things takes priority over everyone else's wellbeing- and they're the ones who are forced to suffer for it.

Jimmy being the one to kill Daisuke would require a level of perspective on the situation and compassion for others suffering that he categorically lacks. We can see through how Jimmy treats Curly that he cannot cope with the idea that his actions caused a death, because of the guilt. Thats the horror of Jimmy- not that he secretly killed Daisuke, but that he wouldn't.

[microwave-core]

(CONTROVERSIAL OPINION) hear me out pls, ai sada headcanons. she needs more love than the real one, and i will die with this.

I understand, anon. TBH AI Sada, unfortunately, is better than real Sada in canon, because I'm not there to fix her. Anyways, let me think of some things to say.

(obligatory L Sada)

Setting up a scenario here is a bit odd. Realistically, if AI Sada were to be in love with someone, it would probably be someone Sada herself was in love with, since the AI has all of her memories and feelings. Which feels a little weird. Imagine you have a lover and you learn that they died in a freak accident but they also have an AI counterpart who is also in love with you. Anyways-

It's hard to think of what to say, because I think the two are pretty similar all things considered. In my mind, AI Sada is just Sada before she flew off the rails and only cared about the time machine, so many of my regular Sada headcanons could still apply. The biggest difference is that AI Sada is aware of how the real one neglected you for so long, and desperately wants to make up for that lost time.

She knows how much you care for the real Sada, and how hurt you are when she started to pull further and further away from both you and her son. Hell, maybe she even tries to push the real one to reach out at some point when she's still alive, to reconnect before your relationship collapsed completely, but it was too late at that point.

In her place, AI Sada sends little texts and messages your way. She wants to do more, she really does, but she just can't bring herself to do it. She's afraid, in a sense. She loves you so much, so very very much, but she's not really the person you love. I mean, she literally is, but you aren't aware of that. You don't know you're speaking to the AI counterpart of your lover who has since gone crazy over dinosaurs.

She tries to do the same for Arven, but he never responds to her. The occasional random text doesn't make up for the real Sada's absence. AI Sada knows this, and she doesn't blame him, but what else is she to do? What else can she do?

As much as she wants to reach out, to be with you and Arven both, to be apart of the family the real Sada so callously abandoned, she can't. Her hands are tied. When she's left alone in Area Zero, she has no choice but to fully devote herself to destroying the time machine before things get out of control. It simply has to be her top priority. If she can't be with you both, the least she can do is protect the world you live in, keep you safe.

When she finally sees Arven, when she sees him in person for the first time, she reminds him of how much Sada loved both him and you, that the real Sada cared for you two so much, but is careful to leave out her own feelings.

Now, to make things a bit fluffier, we can say she doesn't fuck off to the distance past. When things settle down, and you learn the truth of what happened to your lover, she feels more comfortable with her feelings for you. She knows that she isn't the same person you fell in love with, but she'd gladly take her place if you'd have her.

Even though she has all of Sada's memories, AI Sada feels like she's experiencing everything for the first time when she's with you. She knows what it is like to be around you, to hold you and kiss you and whisper sweet nothings, but doing so herself just feels so... different. So liberating and free. Wonderful. It would make her heart flutter if she had one. As a result, she is a bit clumsier than the real one, at least at first.

She also isn't as affectionate. It's not that she doesn't want to shower you in love and praise, or that she doesn't want to receive some in return, she's just a bit more... reserved. A bit held back. Unsure, even. This is all unfamiliar territory to her, give her time to get her bearings in order.

I'm gonna be real with you, I don't think she's the most comfortable to be around, physically speaking. She looks human, sure, but she is, in fact, made of metal. She's not the nicest to cuddle, or hug, or even kiss, but she tries. It's a little hard and strange to adjust to, but you can get used to it in time. It's charming, in a sense.

She also doesn't have human needs, just maintenance on occasion. For the sake of scenario, let's just say she's not confined to the Area Zero lab and is instead free to join in the regular world. Living with a robot is weird. Without needs of her own, she often does things just for you.

Like, as an example, she doesn't need to sleep. She's a robot, she needs to recharge, not sleep. Still, she's more than happy to lie down with you in bed at the end of the day, to keep you company. Sometimes she goes into sleep mode, but other times she stays up, combing artificial fingers through your hair so delicately, as if you'd crumble under her touch.

Cooking is something she can do, but she's not the best on account of not being able to taste anything. She enjoys it, though. She's honestly do anything for you, if nothing but to see you smile. She also likes to watch you eat, which can be a bit awkward since she just sort of stares. I guess that's how I'd describe AI Sada as a lover; Awkward, but charming.

