#this was the hottest ask ive ever received

[mamaestapa]

rutger making her squirt for the first time and ethan proudly watching and rutger being so shocked

when i first read this ask like weeks ago...i literally gasped. its so amazing and so omg. its so hot😩

ANYWAYS

you and ethan have been together since your freshmen year. you've been intimate countless times, done it on so many special and non-special occasions, multiple rounds, the whole nine yards, but he's never made you squirt before.

rutger did though.

you're leaning back into ethan's bare chest as rutger goes down on you. your hands are alternating between grabbing at ethans chest and tugging at rutgers hair, pushing him closer to your soaked and aching core.

youre a moaning mess as rutgers tongue flicks your clit before lapping generously at your folds with his skilled tongue, making sure to get every last drop of your sweetness on his tongue. ethan has taught him so well...

"look at her rut, look how worked up you've got her."

"she's so beautiful, god and those sounds she makes"

you're whimpering and writhing at the feeling of rutgers tongue and fingers pleasuring you in ways you've never been pleasured before. he's teasing you, edging you so much that you know once that coil in your belly snaps its going to be one of the best orgasms of your life. as rutgers eating you out like a starved man, ethan is kissing your neck and playing with your nipples because he knows that gets you even more worked up. he loves the pretty sounds you make during sex, rutger does too.

eventually once the time comes and that coil finally snaps, it snaps. you let your orgasm completely take over your body and youre so blissed out you dont even realize what's happening.

rutger made you squirt for the first time.

ethan is just proud. proud of rutger and proud of you. your chest is heaving like crazy as you come down from your high, and rutger is panting as he sucks your juices off of his fingers and lips.

"woah that was fucking hot"

"damn rut, you just made my girlfriend squirt"

"i did?"

"hell yeah you did. atta boy."

(GUYS THIS LITERALLY MADE ME AHHHHHHHHHH🫠)

[talaok]

hi!! it says in your desc that requests are open but in case thats outdated feel free to ignore!!!!

i know this may be a weird request but can you do something with joel with a reader that has scarring in their pubic area? i have a skin disorder that gives me really bad scars down there and i have Not had great experiences in the past sleeping with people because of it like it is TRAUMATIC atp to show people 😭 mostly hurt/comfort but if it makes sense to throw smut in there feel free i absolutely would not turn it down LMAOOOO

and shout out to people w scarring down there, whether from skin issues, fgm, assault, etc. etc. we up fr 😔✊

Warnings: insecurity, body image issues and smut | oral sex (f receiving)

a/n: its not a weird request at all, ive said this before, i feel incredibly honored whenever you ask me to write such personal stories, so thank you 💖

His hands were beneath your shirt, his calloused fingers caressing your skin with a gentleness that defied his rough exterior, that he only showed a few.

His mouth was on yours, his tongue twisting with your own, letting you taste him as he tasted you.

Your hands were on his face, holding it, stroaking his beard, trailing to his hair, while one of his legs parted your legs, settling between your thighs.

Your back was on the bed, the soft duvet shuffling beneath your movements, beneath your exited shivers and shudders.

It all was perfect, just perfect... until his fingers traveled lower, until they began seeping underneath your shorts.

"wait"

His eyes opened as he leaned away ever so little

"I'm sorry" he said, retracting his hand "I thought you wanted to..."

"I do" you murmured "I just-"

And there it was, the block.

The barrier, the wall you had built brick by brick over the years.

"what?" he asked, his brows knitting together in concern as he moved to your side, propping his elbow on the mattress "What is it?"

"Well I- I don't know if... you want to"

"what?" he huffed a soft laugh, "of course I want you"

"yeah now" you sighed, avoiding his eyes, 

"y/n" he called your name, urging you to look at him with two of his fingers beneath your chin "What are you talking about?"

"I just-" you bit your lip, your eyes trembling, taking in the look of him before he knew the truth, 

"Whatever it is baby, you can tell me"

And the saddest part was that you wanted to believe him, but a part of you knew, you knew how he was gonna react, you knew how it was really gonna go.

As kind and nice and perfect as he was, you got proven times and times again that there was only one way men would respond.

"I- Well I..." 

god, why was it always so hard?

"I have a skin issue" you spat out, forcing yourself to not think about it too much 

"ok..." he murmured, his eyes scanning your face in the hopes of finding out where you were going with this

"so I have...scars" you breathed "down there"

You swore you felt your heart drop as the words left your mouth, just to speed back up at full force the moment he spoke, after a brief silence.

"oh" he hummed, his eyes still fogged with confusion "and so I can't like... touch you or-"

"no no, you can-" you sighed, frustrated with yourself "but I understand if you don't... want to." you explained "I've been told before that it's not really... pretty so I totally get it if yo-"

"first of all" he shook his head, getting out of his confusional state at your words "Whoever told you that is a brainless asshole" he stated, looking you straight in the eyes "And second of all" he smiled now "darlin', you're the most beautiful, hottest woman I've ever met, I almost died when I met you" he exaggerated making you stifle a laugh

"no I'm serious." he promised, taking your hand in his "And if you think that that's gonna change because of a few scars, well then sweetheart I'm sorry but you're wrong"

And although your heart was swelling with hope, with a joy it hadn't known for a while now, your brain couldn't still be sure of what was happening

"you're saying that now" you whispered "but you haven't seen it yet"

"darlin', I promise on whatever you want, that I'm sure" A soft smile was still pulling at his lips, and his voice was warm, honest, like honey "That nothing in this world could ever change what I know, and what I know is that you're the most gorgeous woman on the planet,"

"but-"

"no, no but" he shook his head, interrupting you "You are, and the fact that you don't think so is unbelievable" his eyes were shining, glimmering with that sentiment you still hadn't confessed to each other, but that he'd been on the verge of expressing far too many times "I want you to say it. Say -I'm the most beautiful woman on the planet-"

"but I'm n-"

"ah-ah-ah" he shushed you "What did I say about the buts"

"But I'm just saying think about Jennifer Aniston or Sandra Bullock-"

"yeah exactly, they're nothing compared to you"

You couldn't help but snort at that "Oh please, you're just lying now"

"I'm most definitely not" he protested, "have you seen yourself in the mirror darlin'?"

"I have" you rolled your eyes jokingly, your lips still turned upwards into a smile

"you sure? 'cause it doesn't feel like it"

"stop" you begged

"No, I won't stop" he frowned "you're beautiful, I need you to know that." his forehead fell to yours "Whoever made you feel any differently was just an insecure stupid asshole who didn't deserve you, ok?"

And it was at this moment, that you realized just how how much you loved him.

It was as you took his words in, the truth in them, the care behind them, that you realized that he might just be the one.

"ok" you murmured, after some time, for the first time in a long time, actually believing it.

"yeah?"

"yes"

"that's my girl" he grinned, not being able to stop himself before he crashed his lips with yours, kissing you as if his life depended on it.

And with just a kiss, you were back at where you'd stopped, your belly tingling and your body desperately looking for his.

"Joel" you whispered, in between kisses "I-I want to"

His eyes opened, looking a bit taken aback "You sure? I didn't want to put any pressure on you sweetheart, I'm completely ok with just kissing if that's what you want-"

"no" you shook your head "No I want you"

The smile that spread on his face at that was enormous.

he kissed you again, just to start a slow trail of kisses down your neck, making you squirm and whimper underneath him.

He waited for your nod of approval before removing your shirt, and after having reserved time to your (as he put it) "perfect tits", he then moved on to your shorts, now waiting for a vocal permission before doing anything.

"You can take them off" you murmured, watching closely as he did, slowly slipping your shorts and then panties down your legs.

"Jesus Christ sweetheart" he breathed "you're fucking perfect"

And you could only blush and smile shily, not realizing what was happening, until his head was between your thighs, beginning a line of pecks from your navel down toward... well towards down there.

"no y-you don't have to do that"

He didn't seem to hear you, his mouth only traveling lower and lower until it was right there where you needed him the most.

"does it hurt if I touch them?"

"n-no" you stuttered

He licked his lips, his eyes not on yours, but on your pretty cunt 

"and if I kiss them?"

"I-I don't know, I don't think s-"

And just like that, he had dived in, fist slowly kissing your skin, paying no mind if it included scars or not, just to start tasting your whole pussy, licking and sucking all he could find like a starved animal.

His grip on your waist was relentless, probably leaving bruises behind, but all you could do was lose yourself in the feeling as you moaned and arched your back from the bed.

he continued his work for a while, prolonging the experience as long as possible, before he decided to bring it home, and started focusing on your clit, sucking and licking your bud desperately.

And in a matter of seconds, you had fallen apart, moaning his name loud enough for his neighbors to hear.

"wow" you breathed, your chest rising and falling way too quickly as made his way back up again "That was... wow" you murmured, ghosting his lips

"I just wanted to prove to you how beautiful you are" he smiled, kissing you softly "All of you"

[napoleonic-sexyman-tournament]

Jumping on the pro-Castlereagh propaganda bandwagon from earlier (apologies for the long post but gotta help my boy out): 

There are far too many contemporaries talking about how good-looking he was. Even his detractors agree he was pretty but here are some of my fave quotes: 

Mrs. Arbuthnot: “He was above six feet high and had a remarkably fine commanding figure, very fine dark eyes, rather a high nose and a mouth whose smile was sweeter than it is possible to describe. It was impossible to look at him & see the benevolent and amiable expression of his countenance without a disposition to like him, and over his whole person was spread an air or dignity & nobleness such as I have never seen in any other person… He was excessively agreeable, a great favourite amongst women & used occasionally to excite Ly Londonderry’s jealousy; but he was the kindest and most affectionate of husbands”

Lady Bughersh: “You never saw such a beauty as Lord Castlereagh has become. He is as brown as a berry, with a fine bronzed colour, and wears a fur cap with gold, and is really quite charming. There never was anybody so looked up to as he is here.”

John Wilson Croker: “Londonderry goes on as usual, and to continue my similes, like Mont Blanc continues to gather all the sunshine upon his icy head…. It is a splendid summit of bright and polished frost which, like the travellers in Switzerland, we all admire.”

During a state visit to Ireland, the unpopular Castlereagh joked the crowds cheered for him solely due to his personal beauty

I kid you not but he was the hottest person at George IV’s coronation! How attractive must you be to accidentally outshine the monarch at their own goddamn coronation with many other sexymen present - if you don’t believe me: 

Mrs. Arbuthnot: “his dress was beautiful, his hat bound round with the most splendid diamonds & he looked handsomer than I ever saw him; the people echoed his name from one to the other the whole length of the platform & received him with repeated cheers. It was unanimously voted that he was the handsomest man in the procession” 

Walter Scott: “If you ask me to distinguish who bore him best, and appeared most to sustain the character we annex to the assistants in such a solemnity, I have no hesitation to name Lord Londonderry, who, in the magnificent robes of the Garter… and by his fine face and majestic person formed an adequate representative of the order of Edward III, the costume of which was worn by his Lordship deserving the baton, which was never grasped by so worthy a hand.”

