#they are NOT perfect and that’s what makes them so interesting

[y3sterdaysproblem]

shifting - m.s.

summary: invisalign matt <3

cw: kissing, oral, sex, invisalign kink?

wc: 2.7k

loosely inspired by take it or leave it by @plasticferal , mostly inspired by how horny matt with aligners makes me.

Click.

Click.

Click.

The sound of Matt absentmindedly pulling his invisalign tray off of his teeth and then pushing it back on filled the room, and you felt like you were about to explode if he did it again. He wasn’t even aware he was being so loud, his attention focused on whatever was on his phone that he held in front of him. You were both laying in his bed on top of the covers, having finished watching a movie around thirty minutes ago, now just doing your side by side doom scrolling in silence, or what was supposed to be silence.

You turn your head to the left to look at him, a slight look of annoyance on your face as you glare at his side profile. He doesn’t notice, still too caught up in his phone, fingers still toying with the tray in his mouth, clicking the bottom one on and off of the attachments on his molars. That was one of the nice things about Matt and his brothers being in the public eye, the fact that they didn’t have any of their attachments visible on the front of their teeth, leaving their smile otherwise smooth and normal when their trays weren’t in, however the downside was watching them stick their fingers so far in their mouth every time they wanted to take them out. Now was no exception, Matt’s thumb tucked into his mouth as he clicked, and then bit down, and then clicked, and bit down.

“Are your teeth hurting you?” You asked suddenly, breaking the silence between you both. He’s caught off guard when you speak up, turning to face you with a confused look. “What? No, why?” Matt responds in his soft spoken voice, pulling his hand away from his mouth.

“Because you haven’t stopped playing with your fucking trays for the last twenty minutes,” you tell him, flopping your phone on your chest. “I can’t focus on anything.”

“Sorry,” Matt smiles sheepishly, setting his phone down as well. “I’ve had this tray in for a couple weeks and I’m about to switch it out. Doesn’t hurt so… sometimes I just fiddle with it I guess.”

Truthfully, this conversation opened the door to a topic that had always piqued your interest, and maybe you brought it up for more reasons than how annoying the sound of his repetitive actions were. “It doesn’t hurt?” You ask him, looking away from his eyes to look at his mouth. When he notices your gaze shift, he shoots you a large grin to show off all of his almost perfect teeth covered in the clear plastic. “No,” he says, chomping his teeth together a couple times. “When I change it, it’ll hurt for a few days, but I’m used to it.”

You nod, still staring at his mouth as he spoke. “What does it… I dunno.. feel like?” You ask him, meeting his eyes once again. “The outside?” Matt clarifies, and you nod. “Just like plastic. Makes my teeth dull. You wanna feel it?”

You’re a big caught off guard by his offer and you can’t help it when your ears start to heat up, feeling embarrassed that you’d even brought this up in the first place. “Feel your teeth?” You clarified, and he nods at you. You hesitate and he notices, reaching down to grab your hand. “Come on, I won’t bite,” he teases, and your cheeks darken even further as he pulls your hand up to his lips, parting them so you can run your finger over the aligners gently. For some reason, the close contact sent a small shiver down your spine, not used to being this close to Matt.

You realize after almost a minute of running your finger over his teeth that you’ve zoned out and you pull your hand away from him slowly, bringing it back to your own body. “Weird,” is all you can come up with to fill the void, looking back into his bright blue eyes that stared over at you, waiting for your reaction. “Does it affect when you like… kiss girls?” Matt’s eyes widen slightly at your unexpected question, his own cheeks taking a turn at heating up. “I’ve never really kissed anyone with them in,” he admits, shrugging his shoulders shyly. “So I wouldn’t know.”

“Oh,” you say dumbly, nodding towards him. He mimics your action, feeling a palpable tension settle in his bedroom. He’s got an offer sitting on the tip of his tongue, but he can’t quite force himself to say it, feeling like he might ruin everything you guys have worked so hard to create in the years that you’ve been friends. You turn your head back towards the ceiling, staring up at it as your mind raced along with your heart, wondering what on earth has got you so intrigued about this interaction. There was always an underlying attraction towards Matt, but ever since he started his treatment, you couldn’t help but find the way he looked with his aligners oddly sexy. The way he laughed or smiled, the way he ran his tongue over his top teeth just to get a feel for them, the way he had a slight lisp any time he spoke; it all made you hyper aware of how attractive Matt really was. You’re not given much time to overthink when Matt clears his throat, grabbing your attention again. “You wanna find out?” He asks you, voice full of faux confidence that you could see right through.

You turn back to face him, eyebrows furrowed slightly. “Find what out?” You ask cluelessly.

“You know…” he starts, confidence fading quickly. “How it feels to kiss.”

Oh, you think. That’s what he meant.

You stare at him for a few moments before silently nodding your head, not trusting your voice enough to speak. You genuinely did want to know what it felt like to kiss somebody with invisalign, if it felt any different, but more than that you wanted to know what it felt like to kiss Matt. You’d thought about it more than you care to admit out loud, or even to yourself.

Matt’s initiating the kiss, turning himself on his side to look down at you from where you still lay next to him, eyes staring up at him patiently. “You sure?” He asks quietly, wanting clarification before he crosses the line you both can’t come back from, and once again you shoot him a small nod, and it’s enough for him to lean down and close the distance, lips pressing gently onto yours.

It’s slow and soft the way his mouth moves against yours and the way his hand comes up to rest on your cheek, like he’s afraid of moving too quickly, afraid of shattering the environment. Matt’s heart is hammering in his chest as you kiss, unable to hide his nervousness when your own hand comes up to rest on his neck, pulse racing under your palm, holding him close to you, letting him know to stay exactly where he was.

The kiss was good, amazing even, but it was too tentative and wasn’t giving you what you were looking for, so when Matt’s lips parted for a split second, you took that as your opportunity to slide your tongue between them and press against his, pulling him into you a little bit harder as you both became more desperate, breaths becoming harsher.

His hand slid from your cheek and moved to the bed next to you, using it to hold himself above you as the kiss deepened, the sounds of your lips parting and reattaching and your staggered breathing filling the otherwise quiet room. In a moment of slowed intensity, you let the nagging voice in your head take control, hand coming around Matt’s face to grip at his jaw to hold him in place. Keeping your mouths pressed together, you ran your tongue slowly over his top row of teeth, feeling the dull plastic that he had described, the sensation sending a trail of goosebumps down your arms. You could hear the small, shocked gasp that Matt sucked in as you licked over his teeth, his eyes cracking open to peer down at you once you pulled away, entranced by how pleased you looked.

You opened your own eyes and smiled bashfully back at him, clearing your throat awkwardly. “I don’t… I don’t think I got a good enough feel,” you tell him, gliding your hand back around to the back of his neck, applying a bit of pressure. “No?” Matt asks sweetly with a slight tilt of his head. “Here, maybe this will help.”

His eyes flutter shut again as he dips back down to connect your lips again, rougher this time as you both become more comfortable with each other. Matt only kisses you for a few seconds before he sucks your bottom lip into his mouth, dragging his teeth along it carefully, eliciting a small moan to slip from your throat. He releases your puffy lip and smirks down at you, tucking his face along your jawline as he starts to place small kisses on your skin until he reaches your neck, teeth gently biting at the warm skin. “Matt,” you whine, trying to press up into him more.

His only response is a small hum against you, his mouth kissing further down your neck until he reaches your collarbone, rounded teeth dragging against your skin as he descended. “You wanna know what they feel like, right?” Matt asks, slightly breathless. You nod, tilting your head down to look at him as he grabs the hem of your shirt and shoves it as high as he can, his movements pausing as he stared down at your chest. “Why are you not wearing a bra?”

Your bottom lip pouts out slightly as you watch him stare down at you, his hands moving to slide up your stomach, fingertips pressing into you like he was savoring every inch of skin he could touch. “I wanted to be comfortable,” you tell him, voice whiny. “Fuck,” is all he says before he leans his head back down and wraps his lips around your nipple, sucking harshly so the skin glides between his teeth, his groan sending a vibration through your chest. You’re instantly moaning, hand coming up to rest on the back of his head, your back arching to press your chest into him further.

His mouth felt like velvet around you, tongue working against the hardened nub that was pulled into his mouth, his hand kneading into your breast that wasn’t in his mouth. “Matt,” you whimper again desperately, holding him close while your hips searched for friction from his thigh that he rested between your legs. Matt felt like he was in heaven, face buried in the chest of the woman that he’d craved for so long. He was content just staying like this, sucking on your perfect tits until he died, or until you got sick of him. He could never get sick of this.

“Fuck, your mouth feels so good.” You groaned out. His cock strained against his underwear at your words, feeling lightheaded from the lack of blood rushing to his head. Matt couldn’t believe he was experiencing the honor of having you moan out his name, and he was committed to dragging it out as long as he could.

He pops his lips off of you and drags his tongue over your nipple slowly before he lifts himself up to look down at you. “It’ll feel so much better when I’m eating you out,” he grins, sliding his long, slender fingers down your torso again until they stop at your pants, keeping eye contact with you. You don’t have to be told twice, nodding your head at him to indicate your willingness and he scoots down on the bed and pulls your pants with him, leaving you with your shirt bunched up on your chest and your cute, pink panties covering your already soaked pussy.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to get my hands on you. If I knew all I had to do was wear my invisalign around you I would’ve done it a lot sooner.” Matt’s almost talking to himself while he maneuvers his body between your legs, pushing them apart with his own knees as he settles down, sliding his hands up your thighs greedily. “God, your body is so fucking perfect, wanna worship you so bad. So pretty.”

You’d almost forgotten the origin of this encounter already, having to remind yourself that you were nearly naked in front of your best friend because of his orthodontic treatment, though his words only make you wetter, the mix of his dominance and his praise causing the hair to stand up on your arms. “God, Matt, please don’t be all talk. I need you to make me feel good,” you tell him honestly, pushing yourself up on your elbows to watch as he rubbed and squeezed on your thighs, seemingly entranced by the way your body moved under his touch. It looks like it takes a concerning amount of effort for Matt to pull his eyes away from your core and up to your own, a lazy grin forming on his face. “Okay,” he agrees, shifting his knees down so he can lay below you, spreading your legs farther apart.

One of his hands comes up to push your thong to the side, exposing your drooling center, begging to be devoured by him. “Holy fuck,” Matt groans out, wasting no time as he closed the distance, his eyes fluttering shut as your taste flooded his senses. You immediately dropped back down onto your back as his mouth sucked your clit between his lips enthusiastically, being mindful of how sensitive you were when he pressed forward a little more to allow your skin to come into contact with his covered teeth.

Teeth were never a thing for you before, but watching Matt’s get prettier and prettier and seeing the confidence that came along with his new smile, it did something to you, and that something was the same reason you were grinding your hips up into Matt’s face as he ate you out, tongue running over your clit. “Yes, yes, oh my god,” you babbled loudly, fervently. His pace never faltered, even when he brought his fingers up to your entrance and slipped them inside of you.

He was sloppy with the way that he was eating your pussy, though not in a way that felt unsatisfactory, but in the way that had you unsuspecting of each movement and had your eyes rolling back in your head. Matt’s fingers worked inside you leisurely as his tongue and lips stimulated your swollen clit, bringing you towards your peak faster than anyone had before. “Oh my god, Matt, I’m so close. Please don’t stop,” you beg, hand pressing him down into you as your hips rolled with the movements of his fingers, feeling your thighs start to shake on either side of his head.

Matt hummed against you, ripping a cry from your throat as your orgasm slammed into you, your body trembling with aftershocks as his mouth didn’t let up. “Matt,” you whine, grabbing his forehead and applying a bit of pressure until he pulled off with his own groan of disapproval. He moved his head over to the crease of your thigh, letting his teeth dig into you slightly, the sensation obviously feeling more dull than you’re used to, but you also felt way more into it at the thought of the reason why. He happily sucked a small mark into your skin the best he could with his aligners, pulling away after a few moments to admire it before he turned his attention.

Matt felt like he was kicked in the chest for a second as he laid eyes on you, your red cheeks and tired grin causing his heart to stop momentarily. “I’m, uh.. never taking these out ever again when you’re around, I hope you know that.” He tells you.

You’re laughing at his comment, but you couldn’t help but hope he was telling the truth. “As long as we get to do this again, that’s fine.”

a/n: nice and short! sorry if it’s boring it’s not my favorite thing I e ever written but invisalign matt is my origin story.

taglist

@liiixsturniolos @madelinesturn @ifwdominicfike @sophand4n4 @chris-hallelujah @sophsturns @rafesapprentice @045696 @scorpioosworld @byhrxb @vickytaa @taelovesmattsturniolo @secret-sturniolo @theboredknightcat-blog @slvtf0rchr1s @gabri3la-sturns @delilahsturniolo @starstrucktyrantinfluencer @vanillsstuff @sturnlsstuff @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @mattsbrat @mattsfavoritestar @dominicfikeenthusiast @certified-sturniolo @mattsside @sofiaaguilaxx @idrk2292 @dylansfavwife @sturnl0ve @sturnioloangelxoxo @sofia-is-a-sturniolo-triplet-fan @milasturniolo @mattsdillion @birkinbratsworld @aria003 @poppingmypussy4chris @annsx03 @ouchywow @pasteldreams @sweetshuga @pip4444chris @chriss-slut @yourebeautifulqueen @watercolorskyy @courta13 @craftycrafter26 @meg4-matt44 @ariestrxsh

[retiredteabag]

The eyes of the beholder

my masterlist

Sukuna genuinely does not understand the concept of physical insecurity.

He has pride unrivaled by any, his assurity never wavers, and despite his unique appearance, he does not consider himself strange.

Additionally, Sukuna has a hard time putting himself in the shoes of others. He deems himself perfect. You are his favored one, so he attributes the same to you.

He sees you as the height of beauty and never entertains a different notion. It would never come to his mind.

What? You think he's wrong when he says your beauty is unparalleled? You think him a liar? You don't trust his judgment? Truly, he does not comprehend insecurity.

"Not everything is about you, Kuna." You spin around in one of the estate's halls of mirrors and run you hands over the subtle stretch marks that appear on your hips.

You had been trying on formal attire for one of the estate's events, something both you and Sukuna hated. He could likely feel any unhappy emotion that permeated your space.

You never enjoyed having to critique whether or not something was flattering on your body and Sukuna was no help as he wouldn’t allowed criticism of you.

He thought it was a waste of time because to him, it all looked appealing.

That, and you both hated events. Balls, Galas, Auctions, the whole gambit. None of it suited your interests, and The King thought them a disturbance.

You finally pulled on your original clothing, ruffling it this way and that so it would fall just right, and stepped out from behind the hall's flowing curtains.

"You wound me when you say things like that." Sukuna had his head leaned back against the wall with his eyes closed.

"I'll let everyone know just how well I can wound their King." You scoff and roll you eyes.

"Heavens, don’t they know?” He sits up. All four of his red eyes glower at you as if you've cast some kind of spell his way. "Why does this upset you so? Haven't I said that flaws hold no residence within you?"

Your lips are pulled into a frown. You know he couldn’t possibly understand, at first, it felt somewhat invalidating. His mindset was so far from yours, of course he would think it skewed.

"Don't you just think that because I have unfortunately found favor with you?" You begin to fold the options that the seamstresses had brought you as he huffs at your choice of words. "You were sculpted perfectly as you know, you and I are different."

He grumbles, having heard your complaints before. But you continue before he can take issue with it.

"My skin has these markings, and my thighs touch when I stand, my frame is far from ideal-" You turn to him now, "-and I cannot always love how things fit me as you do."

It's not that you're actually upset, just somewhat flummoxed by The King of Curses mindset.

Sukuna had sat up as you spoke, and now his posture bends toward you. He wears the silliest face you have ever possibly seen him produce and it almost makes you laugh.

His mouth is slightly open, lip arched, his eyes are wide but his brows are pulled together at your words and you could guess that he has never been so confused.

"What?" You almost giggle.

"By God, you care entirely too much."

You have to take a deep breath before he continues, "Your skin? What is it wrong with your skin? I quite like your skin. Would you rather I find you a furry pelt you can wear?"

It's moments like these that remind you of how silly this man is. You shake your head, but he continues, slowly, bewildered.

"Your... thighs touch? I see not how that could be an issue. Do not my thighs touch as well? How is it you are able to invent these things to be bothered by?"

Although you had been frustrated a moment before, you know he has a point. He had lived through many more centuries, it very well might have seemed strange to worry over such things.

Sukuna stands, coming closer without pause, and tugs on the draping of your garb. "What formula are you using to decide what looks good and what does not?" His hands find your body and squeeze over you in an almost ticklish way.

It was not sexual, it was not uncomfortable either. He was simply feeling you. He loved your being, whatever shell you presented in. Eventually, his palm came up and engulfed the top of your head, his fingers dangled by your eyes. "Hmmm, I cannot understand. Anything would be flattering if it was put on you."

A part of you wanted to murmur, "That's just what you're saying." But you knew Sukuna, and you knew he meant it. The concept that you might hold his same mindset was an impossibility at that moment in the hall of mirrors.

But you had many other moments to share with your King and believe me when I say, that man could be convincing.

[majestyeverlasting]

Hello there! :) If I may, I’d like to request a Joel miller x reader ⇩

something where the reader is experiencing a migraine (headache + nausea and all that) and Joel tries calling her all day while he’s out and when he gets home he finds her asleep in pitch black room and realises what’s wrong, but knows exactly how to comfort his girl? 🥰

*im sorryyy if that’s long or weirdly specific it’s just something I’ve been struggling with lately and I need some comfort about it don’t mind me😻)*

𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 | 𝐣𝐨𝐞𝐥 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫

Pairing Joel Miller x Female Reader 

Summary Joel comes home to find that you’re suffering from a migraine in bed. Luckily, he’s helped you through this once or twice. [no outbreak, hurt/comfort, fluff, 1.8k]. 

A/N Thanks for this request! I promise it's not weird at all. In my head, this is Joel and reader from here with you. 

⠂⠁⠈⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂

Joel (8:57 AM) Sorry I missed you this morning, didn’t wanna wake you. Have a good day. -J

Joel (11:02 AM) Checking in. You up and at em yet? 

Joel (2:34 PM) Everything okay? Call you in a bit. -J

Still nothing from you. Joel locks his phone and rests his forearms on his legs. 

Today is the warmest day all week. Getting to ditch the extra layer is nice. Tommy shields his eyes from the sun as he exits a prim house with a spotless driveway and plush lawn. Beside it is another perfect lot, and another, and another, arranged around the whole cul-de-sac. He and Joel had been contracted to do a kitchen upgrade for the new homeowners and were in the process of working through the finishing touches.