Also, I hate to say it, but I don't think this is a robot you can outright fuck. I'm sorry robot fuckers, I really am, but I don't think Sada equipped her AI counterpart with a neo pussy. You can, however, get railed by the robot. If you want. As a little treat.

[walkingstackofbooks]

Trying to decide what I want to work on right now and so to procrastinate I thought it'd be fun to share my current WIPs with you all (omg how did I get so manyyyyy)

Feel free to shout encouragement at me if there's any that particularly pique your interest! :P

Anyway, in order of how recently I've worked on them:

1. Prompt - what if Kukulaka got broken and Garak repaired him?

Coming soon? 80% it'll be done in the next week: I'm hoping to just bash it out at some point, but even though it's short and self-contained, it's hardddd...

2. Unexpected Chapter 2 of Imprisoned. Absolute Sloanshir rot: Sloan provides Julian with more "help", Julian gets increasingly confused/grateful/flustered/fucked

Coming soon? Almost 100% you're gonna see it next week - I am hype and should should should get to the end once I have an evening to myself ;)

3. Prompt - "I don't trust myself to be good to myself right now, but I need someone to be good to me." Conversations between Miles and Julian at various points in the series when they've hit rock bottom and need pulling out.

Coming soon? No... I've written one post-DBIP scene but I'd at least want the post-Argrathi scene and the rest of the DBIP stuff to be done before I put anything up, if not the whole thing... It's definitely a long fic I'll be returning to in fits and bursts. (sorry, prompter...)

4. Prompt - Garak and Julian's first conversation post-IPS/BIL.

Coming soon? It's a strong contender for next week - I was super hype for it when I started but then work interceded and I just haven't got back to it yet. It is a priority, though!

5. Pre-DBIP: a few moments where Julian's unspoken issues with his parents cause friction for him but go unnoticed by his friends. Post-DBIP a similar moment happens and is recognised for what it is. Featuring Julian + beets.

Coming soon? I really don't know. I've got a strong vision for it and scene one (of four) is done, but it's kind of stuttered since then.

6. Julian starts to neglect his self-care, leading to him passing out in the infirmary. Sisko would like to know what the hell happened.

Coming soon? It's already on tumblr in a rough and ready form, so editing to put on AO3 might well happen in the next week - and I'd say a 50% chance of something extra with that?

7. Chapter 2 of At Their Mercy. Alpha!Garak takes over with Omega!Julian where Kira left off... 😉😉😉

Coming soon? Gahhh, I have written this several times over in my brain, but getting the start of this chapter has been proving difficult. Definitely not until after the Imprisoned chapter is done.

8. Why Leeta Kept Kukulaka And How Julian Did Try To Ask For Him Back. Just cute, fluffy gap-filling; I love both of them.

Coming soon? Probably not. Only the outline has been written tbh and this hasn't caught my fancy in a while.

9. "Acts of God": A runabout crashes on a planet where medical intervention is outlawed. Unable to help his injured friends and forbidden from alleviating the suffering he sees around him, Julian has a very bad time...

Coming soon? No, I think this is probably going to be an after-VIsion-Awry project rather than a can-i-get-it-done-first one.

10. "Sloan's planet": Sloan is Julian's s31 handler, sending him out on all sorts of missions... but the missions are fake, Sloan using the holosuite to manipulate Julian pretty much any way he wants...

Coming soon? Possibly. This has more of a series vibe maybe with a few distinct one-shots, so if I get a short idea I might bash it out 🤷‍♀️ Sloanshir's often just so easy to fall into.. 🤣

11. Keiko + Molly + Julian + drawing post-DBIP. Julian's not very good at it, and it's a bit feels but a lot of fluff.

Coming soon? Well I haven't touched it since April but I do smile whenever I remember it exists (and looking at the file, more was written than I remember!)

Welp - and that's not even counting the myriad other ideas floating around my tumblr/ in my head! Or the fact that I have probably another 15-20k of Vision Awry to go... Well, here's looking forward to my August of writing!

(Which I'll definitely have... if I stop procrastinating! :P)

[umiewrites]

haii ^^ 🌰, 🫘, 🍳 for kaoru w/ a transmasc reader plz?

Helloooo <33 omg transmasc reader 🤤 me too vro

This or that, NSFW Ask game

Nsfw under the cut. Kaoru × transmasc reader

Ask game here!

🌰 Being dominant or submissive?