Apparently multiple folks commented he looked so regal in his Garter robes that one might mistake him for the sovereign

Also as reference - this is what he looked like on the day of the coronation (can you believe this man was 52??)

Was also hella competent - he was known for his work ethic and attention to detail but he literally helped establish the idea of the European balance of power (aka the thing that prevented conflict on the scale of the Napoleonic Wars from occurring for the next 100 years) 

Just some fun anecdotes: 

According to the Austrian police reports, while in Vienna he and his wife went to every shop, asked to be shown every item in the shop… and bought absolutely nothing

He fought a duel in 1809 because George Canning tried to kick him out of Cabinet and half of their colleagues (incl. Castlereagh’s own uncle) kept Canning’s insistent demands/threats a secret from Castlereagh for ~6 months. His opponent never had shot a pistol prior to this (his second had to help load the gun as he didn’t trust the guy to do it correctly) while Castlereagh was known as a good shot. Add in the fact that 3 Wellesleys were tangentially involved - this entire event was bonkers

After an author read aloud some of her novel to him, he was so impressed that he arranged a meeting with the publisher in his own study. The author recalls how Castlereagh was standing there while she signed the new agreement with the publisher 

He had a strange hobby - Castlereagh said he has "not thought of anything of late but of sheep farming” and his wife joked that he “shall soon bleat and be covered with wool.’’ He even won an award for his wool!

Despite being in a non-dangerous occupation, he was quite badass: 

At age 17, Castlereagh saved a classmate from drowning by keeping him afloat in a cold lake for more than an hour after their boat capsized

During a stormy voyage to Dublin, he jumped on the chains that supported the mast to rescue a man who fell overboard - especially daring when out of the 5 ships sailing out of the departing port, 3 sank (all onboard died) bc of the storm

3 men tried to rob him - I say tried bc he just shot one of them in the neck with a pistol, was able to subdue the second with the help of a bystander, and the last guy simply fled

He was just a nice person? Castlereagh contributed to various charities and there’s a story that the day following his death, one of his servants was asked if they observed any change in him. The response? “One day he spoke sharply to me!”

Even one of his greatest political rivals admitted if you “put all their other men together in one scale, and poor Castlereagh in the other—single, he plainly weighed them down... Also, he was a gentleman, and the only one amongst them.” 

Ngl, surprised that you didn’t use this lovely portrait of him: 

But also this bust and coin tho: 

Bonus: Good looks seem to run in the family (go check out the portrait of his brother Charles by Thomas Lawerence)

.

[bittsandpieces]

Massage kink giving and receiving.

No | rather not | I dunno | I guess | Sure | Yes | FUCK Yes! | Oh god you don’t even know |

I loooove receiving massages (thank you chronic pain) and I like giving them as well, though not as much! At my first sex party one of the attendees brought a massage table and oils, and she was one of thee absolute hottest women ive ever met... I ended up getting a massage from five people at once (they all asked for my consent to touch me) while at least 50 other people filtered in and out of the room 😅 it was shockingly erotic and relaxing given the number of people and the fact that I never actually did get touched in an explicitly sexual manner...

[fillmewithcum]

With the ask game you just reblogged, I'd love to know your answers to 8 and 14 😘

8. What position or angle or specific technique never fails to make you cum?

I'm a simple woman - if you rub my clit and hit the right spot inside (right at the front) I will cum v v v quickly regardless of whatever was happening before

14. What’s your go-to nude pic to send to someone. Describe the angle, lighting, body part etc.

ok i have like...uhhh very big tits? so i defaulted to bathroom pics of my chest in pretty bras as a starter<3

my favourite pic i think i've sent was me in a public bathroom, 2 fingers deep and moaning. you coudn't see anything graphic but by hands were clearly in my underwear under my dress and i look so fucking desperate. and the dress in question gave me such good cleavage...lighting was awful tho lmao

shoutout to the cheekiest picture ive sent while flirting: me in a massively ripped t shirts (holes everywhere) with no bra on, and with my nipples poking out of the holes. yes i did pretend i didn't realise how explicit it was before sending it and yes i was obviously lying

i think this has made it pretty clear that i dont really like...save nudes to send? i tend to take them more in the moment? i do have some saved obv but i think sending pictures you took while turned on because of the person you're sending them too or just specifically for one person is wayy hotter

(and yeah thats why a clip of someone cumming while moaning my name is still like..the hottest thing ive ever received on this site)

[asahicore]

hi!!!!!!!!! hello, im actually so excited to write this cuz ive just read “our secret moments” and aAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA, first thing, ive to say is i remeber recommending dress by tswift as a perfect song for this AND OMG u did use it <3 im so happy !!!!

okay, but lets get down to business!!

1.i loved that we got an inside on heeseung and what he has been up to!! it was really wholesome to read his own “figuring out i like my sisters best friend”, it was so cute and his overall makeover - that was fun to read!! also the bit of him meeting jake lmaoo that made me laugh ^^ i can totally see that !!!

2.the "lets avoid him" trope was what i expected and it was exceeded perfectly !! like yes!! thank u !! also chaeyeong seeing right THROUGH yn was amazing, yeah gurl u aint slick !!! but thanks for making the dumbass (yn) confront hee tho!!! bless!!!

3. PLEASE THE WHOLE MOVIE NIGHT STUFF??????? i giggled and kicked my feet like a little girl, omg, it was so amazingly written i could feel everything !!!every heart fluttering moment was described so well!!! I WAS AMAZED!!! and hooked on the story even more!!!!! their talk “so dont” 2eojiwfndwqdsjekwdsnjfsd making out in the kitchen was a superior scene!!!!

4. their "sneaking around" was also so well narrated!!! car is THE SPOT !!! omg and the star gazing :((( making out in the backseat tho 🤭🤭🤭

5. the pool party tho………consider me dead cuz it was so good, I LOVED THAT SCENE too, i mean..shirtless hee?? being playful in the pool? making heart eyes?? going on the slide with yn? kissing her THIGH?? MAMMA MIA !! :OO, toooooooooooo goooooooooooood 

6. ngl the fact that yn didnt tell Seeun the truth when she asked had me "oh NOO this is bad innit?" i knew this was not gonna end well whyyyyyy, i mean i get why cuz she was scared BUT :(((( 

7. and for the BIGGEST JAW DROPPING MOMENT OF THE FIC WHICH I READ LIKE THIS :OOOO,  the bedroom/shower scene HOLY FATHER AND THE HOLY SPIRIT!!!!! I ASCENDED… the dry humping  was so fucking hot,i mean , the idea itself BUT THE WAY U WROTE IT i was wowed and also they were so cute and heeseung IS THE BIGEEST SIMP EVER in a good way like his thoughts on not knowing what to do but doing what makes yn feel good……………………….god me when!!! REALLY IT WAS AMAZING!! THE SHOWER THO like i melted cuz of the whole "we can stay in our swim suit bby" was so adorable :((  AND THEY ACCIDENTAL I LOVE U I DIED I WAS NOT READY AND THEN IT GOT SO STEAMY??????????? HELLO??? I DIED SO MANY TIMES ALREADY LORD (emma) HAVE MERCY, it was too good, I swear to god them just wanting to make the other person feel good was and is the hottest concept and u made it CHIEF'S KISSES!!!!!! doll >>>>>>>>> ,

8. and then they were cuties again :(((( the morning scene had me melting i'm literally a puddle of fluff on the floor !!! let me walk u to the door and kiss u goodbye OH THIS IS NOT GOOOD GUYS !!! ABORT ABORT!!!!!!!!!!!!

9. ,............................ Seeun :(((( please the last scene broke my heart even though i know it was gonna happen, im so sad mann, i hope they gonna figure it out cuz if this has a sad ending then i will still read but my heart would never recover ANYWAY the way hee grabbed her but she just push him ->>>> emotional damage

UFFFFFFFFFFFF, THIS WAS 24K WORDS OF PURE MASTERPIECE, I ENJOYED EVERY BIT OF THIS, THANK U THANK U!!!!!!!!!!!!!1 It was so with the wait !!!! i'm so seriously in love with this !!! thank u sm for the time and work and everything that put into this it was MESMERIZING!!! the details and descriptions emma. ure insane, i swear u just so amazing!!! kissing ur brain URE THE BEST What the frick

emma i love u!! this made my weekend, i hope u gonna have a great week <3333 all the best ♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡���♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

ps. this is so long im sorry :>

ANOOOOOOON !!!!! dont apologize omg receiving asks like these are the absolute best, i was smiling like an idiot and punching my pillows reading this thank you so so much !!! and omg thank you again for the song rec, it went so perfectly with the story!!

im glad u liked heeseung's part!! since gorgeous was all in reader's pov i thought it'd be nice to see how heeseung was feeling and have his backstory and all that... and yes jake hahaha he was really fun to write about

no cause thank god for chaeyeong otherwise these two idiots would probably still be stuck in their awkward phase 😭

AAAH movie night scene omg im so happy u enjoyed it !! i had kind of a hard time writing it cause i felt like it needed a lot of tiny details ugh so reading this is such a relief!! same for the pool party at first i had noooo idea how i was gonna write it lmao

im so glad u liked the smut part omg for some reason these are the scenes im always most unsure of !! but yeah these two are so sweet like they just want to make the other happy BUT AAAAH TY SO SO MUCH IM SO GLAD IT MADE U REACT THAT WAY 😭😭

and ikkkk yk how it is we needed at least a little bit of angst but yes dont worry i will give them a happy ending !!! which honestly i feel like is more realistic than a bad ending.. seeun and yn just need to talk things through 🥰

anon i seriously cannot thank u enough for this <333 ur the one who made my weekend !!!! when i receive asks like yours it makes me really happy to have started writing and posting on here :)) i appreciate u sm and love u too and hope u have a lovely rest of ur weekend!!!!<3333

[ahdriking]

Okay so I debated with myself wether to spam your inbox further but there is one idea that after ch8 of blue blood I cannot let go of and that is-

I love your Porsche and how he interacts with Prawinn because with every their interactions I think of Prawinn like a man that keeps a very dangerous animal in a glass cage and is constantly poking the glass

Foolish man thinking of an animal less wild just because he keeps it on a leash

But Porsche cannot be tamed with force and Kinn knows that

And you know what they say about wild animals let loose from their cage - they bite

And so an image of bloodied Porsche standing over Prawinn and smiling a feral thing, his teeth covered in blood

Kinn is crouching next to Prawinn looking at him with something almost akin to pity if anybody didn't know him would think was genuine

And he says "This will be the last time I'll let Porsche get his hands bloody because of you, I hope you'll enjoy the performance as always, no need to place bets tho, we both know who the winner will be" AND HE LETS PORSCHE DO WITH HIM AS HE PLEASE

Anyway yeah it has been on mind for some time, your fault Ahdri, but I'm literally vibrating to see what YOU have in mind fkr that guy 🥰

Like always I hope you have a nice day/night and I hope your attempts to write on your ipad will be fruitful 💕

DOM pls spam my inbox whenever the urge strikes, I LOVE IT OBJWLIPFHSFEWNSD

DOM. DOM. DOM. YOU CAN'T JUST PUT IDEAS LIKE THAT IN MY HEAD. I cannot be held responsible for what I do with this information.