From his seated position on the curb, Joel looks over his shoulder as footsteps approach. Tommy draws his leg back like he plans to kick him, and snickers when he leans out the way.

“Watch yourself,” Joel warns.

“Or what?” A smirk pulls at Tommy’s lips. “I’ll lay your old ass out on this asphalt.”

Joel shakes his head as Tommy sits down beside him with a grunt. A comfortable silence settles between them, and Joel fights the urge to check his phone even though it hasn’t buzzed. Tommy notices the slight tension in his shoulders but chalks it up to wanting to be done for the day. After the owners did their final walkthrough tomorrow, a three-day weekend awaited.

A cool breeze rolls through as Tommy stretches his legs out in front of himself, his jeans peppered with dust and dried specks of white paint. When he takes a swig from the bottle he walked outside with, Joel’s squints at the label, his interest piqued.

“Kombucha?” he says with furrowed brows.

Tommy nods as he swallows. “Sarah put me on,” he says after wiping his mouth. “Helps with your gut. Something like that.”

“A few crunches should do the trick,” Joel mutters.

Tommy snorts and elbows him. “Right back at you, smartass.” Joel huffs a breath at that. “Hey, what do you think about going fishing this weekend—Saturday maybe?”

When his brother doesn’t respond, he knocks his knee against his. “Anybody home?”

Joel straightens up in hopes of making his anxiety less evident. Except, he wears it like a second skin. To deny it would be to deny himself.

“What time you think we’ll be done today?” The break they carved out just started, but it’s his roundabout way of suggesting they get back to work. There wasn’t too much left to do if they locked in—some additional caulking, sealing, and polishing.

Tommy shakes his head as he calculates. “Three-thirty, four?” Then he narrows his eyes at Joel. “You’ve been sitting funny since I walked out here…”

Joel’s chest puffs with a sigh as he unlocks his phone. The text thread between the two of you is already pulled up, and all three of his messages to you are unanswered. Tommy leans closer to read them and bites his lower lip as the gears start turning in his head.

He decides to draw a little levity in, “You piss her off?” There’s a teasing undertone to his question.

“Don't think so,” Joel says as he shifts. “Gonna give her a call.”

Tommy nods and claps him on the back. “We can get back to work after.”

He heads back inside to give his brother some privacy.

When you don’t answer the phone, Joel leaves a message anyway.

“Hey, sweetheart. Haven’t been able to get through to you, but I’ll be home soon, okay? Four-thirty at the latest…” he pauses to bite his lower lip. “Call me if you get this before I’m there. Love you.”

•••

It’s quiet when he arrives home. Virtually undisturbed. The pillows on the couch are positioned in the exact way they’d been left after last night’s impromptu movie night. The TV remote is in the same place on the coffee table as well. There’s nothing that suggests you’ve been stirring around at all. He walks deeper into the house to find that the kitchen and sunroom are empty too. The late afternoon sun pools in through the window.

When he makes it back around to the staircase, he jogs to the top. The wood creaks beneath his steps.

“Sweetheart?” he calls out. “I’m home. You up here?”

His voice carries to where you’re tucked in bed, but you can’t bring yourself to answer back. Not loud enough for him to hear you, at least. The ache that once pulsed throughout your head has steadied to the point where you don’t want to risk overexerting yourself and tumbling back to square one. Joel would find you anyway. He always did. And he never viewed you or your pain as a burden. He knew how to cradle both, how to ease them without second thought.

Light pours into the bedroom as the door opens slowly. You can make out the outline of his tall, broad frame, and hear the soft sound of his socks against the hardwood as he pads to you in the dark. Thanks to the blackout curtains, there’s hardly any light entering in. Only the smallest slivers.

After his eyes adjust, he can begin to make out the shapes around the room. The red glow of the alarm clock allows him to see your face, your slow-blinking eyes.

Without uttering a word, he gently presses the back of his hand to your forehead, then moves it down to rest against your warm cheek. You press into his touch just slightly, and it tugs something awful at his chest. Makes him wish he could bear your pain.

“Migraine,” you murmur.

An apologetic hum vibrates through his chest. “You been like this all day?” he asks softly.

“Got bad at noon.”

He sighs. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

You weakly reach out for his hand and give it a gentle squeeze. It’s much larger than yours, rugged and calloused, but you’d hold on forever if you could. If he’d let you. With his free hand, he picks up the tumbler bottle on the nightstand to find that it’s light.

“I’m gonna go get you some more water. It’s probably time for some more Advil too.”

The weight of his attentiveness makes you nod like you’re surrendering. And maybe you are giving something up—the burden of the day. Of having to do everything on your own. His fingers tighten around yours in a final squeeze before he lets go.

You shouldn’t miss him in the short time that he’s gone, but you do. It’s the same tug that lingered in your chest all day, but is kinder now that he’s home. Not miles away out of reach. When he comes back, it’s with more than he initially set out for, all of it somehow balanced in his hold. He quietly sets it all on the nightstand.

“You can turn the little lamp on,” you murmur. There was a battery-powered ambient lamp alongside the larger one.

“I’m aces, honey,” he assures. “You wanna sit up for a second, I got your medicine right here.”

You prop yourself up on your forearm and gratefully take it from him. He holds your tumbler to your lips so you can reach the straw to wash it down.

“There ya go,” he praises as you settle back down. “Got a cold pack and some grapes too. Get a little something on your stomach before I get dinner worked out later…” He talks, almost absentmindedly, as he continues to get you situated. But he knows exactly what he’s doing. It’s a routine he’s coaxed you through more times than he’d like.

A long hum rises in your throat as he positions the cold pack on the back of your neck. A stark but pleasant chill ripples through your overheated body like slow melting ice. All you can muster is another grateful hum as he sets the small bowl of grapes on the mattress beside you. There’s a crisp, sweet pop as you usher one into your mouth.

“Gonna go grab a quick shower.”

“Okay.”

“Don’t go anywhere,” he adds lightly.

A small smile pulls at your lips.

•••

An hour. That’s how much later you wake up in his arms with his lips at your shoulder, his strong arm draped around your waist to keep you close. There’d hardly been any words exchanged between you in the moments before then, only confirmations of each other’s comfort and whispered I love you’s. You’d dozed off a couple of times since noon, but nothing comparable to the steady rest that came along with his proximity.

He doesn't realize you’re awake until you shift and reach toward the nightstand. The light of the ambient lamp soon illuminates the room, joined by the glow of your phone a moment later. Joel takes it as a sign you’re feeling better than he found you, and that’s more than enough. The gentle, repetitive tap of your thumb against the screen lets him know you’re going through old notifications.

His hand finds your hip beneath the sheets, where he draws slow, small circles with his thumb. It isn’t long before you lock the device and set it back down.

The sheets rustle as you turn around to face him. Sleep’s haze lingers between you as you trail your fingertips along his jaw in a featherlight brush. The scratch of his beard feels nice, and you continue the motion until you’re unable to stop the fond chuckle that shakes your chest. It’s no more than a quick breath, but Joel smiles shyly anyway.

“What?” he asks, voice a little gruff.

“J,” you murmur with a teasing lilt. “You don’t need to sign your texts. I know already it’s you.” You poke an affectionate finger into his stomach.

His smile grows as he offers a helpless shrug, warmth in his dark eyes. It’s impossible to fight the urge to scoot closer and press the briefest, softest kiss to his lips. He makes a small sound in the back of his throat.

“Tommy had me thinking I might’ve done something to upset you,” he says as he brushes a knuckle across your cheek.

“I’d never ignore you like that.”

Joel knows that, but says, “Except for that one time.”

You frown in confusion, but your mouth falls open in amusement when you realize what he means. “That was a million years ago, and it lasted five minutes—not even that.”

Joel chuckles, and when it triggers you to join him in laughing, you realize that’s all he sought to gain by bringing it up.

“Clearly it left a mark.” He brings your hand to his lips and kisses the heel of your palm, a smile lingering on his lips as you laugh again. He studies your eyes, your nose, your lips. He loves you so much he sometimes wonders how he’s been able to manage it without bursting at the seams.

“You feelin’ a bit better?” he asks after a few quiet beats.

“Much,” you promise.

He kisses your palm again. This time he lets his lips linger.

-

Thank you so much for reading. Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. I promise I see them all! 

more of this couple -> here with you

JOEL MASTERLIST 

GENERAL MASTERLIST   

[k-hippie]

k-707 2025 BOLD UPDATE INSTRUCTIONS

Hello everyone :)

The new k-707 is going to be released in the coming days :D but as it is a kind of new experience, we have some kinda instructions in order to get everything working fine.

Step right up, folks, for the grand unveiling of our biggest project yet! The K-707 isn’t just a mod—it’s a green revolution. Taking on almost every flower, patch of grass, bush, and tree makes this even more massive than the K-505. And trust us, our brains are already feeling the strain! :D

But before instructions, let me tell you the k-707 story ;)

We really hope you'll enjoy it. We worked hard on it with 5 rules :

Replace EVERY tree of the game

NO overrides with crazy high polygons amount

Follow as much as possible the Maxis directions ( trees style )

Decrease amount of polygons where it is possible

No trees defying gravity and laws of physics

It took long for few reasons ...

At first, we always knew the first version was a vast experiment. When ea made its direct x11 update, it was time to make a bold update ... but we didn't want simply remove the non-strictly-dds-x2 images and replace them ... we wanted more. We always wanted more, even we are not kinda ea gurus :D ( hey EA ! don't you want hire some true creators with a long term vision of your game ? ) <- poll : would you like k-hippie as maxis creators or not ? :D

Joke apart, it was difficult. Almost 1 year long, we searched and searched solutions to get rid of all problems we met when replacing foliage on a debug tree, or modifying anything on a debug tree ( for info : we are not blender gurus nor sims 4 core users )

All we knew was few lines :

When cloning a tree, you cannot lose the any of the vert color data. I suspect whatever tool(s) you are using to do the cloning is losing this data, since this setup is somewhat unique to trees.

The vertex color layout for trees is as follows. Green and Blue are ignored for channels 1…4 : Color 0 RGB Surface color tint Color 1 R Rustle direction X Color 2 R Rustle direction Y Color 3 R Rustle direction Z Color 4 R Rustle phase ( game generates two wind scales that change over time, this term interpolates between the two )

The pipeline keeps the rustle information in a vertex color format for what the game engine will load, which means it’s in the range 0 and 1. The shader remaps this into a 0.5 to -0.5 range before scaling it and applying the offset to the leaves. Note that these directions are clamped but not normalized ( they’re allowed to be different lengths ) The WindMagnitude material parameter acts as a scaling factor.

So, we started with this information, begging in vain for some help, both inside the Sims community and outside ... but nobody helped us. And frankly, it interested no-one except us and our beloved followers :)

We found multitude of tutorials ( funny how many they are as soon as it is clothes related ) but nothing related to our specific target. We paused our research many times, made direct x11 updates for our other k-mods and so on. Until ... zaceitorius in July 13rd 2024

Who is zaceitorius ? We do not know. A simple member of sims4studio with 6 posts who gave us a simple bright clue which seems obvious after all, but yet very very precious indeed !

And here we are today. 300 trees and numerous plants later ... <- another reason why it took a long time :D

We made a lot of vertex experiments, we lost data colors, remade again and again some other experiments and well, we are still experiment, remake small details which seem important to us and so on ... And for now, it works :D And now you are warned : the k-707 is far from perfect.

And now, the instructions :)

The k-707 covers both trees & plants, both debug and lot trees & plants

What's new ? No more than usual. We tracked all the non-strictly-dds-x2 images, reshaped some trees ( such as the multitude of oaks ), added some flowers ( where we removed them in 2021 ) but kept many foliage we already did. We tried to simplify many details but added some others and replaced some plants.

How many stuff it represents ? We do not know. Many indeed. We stopped the count :D

Because of its size ( and our love for our sanity ), THE RELEASE WILL ROLL OUT IN PARTS ( not slowly but piece by piece ). If we waited until it was all perfect, you’d be seeing it around ( maybe ) September 2025 ... Let’s not tempt fate—or burnout! :D

The K-707 is neatly organized for your convenience :

Each DLC gets 2 folders : one for plants, one for trees.

The base game gets 4 folders ( a bit different since most of the greenery is drawn from there ) divided into lots and debug folders.

Expansions which have very few greenies ( City, Get to Work, University ) get the same folder named : k-hippie-k707-multi-greeny-2025

IMPORTANT :

Leave them in each of their folders ( or create your owns based on a similar methodology )

If you merge files : we can’t help troubleshoot if it doesn’t work anymore, so be smart ;)

You’re free to do as you like, but we strongly recommend keeping this tidy folder setup. If you need to troubleshoot down the line, it’ll save you a major headache.

And for the mavericks out there who love merging files—go for it, but know this : we won’t be able to help if things go haywire.

Now, we could wax poetic about how stunning the K-707 is, how every leaf, petal, and blade of grass is crisper, richer, and beautifully integrated into your worlds—but hey, we'll do it later, inside the release post :D

We could do more, more realistic trees and so on but we do not want integrate crazy high poly models. We do not want an unplayable game isn't it ? ;)

The k-707 is not yet finished. We got some more work to do on it, shape the last details, and some re-checks.

But here is what is new compare to the previous version : we kinda cracked ( a bit only ) the code. Trees swinging in the wind like it’s a dancing contest ? No more. Trees defying gravity and laws of physics by groveling into the ground ? No more. Just remember we do not have the hands upon the worlds construction, so, when trees are not into the ground, well, call your reseller aka EA itself ...

[b3ach-bunn7]

ho is u shakespeare? that shinsou fic was the SHIT

i BEG BEG BEG FOR shinsou nsfw, you write him so good PLEASE

like headcanons, oneshots, full fics ANYTHING PLEASE I LOVE YOU MWUAH MWUAH MWAUH

NONSENSE PT 3

You can’t stop thinking of Shinsou after your first date.

NSFW, Phone sex, guys this is pure FILFFFTH tw..

—————————————————————————

You end up calling Shinsou only an hour later. It’s actually him who calls you first, but you won’t deny the fact that you pick up almost instantly.  

“Hey.” 

His voice sounds a little breathless, and considering the fact he just got home, you assume he’s only just walked through the door, but it immediately makes you smile. You hear some rustling on the other end, a door open and close, and you assume he’s in his bedroom. You’ve set yourself up on your own bed, a Kraft Mac and cheese in your favourite mug and a movie on your laptop.

“So. It’s been a while. How have you been?” You ask and his laugh crackles in the mic.

His laugh that reminds you of his smile, which reminds you of his lips and the way they’d kissed you only minutes before. Your hands drift to where he had grabbed your face and you sit up, trying to calm yourself down.

If you’re being entirely honest with yourself, you feel horny.

You have a rule for yourself. Despite your joke earlier, you have a deal with yourself to never fuck on the first date. You never really know someone properly after one, and especially with university guys, you’d rather get to know them better first. It’s also another little test, to see if they have that perfect mix of disappointment and respect at your denial.

Shinsou hadn’t even suggested at anything crazy, but that kiss had left your stomach coiling with need, and you found that you haven’t stopped thinking about him since. About getting him in your room and your bed. Your roommate wasn’t even home. It would’ve been perfect. 

But you have principles, and even cute guys like Shinsou can’t change them.

“I’m good. I’m home, now. Dropped Eri home. She said she misses you.”

You smile, tucking yourself further under your blankets. “I miss her. And so does Elizabeth.”

You can almost hear Shinsou shaking his head. “Where did she even get a name like that?”

“God knows. Thanks for winning her for me though.”

Shinsou sighs, and you hear noise on the other line. “Well. It was nothing difficult, you know.”

You hum. “It was a great date, though. Plus one and all.”

“Really?”

“Really. I have a rule for myself, and you almost made me break it.”

Fuck. You were not supposed to say that.

“Rule?”

“Anyway! I’m watching a movie. What are you doing?”

“No, no.” Shinsou interrupts. “What rule?”

“No rules. What rules? It’s nothing.” You stammer. 

Shinsou laughs. “Come on, don’t get all shy on me now. What rule?”

You huff. It’ll be fine. It’s not like he’s going to be weirded out or anything. You’re sure that kiss meant just as much as it did to him with how far his tongue was in your mouth.

“I. Well. I sorta have this rule, that I won’t ever sleep with guy on the first date, but I almost broke it. For you.” You laugh nervously.

You hands cover your face. He’s on speaker now, and the phone is out of sight to your side like it’ll make you feel any less ashamed of the words that just came out of your mouth.

“Come over then. Fuck your rules.”

His voice has dropped, gravelly and mixed with someone else you can’t quite place, and you think you could die listening to it.

Your face flushes at his words. “Shinsou! I-I can’t.”

“You can’t or you won’t?”

You feel another pang of need. But you won’t. You tell him so and he groans, and you imagine him making that noise in a different setting and you screw your eyes shut.

“I’m always one for a loophole, sweetheart. I have an idea. If you’re interested.”

You wonder if he can feel your arousal from the other line, the way you almost throw your laptop and snacks off your bed. You have some idea what he could want, and you’re already preparing yourself to say yes, untangling your legs from beneath your covers to sit up in your bed.

“I’m interested.”

He hums. There’s a beat of silence, like he’s considering his next words.

“Touch yourself.” His voice is softer now, but it’s laced with something dangerous. “For me.”

“For you?” You still try and find a way to tease him back, but you’re laying back as you speak, already preparing yourself to obey.

“Well, it can be for you too, sweetheart.” He laughs. “Well?”

“Okay.”

You delve into the very back of your bedside table, the dildo you’d bought on an especially lonely night in your hand. Your hoodie, no, Shinsou’s hoodie, is off in a second, and you’re just wearing an old T-shirt and underwear. Shinsou hears the commotion, and he suddenly speaks up.

“No rushing, okay? You’re gonna do what I tell you. All the stuff I would’ve done if I’d have come over tonight.”

Your head falls back against the pillow, and heat pools between your legs. You think you whimper slightly, and you drop the toy on the sheets next to you.

“Okay. Fine.”

“Good girl.”

Oh fuck. You make a noise at the praise, and you can hear the smirk on his voice when he speaks once more. “I’ll remember that for later.”

You sigh. “So? What would you have done if you were coming over tonight?” 

Shinsou thinks for a moment. “Would’ve walked you to mine. Let you in and very respectfully shown you to my couch.”

His words are tame enough, but the anticipation and the thought behind them has you wondering how long it would take for you to get to his place. One of your hands trail mindlessly up and down your stomach as you turn up the volume of your phone to the max.

“I’d have gotten you a drink. Sat you down on the couch just far enough that you’d want to move closer. Would you have moved closer?”