Submissive. It's just what he prefers. Even if he's topping, that submissive side of him shows in the way he's babbling your name, seeing stars, and chasing, begging to cum. He won't do it until you give him permission. You're top priority, so no matter how good your cunt squeezes around him, he'll always submit to your whims and desires. He won't cum until you let him, he won't do anything against your orders, slower? Faster? Rougher? Softer? He's at your command. If it's you fucking into him with a strap-on, you get to take advantage of his full on submissiveness. Same schtick, he won't do a thing against your orders. He'll be begging so good for release. Anything for you.

🫘 Using their fingers or their tongue?

Tongue. He loves to use his tongue on you, so bad. Already established that he's a service kinda man, he'll do anything for your pleasure. He just thinks he'll be able to give you more pleasure and get more for himself if he uses his tongue. Even when it comes to prepping you, he prefers to use his tongue. He just loves getting a taste, something about oral and the way it's all about servicing you... Plus he gets the meal of his life lapping at your folds and sucking at your clit. Like he's gonna pass on that.

🍳 Morning sex or late night sex?

Late night sex. In the morning is when he's expected to be up and clocking in, so in the morning, he's only gonna be available for a quickie or two. Though, he might stay if you coax him enough, which isn't hard to do— he's whipped for you. But for his preference, he'd go for late night sex any day. You get the whole world to yourselves while everyone else is asleep. He's free, and you can relax and go to sleep right after... It's just perfect. Plus, with so much time at night, you get so much more time to ruin each other and make him a mess, drunk on your pussy.

.

.

.

I hope this was okay tbh,, hope this was what u were looking for 🙏 if not that's okay! You can clarify and I can edit it <3

[decepti-thots]

Obviously Tarn KNEW of the others at Delphi. Like he wasn’t just like ‘ok pharma’. So I wonder what he thought of them. Like he had to have known about Ambulon and First Aid- but did he know Ambulon was a former Decepticon? (Probably.) Was it part of the deal that they wouldn’t just pluck Ambulon up to deal with him? I don’t even know what they’d think, if anything, of First Aid.

I assume, tbh, it's that Ambulon is low enough down the list- small fry, in the grand scheme of defectors- that this held true enough for Tarn in terms of his priorities:

We obviously see (earlier, rather than later, than this in the comic run) that Tarn is not being strictly accurate here. He breaks his 'order' because he's so pissed off to see Drift on the other Lost Light, for example, and goes after him then and there. If circumstances present themselves, an exception gets made.

...but would Ambulon justify dropping the pretense, so to speak, of a methodical, orderly murder machine going in descending order? Possibly not, or at least not if it couldn't be done with zero effort. It's interesting to consider if Tarn used Ambulon as a bargaining chip with Pharma- for all Pharma clearly dislikes Ambulon, he's also not a murder-for-fun guy in the Delphi arc, not at all, and I imagine for all doing so would only fuel the resentment, he'd bargain for Tarn to leave Ambulon alone at the start. (Making it a good sign of how much he's eroded himself that by the actual time of said arc, he's happy to throw Ambulon under the bus for his crimes as a scapegoat; it presents a little bit of a before/after for him.) But I imagine it would be more opportunistic than anything, tbh, on Tarn's part. He probably wasn't ever planning on ruining his situation and all its advantages to make an assault on the base for what, a low-ranking MTO medic who just sort of left one day, I guess? Part of a failed combiner experiment?

So... I figure Tarn must have known, but probably had it more on a mental 'when I get round to it, deal with him' list somewhere than anything, hence Ambulon's relative disinterest in that side of things. (Unlike Drift who, as we see, is much more concerned that if Tarn finds him, it'll be On Fucking Sight. Quite correctly.)

[banes-favourite]

How often do you think Gortash got sick(as in caught a cold or flu or something) as a child? Did his parents treat him the same as they would any other day or were they a bit less harsh or even possibly more harsh on him when he was sick?

Do you think he ever had the misfortune of getting sick while in the House of Hope? I imagine there's also the possibility of him getting sick while in the House of Hope due to a wound getting infected while it was healing since the cells don't look like they'd be kept that clean

Also just as a bonus durgetash thing: Imagine Gortash getting sick during the time he was working with Durge, and Durge attempts to take care of him. Maybe even going as far as making him something like some sort of dwarf-meat stew to attempt to get him to eat(I specified dwarf meat because in-game it seems to be mentioned as Durge's favourite, and it's just kind of cute to imagine Durge trying to feed Gortash something made using their favourite food in order to make him feel better). No idea if Gortash would willingly eat it, but maybe Durge doesn't tell him what's in it until afterwards or he's either sick enough or feels so touched by the effort Durge put in that he eats it even if normally he wouldn't want to

(cw for injury)

Hmm I think he would have been a relatively sickly child tbh, and his parents would do the bare minimum to help just so they wouldn't lose the help around the shop. Once he gets older though, he learns not to bother them when it happens because all he'll get is yelled at for 'allowing himself to get sick in the first place' so he just learns to tough it out. It does strengthen his immune system tho.