FUUUUUUUUUUUU

@kissporsche lOOK AT THIS. LOOK AT IT. IM SCREAMING.

[flustersluts]

All yours I swear! I only beg cause I'm good! And you're the one that makes me needy anyways! Always teasing and calling me cute and dummy, makes me get all ditzy and wet :( -🌺

hey angel, sorry i haven’t been able to tease you on how adorably desperate you were until now:’)) hope you’ve been doing well 

[owlespresso]

POLLEN IV

Hiii. There's a lot of G'raha Tia in this chapter but don't worry it's just setup for later. The relationships and developing the girlies are moving. Read from chapter 1 HERE.

In two days’ time, you will ascend the Crystal Tower. Between recovering your strength and researching what you can about Allagan society and the machinations that lead up to the Crystal Tower’s creation, there’s truthfully little time to devote to your companions.

Both of them have thus far spent time pacing the length of Saint Coinach’s Find, desperately taking on any petty quests the researchers are kind enough to give them. They dispatch any rogue beasts unfortunate enough to happen too close to the camp, swinging their weapons with the same mighty fervor they had in the Tower. 

Their blatant refusal to simply rest aggravates you beyond sound reason, but there’s nothing you can do about it. They’re adults capable of making their own decisions, no matter how insolent and dunderheaded those decisions they have to be.

Meteor has avoided you ever since your return, which bodes ill for the upcoming expedition. You’re unsure of what you’ve done to incur his ire, and you’re doubly unsure that he would admit the truth if asked. Meteor, as kind and steadfast as you have found him to be, accidentally partakes in Ardbert’s brand of stubbornness and emotional constipation. The more you prod, the less likely you are to win an honest reply.

All you can do is busy yourself with a few, small tasks to distract your overwrought mind. The skies of Mor Dhona shift and churn with currents of rich, purple aether. The watery sunlight catches on each cloud of transparent vapor, casting the atmosphere in a glittering, dewey glow. The blue crystal underfoot gives way to stone as you journey towards the narrow pathway embedded into the cliffside. The beasts here, sustained by crystal rich in fire aspected aether, loaf and lumber about. 

It’s easy enough to avoid their detection. The sample you’re to collect lies at the cavern’s end—where the temperatures blaze their hottest, air sticking to you like a second skin. Typically, you would avoid venturing somewhere so intense whilst you’re supposed to be resting, but a little bit of heat isn’t going to get the best of you. The sweltering waves of humidity is a tame gust of wind in comparison to Ifrit’s lashing flames.

You toe around the edge of a boulder, footsteps soundless as you listen for any signs of life. The floor beneath you is interspersed with patched of jagged orange, compounded into the black rock by years of compression and erosion. The final chamber is swathed in near blinding crystal, its floors aglow like viscous flows of glowing magma. The beasts are thankfully in another section of the cavern, a small blessing among the ungodly heat and the clenched anxiety that comes so easily with sneaking. 

Thancred, you think, deserves a modicum more credit than he receives. Your heart thums in your throat, palms coated with sweat as you scramble into the room, grasping for pebbles with gloves hands. You shove them haphazardly into the heat-proof container the scholars supplies you with. You are no such academic, yet you cannot suppress your amusement at the sheer lack of process or the simplicity of the tools given you you. Such delicate work they do, yet they leave their gatherer of specimens to haphazardly yoink research materials like a grandmother searching for the glasses she’s dropped on the carpet.

There’s nothing careful nor elegant in the way you grasp whatever rocks you see. They’re rocks. How delicate do you truly need to be with them?

From behind you, the sound of swooping wings against the air churns close. At once, you reach for your staff, turning on your heel; as you unsheathe it. Hard wired instincts thrum to life, well-tuned machine that is your body tensed and prepared to fend off whatever threat presents itself. Unfortunately, you turn just in time to see a hippogryph thud to the floor. The bloodied tip of an arrow protrudes from between its eyes, having been shot from behind—likely intercepted mere seconds before it could reach you. Its grey, leathery wings sprawl across the glowing cavern floor.

“That was a close call,” G’raha Tia says, bow clutched tight in hand. The bottoms of his eyes crinkle with delight. “Are you alright?”

“Perfectly fine,” you reply coolly, frowning at the hippogryph’s cooling corpse. If only you had the time to properly skin it.

“I am well-aware that you could have handled it on your own,” G’raha continues quickly, as though correcting himself. “I just…” In a rare and miraculous turn of events, he trails into awkward silence, gaze shifting to the nearby wall. As well-intentioned as he is, you can’t help but be frustrated at both being caught unawares and at the leather you’ll be wasting by leaving the beast’s body behind. Being surprisingly light for its hardiness, hippogryph leather is highly coveted. It could sell for a hefty sum. “I would like to apologize if I have offended you.”

“Huh?” you blink at him, eyebrows raising. Has he mistaken the shortness of your reply as being directed at him? “No, no. It’s not you,” you inform him with a weary sigh, heaving your bag over your shoulder. The walk back to the Find will be just as treacherous as the journey within, you realize belatedly, shoulders slumping with dread.

“Wait,” he explains quietly, “There’s another passage that leads to the surface. It’s a tad tight, but it’ll let us avoid most of the beasts.”

And just like that, your irritation fizzles out. He’s more reserved than you recall. Less grating. Has your petty grudge truly made such a prominent impact on his personality? The very idea mires you in a rush of guilt. Sure, you don’t get along with the little bastard, but to beat down the… quirks of his personality has never been your intention. Your voice stays quiet, gaze weary as you speak.

“Lead on.”

As it turns out, the hidden passage is indeed a tight squeeze. Only three films across, jagged edges which protrude from spots of rogue crystal on the left force you to hug the opposite side. Meteor and Ardbert would have struggled to remain un-poked.

Contrary to what you might have feared, G’raha remains uncharacteristically silent through the trek. To think, you could be so put off by something you once wished for so fervently.

“Did they ask you to come after me?” you ask, if only to break the unbearable silence.

“No. I saw you leave and seized the opportunity to talk to you alone,” he says, voice abundant with awkward, frantic nervousness. His sudden confession nearly makes you pause and turn to face him, but you have a feeling he’d melt into a puddle if you so much as spared him a glance. “It’s terribly difficult to get some peace and quiet at the Find, especially after our recent foray into—”

“You’re rambling,” you inform him curtly.

“So I am,” he remarks with a dry laugh, “I simply want to apologize. For stealing the aether sand. At the time, I failed to realize the dangers you and yours would have had to face to get your hands on it.” His voice is low and remorseful, words mumbled sheepishly at your back. It’s surprising to hear him so humbled. G’raha, for the limited amount of time you’ve known him, has seemed to delight in the dramatic, to savor the spotlight. The fact that he would trek so far into the wilderness to deliver a simple apology as soon as possible speaks volumes to his intentions… It’s oddly touching.

“I appreciate that, G’raha,” you say, soft heart that you are. As irritating as you have found his theatrics and eccentricities to be, you cannot deny how wrong it feels for him to be so subdued, so unsure to himself. It’s uncomfortable. “And I forgive you.” Giving pause before accepting his olive branch is one last gesture of petulance—one last spark of suspense and unsurity to slightly rattle him before you make amends and by extension, put your machinations of rivalry and vengeance to rest.

“My thanks. It was unimaginably brazen to steal resources from underneath your noses, especially when you would be the ones on the frontlines while I sit safe and twiddle my thumbs.” A mote of bitterness breaches his tone like a thistle barb, the sudden admission nearly giving you second pause. It’s a struggle to read him without seeing his face, but your active mind slowly begins to slot the pisces together.

“You wanted to come ith the expedition party,” you say, because there’s no question about it.

“It only would have been right. You are all risking your lives at the behest of us scholars.” he says. A stray pebble clatters over the ground from behind you, his tone dipping into bitterness.

“You’re the best authority on Allag society we have,” you inform him, as though he needs a reminder. A gust of hot air spurts from a crack between the rock and crystal in the wall. The thickly smell of natural gasses and minerals is thick, aether so heavy it coats like a second skin. You shoulder it off, pointedly reminding yourself that you’ve worked in worse. “If we lose you, the entire operation falls on its face—”

“I’m well-aware,” he cuts in promptly. You promptly resist the urge to strangle him with your bare hands. If you slay every man that dares interrupt you, it will reflect poorly upon yourself and the Scions. Patience and discretion is key. Patience is everything, you repeat the mantra in your head a few times, clearing your head of self-righteous vitriol. 

“It’s just—I wanted to be with you, at your sides as you made the ascent. When I… When I look at the three of you, I cannot help but be reminded of tales of adventure I read as a boy—or of the heroes I learned so much during my time at Sharlayan.” he continues. It becomes decidedly difficult to remain cross with him when he spills his heart, leaves his feelings at your feet, free to be judged and torn to pieces should you feel the need. It’s throttling, to be exposed to this much of his truth all at once. “I suppose I wish I could count myself among your number. Selfish of me, I’m well-aware—”

“There’s nothing wrong with having aspirations for yourself,” you say before you can even think it through. The cave’s flor has begun to slope, indicating the beginning of the trek to the surface. Your lips purse into a frown, gaze fixed firmly on the floor as you reckon with your rapidly changing opinion of him. “As long as you don’t endanger others by pursuing said ambitions. You’re allowed to want things, even if the person you want to become is different from how you are now.”

Though, is it truly responsible to encourage him so heedlessly? G’raha, as skilled a bowman as he may be, is still solidly a scholar. You doubt he has any genuine battlefield experience, meaning he would need to start from the very ground up.

“I mean, you would obviously need to train to get to the level we’re at, but with enough time and persistence…” you trail off, unsure of where else to take that statement. Even under the tutelage of an adventurer’s guild, he could come nowhere close to the capabilities of you and yours without being blessed with the Echo. The tenuous peace between you both feels ungainly and misplaced—your words fumbling as you try to coach him through personal insecurities.

You can’t lie. You never wanted to be a hero and never desired the worshipful admiration that came with the title. It puts you at a loss, trying to advise someone you disliked until a few minutes ago on a topic you feel uncomfortable at best.