“Yes. I would’ve.”

He hums and you hear a zipper, a rustle of fabric. “That’s good. I’d have moved closer, too. Brushed a hair out of your face. Any excuse to touch you, that gorgeous face.”

He’s not even here, and you’re this worked up. He’s barely even said anything, nothing that suggestive, but you think you’re the wettest you’ve ever been in your entire life. 

“I think- I’d have leaned in. Tried to kiss you.” You whisper.

“Yeah? Well, I would've kissed you back.” He sounds equal parts cocky and flattered, and it makes you want him that much more. You don’t love the noise that you make at that, but you do love the chuckle he makes in response.

“I wanted to kiss you all night. I think if we were anywhere else I’d have you bent over the closest surface. I don’t think I’d have been able to stop if I had gotten just one taste.”

Your hands itch towards your toy, and he tuts, ever perceptive. “Not yet.”

“Fuck, Shinsou.”

“Come on. Don’t you want to be good for me?”

You can hear the stupid smirk on his face, and the strangled noise you make is so out of character of you it makes you mad, along with the satisfied sound that he makes, but you’re frankly too turned on to really care right now.

“That’s what I thought. You’d have been good for me at mine too, right? Let me take that shirt off?”

“Yes. Yes.” And in turn you fumble behind you and unclip your bra, and your chest is heaving, aching, begging to be touched.

“Would you let me play with those gorgeous tits?”

“You didn’t even see them.” You try go for teasing but you sound so breathless it’s more degrading to you than anything else.

“Oh, I can imagine. Touch them. Pretend it’s me.”

Finally. Your hands immediately come up, rough and impatient-

“Slowly. Softly, at first. I’d take my time with you.” You groan but you comply, hands almost feather light as you ghost over your nipples.

“How’s that feel?”

“Good. S’good.” You whine. “It’s not enough.”

“Would you get frustrated? Show me how rough you want it?”

You nod even though he can’t see you. “Yes.”

And you don’t wait for the command before you’re pinching roughly, a groan leaving your lips as your hips lift off the bed and the stimulation goes straight to the heat building between your legs.

“That’s it. So good for me.” He coaxes you and another moan leaves your throat. “And what if I slipped those jeans off? Let my hands slide up those beautiful legs?”

“I-I’d let you. Please.”

“Would you be wet?”

“Yes, fuck I’m so wet. Need you, Shinsou.”

“Hitoshi. Call me Hitoshi.”

You do and he curses, and there’s more movement on his end. You wonder what he looks like right now, and you have half a mind to send him your address right now.

“That’s good. I’d give you what you need. You’d need it so badly, wouldn’t you, sweetheart?” And you love that his words sound that bit strained, that he’s not as unaffected as you think he’s trying to seem.

“Please, please, Hitoshi.” You whine, and you’re not exactly sure what it is you’re begging for but you know he can give it to you.

“Tell me how wet you are. Just- One finger only.” 

You could put all five in and he’d have no way of knowing. But there’s something so domineering about his voice, and you find yourself obeying instantly. You push past your underwear, shoving them to the side to slip your pointer finger between your folds. And you’re soaked, considering how little has actually happened.

“God, I’m so wet.” You sigh, finger trailing from your slit all the way up to your clit. “So messy.”

And Shinsou groans, a curse slipping past his lips, and the way he sounds just as worked up as you are makes you keen.

“Please. I need to touch myself, Hitoshi.”

“One finger. Put it in and tell me how it feels.” His voice drips with authority and something so commanding you don’t hesitate to listen.

And it barely feels like anything, slipping inside you with no issue, no hesitation and you whine. “Not enough.”

And you remember his hands, remember staring at them while he was manoeuvring the claw machine and you shake your head. “Can I use two? Want it to feel like you, like yours.” You mumble.

“Jesus fuck.” He grunts, and you hear the sound of skin of flesh and you feel a small sense of triumph.

“You were looking at my hands, baby? Go on, fuck yourself with those fingers just like I would. Fuck, would’ve made you cum on my lap before you even thought about getting to touch me. Bet you look so good when you cum. Wish I was there to see it.”

His words are a rambled mess and it only spurs you on. Your fingers thrust in as much of a steady rhythm as you can manage, and you use your thumb to rub messily at your clit, hips bucking off the bed. You don’t think you’ve cum from just your hands in forever, but the voice groaning in your ears sounds so needy, full of so much want and it’s all for you. Your peak gets closer and you moan, and he just keeps talking you through it.

“I want to hear it, okay? You’re gonna come all over those fingers for me and I want to hear it. Tell me when you’re close.” He says.

“So close, Hitoshi, fuck.” You cry.

“Come for me.”

And you do, clenching hard around your fingers, thighs twitching as you rub yourself through it, your moans hot and heavy as they slip out your mouth. You are very glad your roommate is not home, because you can be as loud as you want, as loud as Shinsou wants.

“Shit. You sound so good when you come, fuck-“ He lets out something that sounds feral, and in the haze of your orgasm you’re not afraid to ask.

“Did you-“

“No. I haven’t even fucked you yet.” He lets out a deep breath, steeling himself, and as if you didn’t just orgasm, there’s already arousal crawling against your skin once more.

“I bet you’d be so good after you’d just come. So soft and pliant, let me take you to my room. Is that right?”

“Yes. Yes, I’d let you. Want you to fuck me, Hitoshi.” Your first orgasm only makes your want grow, anticipating what’s next.

“Aw, you should’ve come back to mine.” He teases, voice soft with something dangerous hidden beneath it. “Hope you have something you can use. I can promise it won’t be as good as the real thing, though.” 

He sounds almost jealous under all the self-assuredness, and your hands immediately fumble for your toy.

“Yeah. I have it.” 

“Good.” You’re already spreading your legs. “But not yet.”

You whine. “But-“

“You really think I’m doing anything before I taste that sweet cunt of yours?”

You stutter, pushing yourself up the sheets. “You- You’d do that?”

Shinsou pauses for a moment. “Nobody ever eaten you out before, baby?”

You shudder at his words. “No- Well yes, but they never really wanted to.”

And when he groans, it’s frustrated this time. “Nobody’s ever made you come on their tongue? Felt those soft thighs clench around their head because of how good they’re making you feel?”

He sounds so matter of fact, like it’s the worst thing in the world, and you don’t think you’ve ever felt so wanted in your life.

“Hitoshi- I- I don’t-“

“I’ll give it to you, baby. You deserve it, you deserve to come on my tongue. Go on, touch yourself again.” His encouragement has you immediately complying, and he doesn’t stop.

“Think about it. About me. I’d spread you out on my sheets, make you see stars by the time I’m done with you. Gotta make sure you can take me.”

And the promise of that, of him pushes you closer to the edge. You moan his name over and over like a prayer as he talks you through it, the praise making you melt against your sheets. You’re hot and sweaty and he hums.

“Last one. You’re doing so well. Grab your toy.”

You do, the soft silicone cold in your hand. “It’s not very big.” You laugh slightly, and you can hear his smile.

“I guess we’ll just have to use our imaginations then.”

And you can’t help but grin, because even in a moment like this he’s joking to ease your nerves.

“Go on. Fuck yourself.”

His words are so bold, so vulgar but you don’t care, because you slide the toy inside you and you feel full instantly, the stretch just there but beautifully painful. You groan, relief and arousal all mixed in one. You twitch, still sensitive after your orgasm. 

“Feels so good.” You whimper. Your thrusts are slow and long, just like you imagine he’d do it.

“It’ll feel even better when I’m inside you.” And it’s now you can hear the slick sound of flesh on flesh moving in tandem with you, and you wonder how soaked you must sound for him to be able to keep in time with you.

You know it’s nothing like what he’d actuallly feel like, but you’re so pent up. You’ve been aching for this for god knows how long now that it feels almost perfect, and you buck you hips up for a better angle, to reach deeper. The sound of his shaky breaths in your ear only spur you on. You sound filthy. Whimpers and whines and broken moans falling from you lips as you get faster.

“I can hear you, you know. How wet you are.” He sounds as close as he has all night, voice strained as he practically growls down your ears.

“M’close, Hitoshi. Wanna come with you, please.”

“Fuck, yes, yes. Come for me then, baby, fuck-“

And it’s a messy mix of moans and unintelligible noises as you both climax, and you twitch and squirm and you wonder what he looks like in the throes of his pleasure. If he looks as desperate and finished as you do. Your chest heaves as you come down from your high, and he curses once more, guttural and spent. You both pant, catching your breath once more.

“Fucking hell. That- Did you-“

“I did.” You say.

And the shyness comes in as your high starts to fade. You feel dirty but in a good way. You think that’s the kinkiest thing you’ve ever done, but you’re glad it was with Shinsou of all people.

“So,” and you’re smiling before he can even finish his sentence. “Can I take you out on Friday?”

You hum. “Sounds like you’re just trying to get into my pants, Hitoshi.”

And he laughs, loud and boyish and you grin. 

“Well. I am. The rule doesn’t count after two dates right?”

“Correct.”

“Perfect. But.” And he sounds almost shy when he speaks again, like he wasn’t just speaking the most raunchy words you’d ever heard in your life moments ago.

“I like you. A lot. Really like you.”

“Good. I really like you a lot, too.” 

And you’re body aches and your face hurts from smiling too much, but you don’t care. You would amend your first date rule after tonight, but you don’t think you’ll be going on anymore first dates after this.

—————————————————————————

guys this is pure SMUTTTTT LIKE omg don’t tell me Shinsou isn’t a freaky boy we all know he is… I acc couldn’t stop thinking of him after I wrote pt2 and when I got thsi ask I knew what had to be done..

I love u all and I hope u love this as much as I did! I literlaly wrote this during my lecture at uni in public so.. do with that information what u will

LOVE U GUYS

[ducklingpia]

Alright so can we talk about the Rafayel to Caleb girlie - pipeline because I’m seeing something interesting

I feel like a lot of Rafayel girlies are so into Caleb right now. Like I saw a lot of us posting about Gege and discussing about his storyline more than other girlies does.

What is with us here? 😂

I saw the post talking about Caleb is for the only-child/ or oldest child who grow up ALONE and I was like, hold on a minute. I think I cracked the code

1. We do have a type. A complex, have a tragic back story but also very passionate man. The type to not be very easy to love. But will be the most loyal& devoted to you through thick and thin

2. From howl in howl's moving castle to Prince Zuko to Gojo Satoru to Oikawa to Rafayel to Caleb- something like that

3. Plus if you are an ARMY, who's your bias in BTS and why it is Min Yoongi??

4. You are not scared of a complicated (fictional) man, you’re not scared to put in the effort for them, to understand and get to know who they are (bc maybe nobody has ever put an effort to really understand you before)

5. And you’re the type to not scared of their ‘flaws’ or ‘imperfections’ (bc you also have some parts of you that is not perfect and you know they would accept them as what it is)

6. you're attracted to someone who doesn’t care if you make mistakes or not be a perfect human being all the time (because you have to be like that all your life)

7. We need a man who is a little bit intense. For some people they’re too overbearing, but for you it's just right. Someone who’s not scared to be ‘too much’ for you in terms of expressing their love (bc that’s what you fear you are so you learn to keep most of your emotions to yourself- leaning more on avoidant side)

8. The kinda guy who would hide their emotional side behind those playful gazes (bc sometimes you did that too)

9. THE BANTER, they have to be a bit of playfulness from them and be able to joke about serious stuffs with you

10. You need someone to heal your inner child. A part from you that never got taken care of

Now with the only child who grew up ALONE topic

As an only child, I grow up in a household where every woman in my life are living the life of “Strong, independent, girlboss” woman to the point of burning themselves on the ground. I see the cycle repeating for several generations until my own.

I grow up mostly alone, having to take care of myself in every aspects. And I mostly did it well.

But In reality, I just can’t effort to be reckless. Because if I don’t take care of myself and keep myself in check, nobody else will.

(Nobody will save me but me)

For some people the “Yandere” side of Caleb are a red-flag but for me?

to have a man care about you and taking care of you all the time? Notices about every details in your life and makes sure you never have to lift a finger? the man who's so down bad and would burn the world down for just you alone?

That’s my wet dream, A fantasy.

unlike MC, maybe because I have to live as an independent woman my whole life. I have nothing to proved.

I just want to be loved.

I just want to be a woman

I just want to just 'be'

His doting & overprotective personality healed the little girl inside me.

Same with Rafayel, being with him always heals my inner child that I never fully experience as a kid.

Both of them are so 🥺🤌🏻🤌🏻🤌🏻

[mothking-rising]

Got a rude response from someone I reblogged from so I'm making my own post about Ice Flight because um--

Hey Ice Flight can be pretty cool actually and be different from the rest of the flights, and this post is gonna be my two cents about it. I've seen people go around just summing it up as "cops" when just like every other Flight they can be so much more?

While first, I do agree that Ice’s aesthetic is kinda weak as is. Not a lot you can do with the same winter themes over and over with the occasional broken chain motif. I’d love to see people get creative to what they think Ice represents and how they contribute to Sornieth’s systems, cultures, and dragons as a whole.

I see ice flight specializing in stuff like collection and cataloguing as iirc before the map update it said those were things Ice Flight likes. I think where Earth is Uncovering What Was, Ice is about Preserving What Is.

They’re not entirely just cops (and even then stripping them to just the role of "cop" is a bad take). They’re also researchers of the things they fear, and of relics that need studying. In my head Ice would probably have the best museums, archives, and storage houses. What better way to preserve or trap something than in ice?

They’re a flight of Order, not so much in the sense of cops and law but a flight that bulks when there’s a sense of disorder or chaos, disorganization, and imperfection. If it’s uncategorized, unsorted, then it needs to be so in order to be learned. Where Lightning is stats and progression, Ice is pattern recognition (Tundra’s memory being linked to their smell may also reflect this) and tradition (Gaolers role system and lack of awareness about the state of Sornieth and not just the Ice Fields).

This can be extended then into interests, individual home cultures, businesses and what not. Why not start a collection of rocks? Or insects? They’d know best how to preserve it. Need something specific from the shop? Probably very easy to find if you know the qualities and traits you’re looking for. Need something preserved for safe keeping? They’ll do that, and they’ll do it awfully well. Perfectly. The systems have to be perfect. The line up has to be perfect and up-kept and looked after intensely— possibly so intense it’s evolving into passion. There can certainly be a sense of pride.

Combine with the lore that Ice is typically more hostile to outsiders due to their melting home I can see them being much more traditional and closed off. Not quite isolated, but having a more unique culture that’s a little more closed off from others and not quite as shared, trying to preserve what is left of their home and traditions.

What about urban legends and superstition? They’re guarding creatures and horrors in those prisons, surely the local resident dragons have folklore over that? What about fishing and hunting, two very popular ways to get food or supplies in climates like these? Where are the ice fisherman skins or hunters bound in furs? What about the fauna or flora found in the region we can probably make skins for that too.

Existential horror can also be fun; remember, relatively recently Gaolers learned that Sornieth has changed. Dragons of other flights have other magic not native to their elements and in addition the age old threat of Shade that seems to be making new problems for new times.

We have a flight literally dealing first hand with monsters and horrors existing already on the planet and in its own prisons and fighting against it, yet people relegate that to Arcane. 😔 Unlike Arcane, the unknown is already here in Ice.

You could easily take inspiration from the movie The Thing, too. It writes itself ngl.

Theres much to do and think about with Ice when you remember this is a region with its own people and culture and not just an aesthetic, and I’d like to see it dabbled in more. Even if it’s just headcanon, you can make it into a skin. That’s what people have done with Light with the whole angelic themes, so why not take creative spins on ice too?

Give ice some headcanon love like y’all do with Arcane and Light. Those flights aren’t about eldritch horror or angels but there’s endless skins for them about it. Give ice some of that same ole love too 💕

[opal-owl-flight]

Parallel Dreaming.

I think its so damning that both 3 and 4 relied on some digital medium to fulfill that mutual desire they have to be close to each other again.

But while 3's main barrier is their self-loathing not allowing themself to seek 4 out again, 4s barrier is the fact that 3 has changed into someone she doesnt recognize -- a person who seems to not want her around anymore.

(More under the cut abt why 4 lets herself get taken over!)

Gone were the days when they were so close that the two are frequently found standing so physically close to each other. 3 making slight brushes on 4s arm or shoulder to direct her attention somewhere. 4 holding their hand and dragging them off to someplace interesting or worth investigating.

What happened? A space sits between them now, silence impenetrable. When 3 speaks (beyond duty), its as if their words were even more reserved than before.

Did something so intense happen that they wear this melancholy on their sleeve much more evidently? Why are they clamming up like they did when they first met? Why arent they telling her anything? Are they....trying to push her away? again?

She failed something one time and its like they never believed in her strength anymore.

...is she simply not good enough for them?

So she dreams in the memverse, long and tender, of perfection. Of 3 seeing her, believing in her. Of 3 being warm with her like they were in times past.

Rougher training sessions, 3s constant criticism and disappointed looks, and this new cold distance they maintain with her these days certainly make her believe that thought.

They said they did all this to keep her safe. But it hurts, it hurts so much, shes not sure she wants to take them at their word anymore. Yet she tries to. Clings to the idea that maybe shes in the wrong, that this is for her betterment. That she deserved nothing more than this.

[noirflame]

Sisters' Lustful Encounters

Soloist Chaeyeon with ITZY Chaeryeong x Male Reader

The saturday evening sun cast a glow over her cozy apartment. She settled into her favorite armchair, relishing the quiet solitude after a chaotic week. The soft jazz playing from her phone served as a soothing backdrop to her moment of self-care.

Just then, a sudden rustling sound emanated from the neighboring unit. Curiosity piqued, Chaeyeon peered out her window to observe the commotion. A muscular man, easily over six feet tall with chiseled features, was unloading boxes and furniture from a moving truck parked outside his new home.

His broad shoulders and strong arms strained as he carried heavy items up the stairs. Despite the physical exertion, a hint of a smile played on his lips, suggesting he found the task not entirely unpleasant. As Chaeyeon watched, captivated by the sight of this handsome stranger, she felt an unfamiliar flutter in her chest. Chaeyeon quickly pulled out her phone and snapped a few photos of their neighbor's impressive physique as he lugged yet another load of belongings into his apartment. She grinned mischievously, knowing her little sister would be thrilled to receive these snapshots.

"Hey Chae, come see who our new neighbor is!" Chaeyeon typed out a message and attached the photos before hitting send.

The response from Chaeryeong was immediate: "AHHH, IS THAT A HUNK?! I WANT TO MEET HIM!" followed by several sets of heart eyes and excited emojis. 😊

Chaeyeon chuckled to herself, happy to have shared the news with her sibling.