But you're right, I imagine although they mostly inflicted brute force type abuse on him, there were quite a lot of open wounds on his body, especially his face. One of them was bound to get infected eventually because yeah I doubt the slaves' personal hygiene was a priority. I think he got sick from them like twice during his time there, the first time wasn't quite so bad, a cut on his cheek got infected and he was swollen like a squirrel for like a week. Thankfully he got over that one on his own.

But it's hard to imagine he was always lucky. I think the second time would have happened when he was around 13 and it got bad. Nubaldin thought it funny to test a new knife on him and he cut a pretty big gash on his leg. It definitely needed stitches so Gortash managed to do them himself with some rusty ass needle and thread he found and honestly if he hadn't, his muscles would have stretched out dangerously just from his walking around. Obviously though the wound got infected so badly that only a few days later he was feeling tired, throwing up, couldn't breathe or speak or get out of bed. He developed sepsis and spent like two full days unable to do anything but rot helplessly in his cell, skin pale as fuck, cold to the touch even if he was in literal Avernus, fighting for his very life. Honestly if Raphael hadn't found him and healed him, he would have died. (adding to his twisted view of his abuser bc he was soo grateful to him). After that he took extra care of his open wounds.

I love the durgetash idea, your brain is huge. Durge 100% would make him a dwarf soup just to laugh at his expression when he told him afterwards. Unfortunately for him, a very sick and tired-of-his-shit Gortash would just thank him and comment that it wasn't as bad as he'd thought. Then Durge would tell him to fuck off as he drapes a blanket over him and brings him a hot coffee and threatens to gut him if he doesn't get at least 7 hours of sleep.

[dykeomania]

in thinking about moving forward,

this is the last thing i will say on this. i would feel really weird if i didn't have this on my blog, while continuing to run it. i apologize that this is so long.

i think it is incredibly important to begin navigating how we are going to cater to the experiences of women [and nonbinary individuals -- my! fault! i am so sorry, thank you**] who have felt particularly left out as told by the uproar that's been going on for these past few months apparently, and by these current conversations.

if women and/or nonbinary individuals who feel like they cannot find themselves in fics have to write them themselves, be it for a particular reader insert or for a more general one, then some kind of sub-community needs to be made to nurture and amplify that sentiment, at this time. i do not know if that is preexisting. if it does exist, it needs to be expanded upon or heavily revised.

as both a reader and a writer, if you see yourself in something, it is absolutely necessary that you ride for it so that other people can have the opportunity to see themselves in it, as well. and if you can't write certain perspectives, then embrace them. it's like completely normal to decorate your blog with things that align with who you are and the kind of desires you have, but at this time, as a community, it's really important to make room for neglected narratives.

and finally, for the love of god, please, stop being so fucking horrific to people.

it is okay not to like pillow princesses or, it's okay if you have a hard time vibing with hyper, hyperhyperhyperfeminine personas. your idea of what sex, femininity, and queer expression looks like does not have to coincide with their expression and definition, and that's completely normal. but under absolutely no circumstances is it okay to be antagonistic or threatening towards someone because of how they interpret their queerness. that is homophobic, and it is pride month. hyperfemininity is inherently queer in and of itself, just by theoretical principle. that doesn't make it immune to criticism -- absolutely not. but you are being mock-righteously** hurtful towards people and telling them to go off themselves, all because you don't like them writing for white bitches with fishtail braids and shitty mullets. principally, you have to understand how awkward that is. that doesn't look okay. you don't move like that towards queer people who are different from you, in real life. that's not what being queer is about.

i don't know how long any of this has been going on for and frankly, i really don't want to. what needs to happen now, is that people need to feel held in order for this to properly scab over. this applies to everyone. this is deep and if it got this deep, then it always has been. it's fundamental that something is done, in light of this, to keep going strong.

i don't want this community to be mortally wounded and divided by all of the shit that's been happening, and i'm like, so sad, that it has come to this point. i'm in a position where i can only mobilize but much (and i will if i have to, but my main priorities are my research, my girlfriend, my friends, and my family, and tbh just being happy and taking care of my mental health). but i really implore those who can / are able to, to just make something of this while holding down their own. i know y'all can everything considered, so just do it.

this was very embarrassing and not a good look for a lot of different people. if you need to apologize to someone, go apologize. if someone feels a way about how you moved during all of this, don't get defensive, because it was probably weird. move accordingly so that everyone can enjoy themselves in this community, again.

get it together. preferably within the next week or so.

tough love.