“You’re the first to encourage me so enthusiastically,” he says after a long pause. “I thank you for the faith, and for listening to the petty wants or an overdramatic scholar such as myself.” You can hear the smile in his voice. 

“Don’t thank me just yet,” you snort dismissively, though unable to stop the corners of your lips from quirking upwards. Just the tiniest bit. “Thank me when you start to see results and let me tell you, that’s gonna be far down the line.”

“Truly?” he asks, voice cresting low with disappointment. Indignant. Perhaps a little whiny. “How much time will it take?”

“Of course. You’re an adventurer long before you’re a hero. Meteor and Ardbert didn’t just sprout outta the ground as fully formed Warriors of Light, no one does.”

“Yes. That makes sense.” G’raha says, a mote of weariness to his voice, as though he had expected exactly that.

“You have to begin with the basics. Join the Adventurer’s Guild, find some lost pets, run some errands—get wrapped up in a conflict between the locals and a beast tribe until they’ve summoned a primal for you to defeat.” It’s funny, how the words so suddenly flow out of you. Memories of your early days as an adventurer crash over you in waves, one after the other, the rush of nostalgia overwhelming you. It’s strange, to feel nostalgia for only eight months ago. It all seems worlds away, now, a time when scrounging up enough for lodging was the worst of your worries.

“While I’m willing to defer to your expertise I insist that battling primals remain off the agenda, as my distinct lack of echo would have me burnt to a crisp or worse, tempered.” A slight sliver of amusement in his voice belies an improvement in his mood. The sulking doom and gloom seems to have vanished in the wake of your conversation, restoring him to his proper, smart-assed state.

“I don’t think anything in the tower could temper you, but I’m also not the expert here,” Despite all of the material you had consumed and committed to memory, it would take years of continued study to get anywhere close to his level. A part of you, still jaded and bitter, insists that deferring to him is as good as admitting defeat—but you’ve known from the start that it’s a losing battle. Now that he’s apologized, you can settle this. Lay it to rest within your aching wrists and strained eyes. 

“Well, we definitely can’t have you climb the tower. Maybe—just maybe, I can consider letting you come with us on our next assignment.” You squint as the cave’s exit appears in the distance. The sun’s rays have parted the gloom whilst you were underground, illuminating the path in a flood of effulgent light.

If G’raha takes note of your standoffish posturing, he doesn’t mention it. Instead, the sound of his quiet laugh stretches down the throat of the cavern, a mote of joy in his voice as he replies.

“I look forward to it,” he insists with a sense of finality. It sounds like a promise.

It isn’t.

G’raha Tia seals himself in the Crystal Tower for what might as well be an eternity. You’re likely to never see him again—and you very well feel cheated, for some reason.

Ardbert finds you by the campfire, later that night, elbows resting on your knees, chin atop you folded hands. The embers playfully flicker and dance, firelight glinting off across the smooth, crystal ground. Behind you, in the far distance, the Crystal Tower shines proudly for all to see. Like the world’s flashiest tombstone.

“It’s late,” Ardbert astutely observes, taking up the seat beside you.

“Couldn’t sleep,” you reply, dreadfully not in the mood for any petty arguments.

“You’re taking it harder than I thought you would,” he says, voice soft and passive even as he cuts to the heart of the matter. Most of the time, you appreciate his directness. Tonight, however, it comes at the cost of tact or emotional sensitivity—both of which are typically your tasks regardless. “It’s alright that you are—hell, I’ll miss the little bugger too,” he tacts on, lips twisting into a frustrated frown.

“I… was never really nice to him,” you left your gaze to the heavens, stars winking down at you both. “After he pulled that whole stunt, I think I just used it as an excuse to focus all my anger on him. There was so much to worry about. It all just compounded in my head. I took it out on him.” You unfurl yourself from your curled position and settle back into the seat, as though weighed by the confession. 

“He understood. I think,” Ardbert proposes. He’s not staring off into the distance. He’s looking at you—you can see in your periphery. The lighting flatters his roughened features and softens him. His hair is getting a little long, sideburns growing thick. You’ll offer to give him a shave, tomorrow. “He was confident in his choice. I know that much. Not so sure about how he’ll feel when he wakes up. Who knows what’ll be waiting for him in the future?”

And who knows how long it’ll take?

You bite the inside of your cheek. The familiar sting of tears at the corners of your eyes prompts you to stand, facing away from him. The sound of your name on his lips, so careful and hesitant, barely floats over the crackling of the dying flame, so tender it makes your chest hurt.

“I’m going to bed,” you say. doing all you can to keep the watery out of your voice. You march towards the cabin. Behind you, a muffled curse accompanies the grind of the chair legs against the ground. You don’t dare look back at him when he calls your name, nor when his footsteps thud hastily behind you. Because you are not going to break in front of your charge, your assignment, one of those who you’ve been assigned to protect. All who look at the three of you assume they’re the ones protecting you, too blind and biased to realize the opposite is true. 

You are their healer, their backbone, their foundation which they build home and hearth upon. Thus far, you’ve found flaws in every move you’ve made, every stilled conversation—but never have you cried. Never have you let the stone erode or the pillars crack.

Which is why it’s impossible to reckon with the way he boxes in the tiny corridor behind the cabin’s front door—where scholars and soldiers deposit their muddy boots on concrete slate. He grasps your arm and you, trembling with all of the rage and regret you cannot contain, dare to break out in a sob.

His face, cast in dim light from behind the screen door, twists in astonishment. A large hand curls around your upper arm, warm and engulfing, before he urges you close. It all cracks at once, careful stilts holding up your cool demeanor splintering and shattering under the weight of his earnest concern. He brings you close, awkwardly crowding you into his broad chest. He’s done away with his armor for the evening, you belatedly realize, cheek pressed to his tight, cable-knit sweater.

“He might as well be dead, Ardbert,” you gasp, voice choked and eyes wet. “He threw his entire life away for people who might never even exist! No one’s gonna remember him! We’re the only ones—it’s just us—and I treated him horribly!”

He holds you there, lets you cry and curl your fists into his shirt. Get ahold of yourself! A wicked voice hisses in the back of your mind—but can you?

“He was struggling with everything this entire time—and all I could focus on was how to be better than him,” you confess, in a series of brief gasps. Your voice feels hoarse and your eyes bleary as warm arms rock you back and forth. You let yourself be swayed, eyes shut, face burrowed into his chest. His hand presses against your lower back, rubbing circles through your loose blouse. He’s a hearth, melting away the stiff cold that’s so mercilessly enveloped you. The low rumble of his voice guides the staccato rhythm of your heartbeat into something smoother, calmer.

“I don’t know what the future holds. I can’t tell you that it’s all going to work out, but I have a feeling that G’raha Tia is going to wake up to a bunch of folks who’ll know that they’re so gods damned lucky to have him.”

And even if his hunch is wrong, it’s likely that neither of you will be alive to know otherwise. The retort lingers on the tip of your tongue, but you’ve not the energy to spend on another pointless disagreement.

“It’s probably impossible, knowing you, but hold out some hope for him. Even if the people who find him don’t take a shine to him, he’s crafty. He’ll find a way to make things work out for himself.” He sounds like he believes what he says. The sheer honesty of his optimism is galvanizing and terrifying all at once. It suits him, of course. He’s a natural born leader. Yet, you cannot believe in what he says. Pessimism is what keeps you—all of you—safe. Thus in that heartfelt doubt you will believe. You will mourn in it, too, you will think of G’raha Tia in all the vibrancy of his youth, fumbling over his mistakes and aspiring towards a future full of adventure and discovery. 

You will mourn, and you will allow yourself the comfort of Ardbert’s warm embrace. Come tomorrow, you will be mortified that he witnessed you in such a state.

But that will be tomorrow, and tonight remains tonight. Your shaking hands reach around his back and fist his sweater. You hold close, breathe him in. He smells of spices and the cold winds of the wilderness. Like the last leaves in autumn, crinkled and dead yet still clung onto the branch.

You depart from Saint Coinach’s Find the next morning. The trip back to the Rising Stones is blissfully short. Had it been aunty longer, you would have surely gone mad from the awkward silence. They’re both deep in thought about something, but you don’t pry. You frankly lack the energy for it after the events that have transpired this last two weeks.

“We can give Minfilia the full report,” is the first thing said between you all, murmured quietly by Ardbert as you step through Mor Dhona’s sturdy gates. “If you want to get some rest. Or catch up with the others.”

You barely resist the urge to spurn his offer with a mean scowl. You don’t need a break. You’re fine—hardly a scratch gained during the struggle up the tower. You’re not scarred, not maimed. You’re still here and able to tell the full tale of what occurred on those three, fateful excursions.

But do you really want to?

You don’t, and you’re ashamed that Ardbert sees it before you do. Since when was he able to read you?

“That would be nice,” you mutter.

“Alright, then. We’ll meet up with you later.” Ardbert reassures with a smile. You don’t watch them walk away. 

Mor Dhona is a bowl of thick fog, a cool wetness lingering in the early morning air. The merchants in the square are still in the process of unpacking and sorting their day’s wares reminding you of the provisions you’d used up during your forays into the Tower. Gauze and bandage to slap over minor abrasions, potions meant to restore one’s natural wellspring of aether. If you’re not going to turn in your report, you might as well stock up. 

Certainly a better use of your time than remaining idle.

The dulcet sound of a familiar voice stalls you on your path, deep and smooth and unmistakable. Y’shtola is the same as you remember, posture tall and prideful, and gaze keen, of her face eased with an amicable smile.

“It’s been too long since we’ve last spoken,” she says, friendly in a way that means she’s about to fellow up with a question—something she feels she’ll need to wheedle you into. “Shall we break our fasts together? I’m sure you’ve grown tired of the rations they serve at Coinach’s Find.”

And she’s right. A true meal is nigh impossible to turn down after stomaching bland rations and boiled chicken for two weeks. You can’t help but salivate as Y’shtola bargains for a full breakfast platter. Yet it’s not enough to pull the wool over your eyes.

“So,” you begin, break off to take a nervous sip of tea. “Is there anything I can help you with, Y’shtola?”

“Suspecting an ulterior motive so soon? Perhaps I want to treat a comrade to breakfast,” she says with a raised brow, the corner of her lips quirked. It’s difficult to discern whether she’s amused or annoyed. “Yet, you’re too clever for that, aren’t you? I apologize. It was not my intent to trick you. Though, the specificities of your last assignment are unknown to me, it is clear that they—or the gruesome food you were served—have taken a toll on you.”