"Hello there, neighbor!" Chaeyeon called out with a smile.

The man turned and flashed a charming grin. "Morning! Sorry for the commotion. I'm just moving a few boxes in. I'm Y/N, the new guy next door."

Y/N's deep voice resonated warmly as he replied, his blue eyes crinkling at the corners from his genuine smile. Chaeyeon found herself drawn to those striking features, her pulse quickening ever so slightly.

"No worries at all, we're used to the occasional move-in day," Chaeyeon assured him, feeling a tad flustered under his attentive gaze. "I'm Chaeyeon, welcome to the building!"

As they exchanged pleasantries, Chaeyeon couldn't help but notice the way Y/N's dark hair fell across his forehead, framing his angular face. His broad chest and strong arms were on full display beneath his fitted t-shirt, making it difficult for her to focus on their conversation.

"I'll have you know, I'm quite the organized packer," Y/N boasted with a chuckle, gesturing to the neatly stacked boxes lining the hallway. "I like to keep things tidy."

"Oh, well, if you insist on being meticulous, I could lend a hand," Chaeyeon offered playfully, stepping out of her apartment to join Y/N in the hallway. Her bright orange sundress swished around her legs as she moved closer to him.

Y/N looked pleased by her offer. "That'd be great, actually. The heavier stuff is mostly done, but there are some lighter items left."

Together, they began carrying boxes into his newly furnished living room. Chaeyeon found herself enjoying their banter and the easy camaraderie that developed between them. As they worked, she couldn't help but notice how Y/N's biceps flexed with each lift, or how his eyes sparkled when he laughed at one of her jokes.

"Hey, would you like something to drink?" Y/N asked, wiping the sweat from his brow as they took a short break. "I've got beer if you're interested." "Beer sounds perfect, thanks!" Chaeyeon replied with a warm smile, accepting the cold bottle he handed her. She twisted off the cap and took a refreshing sip, savoring the crisp taste.

As they stood there in the quiet apartment, the only sounds being the occasional clink of glass and their own soft chatter, Chaeyeon felt an undeniable pull towards Y/N. His effortless charm and rugged good looks had captured her attention, leaving her slightly breathless.

"So, what brings you to this part of town?" Chaeyeon asked, curious about her handsome neighbor's background. "Are you new to the city or just transferring jobs?"

Y/N leaned against the kitchen counter, his tall frame dwarfing the space. "Moved here for work actually. Just started at a tech firm downtown. Exciting but also a bit overwhelming – new city, new job, new place to call home all at once." He let out a low chuckle. "What about you?"

"Same here, kind of," Chaeyeon replied with a wry smile. "I'm actually transferring to a different branch within my company. It's a big change, but I'm looking forward to the new challenges and opportunities."

She took another sip of her beer, feeling the cool liquid slide down her throat. The atmosphere in Y/N's apartment was cozy and intimate, despite the boxes and half-unpacked items scattered about. Chaeyeon found herself growing more comfortable in his presence, her initial shY/Ness melting away.

"I always like meeting someone who understands the ups and downs of career changes," Y/N said, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiled at her. "It can be tough adjusting to a new routine and environment."

"I know exactly what you mean," Chaeyeon agreed, setting her empty beer bottle on the counter. "But it's exciting to start fresh, isn't it?

Just then, Chaeyeon's phone buzzed with an incoming message from her sister. "Hey sis! I'm at your doorstep!" It was Chaeryeong, having arrived earlier than expected.

Chaeyeon glanced over at Y/N, realizing they'd been chatting for quite some time. "Oh, sorry Y/N, but my sister just showed up. I should probably get going so we don't keep her waiting."

Y/N nodded understandingly, his expression turning apologetic. "Of course, no need to rush on my account. It was great meeting you, Chaeyeon."

"Likewise, nice meeting you too," Chaeyeon said with a friendly smile. She gathered her belongings and, with a nod, set off towards the door. "See you around, neighbor. And maybe we can grab that drink together soon?"

Y/N grinned, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Sounds like a plan. Take care, Chaeyeon."

Inviting Y/N to join them for dinner is a thoughtful gesture that allows her to spend more time with him in a relaxed setting, potentially deepening their connection.

After saying goodbye to Y/N, Chaeyeon returned to her apartment and found her sister pacing impatiently in the living room, clutching her purse. "Hey, sorry I kept you waiting! Our new neighbor moved in today, and I got caught up chatting with him."

Chaeryeong's eyes widened as she took in the details. "Ooh, tell me everything! What's he like?"

Chaeyeon filled her in on the encounter, recounting Y/N's charming smile, impressive physique, and their easy banter. As she spoke, an idea began to form. "Actually, why don't we invite him over for dinner tonight? We could make it casual, just the three of us. That way, we can all get to know each other better in a comfortable setting."

As the evening progressed, Chaeyeon and Chaeryeong busied themselves in the kitchen, preparing a simple yet flavorful meal of stir-fried vegetables, rice, and grilled chicken. The aromas wafting from the pots and pans mingled with the hum of lively conversation, creating a cozy atmosphere.

Just as they were setting the table, there was a knock at the door. Chaeyeon smiled, recognizing Y/N's voice as he called out, "Pizza party, right?"

"Come on in!" Chaeyeon replied, opening the door to let him in. She couldn't help but notice how his hair was slightly mussed and his shirt appeared rumpled, giving him a delightfully disheveled look.

Y/N entered with a large pizza box in hand, followed by a six-pack of beer. "I hope you ladies don't mind, but I figured we could use some extra snacks and beverages. Plus, I wanted to contribute something,"

As the night wore on, the trio settled into a comfortable routine. They sat around the dining table, taking turns selecting slices of pizza and sipping on beers. Laughter and chatter flowed freely, the initial tension melting away as they grew more at ease with one another.

Chaeyeon found herself drawn to Y/N's easygoing nature and quick wit, while Chaeryeong seemed fascinated by his stories about his new job and the city's vibrant tech scene. Meanwhile, Y/N clearly enjoyed the sisters' banter and lively personalities, often interjecting with humorous remarks or insightful observations.

As the evening progressed and the drinks continued to flow, the conversation turned more intimate. Chaeyeon, feeling emboldened by the alcohol, began to share more personal details about her life and career aspirations. In turn, Y/N opened up about his own struggles and triumphs, creating a sense of mutual understanding and respect between them.

With the atmosphere growing increasingly relaxed and playful, Chaeryeong suddenly piped up, "Hey, let's play a dare game! We can take turns coming up with fun challenges for each other."

Chaeyeon raised an eyebrow, intrigued by the idea. "Sounds like a blast, sis. But what if things get too wild?"

"Don't worry, we can set boundaries," Chaeryeong reassured her, turning to Y/N with a mischievous grin. "You in, neighbor boy?"

Y/N chuckled, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Absolutely. I've got a feeling this is going to be entertaining." He leaned back in his chair, a hint of anticipation in his voice.

And so, the dare game commenced, each participant eagerly awaiting their turn to propose a challenge or face the consequences of accepting one. The air was electric with excitement, as they embarked on this impromptu adventure together, their inhibitions gradually dissolving with each passing moment.

As the dare game reached its peak, with laughter and shouts of delight filling the room, Chaeyeon found herself facing the final challenge. With a deep breath, she accepted, trusting that her sisters would keep their word regarding the nature of the task.

"Okay, here it goes," Chaeryeon announced, her voice filled with mock seriousness. "Y/N, Chaeyeon wants you to… strip down to your underwear and strike a pose for us."

The room fell silent, all eyes fixed on Y/N as he considered the demand. After a moment of contemplation, a sly smile spread across his face. "Alright then, just for you ladies," he said, standing up and beginning to remove his clothes with deliberate slowness.

Chaeyeon watched, her heart pounding in her chest, as Y/N's shirt came off first, revealing the chiseled contours of his torso.

As Chaeyeon gazed upon Y/N's half-naked form, she felt an involuntary flutter in her chest. His exposed skin seemed to glow in the dim light of the apartment, radiating warmth and a sense of possibility. The sisters, too, were transfixed by the scene unfolding before them, their initial shock giving way to open admiration.

With his pants now unbuckled, Y/N slowly drew them down, revealing the grand finale: a pair of boxers boasting a colorful cartoon character on the front. Chaeyeon giggled at the sight, feeling a growing connection to this playful, unassuming person before her.

"My Turn" giggled Y/N

"Go ahead!" Chaeyeon asked, curiosity piqued.

"I dare you to kiss your sister," Y/N said, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "And I don't mean just a peck on the cheek."

Chaeyeon's cheeks flushed at the suggestion, but she knew better than to back down from a dare. "Alright, let's do it," she agreed, turning to her sister with a smile.

The two sisters leaned in, their lips meeting in a tender yet unexpected moment of affection.

As Chaeyeon and Chaeryeong exchanged a heartfelt kiss, Y/N couldn't help but feel a surge of emotion. He watched the scene unfold, marveling at the closeness between the sisters and the subtle shift in the atmosphere that had occurred since they began playing the dare game.

Feeling bold, Y/N cleared his throat softly. "You know, that was really sweet," he said, his voice gentle and sincere. "I think we should all try that sometime."

The sisters pulled apart, surprised by Y/N's words. Chaeryeong's eyes widened with curiosity, while Chaeyeon felt a flutter in her stomach, wondering what implications these statements might hold.

Y/N shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant despite the weighty moment they had just shared. "No big deal, right? Just thought I'd say it." He grabbed another beer, popping it open as he settled back into his chair, a new warmth radiating from his presence.

As the evening wore on, Chaeyeon and Chaeryeong found themselves lost in each other's eyes once more. But this time, the air was charged with an unmistakable tension, a promise of something more to come.

Without a word, Chaeyeon reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair from her sister's face. The gesture sparked a fire that neither could contain. Their lips met again, but this time, the kiss deepened, growing more passionate with each passing second.

Chaeryeong broke away, gasping for air, her eyes burning with desire. She turned to Y/N, her voice barely above a whisper. "Join us?"

Y/N didn't hesitate. In one swift movement, he closed the distance between them, his lips claiming Chaeryeong's in a fierce kiss that left them both breathless.

The sisters were transfixed by the scene unfolding before them, their hearts racing with anticipation. Y/N had never felt so alive or content in his life, his kiss sending shivers down Chaeyeon's spine and Chaeryeong's mouth watering with hunger. They watched in rapture, their tongues flicking, enjoying every moment together.

As the two sisters parted, their eyes locked. Again, the intensity of the moment was palpable, the pair feeling the warmth of it even after sharing their most private moments.

Time seemed to stand still as the trio remained entwined, their bodies glistening with sweat from the exertion of passion. The air around them pulsed with heat, the scent of arousal mingling with the musky aroma of skin and clothing. In this intimate setting, nothing else mattered except the three of them and the unspoken understanding that had blossomed between them.

Chaeyeon pulled back slightly, her chest heaving, and reached up to wipe a strand of sweat-dampened hair from Y/N's forehead. "You're amazing," she whispered, her voice husky with desire.

Y/N returned her smile, his own breath coming in ragged gasps. "And you two are incredible," he said, his hands roaming over the curves of Chaeyeon's body. "I never knew it could feel this good."

With a collective sigh of contentment, Chaeyeon and Chaeryeong began to push Y/N toward the bed, their movements slow and deliberate. The air was thick with anticipation as they guided him toward the mattress, their eyes locked on his, waiting for the moment when they would all come together once more.

The bed loomed before them, its surface inviting, promising a night of passion and exploration. As Y/N lay down, the sisters settled beside him, their bodies entwined, their hearts beating as one. And so, in this state of perfect union, they drifted off into the unknown, their love and laughter echoing through the silence.

With the trio ensconced in the sheets, the atmosphere in the room became charged with a sense of urgency. The sisters moved with a newfound intensity, each wanting to explore every inch of Y/N's body and experience the depth of their emotions.

Chaeyeon leaned over, her lips brushing against Y/N's in a tender yet passionate kiss. Meanwhile, her sister, Chaeryeong, moved lower, her mouth closing around Y/N's nipple. She began to gently suckle, drawing soft moans from him as she worked her way closer.

The room was filled with the sound of their labored breathing and the occasional gasp as they sought to maximize their pleasure. Each action was met with a response, the connections between them strengthening with every moment.

They were no longer three individuals, but a single unit, united by their passion and the love that had grown between them.

As the trio continued to explore each other's bodies, the boundaries they had set earlier began to blur. The sisters, feeling emboldened by their shared passion, took the lead, their actions becoming more daring with each passing moment.

Chaeryeong, feeling a surge of courage, slowly began to strip away Y/N's remaining clothing, her movements deliberate and teasing. With each piece of clothing removed, the tension in the room grew, the anticipation of what was to come heightening for all involved.

Once he was completely bare, Y/N lay before them, his breath quickening as he watched the sisters move closer, their eyes locked on his. Then, as if in unison, they approached him, their desire evident in their expressions.

Chaeyeon knelt beside him, her lips curling into a sultry smile, while her sister positioned herself above him, her breasts now close to his face.

Chaeryeong knelt down and took Y/N's member into her mouth, her tongue swirling around the tip before she began to bob her head up and down. She took him deep, her throat constricting around his length as she worked him closer to the edge of ecstasy.

At the same time, Chaeyeon guided Y/N's hand to her breast, encouraging him to squeeze and caress her soft flesh. Her nipple hardened under his touch, sending jolts of pleasure through her body.

The room filled with the sounds of their moans and gasps, a symphony of passion that seemed to echo off the walls. The air was heavy with the scent of arousal, a musky aroma that permeated every corner.

As they moved together, their bodies intertwined in a dance of lust and longing, the trio lost themselves in the moment, each seeking to bring their partners closer to the peak of pleasure.

With the trio fully disrobed, they found themselves entwined in a tangle of arms and legs, each one trembling from the intensity of their passion. The air around them crackled with energy, the atmosphere charged with a sense of inevitability.

Each of them felt a deep connection, a bond forged through their shared moments of intimacy and the emotions that had been laid bare. They no longer saw three separate individuals; instead, they saw a united front, each one an integral part of this passionate encounter.

As they moved together, their movements became more urgent, each seeking to take their partner deeper, to explore every inch of their bodies and to prolong the moment of connection for as long as possible.

The sisters, feeling a renewed sense of closeness, reached out to each other, their hands intertwining as they continued to explore Y/N's body and he returned the favor, his touch gentle yet insistent.

Chaeryeong leaned forward, her hair falling onto Y/N's chest as she whispered something in his ear. He smiled slightly at her suggestion, before moving down to kiss her neck, sending shivers coursing through her body.

Meanwhile, Chaeyeon, meanwhile, took advantage of the opportunity, guiding Y/N's hand to her breasts once more, coaxing him into a gentle caress. As he did so, she slid her tongue lower, exploring the contours of his back, searching for a place to give in, to release all the pent-up tension that had been building between them.

Their lips met again, and with it, a new wave of desire crashed over them. Y/N pulled them close, the three of them losing themselves in a dance of kisses, hands, and bodies. The connection growing stronger with every passing second, until it seemed like the very walls were about to cave under the weight of their passion.

Chaeryeong looked up at her sister, their eyes locking as they lay side by side. Then, slowly, purposefully, she began to move down, her mouth trailing over the soft skin of Chaeyeon's stomach and hips, eventually reaching the apex of her thighs.

Chaeyeon gasped as she felt her sister's lips brush against her most intimate area, a jolt of pleasure shooting through her body. She responded by mirroring her actions, her head drifting downwards until she found herself face-to-face with Chaeryeong's glistening folds.

As the sisters lost themselves in this intimate act, Y/N watched, enraptured, feeling his own arousal grow with each passing second. Unable to resist any longer, he moved behind Chaeyeon, his hands gripping her hips gently but firmly.

With a slow, deliberate movement, he entered her, feeling her tight warmth envelop him completely.

As Y/N thrust deeper into Chaeyeon, the trio reached a new level of intimacy. Chaeryeong's mouth explored every inch of Chaeyeon's folds, her tongue probing and teasing, while Chaeyeon returned the favor, her lips and tongue lavishing attention on her sister's most sensitive areas.

Y/N, unable to hold back any longer, gripped Chaeyeon's hips tighter, driving himself even deeper inside her. Each thrust was accompanied by a low, guttural groan, a testament to the intensity of his desire.

The room echoed with the sounds of their passion - the soft moans and gasps that filled the air, the creaking of the bed beneath them, and the rhythmic slapping of skin against skin as Y/N increased the pace of his movements.

Chaeryeong pulled away from her sister, her eyes burning with desire as she looked up at Y/N. Without a word, she turned onto her hands and knees, presenting her most intimate area to him.

Y/N didn't hesitate, moving forward to claim her. His entry was smooth, almost gentle, as he slid into her waiting warmth. The room fell silent for a moment, the only sound the soft moans of pleasure as they began to move together.

Chaeyeon lay beside them, watching with an intensity that bordered on awe. She felt a surge of jealousy, a pang of longing for the connection she saw between her sister and Y/N.

But as she watched them, she knew that this was not a rivalry, but a shared experience, one that would bring them closer together in the end. And so, with a newfound sense of understanding, she reached out, taking Y/N's hand in hers, drawing him closer, pulling him into their world once more.

As Y/N moved deeper into Chaeryeong, he felt a sudden urge to explore further. He withdrew from her slightly, then plunged his fingers deep into Chaeyeon's folds, searching for the source of her sweet scent.

Chaeyeon's eyes fluttered closed as she felt Y/N's touch, her breath quickening as he worked his way deeper. Her body responded instinctively, her hips moving in time with his fingers, seeking to draw him in further.

The sisters' bodies seemed to become one, their breathing harmonized, their hearts beating as one. They were no longer two individuals, but a single entity, united by their love and desire for each other.

And Y/N, feeling the connection grow stronger, knew that he had found something special here. A bond that transcended mere physical attraction, a bond that would last long after this night had passed.

As the sisters lay side by side, they lost themselves in each other's company. Their breasts jiggled against each other, their movements sensual and inviting. It was an intimate moment, a bond that couldn't be denied.

Y/N began to move, his hand slipping between their legs, feeling the coolness of the fabric and the warmth of their sweat. The scent of their sex filled the air as he worked his way deeper still, the sweetness of their passion becoming tangible.

They were inseparable now, their bodies meshing together in a symphony of pleasure, the energy flowing effortlessly between them. Y/N reached down, gently caressing Chaeyeon's breasts, while she pressed herself into his groin, her body arching against his.

The room was filled with the sounds of their moans and pants, the sweat dripping from their bodies as they moved in perfect harmony. Y/N's fingers danced across their skin, exploring every inch, leaving trails of pleasure in their wake.