[jynjackets]

for the ask game your fav ship ever: bix/cassian 😍

omg my otp <3

dedicated to all four of the shippers aka my biggest fans mwah 😙

before i catch strays, here’s some optional background information under the cut

tbh, I would not give a single shit about this ship if:

-their dynamic and her character wasn’t written to be extremely sexist. it’s literally so fucking sad if i have to explain that fridging a woman who had zero significance outside of ‘caring about cassian’ is sexist. like. this character is unique in that she was purely, entirely made in bad faith. have you even questioned why she is the only latina? along with the fact that his biological sister was implied to be a prostitute?

- the ‘fans’ weren’t using it as a hateship by saying a background extra was meant for cassian just to hate on jyn before the show even fucking aired. i might believe there’s like 2 genuine people out there but that’s because they genuinely like to know the history before rebelcaptain. that said…

- the binian shippers who also ship rebelcaptain weren’t pretending they’re not insane misogynists for obsessing over a fictional man’s fictional sexual history, as if it is ONLY Cassian’s relationship with them that establishes these women’s importance; as if women literally don’t create their own importance lmao. and even if that extremely fucked-up logic had any truth, even then bin STILL loses

And also like, you idiot fans, please show me where the bin hate is. like WHERE?? because i would be liking and reblogging that shit. where is the hate that ISNT grounded in defending latinos and better writing for female characters? and don’t fucking show me a post from fucking 2022 because the fans made entirely of orientalist men-obsessed bitches are acting like they’re a persecuted minority

- the ‘fans’ weren’t fucking latinophobes and literally harassing me in my anons for being a latina speaking out against their favorite anti-black show. and whose biggest shipper wasn’t a racistass homophobicass first-world white woman in her 60s like 💀 i’m side-eyeing the fuck out of any of you who are even nice about this. you want to /not/ be called a misogynist sooo bad you’ll pretend one of the worst characters ever actually means something to you. let alone to latinas. and is that not weird?? that almost every latina in this fandom doesn’t like or just doesn’t care about this bitch? like who are you trying to fool?

- if the miss morbius actress wasn’t one of the worst people alive. i am so serious.

aside from her father being a piece of shit and one of the richest men men in latin america (meaning she’s a nepo baby, and if she has ever called herself poor she is literally lying), she’s dumb as bricks bruh. not a single brain cell behind anything she says. this is my post about her sexism with some dumb shit she’s said over the years. once in a while is understandable i guess but it’s every fucking time

she’s also a zionist

so yeah. otherwise I genuinely wouldn’t give a shit. i wish we had someone like q’ira which would make it super interesting how cassian ran into criminals before. THAT would say something about cassian and his moral departures in relationships and what that meant meeting jyn who was a rebel ‘on the wrong side’ versus q’ira who also had limited choices but different priorities in needing to rebel. she moreso ‘followed orders’ with maul which would make him understand and be familiar with someone like her. being with someone too similar to him AND contrasting in his morals would be an interesting development to see them need to break it off in order for them to grow.

but alas we have this shit. it’s pretty fucking hard to be a shipper and not fall into one of these categories of shitty fans i talked about. the least worst imo being having piss poor media literacy. so maybe you’re just a dumb don’t-know-better sexist instead of an intentionally malicious sexist. same shit to me tho.

[bunny-hoodlum]

enonniiiii when are you going to upload Idle Hands ( ಥ ʖ̯ ಥ) 

Hiiii! I just answered an anon that asked this! 🙈

I'm so sorry for the wait! 😩

But good news! 🙌 The final concept is finally out of Development Hell! :D <333333333333✨

I'm still trying to figure out how I want to start the rewrite. 😅 Finding time to write has also been a struggle, my headspace is also frustratingly fickle as well. It's like I need the perfect distraction-free environment in order to tap into my creative well, and I haven't had that consistently enough. (Tbh, even if I ask for no distractions, well... That doesn't work like it should. 🥲)

But rest assured, it's still a priority of mine. 🫡 I'm really gearing up to write this totally fucked up story again, just haven't had the luck as of late to start it. 🥲😅