“It’s fine,” you answer. A little too hastily, a little too forcefully. “I don’t mind telling you about it. You didn’t have to go through the trouble of—”

“Of spending time with a respected comrade? Of getting a table at a nearly empty restaurant?” Y’shtola inquires with a wry smile, bottoms of her eyes crinkling up with the expression. You bring your hands up to your face, pressing the pads of your fingers to your closed, dry eyes. “Spending time with you is by no means trouble. I have questions, but first and more importantly; how are you feeling?”

“I’m alright. Just a little tired,” Y’shtola doesn’t need to hear about your regrets, your fatigue or your qualms about your team’s befuddling dynamics.

“And you fared alright during the expeditions?” she asks. It’s flattering to have her genuine concern and her devoted attention. She doesn’t keep her distance as much as she used to. The sense of haughty secrecy that emanated from her every word has been replaced by something just a tad warmer, just a portion more personal.

“I did. Hardly a scratch,” You stare down at your tea, your reflection blinking back at you from its hazy surface. What little injuries you incurred were insignificant  when compared to what your frontline fighters endured. There had been no casualties in large part due to the diligence of yourself and the other healers accompanying you—yet there are still moments when your weary mind returns to split second mistakes you made in the throes of the fight. They replay again and again, a constant revolving cycle of what you could have done better. You’ll be better next time, you swear to yourself.

“Then what is it that ails you?” she inquires, resting her chin on the palm of her hand. She’s oblivious to the complex web of things that you’ve been caught in, otherwise you have a feeling she might not have asked in the first place. 

“Nothing,” you say, grasping for a particularly large, glazed scone. Y’shtola scoffs.

“You don’t spend as much time with me as you do a select group of our other comrades, yet even I can see that you’re struggling with something,” she says, sounding more than a touch exasperated with you. You fiddle idly with the eggs and bacon on your plate, pointedly refusing to look at her—though it’s impossible to hide from her fierce scrutiny.

“Is it really that obvious?” you duck your head, voice coming out as a hushed whisper, as though imparting a great secret unto her.

“The bags under your eyes and the defeated slouch of your shoulders betrayed you at first glance,” Y’shtola dresses you down with remorseless indifference, delicately plopping two cubes of sugar into her tea. “Given the dire nature of your most recent assignment, it would not be remiss of me to assume that something had gone awry.” Plop. Plop. One after the other, tumbling from her graceful fingers and into the murky depths of the earl grey. “Feel free to correct me should I be mistaken.”

You bristle underneath your poorly-kept, impassive veneer, jaw clenching as you weigh the pros and cons of continued dishonesty—and how much you should disclose should you fess up. The burdens you carry are your own. No one else needs to be concerned with them, or you. 

On the other hand, locking away your emotions has already begun to take a toll on you. Perhaps confiding in Y’shtola now would be preferable to an outburst later down the line. There’s only so much one individual can sear before being crushed by the weight of their damaged psyche.

“Meteor is upset with me.” you inform her in an act of internal compromise. Forfeiting a smaller portion of your troubles would surely do for now. It’s not like you see Y’shtola terribly regularly, anyways. 

“Ah. That’s a much simpler problem than I feared,” Y’shtola remarks, smile wry. “As bold as he may be in the face of the enemy, he has always seemed… shy, to me. Does his silence bother you so?"

"I don't understand the question."

"As long as he communicates effectively during your missions, I doubt it would be a problem..." she trails off, before shaking her head. Her lips curl into that same, coy smile. Like she's taking part in a joke you don't understand. "Never mind. I'm glad he has someone so devoted looking after him."

"It's just my job," you brush her accusation off with a scoff, grip tightening around your fork. "I can't do my best if they're not going to work with me."

As eager as she had been to pry the secrets out of you, she remains impassive and contemplative as you tell her your tale of woe in the most succinct and simplistic way possible. You only outline the bare bones of your journey, only going into depth about the odd room you and he had explored within the tower.

“Whatever concoction he breathed in could be to blame. If you’ve been completely honest in your recounting, I can see no other rational reason for such a sudden change,” she says, drumming her fingers against the table. “As trite as it may sound, I prescribe to you a dose of honest inquiry. The fastest and most efficient way of learning the truth would obviously be to hear it from his own mouth.”

“You say that like it’s easy,” you grumble, cupping your face in your hands. "Just ask” isn’t the advice you were hoping for, yet what else could you do? The tower has been sealed, your access to the chamber and potions within therefore revoked. You should have gathered samples immediately, or before you left, but the collective chaos and need for healing hands distracted you from the matter. Frustration bubbles anew within you, the helplessness a bitter pill to swallow. “I have no idea if he would even give an honest answer, Y’shtola. He’s very quiet—very private. I asked the other healers in our group to check in on him and he turned them away all the same.”

“If he is not willing to confide in you, his healer, then it stands to reason he would not be forthcoming with any other,” Y’shtola says, clicking her tongue in disapproval. “If that is the case, then there is nothing more you can do. The ball is in his court. You’ve taken every step you can.” 

She’s correct in her assessment, yet it doesn’t take the sting out of being labeled as “his healer”. Like you’re nothing more than a part to be tacked onto his coattails. She doesn’t mean it that way, you assure yourself, you’re just being sensitive. “You have two paths before you. Either continue to ignore him and hope the situation resolves itself with time, or simply ask. I’ve already made it clear I would choose, but your decision is your own.”

[caroldantops]

inspired by the ask game i just did, here’s a little compilation of my favorite and the funniest comments ive received on my fics this year, from both tumblr and ao3 

is this bragging? no, im simply posting reviews as if i am making a trailer for my blog.

i could be your favorite girl 

“this was so freaking good. and i think it’s become one of my favourite wanda fics ever. the way it was written was just so incredible, especially with how you built up the sexual tension. i also enjoyed how the tension was attempted to be alleviated by darcy’s quips too. truly amazing”

“Fuck, I’m in love with Milf!Wanda...”

“Holy shit, that was smoking! I really love your writing style, second person perspective isn't easy and you frickin kill it.”

“God I am so deep into the mommy kink it’s not even funny”

please don’t go (i’ll eat you whole)

“To be fair, anyone who's reading this fic needs therapy, so we're all in this together at the very least.”

“I love how this progressed and how you didn’t make it seem like anything wrong was happening until Monica said something. Honestly that’s how I felt despite knowing how this was going to end darkly, there weren’t any serious line crossing red flags that came up until she said something. And it was a shocker when things changed so abruptly. I loved this.”

“also,, is it bad that i really want agatha as my therapist now? 😰 she seems everything i’ve ever wanted in a therapist (and I don’t mean her different..... methods....., i promise)”

“okay... WOW. i loved this. i have a therapist, she’s lovely, but if agatha was offering therapy lessons... phew, i may have to switch!"

“maybe i should take my friends advice and see a therapist....”  

“haha funny i commented this cause my mom put me in therapy. i hope my therapist is hot?😭”

“As excellent as it is fucked up. Five stars.”

hot milfs in your area

“how did i know it was you caroldantops.”

“YES THE GENDER NEUTRAL PRONOUNS IM DROOLING. but also the good girl? only hot milfs can misgender me and ONLY when they’re railing the absolute SHIT out of me.”

“…”

“hey silver what’s it like to own my entire ass asking for a friend”

“don’t mind me just suddenly gaining handywoman abilities to service these women to the best of my ability 🤧”

“pornhub bout to be bankrupt after this”

girls on film

“Who needs pornhub when this is happening. Well done.”

“Cheese and fuckin' rice”

“bitches bros and non-binary hoes we have a new winner for the hottest content on this website”

lemonade stand

“This title is definitely GOLDEN”

“I don't have a piss kink, but this was still hot.”

“I am literally going to punch you in the face for giving me a piss kink. Fuck you.” 

“someones getting scalped. Not gonna say who, but we all know it’s the person who gave me a piss kink.”

“Im really dramatic- i dont mean any of it!“

infect me with your lovin’, fill me with your poison

“This is not nasty - this is a GEM! Sweet and sexy, you made an extreme tag somewhat romantic - I mean, what even! So good!!! And I can hear her voice as I read and just... shivers! I never imagined I'd read a kidnapped reader breeding fic and actually wish that would happen to me! I mean, Agatha is so kind and caring, and reader is living the life!“

“ummmm ummmmm ummmmmm ummmmm”

“maybe i WILL let aliens experiment on me....”

“touching some grass won't help me anymore”

“HELLO?!?!?!? I WOULD SELL AN ORGAN FOR THIS!!!! ALL MY ORGANS, I DON’T NEED THEM.”

“I think you might have an Agatha-in-office-chairs kink?“

this isnt even close to covering all the comments in tags and in my inbox that ive gotten that i love as well ❤ all of your comments make me laugh or make my heart grow 3 sizes and going thru all these again made me so happy. thank u all for supporting me thru the year i hope i can write more fics that send u all to therapy in 2022 💕💕

[jangofctts]

omg I just read so much of your writing and I’m 🥺🥰🥲🥵 the absolute royalty shit that we see here today. i’ve recently discovered I am very into ~thigh riding~ so do u have any thots on how our boys (especially our clone babes) feel about it? much obliged

IVE BEEN THINKING ABOUT THIS ALL DAY KEJHKJRH SO HERE YOU GO OMG

boba: yEs--boba absolutely adORES when you crawl into his lap and straddle his thigh. he’ll either pat his lap and invite you up or it’s one of those times when he’s intentionally ignoring you and you have force your way onto his lap so he has to pay attention. imo the first time you ride his thigh you weren't intending to, you wanted to fuck him but with boba, if you want something from him he’s gonna do it his way or twist it into something to tease you. so he’ll say something like “if you’re so desperate, ride my thigh” or maybe “ride my thigh and then we’ll see if you deserve my cock.” he’ll sit back and enjoy the show with a smug grin, one hand gripping your hip. he’s not controlling your pace, it’s mostly just there as an anchor bc you’re gonna be doing all the work. you’re lucky if you get to ride his bare thigh, but most of the time he’s got pants on so they always end up soaked after you cum and boba always teases you for it, “ruined another pair of pants, little one” but really he isn't even one to talk, he’ll be rock hard and leaking through his pants too. he’ll also nine times out of ten put his fingers or thumb into your mouth to suck on while he flexes and pushes the hard muscle of his thigh up to your cunt. he likes that satisfaction of knowing that even his thigh can make you shudder and whine his name--a bit of a power trip esp if he’s sitting on the throne. he’ll fuck you nice and hard afterwards if you’re a good little princess for him          