Chaeryeong looked up at Y/N, her eyes pleading, her voice barely above a whisper. "Please, make me cum," she begged, her hips bucking against his hand as she sought to take him deeper.

At the same time, Chaeyeon whispered her own plea into Y/N's ear, her breath hot against his skin. "Don't stop," she urged, her fingers digging into his back as she pulled him closer, wanting more of his touch.

Y/N smiled, feeling a surge of power and desire. He leaned down to kiss each of them in turn, savoring their taste, their scent, their very essence.

The room erupted into chaos as the trio reached the peak of their passion. Chaeryeong's body arched upwards, her eyes rolling back in her head as she felt the force of her orgasm. Her sister followed suit, her body trembling with each contraction as they rode the waves of pleasure.

As they slowly descended from their highs, Y/N felt the intensity of their desire begin to wane. But he didn't hesitate, pulling both sisters close as they sought to recapture the magic of their shared moment.

With a single, sY/Nchronized motion, they lowered their heads, their lips meeting on Y/N's dick as they began to give him a joint blowjob. The air was heavy with the sound of their moans, the rhythm of their sucking and slurping echoing through the room.

Y/N's eyes fluttered closed as he felt the pressure build once more, his body responding to the dual assault on his senses.

The room seemed to come alive around them as they moved together, a vortex of sensations swirling in every direction. Y/N's hands grasped at their hair, holding them close as he thrust upwards into their mouths.

Chaeryeong and Chaeyeon worked in perfect sY/Nc, their lips and tongues dancing across his skin, drawing out each last drop of pleasure from him. The air was thick with their combined moans, a low rumble that grew louder with each passing second.

And then, in an instant, it was over. Y/N's body tensed, his release shooting forth like a river bursting its banks. He erupted onto their breasts, painting them with streams of hot, white liquid.

The sisters pulled back, their eyes shining with satisfaction as they gazed down at the proof of their shared pleasure.

Without a word, the sisters turned to each other, their eyes locked on the sticky mess covering Chaeyeon's breasts. Chaeryeong leaned forward, her tongue darting out to lick a trail of cum from the swell of her sister's left tit.

Chaeyeon smiled, reaching up to guide her sister's head, encouraging her to taste more of their combined essence. As Chaeryeong obliged, lapping at the creamy substance coating her skin, Chaeyeon mirrored her actions, collecting some of the remaining cum on her fingers and bringing it to her own mouth for a taste.

The flavor was intense, a mix of their individual tastes and the musky undertones of Y/N's arousal. They savored it, exchanging knowing glances as they basked in the afterglow of their passionate encounter.

As the sisters finished cleaning each other off, they felt a renewed surge of energy flowing through them. It was almost as if their bodies were begging for more, craving the touch and heat that only Y/N could provide.

Chaeryeong looked up at him, her eyes dark with desire. She reached out, taking his hand in hers, guiding it back towards her most intimate area. "Please," she whispered, her voice hoarse with need, "give me more."

Chaeyeon, sensing her sister's hunger, moved to kneel behind Chaeryeong, her hands roaming over her hips and thighs. She pressed close, her body molding against Chaeryeong's back, offering silent support and encouragement.

Y/N didn't hesitate. He positioned himself behind Chaeryeong, his hardness pressing against her entrance. With a single, powerful thrust, he entered her, feeling the tightness of her ass envelop him completely.

The room filled with the sound of their moans, a symphony of pleasure that echoed off the walls. Chaeryeong leaned forward, supporting herself on her hands as Y/N began to move, his hips slapping against hers with each deep, driving thrust.

Chaeyeon watched from behind, her own arousal building as she witnessed the intensity of their coupling. Her hands moved lower, finding Chaeryeong's clit, rubbing in time with Y/N's movements.

Chaeryeong cried out, her head falling back in ecstasy as she felt the dual assault on her senses. The pressure inside her was building, threatening to overwhelm her at any moment.

And then, without warning, it happened. Their bodies tensed in unison, a wave of release crashing over them all. Chaeryeong's walls clenched around Y/N, drawing out every last drop of his seed as she rode out her orgasm.

As Chaeryeong's body trembled in the aftermath of her climax, Y/N turned his attention to Chaeyeon. She met his gaze with an unspoken invitation, her eyes pleading for him to claim her. He responded by pulling her up onto the bed, positioning her on all fours before him. With a single smooth movement, he guided himself into her, filling her completely.

The connection between them was instant and intense, their bodies moving together like two halves of a whole. Chaeyeon arched her back, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she felt the fullness of him inside her. Every thrust sent waves of pleasure through her, making her muscles tense and relax in perfect rhythm with his movements.

Chaeryeong watched with growing excitement as Chaeyeon surrendered to the pleasure of Y/N's touch. Her own body still hummed with the aftershocks of her previous orgasm, but seeing her sister so lost in ecstasy reignited her own desires.

"Fuck her," Chaeryeong urged, her voice low and husky with need. "Fuck her like the dirty little slut she is." She reached out, her fingers finding Chaeyeon's clit once more, rubbing in tight circles as she urged Y/N on.

Y/N's pace quickened at Chaeryeong's words, his hips slamming against Chaeyeon's ass with renewed vigor. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, punctuated by Chaeyeon's cries of pleasure.

Chaeyeon's head fell forward, her face buried in the bed as Y/N continued to drive into her, his cock pounding against her walls with every stroke. Her body was a canvas of sensation, each touch and thrust a brushstroke on the fabric of her desire.

As the intensity of their coupling built, Chaeyeon's moans grew louder, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she begged for release. "Oh, please," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of their passion. "Please, make me cum again."

Y/N didn't hesitate, his hands reaching around to claim Chaeyeon's breasts, pulling her upright as he surged deeper still. The pressure inside her began to build, threatening to overwhelm her at any moment…

Chaeyeong's request sent a surge of energy through Y/N, spurring him to increase his pace. His movements became more desperate, driven by the sounds of Chaeyeon's pleasure and the knowledge that they were both on the brink of something incredible.

With one final, forceful thrust, Y/N brought them both to the peak of their passion. The walls of Chaeyeon's body clamped down around him, milking every last drop of his release from him.

The trio collapsed onto the bed, their bodies spent but sated. Y/N's arms wrapped around both sisters, pulling them close as they basked in the aftermath of their shared experience.

As they lay there, tangled together in a post-coital haze, Chaeryeong felt a renewed sense of energy begin to flow through her veins. She looked up at Y/N, her eyes shining with mischief and desire.

"Are you ready for another round?" she asked, her voice low and inviting. "I know I am." She shifted her position, straddling Y/N's hips as she leaned down to capture his lips in a deep, passionate kiss.

And so it went, throughout the night, their bodies entwining in various positions and configurations. At times they moved as one, a single organism driven by the force of their shared passion; other times they took turns, each sister claiming YN in their own unique way. Through it all, they remained connected, their hearts beating as one even as they explored the limits of physical pleasure.

As the first light of dawn began to creep through the windows, the trio finally collapsed into an exhausted heap, their bodies spent but their spirits renewed. They knew that this was only the beginning, that their journey together had only just begun.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: Fictional Character

In fiction writing, character development is the process of building a unique, three-dimensional character with depth, personality, and clear motivations.

Character development can also refer to the changes a character undergoes over the course of a story as a result of their actions and experiences.

Tips for Writing Great Characters

Characters, like people, are imperfect. They don’t need to be likeable, but they must be interesting. Here are some tips for effective character development.

Develop characters who reflect your interests. You’re going to be spending a lot of time with your characters, so the fiction rule “write what you want to know” applies to them as well. Don’t be afraid to invest your protagonist with familiar qualities, but prioritize your passions and make sure that your main characters emerge from the setting and topics you’ve developed so far.

Reveal their physical world through detail. Different writers focus on different details to evoke character, whether deliberately or not. Balzac focused on his characters’ physical appearance. Dashiell Hammett never fed his characters, while Charles Dickens fed his extravagantly. Some writers are interested in revealing character via clothing, as Flaubert did, while others attend to mannerisms or physical appearance. Whatever details you choose, it’s important for you to know your characters' physical world intimately, and how they relate to it.

Give them the right skills. Your characters should have skills that will allow them to function in your setting. If you’ve chosen to set your novel on the moon, then make sure your character has a space suit or learns how to use one.

Create memorable characters. When creating important characters that the reader is going to meet more than once, be sure that they’re memorable in some way. Try to give each one a quirk or quality that can be used later to help readers recall who they are. This could be a title like “chief of police” or a physical attribute like “ginger-haired.”

Give the reader access to their inner conflict. One way to create intimacy with your reader—and to get them to care about your main character—is to use internal monologue. This means letting the reader see a character’s thoughts as they happen, which exposes that person’s inner conflict, motivations, opinions, and personality. Internal monologue not only reveals character: it’s a neat way to convey information about your setting, events, and other characters.

Subvert your reader’s expectations. The most interesting characters will surprise your readers. Think about it: We don’t have to pay attention to things that are stable. But when something unexpected happens—a wolf comes out of the woods, for instance—we pay attention.

How to Develop Different Types of Characters

Stories have different kinds of characters. Every story has a main character, called the hero or protagonist. Many stories have a bad guy: the villain or antagonist. Secondary characters round out the story. These characters may help the main characters, oppose them, or be completely neutral, so long as they help the reader understand the protagonist or antagonist in deeper ways.

How to Develop a Protagonist

Give the protagonist flaws. Protagonists or heroes don’t have to be perfect specimens of humanity. In fact, those protagonists tend to be boring. Great characters emerge from the trials they encounter, and believable characters have human flaws, just like people in real life.

Give the protagonist an arc. A good character undergoes some sort of change over the course of the story. That change is called the character arc. You can also choose to create a main character who doesn’t change, but that decision should be intentional.

How to Develop an Antagonist

Give the antagonist morality. A villain’s motivations should create a crisis for your protagonist. Every villain needs to have their own morality, however warped. If a villain spends part of the novel killing people, you need to give him or her believable reasons for doing so. Make the reader understand exactly what desperate need or twisted belief has driven the villain to commit their crimes, and make those motivations personal to their history and upbringing.

Make the antagonist powerful. Readers want to see your main character succeed—but they don’t want it to be easy. Your villain should not only be a match for your hero: they should be even more powerful. This forces your protagonist to collect the skills, items, and allies they’ll need to defeat your antagonist, which creates further opportunity for character development.

How to Develop Secondary Characters

Make them complementary. Secondary characters serve the vital functions of assisting the protagonist with alternate skill sets, giving them a sounding board or emotional support, getting themselves into trouble so that the protagonist can help them, and even providing comic relief.

Make them oppositional. Some of the best sidekicks in literature are oppositional, and will even undermine the protagonist. Think of Dr. Watson chastising Sherlock Holmes for his drug use. Giving secondary characters opposing points of view allows you to explore your subjects, settings, and moral gray areas from a wider variety of perspectives, which sustains complexity and keeps the reader interested.

Writing Exercises for Character Development

CHARACTER QUESTIONNAIRE

Use these questions to develop your characters, and learn how they behave. If you’re working on a novel, you can use this questionnaire with your protagonist or any secondary character to learn more about their present state, enrich their backstory, and add to their repertoire of unique gestures and habits.

What is your character’s name?

What is their gender (at the moment)?

When is their birthday? What is their age at the beginning of the novel?

What do they look like?

What is their general disposition? Are they frowny? Or are they smiley?

Where do they live?

What do they eat?

How do they dress?

Do they dress to impress?

Do they dress in a way that is appropriate for their age, or do they dress to look younger or older than they are?

What major experiences have they had in their lives?

Have they had any traumatic experiences?

Did they have a bad childhood?

Or did they have a good childhood suddenly destroyed by a traumatic event?

What are their ruminations?

Do they have any obsessions?

Are they in love?

Do they have any pets?

Do they have any medical conditions?

What do they like to do in their spare time? (Do they have any spare time?)

What are their friends like?

What are their hobbies?

What they are most embarrassed by?

Where they went on their first date? (And with whom?)

ONE-PAGE CHARACTER DESCRIPTION

Choose one of your characters and write a one-page description of them. Use the following tips to flesh out your description:

Instead of writing a plain, physical description, try viewing the character through a creative lens. For example, does she have a nickname? What did she do to earn it? Does it refer to her appearance? Her attitude? How does she feel about it?

Choose one event from your character’s past and elaborate on that. For example, your hero has a back injury from an accident while he was in the navy. Does he move differently now? Do people treat him differently? What are the psychological repercussions of the accident?

Choose one of your main character’s personality traits and list the ways that it’s expressed. If your sidekick is nervous, he might bounce his knee when he’s sitting, pluck at his sleeves, or startle easily.

What space has your character created for themselves? This can be offstage: a bedroom, an expensive car with all the right gadgets, the perfectly-stocked kitchen, a private office. Describe your character in that space.

INTERIOR MONOLOGUE

Go to a public place where you can observe other people.

Choose one person and imagine a few character details for them.

What’s their name? What mood are they in? Why are they there?

Write a one-page, interior monologue for them that reveals what they’re thinking.

Use first person, even if you typically write in third person.

Show their thoughts, but also show the world around them and how they interact with that world.

Try to develop an inner monologue that is at odds with the world around them or with the way they appear to be.

The Importance of Character Development

A novel consists of a character interacting with events over time.

Character and plot are inseparable, because a person is what happens to them.

Without a clear sense of who a character is, what they value, and what they’re afraid of, the reader will be unable to appreciate the significance of your events, and your story will have no impact.

Like real people, fictional characters have hobbies, pets, histories, ruminations, and obsessions.

These characteristics inform how a character reacts to and feels about the things that happen to them.

It’s essential to your novel that you understand all aspects of your characters so that you are equipped to understand how they may react under the pressures of events they encounter.

How Character Development Affects your Story

Your main character’s goal sets the stakes in your story.

It doesn’t matter whether your story stakes are big or small, as long as they matter deeply to your protagonist.

Your character doesn’t have to save the world: perhaps they are trying to save their family from an eviction, or fighting to keep their business from going bankrupt.

Your job is to establish what’s important to your character (ideally, it’s something that your audience can relate to), and help the reader imagine what might happen if they lose that important thing.

Sources: 1 2 ⚜ More: References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

[vaguely-concerned]

my headcanon/vibe is that lucanis always has a little bit of a thing for rook in the beginning, until either treviso falls (for the dramatic 'interest dropped like a lead weight all at once' version) or a lack of reciprocal vibes makes it fade away quietly and undramatically into a background affection without any particular romantic charge, as indeed seems to have been what happened for him with viago. (see reyes vidal in me:a for a similar case, where I get the sense that he always has some sort of Thing for ryder (even when you're standoffish with him haha he wants ryder to like him SO BAD and not only for Scheming reasons) but never actually makes anything of it unless ryder responds in kind. without further comparison with lucanis intended here except that I love both characters immensely and with tevinter nights included they DO actually have a writer crossover lol.) rook was the first kind voice to break through to him in the ossuary, imprinting a little initially makes perfect sense to me no matter what it develops into later.

source: vibes but trust me I'm right (I'm right for me), look at the way he keeps glancing over at rook while drinking his coffee even without a single flirt under rook's belt and tell me I'm miles off. go on. and most of all "bitter and sweet, like a kiss goodbye. you should try it" is an absolutely insane thing to say to someone you're ostensibly connected to mainly in a professional capacity in the first place. but somehow both more and less insane if you're nursing a bit of a crush on them perhaps without quite recognizing it yourself yet. still nuts, to be clear, but a bit more explicable lol

[vespidclan]

I got curious about how their kits would look like after this comment so I did some clangen stuff and made hypothetical kits! Check them out!

They actually turned out very cute! Cuter than I expected haha, this was really fun to make as well so it was all good! I don’t think Heartie or Warm would be excited about these kits coming into existence and being their biological babies tho… MAYBE they would’ve been good (or for the very least decent) parents? Who knows it ain’t canon!

(Info on the kits underneath)

ig I’ll add some description and my thoughts on em? This little gorl is Carnationkit, who I didn’t expect to have heterochromia, especially that being green + blue! She’s self-conscious and a careful listener, which makes me think she would’ve been Heartie’s favorite. She can’t stand noisy kits!

Fawnkit! Who is… brown? Somehow? I have to check the rarity of that coming from a silver + pale ginger cat but she looks really cute! The name Fawn was very fitting. She’s quiet and interested in clan history! She would love hanging out with Webspeckle

This next one is Gorsekit who’s def one of my favorites. I personally believe Snakevalley would’ve adored him and he’d be great friends with Vinepaw! He’s a daydreamer and constantly climbing, probably the most rambunctious one

Another favorite! Lilykit! Notice how most of them are named after plants? Hehe… She’s a know-it-all and constantly climbing, so I think she’d get along with pretty much anyone! Also, she looks very familiar to another white-striped cat I know…

Morelkit!!! Gah I love this little dude so much, he’s the perfect combination of both Heart and Warm! The little guy is sweet and constantly climbing (again?), he’d love everyone. Maybe he’d take after his mom with healing?

Aaaand finally Snowkit! It surprised me to see a fully white kit, those are pretty rare in this case since Heart is the only parent with white. He’s even the only one who has short fur! Maybe he takes after Icicle? He’s exactly like Morel; sweet and constantly climbing. What are these dudes climbing…

HOORAY for 404! She finally has biological grandkits that aren’t even canon :’)

[charleemoon]

thinking about kristoph and klavier. it's just the two of them. just a boy and his sweet little brother. no apparent family, origins, place to go, anywhere to belong.

thinking about kristoph developing the idea at a young age that his brother depends on him. no parents to take care of them, most likely they pass away in one way or another. and his brother is innocently young, too young. so kristoph becomes a parent, on top of a sibling. he is the only front, the only defense between his brother and whatever cruel world betrayed them. kristoph can't falter, can't disappoint, can never be unsure. for his brother, he learns to be cold. steadfast, and strong. unbreakable. to be a foundation for a boy to rely on.

he tells himself klavier depends on him to survive. to succeed, to make something of himself, all of it falls on kristoph's shoulders. and control becomes a theme of his life. it's his responsibility to make sure klavier lives his life right, well. and the pressure of that seeps out through judgement.

he tells himself klavier depends on him, so he can ignore the fact he depends on klavier too. he can't feel any sort of weakness. so he judges klavier, when he pursues music. he's critical of him, detached. seemingly uncaring. he protects klavier, and he punishes him when he endangers that concept of protection. he keeps him in line, because only kristoph knows what best for klavier.

klavier, for kristoph, is always that innocent, sniveling child. who doesn't know better, who needs to be guided. because at the worst of it all, it was kristoph and his little brother. no one would know him better. and he would do anything to protect him

and that control becomes obsessive. kristoph needs to control everything in his life. his work, his image, his protégé, and always his brother. he spites things that escape his grasp. he spites klavier when he leaves to tour his music, because he can't admit he needs him too. at the end, klavier will return to him, eventually. because klavier needs kristoph gavin to survive.

he forges evidence, to protect the success and image of his career. even for a case against his own brother, he cheats. because it's not about what's right. it's not about anything but control, for kristoph. because there's no way he could be anything less than perfect. kristoph can't falter, can't be weak, or the world will eat you alive. and when zak gramarye veers out of his grasp, over something he can't control, the nature of who he is, he spites him too, and the man he chose. he forces his way into the case to make sure he can enact control, to protect his view of the world, and of himself.

and klavier, of course, comes back to him. believes in him, follows his word, even with doubt in his heart, a doubt that haunts him for years to come. he destroys phoenix's career, has his brother back, and protects himself from facing a truth he can't handle. he wins.

and it's not enough. he plots out the murders of his forgers, stalks every involved person of interest on the case, and plants himself right by the biggest threat: an unpredictable, awfully lucky man. someone who never did anything to him personally, but whose mere nature is contradiction to the ideals kristoph has pledged himself to. he does this because he isn't confident, perfectly conniving and infallible. for the first time in a long time, kristoph feels control slip out of his fingers and it terrifies him. he obsessively intangles himself with the case for seven years, watching, waiting, for loose ends to be cut.

this need is so intense that when he passes by zak, his first instinct is to murder him in cold blood. for no reason other than he is a threat to the stringing web of sanity kristoph is holding himself by. if he were more clever, more careful, he might've stayed, listened in, found out zak had no intention to do anything but give one last thing to his daughter, before he disappeared again. none of that mattered. because kristoph panics, at the idea that someone, anyone could do something to destroy his image, his life, his control. he's paranoid, and as thorough as he's been, he's sloppy.

and as he thought, phoenix is his perfect downfall. kristoph seemingly loses everything, he's found guilty of murder. his protégé, who he raised up strictly and intensely to follow in his steps, accepts this and is the falling blade to his final bow. but he doesn't snap. he doesn't break his illusion, his facade of poise and composure.

because he still has klavier. klavier, who returns to law after years to meet the man who sent his brother to prison. klavier, who believes his brother is innocent. klavier, who still depends on him. once again, it's kristoph and his little brother. he's already done the unspeakable to protect their lives, to sustain all he's built for him.

klavier visits him in prison, feeds him information, holds faith that he is good, even after he is betrayed by his closest friend. even as things lead to an awful conclusion klavier denied for too long. and when everything plays out the way it does, kristoph at the stand, he still sees klavier the same. he speaks for him, calls him incapable, believes he doesn't know better. because klavier will always come back to him. klavier needs him to survive, to be succeed in life, klavier depends on him.

until he doesn't. the one thing kristoph has always had control over, the reason he needed to be in control of it all, leaves him too. through his never ending desperation, he has become unforgivable. he threatens klavier, demeans him, humiliates him, but none of it works. everything is, as he says, spinning out of his control. he has nothing left, but the ego he's created for himself.

the jury system is the final blow. the idea that no matter what he could do to ensure his victory, the neverending upkeep of his perfect, unfaltering persona, he was at the whim of someone else. his control, completely stripped away from him. because without that, what is he?

when phoenix asks him why he killed zak gramarye, five black psyche locks appear, chains barred and tight. he claims he is simply an evil, cold-blooder murderer. a simple, unsatisfying thing. it's snide, and spiteful, and it's a lie. kristoph's secret, held so close to his heart that he doesnt even know he's keeping it. why did you kill a man, after seven years, when he had done nothing but hurt your pride?

he needs control. somewhere deep down, there's still that teenager, panicked and unsure, staring down at his brother with pleading eyes, deciding that he needs to become inviolable. like the law, absolute and unwavering. and in that he became unreachable. he emotionally neglected and abused the only family he had left, and told himself it was for his sake. he's insecure, entitled, angry; he's vengeful, petty, neurotic. so caught up in the fantasy he created to eliminate what was weak in him, he saw weakness in everything, in everyone.

to admit that would be suicide. it would be a complete mind shatter. he laughs hysterically out of the courtroom, out of acceptance for what he's lost or denial of everything he is, he breaks in one way or another. the places he was led to by love, by responbility, a bloodied bottle in his grip, poison on lips, standing alone at the end of it all.

to shield himself from cruelty, he became cruel himself. kristoph loved his brother, and that too, became a weakness to snuff out.

that is. if. they had actual backstories to explain why they are the way they are. foams at the mouth and collapses

[georgiapeach30513]

Weight of My Sins, Part 1

Summary: You thought life on the ranch was over. Couldn't bear the sight of Kayce anymore, so you fled all the way to Texas. You found a new relationship. You lived. You got a degree. But you missed Montana more than anything, but he wasn't leaving Texas. Now you're back on the ranch, and you and Kayce both lived your life. But that draw to him is still there, even if you're terrified to let those walls back down again. No matter how much you crave him.

Pairings: Kayce Dutton X Reader

Rating: mature

Warnings:  explicit language, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 5.1K

Series Masterlist

*dividers created by @saradika-graphics

“Stop fidgeting,” Rip’s gruff voice bellows in the truck, and you press your hands under your legs.  Continuing to stare out your window.  The closer you get to the ranch the worse the feeling in the pit of your stomach gets.  This has got to be a bad idea, and nothing good can come of it.  You need a job just as much as you need a place to stay.  And Rip did you a solid in getting John to allow that for you.  Under different circumstances this would be the perfect solution to your problem.  

“You’re going to stay in the bunkhouse, so I’ll have to go over some ground rules with the wranglers,” you roll your eyes as you turn to look at him.  Ever the protective big brother role.  He isn’t your biological big brother.  Just a man that felt sorry for you as a kid, and helped out when he could.  You were his pet project.  And one of the few people he was kinda nice to.  Some things never change. 

“I don’t want you fucking around with them.  And believe me, they’re a bunch of lonely, horny cowboys.” 

“Aww, but you’re not interested in me.  Are you still lonely and horny?” He gives you an eat shit grin, shaking his head.  You are not the least bit worried about the wranglers.  They are the least of your worries.  “What if this doesn’t work out?” 

“Grow a pair of balls and make it work,” he shrugs as the ranch comes into view.  Immediately your fingers start fidgeting under your thighs.  So many memories remained here.  Up until the point that you left for veterinary school.  Anything to help out the ranch.  That’s Rip’s philosophy, even if he won’t say it.  Anything.

“Quit fidgeting!” He growls at you.

“I’m not!” You don’t want to admit that being here is turning your stomach inside out.  Don’t want to admit what just seeing the last name Dutton does to you.  Some things just are better left unexplored.  Especially now that you’re going into his territory.  His home.  

Rip puts the truck into park, and you inhale slowly.  Letting the fresh air fill your lungs before you slowly exhale.  Popping your neck for good measure before you sling the door open, and jump out.  Time seems to stand still here.  Very little has changed, except your age.  “Come on,” your adopted brother says, and you follow along with his long strides.  

Slinging the door open, Rip drops your meager duffle bag on the floor, and every man in there turns to glare at you.  Lloyd gives you a slight dip of his chin, “Welcome back, Bronc,” you nod to him.  The others you don’t truly recognize.  

“This here is like a little sister to me.  You treat her with fucking respect, and you stay out of her damn pants,” clearing their throats they return to their card game, leaving you puffing out a nervous breath before giving Rip a head nod.  “Yep. That’s it,” he says, turning on his heels, and leaving you in this den of bears.  

“Which bunk is available?” 

“One of those back ones,” Lloyd points in the direction without removing his eyes from his hand.  You didn’t expect a grand welcome, but this is pathetic.  Your eyes roam around each of the bunks.  Examining the spaces, looking for anything familiar. 

“He’s not here,” Lloyd answers, finally looking at you. 

“Who?” the old man’s eyebrows lift, as he nods at you sarcastically.  Judging asshole.  You weren’t looking for anyone.  You were trying to figure out how you fit in with these men.  Reaching into your bag, you stuff a few peppermints into your pocket.  You sling your duffle bag onto the bunk before turning to go towards the door, “I’m going out.” 

“Uh huh,” Lloyd answers knowingly.  You didn’t care what the man thought of you.  You need to get out of this room.  It’s stifling being in this bunkhouse.  Hell, it’s stifling being here.  With all these memories.  But ones that you love so much.  You miss it. 

Sighing at your contradictory thoughts, you kick gravel as you walk to the barn.  Getting away from humans, and joining animals.  They were better than humans.  They didn’t offer any words of wisdom, or judgement.  They are just there.  Lifting up a peppermint to one of them, he eats the treat off your hand, and you lean your head against his nose petting him.  

“First night here, and you’re already spoiling my horse, Bronc,” you didn’t have to see him to know that voice.  The one voice that makes you weak in the knees, and sick to your stomach all at the same time.  The one voice that has stuck to you like a bad habit, and you seek comfort in it with every sylablle. 

“Dutton,” you respond before starting to walk away.  He steps in front of you, and you turn to walk the other direction, but he jumps in front of you again.  His mouth turns up into that irresistible smile, and ‘it just makes you angry, and also makes you want to touch him.  The conflicting emotions just don’t stop.

“Why are you feeding my horse treats?” 

“Why are you hiding in the dark?” He shrugs.  A cute smile creeps onto his face, and you bashfully look away as heat flares your cheeks, “Did you follow me out here?” 

“No, I didn’t know you were going to be here.  Why are you here?” 

Somehow him not knowing you are going to be living here floods you with relief.  “This baby wanted a little treat, and I doubt you were giving him anything.” 

“You’ve not changed,” smiling, you let your eyes coast down his body, freezing at an ugly ring on his finger, and your blood turns cold.  Why is he even here giving you any ounce of hope?  He notices where your sight is, and hides his hand, but it’s too late.  Everything from that last night boils in your chest.  

“But you’ve changed,” you try to smile, and it just hurts.  You didn’t expect Kayce to not have a life and live it, but moving on with a wife is not what you expected.  

“It’s complicated,” is the only thing he says as he stuffs his hands in his pocket. 

“It always is with you, Dutton,” you respond, starting to walk away.  This time he doesn’t follow.  You can almost see him standing there with his pretty puppy eyes.  

“We’re separated,” you stop in your tracks, but don’t turn around.  Saying something like that is almost a death sentence.  Separated did not mean they weren’t going to get back together.  It could mean they needed space.  And you weren’t going to be the space he filled.  You sigh, turning to look at him.  

“Mmm, I don’t know if that’s good enough, Kayce,” his smile doesn’t falter.  You used his first name.  Using that name is so much warmer than using Dutton.  When you bring out the last name, he knows you’re slightly annoyed.  

Walking up to you, his calloused fingers brush over your cheeks, and he pulls you in for a familiar embrace.  Caressing your back as he brings you too close.  Like your bodies were made to meld together.  

“Don’t start something you can’t finish,” you respond, pushing out of his hold and you turn to give the horse a kiss.  

Your body is on fire.  Trembling as you take a step back from him.  His scent of sunshine and leather blinds you.  The want for him is almost too strong.  “What do you want?” 

He grunts, “You,” but you shake your head no.  Everything is always so damn complicated with him.  “We are separated.” 

“And yet, you’re still married.” 

“Do you think that if I was happily married I’d be out here after midnight?  I’ve moved back to the ranch, and we rarely talk, unless it has to do with,” his voice goes softer, and your eyes slowly close, “My son,” the twisting of that knife hurts so much worse than hearing he’s married.  “I never meant to hurt you.” 

“Yeah.  And I can imagine how it is with you.  You come here to be separated, and somehow you end up feeling sorry for yourself, and lonely, and then you're driving out wherever, and right back into her arms to play house.  Is that how it goes?” 

“Not exactly.” 

“Why is it different now?” There’s no answer that he could give you that would make you feel better.  You’re left feeling like a junkie, and your drug of choice is Kayce John Dutton.  Always was.  Probably always will be.  

“Because of you.” 

“Oh, no.  I just got here, and you don’t get to come here with your pretty words when I’m trying to do a damn job.  You and your cute ass need to keep things professional.  I don’t need this Kayce.  It’s my first night.” 

“So you don’t hate me?” You could never truly hate Kayce.  You could have your heart broken by him.  Again.  But you’ve never hated him. 

“No, but I’m also not fucking you,” he chuckles as you walk backwards, and out of the barn. 

“Again!” He yells, too loud, and you hope that no one hears the two of you out here alone.  You didn’t need any rumors going around about how you were fucking him in the barn on the first night.  

“It was a mistake,” you wink at him.  Lying in this instance is a way to protect you.  There’s nothing that you regret with Kayce.  Not on your end.  

“And why was it a mistake?” 

“Premature ejaculation,” he looks down at his feet, as he toes the ground, “Due to the fact that neither of us knew what we were doing.  But it sure did get us into a lot of trouble, huh?  Have a good evening, Dutton.” 

“That wasn’t nice,” he peeks up at you, smiling anyways.  

“Nice?  Was it nice that I saw you with some girl in our spot?  You sure were curled up, and enjoying her with your mouth.  Was that nice?” 

“Wait…” you have to rip the bandaid, and let him know that you knew what he was doing.  You should have confronted him then.  Maybe you could have truly moved on and healed.  Maybe you wouldn’t have longed for Montana, and those pretty brown eyes still. 

You shake your head, because you need space from him.  He is crowding your thoughts, and your vagina.  If you didn’t get away, you’d be rolling around in the hay with him.  “I get we were teenagers.  Too young to be fucking.  And too stupid to remain faithful.  

“So I’ll see you tomorrow?” 

“Like we have a choice,” he stands there smiling.  Not fully defeated by your words.  You weren’t bending to his words and charm, but you also weren’t refusing to talk to him.  “Don’t wear the ring.” 

“Whatever you say, Bronc,” you wouldn’t forgive him if he kept showing up with that ugly thing.  It pains you to know that he went off and married someone and had a child with someone that wasn’t you, and you couldn’t blame him either.  He’d moved on, and in so many ways you haven’t.  

You hope you don’t regret this decision to be here.  Hope that Kayce doesn’t infect your mind, and heart in the way he’s always done.  Knowing that he’s married, even if separated, helps.  And he has a kid.  Time didn’t change your feelings because you still ache for him.  

Separated.  

What did that even mean?  How did he define that word?

How long has he been separated?  Were his sweet words anything more than that?  Would he return to his wife?  He has a kid with her, so it’s not like he can just walk away easily.  Unless he already has.  But how can you be sure that this is it?  It’s the end and he’s never going to be with her again?  And if he was sure, why not going through a divorce? 

No.  You’re here to do a job, and doing a job is what you’re going to do.  You want to be treated just like everyone else on this damn ranch.  You weren’t going to become a love sick puppy for him.  You’re going to enjoy the Montana air.  The view here.  And finally doing something with your life.  And for you.

“Bronc and I are going to take the back,” Kayce smiles at Rip, and the older man’s eyes narrow at him.  

“Why?” he asks, giving you a quick look as you saddle up a horse, ignoring the conversation.  You’ll go where you’re told.  “Why are you bringing up the rear, and why is she even coming out with us?” 

“Because if something happens, we have a licensed vet right with us.  She’s bringing up the rear because she’s never gone out with us before, and this will give her a chance to learn.” 

Rip places his hands on his hips, gazing out to the sunrise, sighing, “I’m still not sure why you’re with her.  Put Jimmy in the rear with her, and — why the hell are you shaking your head at me?” 

“She doesn’t know Jimmy.” 

“And yet she sleeps in the bunkhouse with him,” Kayce clears his throat, and only because the last place that he wants you to be is with Jimmy. “What the fuck is your problem?” 

“Bronc and I are taking the rear.  Jimmy’s got flank.  Is the bunkhouse really the best place for her to be?” 

“Hell, Kayce, she’s not going to learn anything by getting special treatment,” you aren’t getting special treatment from him.  He just wants to make sure you stay comfortable, and be with him.  He needs more time to talk to you.  “Fine,” Rip growls, getting on his horse.  “She’s your responsibility then.” 

“I’ll try to keep her out of trouble.” 

Rip turns his horse around and heads towards the front, “Bronc, you're with Kayce in the back,” you sigh, climbing onto the horse.  Kayce gives you a wink as he climbs on his own, and waits for you. 

“You’re not subtle, you know?” He shrugs, and you can’t help but take a peek at his hand.  The ring thankfully is gone.  He kept his word.  And while it does ease your stomach, there’s still a part of you that knows that still isn't enough.  It’s easy to not wear a ring in private.  It’s easy to pretend it doesn’t mean a thing, but it does.  It should. 

“Are you planning on making sure we’re always together?” He shrugs again.  He’s the one that wanted you in the rear with him, and now he’s not talking.  But maybe you’re just not asking the right questions.  “So how have you been?” 

“Doesn’t matter.  I’m better now,” you scoff, keeping your eyes on the cattle.  “What?  Is my response not satisfactory?  Remember you left Montana.” 

“And you had your hands in some other girl's pants.” 

He winces, sucking air through his teeth, “Are you ever going to let me explain, so I can maybe get your forgiveness?  I told you I was stupid?” 

“Are you ever going to do it again?” 

“Are you ever going to go on a date with me?” 

“Not anytime soon,” you click your tongue, and tap your heels on the horse.  Speeding up a bit more, but he keeps his pace with you.  “Things can’t go back to how they were,” you wonder if he thought any relationship can return to how they were before, or if you’re just the lucky one.  Did he still carry a torch for you, like you did him?  

“So no more sneaking off into my room, doing things we were too young to be doing?” Him and his stupid little smile get you every time.  Not to mention the passion you always felt with Kayce.  You were never going through the motions, you loved every moment with him.  Even your fights that quickly were resolved, and you went on loving each other anyways, and loving harder.  

“Why did you leave?” His voice darkens, and he turns his face away from you.  

“I needed air,” he nods, understanding.  You needed to get away from him.  “Why did you do it?” 

“Kiss someone that wasn’t my girlfriend?” 

“You weren’t just kissing.” 

“Yeah, that’s all we did,” you shake your head no.  That is not what she implied happened.  And just kissing is enough anyways.  “It was stupid.  And I quickly realized that she wasn’t you, and did I say that I was stupid?” 

“You did,” you look over towards him, smiling, “But you can keep saying it,” a comfortable silence settles between the two of you, and you breathe in the fresh mountain air.  Realizing all the reasons that you missed Montana, but also the Yellowstone.  Things are peaceful in their way, of course, but there’s just this home feeling here.  

“Did you miss it?” 