din: din wants you to ride the beskar thigh plating. he doesn't realize it’s a thing he finds arousing until you sit over his thigh and he sees the heat from your thighs fog up the metal while your arousal smears over the shiny beskar. literally it’s like something just CRACKS in him and he goes feral for it. a dark thrill that comes from seeing your cunt drip over his precious armor, something so sacrilegious that shouldn't be arousing but it’s the hottest thing he’s ever seen. sure, it’s a bit cold at first but the more you get into it the quicker it heats up--it’s slippery too, not a lot of friction unless you drag your clit over the seams of the armor, but with din’s hands holding onto your hips and dragging you over his thigh, it’s not long before you cum. din is gonna be encouraging you the whole time, just a constant flow of praise and little moans of his own. he might bury a hand in your hair or slip off his glove and touch your clit when your hips roll up into his hand. he’d loose his mind if you lended a hand and palmed him through his pants. he doesn't even care if he ruins his trousers, he’s just so...fixated on the hypnotic motions of your hips rolling over his thigh, your wetness dripping off the plating and onto the floor. he might focus on your mouth, parted with gasping moans or how they roll the syllable of his name. he likes to watch you come undone like this, shuddering and whiney as you cum and eventually roll off his thigh. he probably busts a nut right then and there if you start to roll your tongue over the beskar, happily cleaning up the mess you made. but....sometimes...lick it off himself just to get a taste of you       

paz: big boy blue ALSO likes when you ride his beskar, but he likes it better when the armor is off and he gets to feel your wetness for himself. he has big ol’ beefy thighs and likes when you straddle one and start to ride him like that. imo he likes it when youre pressed up right near his cock so when you roll forward your own thigh brushes against his cock. it’s also just easier for him to grab your hips, set a pace and watch you squirm and whine. ngl he’s more interested in fucking you, so he’ll get cheeky and start jerking his thigh or holding you in place while he circles his thumb over your clit. p much will sabotage your wild ride and convince you to slide onto his cock instead. though,....if you were to tie him up, tease him bye riding his thigh, he might like that :)  

rex: oH rexY BOY--listen, rex has heard ALL about thigh riding, or rather what the clones like to call it, “paint job”. he doesn't understand the big deal, thinks that it’d be a complete hassle to clean and what not. in my oPiNiOn he’ll be sitting with you in an empty break room or on a couch, you both have feelings for each other but nothing's been said yet. somehow the topic of paint jobs come up and he tells you what he thinks and how it “couldn't possibly feel good, blah blah blah”. you just roll your eyes and you ask if he’s even tried it. he definitely blushes and mumbles out a no and with a leap of faith you ask him if he wants you to ride his thigh. baby boy rex gets very shy and embarrassed about it but he’s not gonna say no. so you’ll flash him a little grin and peel off your pants and your over shirt, make rex relax against the back of the couch/chair and sit over his plastoid covered thigh. even though when you start to grind on his thigh you still have your underwear on, rex with pick a corner of the room to just stare at. it’s not because he doesn't like you, he’s just incredibly shy and afraid he’ll cum in his pants if he looks at you. you gotta cup his jaw and force him to look at you. when that happens his eye will immediately drop to between your legs and just moan at the sight. he gets it now. seeing your arousal that’s already leaking through the thin fabric and staining the blue and white plastoid--he has to grip the fucking sidearm to anchor himself. his armor is one of the only things that he owns and is proud of, so seeing you riding his thigh, moaning and whimpering his name he goes wild for that shit. unfortunately he does end up cumming in his pants but eh fuck it. it was worth it   

cody: he likes when you ride his thigh in semi public places like the 79′s, debrief room, gunships, you name it. imma explain the 79′s scenario bc im a whore but anyway, cody likes to bring you on dates there, one because the drinks are free for him, two it’s dark and so unless someone is really looking at the two of you, it’s pretty secluded. he always chooses a back corner table and after a couple drinks you start to get handsy--nuzzling his neck and wiggling your fingers between the gaps separating his thigh and codpiece. it alWAYS starts like that. cody will chuckle, push his nose into your neck and nibble a line up to your ear, then bite down onto the cartilage. in that dark, rumbly voice he might sigh “such a depraved little creature. we’re in public”. but you can feel his smile and how is pulse quickens under your fingertips. cody will sigh and shake his head as he pulls you onto his lap, bUT--he’s gonna have you with your back to his chest plate, your dress/skirt/pants rolled up or down just barely in the view of anyone who glances over or looks a little closer. it’d be no secret what you both were up to but cody likes that. dude doesn't have any shame and so he’ll wrap an arm over your hip, push you panties to the side and slide his fingers through your folds. once they're coated in your arousal he might pop them into his mouth or yours, clean them off then flex his thigh onto your pussy. when he asks you to grind on his thigh you readily agree. while you ride his thigh he’ll nibble at your throat and suck bruises onto your skin, either watching your wet pussy slide over the plastoid armor or on the look out in case one of his brothers comes near. one time, just as you started to cum, a couple fresh shiny’s got an entire eyeful of you arching and burying your nose into cody’s neck as he rolled his fingers over your clit. safe to say they were a bit spooked--but of course, cody thought it was the funniest thing and couldn't stop laughing even if you were close to tears with embarrassment. now....he doesn't invite anyone to watch, but he wouldn't say no to a few prying eyes          

wolffe: I feel like with wolffe, it’s gonna be right after a mission--one of you might've almost died or gotten real hurt so he’s not thinking about fucking you properly--he just want his mouth on yours, hands buried in your hair as he pins you against the wall. I dont think he initially meant for you to ride his thigh, but when he wedges it between your legs and you moan into his mouth the second he increases the pressure, he freezes. he’ll do it again and when it receives the same reaction from you he smirks and tugs on your hair and might say smthn like “you like that? if you wanted to ride my thigh you could've asked sooner”. he’s either focused on your face or on your pussy, just soaking up all your little reactions or twitches when you roll your cunt over the plastoid. he'll have both hands on your hips, helping you grin up on him, while you either cup his face or grip his arm. either way youre in for a wild fucking ride--wolffe tbh wants to see his armor dripping by the time he’s done with you. sO do nOT be surprised if he just, doesn't let you stop, pushes you to keep going until he’s satisfied. imo I think he’ll make you lick it up after, or just in general would really Like It if you run your tongue over any part of his armor. he likes to be Appreciated :)

wrecker (im sorry I just nEEDed to include him kejkejh): honestly since baby boy wrecker is uh, so big, thigh riding is some of the first things you try with him. you’ll both be butt ass naked bc it’s just easier to explore like this, and while wrecker is eager he knows he has to think about his strength in order not to overwhelm or hurt you unintentionally. he’s a bit of a goof ball so when you straddle his thigh and bring his thicC fingers to your cunt he’ll smile and say some shit like “wow, you’re wet” or like “is it always this wet/soft?” he doesn't mean for it to be teasing, it's more like he’s just stating a fact bc he’s curious about you. you just nod and say it’s all for you, baby/only for you. the second you put your cunt over his thigh he’ll curse and clamp his hands around your hips or ribcage, and just to make the experience all that better for him, you’ll jerk him off while you ride him. wrecker is very vocal/loud and so you’ll know exactly what you’re doing that he likes--he’ll probably tell you how pretty you look, or how good you smell etc., that bOY IS SO FULL OF LOVE and just wants to tell you! it doesn't take long for him to spill into your hand, he shakes and no doubt wakes up half the barrack/ship but who the fuck cares. you just smile and continue to ride his thigh, chasing your own thigh. once he recovers a bit, you can grab his fingers and show him how you like to be touched. he’s a surprisingly quick learner with this and so it doesn't take long for you to cum. afterwards he’ll run his fingers over his thigh, collect the mess you left and taste you and maybe say “you should ride my face. can we do that?”     

[sapphicambitions]

they asked me what are some things im nerdy about and i sent back and entire essay about queer history, the history of architecture and buildings in DC, about impressionist paintings and marble sculptures, about queer literature and the different types of books ive read and they sent back “laynie that was the hottest text message ive ever received from someone” so yeah i’d say it’s going well.

[chiconzin]

The unbearable smell of oranges

I

Maybe it was her untied black hair, maybe it was her strange demeanour, or the history of tragedy surrounding the house she lived in. Or maybe it was something more apparent that caused repulsion amongst the small group of children we used to play with: her smell. Eurydice was constantly surrounded by an unmistakable smell, no one could agree on what it was. It was like the smell of citrus, like the smell of rotten oranges. It took me my whole life to identify the source of that smell; that’s what this story is about.

Eurydice belonged to one of the old wealthy families in town. She lived with her grandmother, until one day, she presumably died from tuberculosis. Who were Eurydice’s parents or their whereabouts, no one knew. And because of her strange characteristics and behaviour, she remained an orphan, living in the same decaying old house.

Many of the details of Eurydice’s life and origin remains unknown because of her compulsive habit of lying. Lying was the thing she was best at, and throughout her life, it allowed her to live relatively comfortably without any family. She had a talent with words; she could convince anyone the sky was green if she wanted. Eurydice had a gifted writer’s soul; her stories were capable of stripping people of their most prized possessions. It was a strange relationship between the town and Eurydice. They had a terrific pity for her, but never enough to make a simple quick act of charity. She was an outcast, forever an outcast.

One day, while we were playing, the topic of reading and writing came up. We all were pretty amazed to discover Eurydice could do either. She said she formerly had a private tutor and that she had mastered the art of reading to perfection. Not believing her, I asked Eurydice to give me reading lessons. Surprisingly, she accepted and set a date to meet at her house. I didn’t know what to make out of this in the beginning, but I ended up going. After all, what was the scheme behind teaching someone to read?

II

It was one of the hottest days of the year, not a single soul was on the streets, not even birds would sing. It didn’t take me a lot to find where Eurydice’s home was, after all, it was one of the biggest in town. Like most old buildings, it was made of quarry and tezontle. It was two stories and what seemed like a thousand rooms. It almost looked like a cloister. Above the massive engraved wooden door was a family shield so eroded it was unrecognizable. A hot current of wind was flowing under the door and inside the building, like it was breathing very slowly. Fear travelled through my body as I felt I was in front of an enormous ancient beast. After knocking several times and not receiving an answer, I entered. When I got to the courtyard, I finally saw her.

She was laying on a hammock, reading with that dirty nightgown she invariably displayed, under the most immense orange tree my eyes have ever laid upon. The tree branches grew and spread throughout the balconies without a care in the world and there were thousands of oranges laying on the floor everywhere. The air was saturated by the orange’s scent, an unusual warm smell, maybe a little sweeter than the characteristic orange’s perfume.

This would be the end of the story if the orange tree was the reason behind Eurydice’s fragrance. Although similar, the aroma and aura from the house and the one emanating from Eurydice couldn’t be more different. The house fragrance was old and nostalgic, Eurydice’s one was longing, but a yearning for something not yet experienced.

Eurydice gestured for me to come and join her, so I did. She started by teaching me the alphabet and the sound of each letter, then she made me try to read some old children’s rhymes. She was a completely different person inside that house. Her charismatic tales, her spillable tenderness, and her infinite patience allured me quickly, and soon enough we became good friends. It wasn’t long before I started taking daily lessons with her.

I enjoyed how weirdly affectionate she was towards me and her even stranger ways of showing it. She would do and undo my braid over and over sometimes, other times while we lied on the hammock, she would curiously touch my face as I was the first human being she ever saw. I didn’t like when Eurydice did that. I was an insecure child growing up and my smallpox scars made me inhibited. But thanks to her tenderness, as time went by I started cherishing more of those times of idleness.

III

When I reached my teenage years, I finally started reading my first novel, I was a quick learner after all. As there wasn’t much Eurydice could teach me anymore, the moments of boredom and frivolity in the hammock during her lessons became more frequent. One of those days of sopor, Eurydice started touching my face again, caressing it rather, that’s when it happened. It was so faint and so light I didn’t read it as a kiss until she started engulfing me in them. Without knowing what was happening and unsure of what to do next, I lowered my head and stayed very still. She took notice after a while of my reaction and then abruptly stopped. The air became heavy, the atmosphere unbearably unpleasant and uncomfortable so the lesson of the day was cut short. After that, I stopped hanging with her for a while.

I tried resuming my daily life, but something ensued after I left that decaying house. Slowly but surely I was being excluded from the local social activities, like the atmosphere Eurydice brought with her was always following.My old-time friends started drifting away, and soon people began treating me as a foreigner. As I became more isolated, I started perceiving it too: the smell of rotten oranges. Eurydice’s garden had followed me.

Initially, I thought it was in my hair, in the braid she often did and undid, so I cut it. Next, I thought the odour was emanating from the books she had gifted me throughout our lessons, so I burned them. I started getting rid of anything in my life that was associated with her in hopes the curse would stop. The scent became unbearable; it wouldn’t go away no matter how many times I washed my clothes or myself. I couldn’t eat anything as everything tasted like those unduly sweet oranges, I couldn’t sleep at night as the warm smell suffocated me and made me feel dizzy.

There was only one thing I could do: seek help with Eurydice.

IV

The day I returned to Eurydice’s house the smell stopped. When I entered, she was in crisis. The young girl told me horrible tales of what happened after I had left. Tales blurring the line between fiction and reality. She was delirious! All her charismatic lying started to flop as she would often confuse events described in the horror novels she often read with daily occurrences without order or logic.

I led her to the hammock and started reading to her as we would always do. I held her tight, as if I released her I would lose her forever. As the lecture continued, and we began to be absorbed in the dull descriptions of that badly written book, I finally found peace. The atmosphere didn’t smell like anything in particular, nor anything felt special in a singular way. At that moment I felt like I could deal with Eurydice’s extravagances and daylight nightmares, I could even deal with being labelled as an outcast by the rest of the town just for little moments of peace like that.

After months of not seeing each other, I finally answered to the incident that made me run away from her and kissed her forehead as we lay under the orange tree.

As one often wishes while reminiscing of tales from the youth, I wish I could have made wiser decisions.

V

We would play pretend like when we were children, we would play to pretend to be in love with each other. Her particular talent in lying made her especially good at this. We would become the protagonist in her romantic novels to spend the infinite time that isolation offered us inside the house. The line between fiction and reality was non-existent in Eurydice’s rotten orange garden.

At first, it was fine when it was just Eurydice and me in the bliss of youth, until I had to coexist with the ghosts of her past and her made-up spectres. The more open she became of her past and the enigmatic characters that were her violent parents and intrinsic family drama, the more confusing and inconsistent the overall narrative became.

On one thing she was saner than me: she wanted to abandon the house. But I wasn’t ready to confront the overwhelming smell of the outside world again. After all, wasn’t my fear of the aromatic curse the reason I bear with such a questionable character?

VI

As years passed by, Eurydice’s starchy whiteness started to become more spectral, and her body acquired more translucent properties. Her coal-black hair had grown so much it dragged like the tail of a dress, and when she bent her head to kiss me, I felt like a black rain poured on me. Her sentences didn’t even make sense anymore, and sometimes she would call me by strangers’ names.

She didn’t even remember who she was anymore. Sometimes Eurydice would stay still looking at something that didn’t quite exist. She was tired, a Quijote tired of hunting imaginary giants and offering love poems to Dulcineas.

And just like that, she stopped existing…

…. if she ever existed.

VII

When she was gone, I started repeatedly reading the badly written book that I read to her the day of my return to the house. Always the same story, always the same place. And just like that, one day I again felt Eurydice’s scent now merged together with the scent of the house. I felt the weight of another person in the hammock, but I didn’t care to see who it was as it is useless to talk with those who have already left.

Just then I understood that Eurydice’s scent was the perfume that loneliness wears.

[scarlethallow160]

as someone who was repeatedly on the receiving end of being used as an outlet by ex-friends talking about their love lives Constantly i refuse to subject anyone else to that

but i will also put a one-time cringefilled rambling post out

it has literally been so long since ive liked someone? the last person i “liked” was the only guy in my painting class i think like my freshman or sophomore year of college, and even then i just thought he was nice and like.....one of the hottest guys i’ve ever seen irl so i didnt technically like-like him bc we also barely interacted

but this is....different. i think he’s only been here like a month now? close to it? this was before my promotion so i didnt rly have to go out of my way to talk to anyone, so anytime someone starts chatting with me first at work i get pleasantly surprised, and hes pretty quiet so i was just like oh a nice new work acquaintance person to talk to at work?? when he’d occasionally talk to me (at my job sometimes even when ur working the same or similar shifts u may not ever see people lol). i’ve seen him talking with some other rly nice dudes at work i consider my work-friends so i thought maybe they mentioned me to him as one of the cool ppl at work and thats why he felt comfortable enough to start talking to me?

idk so whenever i’d see his name in the dash i’d be like oh cool x is here but again sometimes we’d rarely see each other cuz thats just how it is at work....but it is EXTREMELYYY rare that anyone shows any romantic interest in me--bc i was Absolutely the person assholes asked out as a joke in school--or any sort of interest really? so anytime someone (mostly guys if im being honest bc despite being queer, my brain can still be stuck in heteronormative ways....) goes out of their way to talk to me/be nice, i get like a little spasm in my brain?? and get a mixture of paranoia and anxiety thinking things like hm why are they talking to me? why are they being nice to me? are they just nice or do they like me/want something from me? shit like that. so whenever he’d talk to me i’d be like hmmmmmm why tho bc i overthink literally everything

and then one afternoon i was by myself finishing bagging my cart, and he was off already but when he walked past he was like “have a nice afternoon :)“ and i was like omg thanks u too?? bc even tho there are ppl i talk with at work, we dont usually say anything to each other when we pass in the store lol

i dont think me n the guy saw each other much after that or that thing happened where he’d be busy shopping and i’d be stuck in the box for us to interact much (and i also missed like three days a couple days ago from being really sick lmao) so yesterday when i saw we basically had almost the same shift cuz he was the 10pm and i was the closing specialist, i got happy bc initially i was like oh nice, one of the nice acquaintance ppl i talk to is here

but yesterday was a fucking shitshow and we were SO busy and honestly it was super disappointing cuz normally for closing shifts it gets chill and me and the other work ppl just relax and chat until closing so i was hoping that would happen but it didnt....and hes again pretty quiet so i cant tell if at times maybe hes too tired from the work to want to talk so i also dont want to bug him by trying to chat him up? but there was actually some moments that got chill where we were able to chat, and ive been wearing my dgd hat to work and it says their name on the back of it, and he saw it and asked if i listened to them and i was like !!!! bc ppl rarely have heard of them so i was kinda like oh shit wow hes actually heard of them and he mentioned that he i think listened to them in back high school?

(which.........if im being honest was kind of a relief to hear cuz that means hes not underage. but hopefully he’s like 20 or older bc i will feel shitty if i ended up liking a 19yearold without realizing it lmaooo and also at work its at the point where u literally cant tell how old some ppl are now)

but he mentioned he preferred another band i’d heard of in passing lol but then also i happened to look at him when his mask was kind of off, and i’d alrdy seen him without his mask before, but in that moment my brain spasm made me think ummm he kinda hot tho? and thats when i came to my extremely unfortunate realization.

and today his shift didnt start til much later, so technically if i had left my shift on time i wouldve seen him Maybe for an hour at most, but we were also rly fuckin busy today so i stayed a couple hours extra to help...and it fucking sucks now cuz anytime i saw him in the store, the monkey part of my brain would have that little spasm. and like...again i dont want to go out of my way to talk to him bc hes kinda hard to read on his mood but i also? Do want to talk to him when i can?? but at the same time i dont want to get my hopes up cuz ive literally never dated anyone before, and now that im a specialist and have like the tiniest bit of authority over the regular partners, id be worried if dating would even be allowed cuz we work in the same department, BUT AGAIN even thinking that is me getting my hopes up which i rly do not want to do.

this is so so so fucking stupid and cringey and embarrassing but even if nothing happens i kind of look forward now to seeing if we’ll have intersecting shifts? so in a weird cringey way i get kind of excited about future shifts and working now???

im trying to look on the bright side of things even if nothing happens lmaoaoao part of me also kind of wants to mention this to my friends who also work with me in case they....happen to hear of anything.....but at the same time i dont want them to see me talking to him/sending him out to shop knowing that i like him???

idk idk idk rambling about this shit helps even tho i also dont want anyone to see this and see how lame i’m being :))))))) this is literally such an unexpected turn of events. theres a guy in the produce department who made it clear he likes me but makes me uncomfortable (and also annoys me when he constantly tries to talk to me, tbh, hence my reservations abt wanting to talk to The Guy) with how....strong he comes on, and im like.........if someone were to like me could i pls change who it is hahahahhahahahah

things have been tough as of late so at least this is a Distraction?

it’s also a fucking sick joke bc our store puts out announcements congratulating the employees if they first started, if it’s their work anniversary, or their birthday, etc. and i saw one for The Guy last month bc he has the same birthday as my super shitty ex-friend/roommate lollllllllll

[minjoonalist]

Content Creator Year in Review!

Hey Hey!!! hmm actually a lot has happened this year, some i’m proud of and some not so much,,, but really its all good things so I am happy to be tagged by the cute little bear that is miss sora aka @honeymoonjin.

lets get it!

first creation and most recent creation of 2020: ummmmm I think the first creation of 2020 actually would have been Player Two. most recent? besides the one thats going to be published soon- Buzzkill.

one of your favorite creations from 2020: Definitely Player two, this has to be one of the hottest fics I’ve written and honestly who wouldn’t be a sucker for taekook.

a creation you’re really proud of: Haha again...Player Two, but in all seriousness, this fic sits close to me. After going through so much behind the scenes when it comes to an old fic I wrote... I was actually going to leave Tumblr in whole. while not everyone knows, a very close friend of mine broke my trust and interest to write. I originally planned to have Player Two out MONTHS ahead before everything happened, but thanks to some friendly advice and some of you who sent asks and messages- checking on me... it gave me some inspo to continue writing and I will be forever grateful for that. In the end, while all of you waited patiently, I rewrote everything I originally had planned for that fic and to this day, it’s definitely been my number one. It also marked my first 10k fic so yeah lol

a creation that took you forever: Player Two...but also Sway with me. Player Two took me months to rewrite after posting the Teaser- sway with me  took me a while as well but not as much. 

a creation from 2020 that received the most notes: Im so sorry lol...Player Two, I guess all those blood sweat and tears didn’t go to waste, because it’s also the most (probably the most ill ever have) notes that Ive gotten on a work. most of the time I dont pay too close attention to notes- but more so feedback when it comes to fics, however I wont lie to say it feels nice to have that many on it. 

a creation you think deserved more notes: Ummm, honestly Idk...again I don’t look too close at the notes but, I’d say Sway with me. This in itself is the longest fic I’ve ever written at almost 20k words. The only reason I feel like this fic should have had more- is really by exposure. I think at the time Tumblr never exposed this fic, because even clubs that I was in didn’t see the fic to reblog it in their Tags. I didn’t dwell on it much, so I kept the fic up for anyone who wants to read. I had plenty of feedback on Ao3!

a new fandom you joined and a creation you made for it: I dont know about a fandom on tumblr, but an anime fandom on tiktok. I do plan to write for other groups in the future since I am now stan for some new ones. 

a creation you made that breaks your heart: PREDILECTION. this fic-...this fic was one of the first I’d ever written and it sucks that I lost the passion to finish it so early. At some point I was ready to discontinue it and not edit because of how I used to write. not to mention the angst that comes within these chapters in planning.

a ‘simple’ creation that you really love: ummm Discoloration. I cant say what it is about this fic, but maybe its just be being a sucker for blonde Taetae and honestly any drabble requests you guys send me- they are literally SO FUN to do and sometimes I think about doing a drabble game if anyone is interested. 

a creation that was inspired by another one: Normally my fics are inspired by short scenes in my head, but I do have future fics that are a inspired by movies I like or songs.

a favorite creation created by someone else: Im gonna be very honest l, I’ve ready very few fics in this year but I will say some of my Talented Wives ‘The Gentlemen’ by @honeymoonjin, ‘Nothing on you’ and ‘The right of a king’ by @sope-and-shine, @missgarnet for ‘Stay’ and @sakuraguks for ‘Angel of Temptation’ , If I didnt not tag you I am so sorry, I sucked when it comes to reading this year.

some of your favorite content creators from the year: everyone that I just listed, there are others but I honestly cant think of them at the moment lol

and for good measure, another couple more creations of yours that you love: Buzzkill, If you let me and again anything I wrote that was a drabble for you guys.

tagging: I tagged most of them up above ofc if fhey want to do it except the one who already tagged me lol

[feanors-daughter]

to the desert

Written for me by the amazing @edhelquendi (thank you so much, I keep reading this and I love it more every time)

I.

I came to you one rainless August night.

You taught me how to live without the rain.

You are thirst and thirst is all I know.

Her eyes raked over him. It was unnerving.

They were analytical at first, and she avoided looking at his eyes as she worked on the rougher sketch, taking in each detail of his clothing, hair, figure, but not yet his face. That would come later. Still, he was meant to look at her—and there wasn’t much else to look at anyway, without turning his head. So he watched her draw.

It was during the hours of looking at her that he began to notice things about Laurelin that he hadn’t seen before.

By the end of the first hour, the sun spilled through the windows at just the right angle to illuminate her hair, transforming it at once from blood red to golden, like fire. He understood her name, and had an inkling of what the great tree had looked like, when it had stood so long before his birth.

She had tied her hair back, practical, but one strand had come loose and it slid down her pale neck. She pushed it back, smearing paint along her cheekbone. She did not seem to be aware of it, but the cycle repeated itself every few minutes—fall, push, fall, push—until her cheek became its own small canvas. It made him want to touch her. He resisted the urge to smile.

And then there were her eyes. Glowing with tree-light, so rare now, a startling blue in all the warmth of her hair and skin. He looked at them too long, he supposed, because after a while her eyes lifted to his own, met his gaze. He felt his cheeks flush. His heart rushed.

Shit.

II.

You are sand, wind, sun, and burning sky,

The hottest blue. You blow a breeze and brand

Your breath into my mouth. You reach—then bend

Your force, to break, blow, burn, and make me new.

He supposed it was foolish of him not to take her seriously.

It was hard to imagine losing to her, only because he had only known her when she was bed-bound and hobbling, and with that picture in his mind it was difficult to conjure the image of what she might have looked with blood on her sword, fire in her eyes, war painted and snarling. In all honesty, he did not really want to dwell on it—not when his feelings had formed a muddled knot in his chest, with her past being the most complicating factor that prevented easy unraveling.

She startled him with her ferocity. Smaller than him, darting around his blows, making up for in speed what she lacked compared to his own size and brute strength. He focused, dodged a blow to the head narrowly, but within a second she had hooked her foot around the back of his calf and wrenched his legs from under him. He hit the floor with a colossal crash.

He had no time to nurse his damaged pride. She had grasped his shoulders and followed him down, and now she was on all fours above him, hands pinning arms and feet pressing thighs and her thighs against his hips. She was grinning, glowing, panting with exertion, and he shuddered beneath her.

“You’ve been beaten,” she said. _Were her eyes dilated like his own? _“Admit it.”

“That was a dirty play. Let me up,” he said, low, trying to keep the newfound hunger from his voice. “Laurelin—”

“Admit it!” she said, harsher this time, and her grip shifted to pin his wrists above his head. His breath caught.

“You win. You win, all right? Let me up.”

Beat.

She lingered too close too long. It was the first moment that he dared to think that she might feel something in return—friends don’t lean so close that their breath tickles your cheeks. He held his breath.

And then she pulled back, at last, offered him a hand up. He took it. She pulled him to his feet. Their eyes met, and at last his lips curled into a smile.

“Again?”

III.

You wrap your name tight around my ribs

And keep me warm. I was born for you.

Above, below, by you, by you surrounded.

It was touch and go for a while.

When he had returned from the skirmish, his shoulder was red, red, hot and bleeding, red like her hair as she leaned over him, her eyes wide.

It wasn’t that he was going to die. The healers had worried that he might lose the use of his shoulder, or be impaired somehow, but everything had gone all right. They said he would heal, if he would agree to rest. A healer was beginning to bandage it as Laurelin leaned over him, and he opened his mouth to tell her the panic on her face was unwarranted. She silenced him with her mouth on his own.

His eyes were open wide. All he could see was skin, red lashes over closed eyes, and after a moment the feeling set in, the delicious heat of her mouth. Yet it was over in a single moment, and he sputtered.

“Save your strength.” Her voice was gentler than he had ever heard it. Her hands touched his face, and for a moment his mind was drawn away from the pain to the heat of her touch. His cheeks flushed.

Her voice was combative again, demanding answers from the healers. He would have offered them himself, but her kiss and her touch had rendered him mute. She shuddered with relief at the news that he would be all right. The healers, their witnesses, fled the room as soon as they were done and had given him something to dull the pain.

They sat, for a long moment, in silence. Gil-galad cleared his throat.

“You…”

Laurelin looked to him wordlessly, which was not at all encouraging.

“…You kissed me.”

“I did,” she said, sounding very much like she was struggling herself to reckon with it.

“…Was there a reason why?” She kissed a lot of people, he knew.

“Are you dense?” she asked, and it was suddenly aggressive, but though her arms were crossed, her shoulders were hunched, nervous, not indignant.

“You’re nervous.”

“You’re an idiot!”

At last, he laughed. She glared at him.

“Well, I liked it. Will you do it again?” he asked.

She looked at him for a moment, as if trying to judge whether or not he was serious. Once she reached her decision, she slowly leaned over him, and her lips were on his again. He sighed.

It didn’t take long. Hands drifted, deft fingers undid shirts. The world faded into bliss.

-

They lay there afterwards. Her head was on his chest, heavy and warm. His shoulder throbbed occasionally, but it was easy to ignore it with such a beautiful distraction.

“I love you.” It tumbled from his lips too easily, and he shut his mouth. She looked up at his face for a long, fraught moment.

“I love you too,” she whispered. He smiled.

IV.

I wake to you at dawn. Never break your

Knot. Reach, rise, blow, Sálvame, mi dios,

Trágame, mi tierra. Salva, traga, Break me,

I am bread. I will be the water for your thirst.

        He decided, in the week after the birth when things had settled enough for them to breathe, that there were no beings more perfect than his children.

        Every little sound, each movement was a delight. Their eyes had settled into their true colors—Fëaranyë’s had retained their mother’s bright blue from birth, but Ereinion’s had settled into his father’s grey gaze.

        Tomorrow they would be presented to the public, and Gil-galad thought at last about their father-names. It was not traditional for them to have received mother-names first, but Laurelin had blurted them out in the moments when they thought she would fade, and of course Gil-galad had not stopped her.

        “Perhaps they should have royal names,” he mused. It hadn’t been something given to him at birth, but earned later, Ereinion, though now he supposed people would stop using it to avoid confusion with his son. “But I want them to have special ones too.”

        Ereinion was curled up on his mother’s chest, a tiny hand curled into a fist, grasping at a lock of her hair. He was nearly asleep, the length of each blink increasing, but his ears twitched as he heard his father’s voice.

        Fëaranyë was in Gil-galad’s arms, peering up at him, and when she caught him looking away for more than a few seconds she’d tug sharply at his hair to regain his attention. He loved her so much that he found it endearing.

        “Arnion and Arniel make the most sense if you’re going the royal route,” Laurelin murmured, her hand tracing circles across Ereinion’s back to lull him to sleep. “Though they’re not terribly exciting.”

        “I suppose,” he mused. He looked at Fëaranyë’s face for a long moment, and she blinked up at him as he tried to think of a fitting name.

        “Baranith,” he said at last, once a long moment had passed in silence. “For her. And…” He looked at Ereinion for a moment, the plushness of his cheek against his mother’s skin, and the grey eyes like a rainy sea. “Calaeron for her brother.”

        Laurelin nodded her approval. Even Fëaranyë—Baranith—was beginning to blink with tiredness now.

        Gil-galad came to the edge of the bed, slowly lying down at Laurelin’s side. She curled under his arm. Fëaranyë glanced at her mother before closing her eyes.

        “I love you,” Gil-galad whispered. Laurelin smiled.

        “I love you too.”

(Poem excerpts are from “To the Desert” by Benjamin Alire Sáenz.)