“Do you mean did I miss you?” You turn to peek towards Kayce, and he chuckles, shaking his head.  

“I asked if you missed it as in this?” 

“Every day,” you enjoyed school, and you would do it all over again for the experience, and to say you have a skill.  You did miss some of the people, and now that you’re here you miss some of the people in Texas.  One of the people. 

“What did — did you — I mean,” he clears his throat.  Looking up to the clear blue sky, before back over towards you.  You already know exactly what he’s struggling to ask, and it’s due to the fact he doesn’t really want to know.  “How was Texas?” 

“You want to ask me the real question?” sometimes it’s best to just know the truth, and lay it all out there.  Even if you’re scared to know the answer.  You can learn ways to cope or just get over it. 

Kayce sniffs deeply, and tilts his head to the side in thought, “Did you meet anyone there?” Not the right question.  He’s such a coward. 

“Cowboy up, Kayce.  You can do better than that if you really want to know.  Just ask me like a man.” 

“Are you dating anyone?” 

“No.” 

“Did you?” 

“Was that so hard?” Surprisingly he nods his head.  He can respond but just asking was like pulling teeth, and it kinda gave you a bit of a confidence boost.  “I did.  Was.  I was dating someone.  It was pretty serious, but he wanted to stay in Texas, and I wanted to be back here.  We split amicably, and I packed up my stuff, moved out, and now I’m back here.” 

“What was he like?” His jaw flexes when he asks.  He doesn’t truly want to know what he is like, but you’re going to tell him anyway.  Kayce always had a possessive streak.  It never reached toxic heights, thankfully. 

“He’s a mechanic.  Older than me.  He’s a good guy.  He didn’t have much growing up, but he made something of himself, despite his setbacks,” Kayce just nods his head, refusing to look at you.  You like seeing him squirm a bit.  Not that you’re into comparing, but you didn’t have a child with him, nor were you married.  “I think you’d like him.” 

“Not likely.”  

“He played football.” 

“Definitely wouldn’t like him then.  Let me guess, he’s just a regular ole pretty boy that treated you okay, but it wasn’t great?  Maybe borderline annoyed you?” 

“He’s a good guy.  We were getting to a more steady part of our relationship.  It wasn’t too exciting.  And we never fought,” Kayce snorts, causing you to look towards him.  “We didn’t.” 

“Sounds like there was no passion.” 

“You mean it doesn’t sound like us?” 

“We’re adults now, Bronc.  We’re not going to act like two lovestruck teenagers anymore.  We were figuring ourselves out.  We didn’t know the meaning of compromising.  Now we’re grown,” no, you weren’t teenagers anymore.  He’d definitely grown.  At times you and Kayce just didn’t want to see eye to eye.  There was absolutely no compromising in your relationship.  So him admitting that makes you feel happy.  You left something steady, albeit boring at times, because the two of you couldn’t compromise on where to live.  He wasn’t leaving Texas, and you wanted to be in Montana.  

“So just how boring was this guy?” 

“Tell me about your son,” you counter.  Kayce smirks while looking up ahead to the herd.  You aren’t supposed to go out with them often, but you wanted to see the land again.  “How old?” 

“He’s eight.” 

“You didn’t waste any time did you?” 

“He wasn’t planned, and I was distraught.  I don’t regret him though.  He’s perfect.  Reminds me of myself.” 

“Did you love her?” He goes silent.  His puppy dog eyes scan over everything as he contemplates.  “I think I loved him,” Kayce turns to look at you, his smile now returning.  “What?” 

“Did you ever tell him?” 

“Yes.” 

“So did you lie?” It’s an odd thing to say, really.  It shouldn’t be hard for you to admit that yes you loved him or no you didn’t.  It felt right at the time but hindsight is always twenty twenty.  Now, you’re unsure just how you felt about him, “So what you mean is you didn’t love him like you loved me?” 

“No,” definitely not what you meant.  Right?  All those years weren’t a lie.  You had fun.  You enjoyed yourself.  You loved, and felt loved, and — so easily left it for here.  And Kayce.  “I didn’t say that.” 

“You didn’t have to,” he looks towards you, slowing his horse down, but your mind is racing too much to try and look at him.  You need space again, and yet have to stay.  You want to run, but towards him or away from him?  You knew that the forever there complicated feelings towards Kayce would return the moment you saw him, but you weren’t prepared for this.  And if you left again, those feelings would remain.  Eventually you’ll have to explore those feelings.    

Questioning your relationship was not something you had planned.  You loved him, but could live without him.  It’s why you chose to come here.  Back home.  And to him.  So why is it so hard to admit that out loud, and to Kayce.  Why does this man crowd your brain space, and make you question every decision you’ve ever made. 

The only reason you left Montana was to get space from him.  You needed to breathe and make sense out of everything going on.  And to find yourself without him in it.  Without anyone in your life.  To know you could do it.  Kayce was supposed to give you time to figure this out.  You could have a life out of this bubble.  

This beautiful, amazing bubble. 

“Why did you come back?” 

“This is the place that has always felt like home.” 

“Because it’s where I’m at,” he sure is cocky.  Brazenly full of himself.  Part of this being home is him.  But that doesn’t mean that you are referring to him as home.  It means… “You can deny it all you want, but…” 

Kayce clicks his tongue, and starts a faster gallop, leaving you contemplating what he said.  It’s what he does.  He weasels into your brain, and makes you think and question things.�� And then he finds himself in your pants, and then in your heart.  But that isn’t the concerning thing, the concerning part is not fully knowing if he is correct.  And do you want him there?  

“You know what I always liked about that girl?” Kayce looks up at his dad, confusion laced in his eyes.  “She never tried to change you.” 

“Who?” 

“Oh, are you still denying that you had a thing with Rip’s little orphan project?” Instead of responding, his son takes another bite of food.  The two of you weren’t exactly quiet about your feelings for one another, but you also didn’t parade it around.  “I see.  So she comes back to town, being hired on as a personal vet or wrangler, I can’t keep up.  And the first thing she does is go on the trail with you, and rides right beside you?  Okay.” 

John eats a piece of meat, smiling at his son who still says nothing.  “You speak more when she’s around.” 

“Are we going to talk about Bronc this whole dinner?” 

“Still got that same nickname for her.  How do you feel about her sharing a bunkhouse with a bunch of men?” Kayce despises it.  Hates even thinking about someone getting too close to you.  He’d offer for you to stay with him, but you’d immediately jump to conclusions.  You could sleep where you wanted to, but he did have an extra room.  “I see.  Must make you sick to think about all those cowboys around fresh meat. We know Bronc can take care of herself.  But she did just get out of a relationship because he didn’t want to take things to the next step.” 

“He didn’t want to move to Montana.” 

“Where she wanted to get married, and settle down with him,” John shrugs as he wipes his mouth with his napkin.  “She’s quite vulnerable.  Don’t push her, but don’t have her too far away from you,” he nods as he pushes his chair back from the table.  “You should offer her some of the food Gator made.  I’m sure it’s better than whatever microwave food she’s got there.” 

—

There is a lot of freedom being here.  However, the food sucks.  You’ll have to remedy that soon.  Sitting out on the porch, you kick up your feet, and inhale deeply.  Letting the mountains absorb your problems.  Hope that they will, so you have some clarity.  

Even with everyone in the bunkhouse carrying on and playing a game of poker, you feel relaxed.  Today felt good.  You didn’t exactly know what your job here would entail; maybe you’d need to travel to some other ranches and tend to their animals.  But tonight, it’s just you.  And the annoying music coming from somewhere.

You won’t let it bother you.  

You don’t care if it’s annoying ‘country’ music.  What even is that shit?  Nope.  It won’t bother you.  You’ll just sit and eat your microwave Mac and cheese, and ignore whatever is going on over there.  This is your bubble.  Your safe space.  You are calm and collected.  Not annoyed at all.

That music is just very obnoxious, and you swear it’s getting louder.  You could ask them to be quiet.  You don’t even know whose cabin it is.  Someone that works here, obviously.  But it’s like they're purposefully trying to get under your skin.  

You sigh as you stand up stretching.  Going inside the bunkhouse would involve you trying to ignore the wranglers.  While not impossible, you’re now more curious as to who is being obnoxious.  It won’t hurt to go check it out.  

Making sure to throw your garbage away, you start to head towards the door, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Lloyd calls after you, but you don’t listen.  Don’t even turn around.  You have some exploring to do.  

You have to know.  Need to know who it is.  You don’t have far to walk judging by the sound.  It’s close.  Far enough away from the bunkhouse for some privacy.  There’s nobody here that would hurt you.  There could be other things that could be dangerous. 

“What are you doing out alone?!” You spin around, and hit him due to your veins coursing with  adrenaline.  “Ow, you still got an arm on you,” Kayce winces, rubbing his arm. 

“Why the fuck are you sneaking up on me in the middle of the night?” Whisper screaming as you hit him again.  “What is wrong with you, and what is the deal with this shitty music?” 

“So the music worked?” You stare at him dumbfounded, trying to figure out what he’s meaning.  “It got you over here, didn’t it?” 

“You ass, Kayce Dutton.  I was minding my business, eating dinner, and looking at the stars.” 

“Your dinner wasn’t good enough,” you have to look away when he licks his lips.  Causing every fiber in your body to heat up.  Being with him alone in the dark is a sure fire way to get you in trouble.  You’re resisting the urge.  You could fall for Kayce again, just not tonight. 

“Yeah, and what are you going to do about it?” 

“I brought a plate from the lodge,” bare minimum.  Don’t fall for this.  This is barely anything.  You want him to work if he wants to get you back.  And you know you shouldn’t rush into anything serious.  With Kayce it will be serious.  “I can heat it up.  We can dance, talk, watch a movie, sit out here?” he smiles sheepishly, shrugging his shoulders. 

“We’re not dancing to this shit.” 

“Of course not.” 

“And I don’t think dancing is something we should do,” he nods his head yes, agreeing to that.  “We can sit out and stare at the stars, and I’m going back to the bunkhouse.” 

“I have an extra bed.” 

“But I won’t stay in it.”

“Why’s that?” Kayce steps too close to you, invading your bubble, and it’s hard to breathe.  Be strong.  Do not fall for this.  If you want to be with Kayce the wait will be worth it.  You want to be able to give you and him the best possible chance.  Start from the beginning. 

“Because I am weak when it comes to you, and I don’t want to be.  So my happy little ass will walk right back to that bunkhouse, and I’m going to sleep there.  And tomorrow is a new day, and you’re going to stop flirting so hard.” 

“I can try and do that,” his hand brushes away the baby hairs off your forehead, and you fight not to lean into him.  Glancing down to his left hand, you count this small moment as a win.  

“Thank you,” you whisper to him before spinning around, and walking towards the cabin. 

“Why?” 

“If I have to tell you it doesn’t have the same gravity,” he smiles serenely before jumping in front of you to open the door.  He’s had that ugly ring off twice now.  It’s a small thing that should not mean much, and yet it does.  You just hope that he keeps it off.  Because you can’t handle another heartbreak like that.

Next

Masterlist

@tis-thedamn-season @theinheriteddutchess

[quirekey]

i love your auto-cats post!!! any plans for cat!tfp decepticons?

Hmmm, sure!! I do not know the little decepticons well but its worth giving them a shot! I’ll make a part two consisting of headcanons :)

[ TFP decepticons as Cats/Kittens ]

[ Reader is… a cat lover? ]

APPERANCE HEADCANONS

MEGATRON

Megatron definitely has a massive coat and a ring of coating covering his neck. He looks like those fancy cats with his pristine fur and somewhat stubby legs. His tail is semi-fluffy and he has pretty cute and tiny ears. He was a massive cat compared to the others. His coat consisted of a dull purple. The only part of him that shined bright were his red eyes.

STARSCREAM

Starscream is a skinny little guy, tall and slim. He has really sharp claws (ouch…) and his fur spiked out just a bit. His fur was pretty short and his coating is more fuzzy than fluffy. He has a long tail and tall ears to match, his whiskers also popping out far. The inside of his ears were a dark red and the rest of his coating consisted of a light grey.

KNOCKOUT

Knockout was undeniably the prettiest, cleanest and perfect out of the decepti-cats when it came to looks. He had a coat with no matting or knots, it only consisted of soft and cleansed fur. His fur wrapped around him really nicely too, medium sized. The inside of his ears and paws were a light grey with an accent of black, the rest of his coating was a crimson red.

BREAKDOWN

Breakdown was one tanky and fluffy guy. His furry coat was puffy as hell and his narrowed eye only made him look cuter. He had a somewhat stubby tail and legs with a big body. His ears were rounded and small, seemingly sensitive too. His big coat consisted of greys and blues while his face had an orange patch. His beaming yellow eyes also accented his palette.

SOUNDWAVE

Soundwave is one slim and tall kitten. His coating was thin and somewhat spiked out, giving him a bigger look. He has sharpened and long claws that matched with his tall and sharply-ended ears that were angled out. His whiskers were way more visible than the average cat. His colours on his coat had lots of blacks and purples. His face was what made him interesting. His face had a dark purple base with purple accents on the middle of his forehead and cheeks. His eyes were pitch black which made them hard to see and a faint; purple line crossed his face horizontally.

SHOCKWAVE

Shockwave is a massive and chonky cat compared to the others. His coating was thin and medium-sized but then puffed out at his chest. His whiskers were thick and long and his ears were seemingly pulled back a bit. One of his limbs was replaced with a robotic limb due to ‘incidents’. He only had one eye on the left and it looked really big for the average cat, it was cute. His fur was all purple but his chest and the inside of his ears were black instead.

AIRACHNID

Like Shockwave and Starscream, she was slim and tall. Her ears were always pulled back like she was constantly pissed and they were also pretty big. She had a damped down and thick coat that looked like it was in perfect condition. Her fur consisted of black with a purple accent. Her eyes were a bright purple and her mouth is seemingly exaggerated to look like a :3. Unfitting to her personality, but still adorable. She has a little machine on her back that can extend out so she would have 6 thin and sturdy legs. She doesn’t like to walk herself and lets the machine do its thing as it’s under Airachnid’s control.

[riddleswhcre]

prince of darkness

the grim reaper doesn’t just take souls. he claims them. a dark, lust-filled Tom Riddle where obsession meets damnation. are you ready to give him your soul?

warnings: MDNI, DUB-CON, non-con elements, characters are 18+, dark themes death manipulation desperation demonic (otherworldly theme), potential triggers for emotional abuse, psychological manipulation, coercion, fear kink, power imbalance, gaslighting.

au. more.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝

the air in the hospital room is wrong. heavy. stagnant. as if even the walls know what’s coming.

you grip your boyfriend’s hand—cold, lifeless, slipping further with every shallow breath he takes. his chest rises. falls. rises again. but each time, it’s weaker. less certain. the machines beep softly, filling the silence with their cruel reminders.

the doctors said there was nothing left to do.

you don’t believe them.

you can’t.

"please."

your voice is barely there, cracking, shaking, fingers tightening over his. you aren’t sure who you’re speaking to—a god? the universe? fate?

"please don’t take him from me."

silence answers.

your eyes burn, but you don’t cry. not yet.

instead, your mind drifts—grasping at something, anything. a whisper at the back of your skull. a thought you should have buried the moment it formed.

you could fix this.

it’s insane. impossible. the kind of desperate, reckless thing only a person on the verge of breaking would consider.

but you are breaking.

so, when midnight comes—

you go looking for something that shouldn’t exist.

the hospital chapel is cold. too cold. the candles flicker weakly, their glow failing against the press of the dark.  

you step forward.  

"if you’re real," you murmur, your voice barely holding steady, "if the stories are true—if there’s anything out there listening—i need you."  

nothing.  

the silence stretches.  

you swallow, your throat raw. "death. the reaper. the devil. whoever you are, i’m calling you."  

the air shifts.  

the temperature drops, ice blooming across the stained-glass windows. the flickering candles shudder violently, their flames nearly snuffed out. the shadows stretch. move. the room bends, folds in on itself—  

and he steps forward.  

not like an apparition. not like a trick of the light.  

like something that was always here, waiting just beyond sight, stepping through now only because he chose to.  

tall. dressed in black, the fabric clinging to him like a second skin, sculpted over sharp, inhuman perfection. the world bends around him, unable to contain him. but it’s his eyes that trap you—bottomless, consuming, swallowing you whole.  

he smiles.  

"you called for me."  

the weight of him nearly knocks the breath from your lungs.  

he moves closer, the air growing thicker with every step, as if the space itself is collapsing around him. you can’t breathe. you can’t move.  

"did you think i wouldn’t come?"  

you force your voice out, barely a whisper. "i—i need your help.  

his smirk lingers, slow and knowing. "of course you do."  

another step. you feel it in your bones.  

"it’s my boyfriend," you manage. "he’s dying. the doctors can’t—" a breath. "but you can. can’t you?"  

something flickers in his gaze. interest? amusement? he tilts his head, drinking in every desperate inch of you.  

"saving a life is no small thing," he murmurs. "tell me, little one...what are you willing to offer in return?"  

"anything."  

the word leaves you too fast. too easy.  

his expression darkens. not displeased. interested.  

"you mortals," he says, stepping closer still. "so quick to make promises. so eager to throw yourselves at my feet." his fingers brush your cheek, cold as the grave. "and yet, you don’t even understand what you’re saying."  

you flinch, but you don’t pull away.  

his touch trails lower, his thumb ghosting over your pulse, feeling the way it pounds beneath his fingers. he hums, pleased.  

"you’re terrified," he murmurs, almost thoughtful. "and yet, here you are. still looking at me like i’m your salvation."  

your throat tightens. "can you do it or not?"  

his smirk returns, slow and cruel. "oh, little one," he purrs, tilting your chin higher, forcing you to meet his gaze. "i can do anything."  

the weight of his words sinks in. thick. suffocating. final.  

"but," he continues, dragging the moment out, savouring you, "nothing is ever free."  

you nod. "take whatever you want."  

his eyes gleam.  

"careful," he murmurs, voice dropping to something ruinous, curling around you like smoke. "a soul isn’t given, little one."  

his fingers tighten. his breath brushes your ear.  

"it’s taken."  

the shadows move.  

they devour the space between you, winding around your wrists, your throat. your breath catches. you can’t move. the weight of him—his presence, his voice—presses down like a vice, unstoppable.  

"you belong to me now," he whispers.  

the words sink into your skin. unshakeable. true.  

your knees buckle, but he catches you—slow, deliberate hands settling on your waist, pulling you closer. your breath stutters as his fingers tighten, the fabric of your shirt twisting beneath his grip.  

"did you really think," he murmurs, lips brushing your ear, "that i would grant you mercy and let you simply walk away?"  

the candlelight flickers. the walls feel smaller, as if reality itself is shrinking to make room for him.  

"you don’t understand," you whisper, panic creeping in. "i just—i just wanted—"  

"to save him," he finishes, mockingly sweet. "yes, i know." his lips ghost along the edge of your jaw, not quite touching, just enough to make you ache. "and now i get to decide what saving really means."  

your stomach twists.  

his fingers trace the hem of your shirt, slow and possessive.  

"how far are you willing to go for him?" he muses, his breath cold against your throat. "would you bleed for him?" his teeth graze your pulse. "break for him?" his hands tighten on your hips. "would you let me ruin you for him?"  

the way he says it—ruin—makes something hot coil in your gut.  

"i—"  

he chuckles. dark. dangerous.  

"shhh," he murmurs, and suddenly you’re against the wall, his weight pressing into you, shadows curling tight around your wrists. his hands move—sliding up your stomach, your ribs, exploring.  

"do you feel that?" he whispers.  

your breath catches.  

"that little heartbeat of yours," he purrs, pressing his hips against yours. "racing for me."  

you whimper—because it’s true.  

his fingers move at the hem of your shirt, slow and teasing, tracing idle patterns against the soft skin of your stomach. his touch is cold—unnatural, seeping beneath your skin, branding you from the inside out. a reminder of what you are now. who you are now. 

his. 

"you’re shaking," he murmurs, voice smooth and rich, edged with amusement. "is that fear? or something else?" 

your breath catches as his fingers slide lower, just barely dipping beneath the waistband of your jeans, never quite touching where you need him to. he knows. of course, he knows. 

"you don’t have to answer," he continues, his lips ghosting over your jaw, his breath freezing against your skin. "i can feel it. the way your pulse stutters. the way your body betrays you."  

his other hand brushes along your ribs, inching higher. not rushed. not desperate. tom riddle doesn’t hurry. he takes his time. he unravels.  

"you wanted this," he murmurs, fingers grazing the underside of your breast. "don’t lie to me."  

"i—i didn’t—"  

his hand tightens on your waist. not enough to hurt. just enough to remind you who holds the power here.  

"you begged for me," he says, his tone dark, slow, merciless. "you whispered my name like a prayer, and now you want to pretend you didn’t mean it?" 

your throat feels tight. "i just wanted to save him." 

his laughter is low, knowing, cruel. 

"is that what you keep telling yourself?" 

his lips brush the shell of your ear, his voice a whisper of death, of inevitability. 

"that this was for him?" 

his fingers move lower, slipping beneath your jeans, and your body betrays you completely. 

a sharp inhale. your thighs clench. 

tom hums, pleased. 

"poor thing," he murmurs, dragging his fingers against you, feeling how wet you already are. "you don’t even realise, do you?" 

you shake your head. "realise what?" 

his fingers slide deeper, dragging through the slick heat between your legs, slow and taunting. 

"that you were never here for him," he whispers, lips brushing against your neck, his voice sinking into your skin like poison. "you were here for me." 

your breath stutters. his teeth graze your throat, sharp and deliberate. 

"say it," he murmurs. 

your eyes squeeze shut. "no." 

a low, warning sound rumbles in his chest. 

the next thing you know, his shadows are curling around your wrists, holding you still. his knee parts your thighs, pressing up between them, and the pressure is too much and not enough all at once. 

"say it," he commands, fingers curling inside you, forcing another whimper from your lips. 

you shake your head, biting your lip hard, trying to fight the way your hips are already rocking into his touch. 

"you really think you have a choice?" his breath ghosts over your lips, and his fingers thrust deeper, slow and devastating. 

your body betrays you again. a sharp gasp, the unbearable heat twisting inside you. 

tom laughs softly. "that’s what i thought." 

his shadows move—spreading your legs wider, pinning them open, holding you exactly how he wants you. 

"so sweet," he murmurs, his fingers sliding in and out, dragging against every sensitive part of you, each movement slow, purposeful, designed to break you apart. 

"look at you," he croons, his free hand trailing up your stomach, your chest, curling around your throat. he doesn’t squeeze. not yet. just rests his fingers there, reminding you who owns you now. 

"dripping for me already," he murmurs, his voice mocking. "and i haven’t even fucked you yet." 

a flush burns through your skin. shame. desire. need. 

tom feels everything. he always does. 

"you hate that you like it," he whispers against your lips, his fingers slipping out of you just to drag through the slick wetness between your legs again, spreading it, teasing. 

he brings his fingers to your lips. "open." 

you hesitate. his eyes darken. 

"don’t make me ask again." 

your lips part, and he pushes his fingers into your mouth, pressing against your tongue, making you taste yourself. his gaze never leaves yours, watching as you suck, as your body submits without hesitation. 

"good girl," he breathes. 

heat coils tight in your stomach. 

his fingers slip from your lips, dragging down your body again, shoving your jeans lower, letting them pool at your ankles. you shiver, exposed, helpless, trapped between him and the wall. 

and then—he’s lowering himself. 

your breath catches. 

he presses a kiss to the inside of your thigh, slow, lingering, his lips too cold and too hot all at once. 

"say my name." 

you don’t know it. you shouldn’t. but the moment he says it, it’s already there, curling in the back of your mind like a whisper that was always waiting. 

tom. 

ancient. inevitable. the name presses against your lips before you even realise you’re saying it. 

and the moment you do? 

his smile sharpens. 

"you knew me before you even spoke it," he murmurs, voice dark and pleased. "because you’ve always belonged to me. haven’t you?" 

"tom—" 

his teeth scrape against soft skin, sharp and deliberate. 

"shhh," he murmurs. his fingers tighten on your hips, holding you still. "i’m not done with you yet." 

and then, his mouth is on you. 

a sharp cry rips from your lips, your body jerking against the shadows still holding you in place. his tongue cold, devastatingly skilled—fucks into you, slow and cruel, dragging against every sensitive inch of you. 

"you taste like sin," he murmurs, voice vibrating against you. 

your hips buck, but he doesn’t let you move. 

he devours you, licks into you like he’s starving, like he’s meant for this, like he wants to destroy you with pleasure. 

"you’re mine," he breathes against you, his tongue flicking just right, making your whole body shake.  

your hands claw at the stone wall, gasping, falling apart too fast. he won’t let you go until he gets what he wants. 

"say it," he demands, and his fingers slip inside you again, curling just right, fucking you with slow, merciless precision. 

you break. 

"i’m yours," you gasp, desperate, mindless, gone. "i’m yours. i belong to you." 

tom hums, satisfied, his lips pressing against the inside of your thigh one last time before he stands again, towering over you, his fingers dragging your slickness down your thigh. 

his smile is dark, knowing, victorious. "good girl," he murmurs.  

tom’s fingers move lazily over his belt, unfastening the buckle with slow, deliberate precision, as if he has all the time in the world. his gaze never leaves your face, watching the way your chest rises and falls too fast, how your body shakes even as you press yourself against the wall like you can somehow escape what’s coming. 

you can’t. 

his smirk deepens. he likes that you’re still pretending. 

he frees himself, the sight of it sending a fresh shiver through your already-ruined body. the weight of his cock presses against the front of his trousers, thick, aching, demanding attention, but he doesn’t hurry. he just watches you, drinking in your expression like it’s his favourite sin. 

"look at you," he murmurs, his voice smooth and cutting, filled with dark amusement. "still pretending you don’t want this." 

your throat is dry, your mind spinning. "i—" 

his fingers catch your chin, tilting your face up until your eyes meet his. 

"careful," he murmurs, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip, dragging it down just slightly, as if daring you to bite him. 

daring you to try.  

"you’re already mine," he says, voice a low, dangerous promise. "there’s no point in lying to yourself now."  

you shudder. his presence is too much, his body too close, his fingers too knowing as they slide down your throat, along the curve of your collarbone, tracing the shape of you like he’s memorising every inch.  

he leans in, his lips hovering just over yours, not kissing, just waiting, letting you feel the way his breath ghosts over your mouth. 

"you begged for this," he murmurs. "do you remember?" 

you swallow hard. 

his fingers curl around your throat, a light squeeze—not to hurt, just to remind you how easily he could. 

"tell me how you begged," he whispers, his free hand dragging down your stomach, between your thighs, pressing his fingers against the mess he’s already made of you. 

you let out a broken sound, hips tilting forward into his touch despite yourself. 

tom smirks. "that’s right. just like that. so eager." 

he presses harder, his fingers teasing you again, but not quite giving you what you need. 

"tell me what you said," he orders. 

your cheeks burn. "i—" 

his grip tightens slightly around your throat. "say it." 

your breath shudders out of you. "i said i’d give you anything." 

his low chuckle vibrates against your skin, dark and pleased. 

"and here you are," he murmurs, his hand finally slipping lower, fingers spreading you open, teasing the aching, sensitive heat between your legs. 

"dripping for me. desperate for me. mine." 

your eyes squeeze shut as he strokes you, slow and cruel, dragging his fingers through your wetness, spreading it, playing with you like you’re something fragile and breakable and already ruined beyond repair.  

his cock presses against your stomach, hard and aching, and the realisation of how big he is makes something tighten deep in your belly.  

he sees it. of course he does.  

"you should be afraid," he murmurs, his fingers still fucking into you, slow and devastating. "but look at you."  

his grip shifts, his free hand sliding down your waist, your hips, his fingers pressing against the softest parts of you, mapping you, memorising the way your body responds to him.  

"you love this," he breathes against your lips. "the fear. the power. me."  

your whole body burns. your pulse races beneath his hand, a frantic thing, a desperate, helpless thing. 

he nudges your legs wider, forcing you open for him, the shadows around your wrists tightening just slightly. 

"say it," he murmurs, dragging the head of his cock through your slick heat, not pushing in yet, just teasing, making sure you feel every second of this. 

you whimper. "i—i don’t—" 

tom laughs softly, shaking his head. 

"you still think you have a choice?" 

his hips snap forward, and you feel him push inside, the stretch too much and perfect all at once, his cock forcing your body to take him, to open for him. 

a sharp cry tears from your throat, your fingers clawing at the stone wall. his shadows tighten around your wrists, keeping you exactly where he wants you. 

his growl is low, pleased, satisfied, dark. 

"fuck," he breathes, his hands tightening on your hips, holding you still as he buries himself completely inside you. 

you feel every inch of him. the slow, devastating drag of it. 

"you’re perfect," he mutters, his lips brushing against your jaw, your ear, your throat. 

his fingers press against your lower stomach, right where he’s stretching you open. 

"do you feel that?" he whispers. "how deep i am?" 

you can’t speak. can’t think. your body trembles beneath him, every nerve lit with fire.  

"you take me so well," he breathes, pulling out slowly, dragging every inch of his cock against your aching, sensitive walls, before snapping his hips forward again, making you cry out.  

"fuck, that’s it," he murmurs, setting a slow, merciless rhythm, fucking you deep and deliberate, making sure you feel every inch, every stroke, every deliberate claim.  

"tell me who you belong to," he demands, his voice low and sharp, his fingers digging into your hips, keeping you still as he ruins you completely.  

your eyes flutter.  

"say it," he growls, his thrusts deep and hard and inescapable, dragging you closer and closer to the edge.  

"i—" your breath shatters.  

his hand slides lower, fingers finding your swollen clit, rubbing just right, just enough, pushing you too close, too fast.  

"say it, or i stop."  

a broken sob escapes your lips.  

"i’m yours," you gasp, voice wrecked, shaking, completely gone.  

tom groans, thrusting into you harder, the sound of skin against skin, the wet, filthy noises of your bodies echoing in the dim chapel.  

"that’s my girl," he breathes, voice raw and dark and victorious.  

"you were always mine."  

and then he makes you prove it. 

his fingers press against your lower stomach, just above the place where he’s already buried so deep inside you. 

"feel that?" his voice is low, mocking, dragging through the thick heat between you. "i’m so deep in this pretty little cunt, i can feel myself inside you." 

you don’t answer—not because you don’t want to, but because you can’t. 

you’re already falling apart, shaking beneath him, the stretch of him too much and not enough all at once. he’s big, his cock dragging against every sensitive part of you, the slow, deliberate way he moves making it worse, making it unbearable. 

"fuck, you’re tight," he groans, fingers digging into your hips, keeping you still as he ruins you completely. 

your nails scrape against the stone wall, trying to hold onto something, but there’s nothing to hold onto—only him, only the slow, punishing drag of his cock, only the way he’s filling you so completely there isn’t a single part of you he hasn’t claimed. 

and he knows it. 

"taking me so well," he murmurs, his breath hot and cold against your skin, dragging his lips along your throat, your jaw, your cheek. "look at you. a perfect little mess. so wet for me. so fucking eager." 

you whimper, hips shifting against his, already desperate for more. 

tom chuckles darkly, shaking his head. "i should have made you beg for it longer," he murmurs, his voice low and cruel, hips snapping forward just a little harder, making you gasp. "you would have. in the end." 

he knows what he’s doing—knows exactly how to break you apart, how to push you closer to the edge, how to make you forget anything but him. 

his pace shifts, his thrusts turning rougher, deeper, his fingers slipping lower, spreading you open with every slow, devastating stroke. 

"look at you, dripping down my cock already," he breathes, watching the way your body clenches around him, how easy it is for him to fuck you open. "so fucking good for me." 

a sharp moan rips from your throat, your body shuddering as pleasure coils tight in your stomach. 

he can feel it. of course, he can. 

"you’re close," he murmurs, sounding so fucking pleased with himself. "come on, let me feel it. let me feel this pretty little cunt squeeze me when you come." 

his fingers find your clit, rubbing slow, circling just right, pushing you over the edge so fast you barely have time to breathe. 

a sharp cry, your whole body trembling, the pleasure so intense it nearly pulls you under completely. 

tom groans, thrusting deeper, fucking you through it, watching you fall apart with something dark and hungry in his eyes. 

"that’s it," he breathes, voice rough and raw, fingers gripping your hips hard enough to bruise as he snaps his hips forward faster, chasing his own release now. 

"you feel so fucking good," he groans, his thrusts growing erratic, harder, deeper, inescapable. "so fucking perfect. like you were made for me." 

his hand tightens in your hair, yanking your head back just slightly, enough for his teeth to scrape against your throat, for his breath to ghost over your ear. 

"you’re mine now," he murmurs, fucking you deep, slow, merciless, making sure you feel every inch, every stroke, every claim. 

your breath shatters, your body still shaking from your orgasm, but it only makes him thrust harder, rougher, filthier, dragging every last bit of pleasure out of you. 

"fuck—" his voice is low, desperate, his pace losing rhythm, his cock throbbing inside you as he finally lets go, slamming into you one last time as he spills inside you, hot and thick and completely fucking inescapable. 

his fingers dig into your hips, holding you still, keeping you exactly where he wants you, making sure you take every drop of him. 

for a moment, the only sound is your ragged breathing, your body limp and ruined against the stone wall, his hands still gripping your waist like he’s not ready to let go. 

then, slowly, his lips ghost over your jaw, your cheek, your ear. 

"that’s it," he murmurs, voice rough and sated, fingers sliding down your trembling thighs, spreading you open again, as if admiring the way he’s left you dripping, shaking, completely wrecked. 

"you look so fucking pretty like this," he breathes, his thumb swiping between your legs, dragging through the mess he’s made of you. 

your body shudders at the overstimulation, but he only smirks, watching every little reaction, every twitch, every shiver. 

"you’re not done yet, little one," he murmurs, low and dark and utterly unshaken. 

his fingers tease you again, just barely. a warning. a promise. 

"we’ve only just begun." 

─────────────────────

the steady beep of the heart monitor is the first thing you hear.

soft. rhythmic. real.

you blink against the sterile white glow of the hospital room, your body aching, your head swimming. the chair beneath you is stiff and uncomfortable; your fingers curled around a warm, living hand.

his hand.

your breath stutters. your boyfriend lies in the bed beside you, chest rising and falling with a steady, even rhythm. alive. he’s alive.

his eyelids flutter before his gaze slowly meets yours. familiar. safe. confused.

"hey," he murmurs, voice weak and worn. "you stayed."

a strangled noise catches in your throat. tears spill over, hot and uncontrollable, as you lurch forward, clutching him too tightly, burying your face against his neck.

he’s warm. so fucking warm.

you squeeze your eyes shut, trying to forget. trying to convince yourself it was just a dream.

the shadows. the ice in your veins. the cold weight of him inside you.

no. it didn’t happen. it couldn’t have happened.

you saved him. that’s all that matters.

you force yourself to pull away, swiping at your tears with the sleeve of your jacket. "i—yeah. of course, i stayed. where else would i be?"

a soft smile tugs at his lips before exhaustion takes him under again, his eyes slipping closed.

you exhale, shaking hands still curled around his, willing the weight in your chest to disappear.

it was nothing.

it was just a nightmare.

a breath. another.

you can almost believe it—until the air shifts.

it’s subtle. just a whisper of something wrong. the hairs at the back of your neck stand on end, your stomach twisting.

a shadow moves in the corner of your vision.

your pulse stops.

slowly—too slowly—your gaze drags to the mirror mounted on the wall beside you. the reflection stares back. the dim hospital lighting. the crisp sheets. your boyfriend’s still, sleeping body.

and him.

standing behind you.

your breath catches.

he looks the same as he did before—perfect and terrible and so impossibly there—watching you with those bottomless black eyes, amusement curling at the edge of his mouth.

your chest tightens, throat constricting, fingers gripping your boyfriend’s hand too hard. but he doesn’t react. doesn’t see what you see.

because there is nothing there.

you squeeze your eyes shut.

"not real."

"not real. not real. not—"

a slow, quiet chuckle presses against your ear.

"sweet little liar," tom murmurs.

your lungs collapse.

you spin around, heart hammering, but—nothing.

the hospital room is still. silent.

your gaze snaps back to the mirror—but it’s empty.

just you.

just the bed.

just your boyfriend, alive and well.

your pulse thrums wildly beneath your skin, hands trembling as you pull them away from him, curling them into your lap. your nails dig into your palms, hard enough to hurt. hard enough to ground you.

it was nothing.

it was just your mind playing tricks on you.

the exhaustion. the grief.

that’s all.

you inhale slowly, pressing a shaking hand to your temple, trying to push him out of your thoughts.

but the burn of his touch still lingers on your skin.

your body still aches from the way he ruined you.

and somewhere in the deepest part of you, you know.

you can run. you can pretend. you can wake up to the morning light and convince yourself it was only a nightmare.

but tom riddle doesn’t grant mercy.

and when he comes for you again—

you won’t wake up at all.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝

𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘴. 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘷𝘦𝘴, 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴. 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘭𝘭