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[edenarchives]

♯┆𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐃 .ᐟ — 𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐎

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: A joke profile on a sugar daddy site turns serious when @TimeIsMoney starts paying—and praising—you. What begins as harmless fun spirals into obsession after one night in his hotel suite leaves you aching, ruined, and wanting more.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: daddy kink, age gap, sugar baby stuff, praise, rough sex, oral (f receiving), creampie, money kink, dirty talk, power dynamics, he’s obsessed, reader gets absolutely ruined, aftercare, light choking, finger fucking, reader gets called good girl a lot

𝐖𝐂: 4,000

It starts as a joke.

Wine bottles rattle as Nobara kicks the recycling bin closed with the heel of her foot, the sound of glass clinking against cheap plastic barely audible over the laughter echoing through your tiny, overstuffed apartment. Maki flops onto the couch beside you, stretching out like a cat, her legs hooked over the armrest and one arm draped across her eyes. The air smells like takeout and wine, sweet and familiar, the kind of scent that clings to memories. Finals are looming like storm clouds, rent is due in a week, and the textbooks on the kitchen table are collecting more dust than notes. The weight of it all sits heavy in the background, but for now, there’s laughter—loud and warm and so completely alive it makes you forget that you’re broke. That you’re stressed. That everything feels impossible sometimes.

“I’m telling you,” Nobara says as she refills her glass, the wine sloshing close to the rim. “Sugar daddies are the answer. Tuition? Handled. Rent? Done. Textbooks? Bought by some old man who just wants to stare at your feet and be told he’s a good little pay pig.”

You nearly choke on your drink, laughing as you wave her off. “Yeah, okay. Sure.”

But Maki’s already pulling your laptop closer, pushing aside the half-eaten box of noodles and flicking the screen to wake it. “Come on, let’s just look. You never know.”

The three of you huddle close as the website loads, the layout exactly as tacky as you’d expect. It takes ten minutes to craft a profile that’s both over-the-top and strangely believable. You use a slightly sultry selfie from last month—nothing too scandalous, just a little cleavage and a coy smile. The bio is ridiculous: College student. Lit major. Broke but charming. Let’s make a deal. You don’t use your real name. The username you pick @YourSweetestSin is half a joke, half something that makes you snort. By the time the profile is live, you’re all laughing so hard your stomach hurts. It’s stupid. It’s harmless. You never intend to take it seriously.

But you don’t delete the profile either. Not that night. Not the next day.

The first message comes two days later while you’re curled in bed, laptop balanced on your thighs, half-focused on an essay you’re bullshitting at the last possible second. The ping startles you, the notification bouncing in the corner of your screen.

@TimeIsMoney: Hello.

That’s it. No gross pickup line. No emojis. No sleazy GIFs. Just a greeting. Curious, you click the profile, expecting a troll or someone who looks like he just escaped from a retirement home. But there’s no picture. Just a clean profile with a short bio: Professional. Discreet. Generous. It makes you snort. “Sure,” you mutter under your breath. But you reply anyway. For the bit. For the laugh. You can’t wait to show the girls.

Except it doesn’t end there. He writes back. You respond. The next message comes within the hour. Then another. And another. Each one short, to the point, polite in a way that disarms you. He asks how your classes are going. What books you’re reading. He doesn’t flirt. He compliments you, but not in a way that makes your skin crawl. It’s strange. It’s addictive. You start checking the app more often. You start replying faster. There’s something comforting about the consistency of it, about the way he always answers. Predictable. Reliable. And that’s something you didn’t realize you were craving until now.

Then, on the fifth night

I want to see you.

The message appears while you’re lying on your stomach, feet kicking behind you, chin resting in your palm. You read it three times. Your heart skips a beat, your stomach flips, and your first instinct is to laugh. This is the part where you bail, right? Where you screenshot it and send it to Nobara with a “can you believe this guy?” But instead, you’re walking to the mirror, pulling your hair over one shoulder, angling your phone just right. You pick your best push-up bra—the black one that hugs you perfectly—and snap a photo. You send it. Doll eyes. Slight pout. Your lips parting like you’ve done this a thousand times.

The response is immediate.

Good girl.

Then, a second later, another notification.

You’ve received $500.

You sit up. Blink. Refresh the app. But it’s there. Sitting in your account, waiting to be transferred. Your jaw drops. Then you scream. Then you laugh. Hard. You’re breathless. You don’t tell Nobara or Maki. Not this time.

From that moment on, it’s a blur. More messages. More requests. Nothing below the waist, not yet. Just photos. A little more skin each time. He never demands. He always asks. And he always pays.

Take off your bra. $500.

Show me your nipples. $700.

Each time, the money lands in your account within seconds. And each time, you find yourself a little wetter. A little more flushed. A little more eager to read the next message. You don’t just do it for the money anymore. You do it because his praise makes your stomach flutter. Because you feel seen. Desired. Wanted. Powerful.

Then comes the night he asks to call you. Your hands tremble as you answer. His voice is everything you didn’t expect. Calm. Smooth. Deep enough to settle in your bones and echo. He doesn’t flirt. He doesn’t tease. He tells you exactly what he wants. Exactly how he wants to hear you fall apart. You’re already naked when the call starts. The toy he told you to buy is buzzing between your thighs before he even finishes the first sentence. His voice doesn’t falter. He talks you through it like he’s done it a hundred times. You come so hard you see white. He pays you $1,000.

You don’t bother pretending anymore. You wait for his messages. You ache when he disappears for too long. You’re careful not to get too attached, but it’s hard not to wonder. Not to imagine what he looks like. How he might taste. How it would feel to have those hands on your skin instead of just your imagination. So when the next message comes, you already know how you’ll answer.

I want you meet you

When and where?

The hotel he books is far nicer than anywhere you’ve ever been. Just stepping into the lobby makes you feel like an imposter. Crystal chandeliers, velvet furniture, a floral arrangement so big it probably has its own budget. Your heels click across the marble as you walk toward the elevators, your trench coat clutched tight around your body, hiding the lace beneath. You keep your head down. Pretend you belong. The nerves bubbling in your stomach are loud enough, sharp enough to echo.

He said he’d meet you in the room. Top floor. Private. You know the number by heart. You’ve read it over and over again on the message thread. Your fingers hover over the keypad outside the suite door. You press it before you can talk yourself out of it.

The door swings open almost immediately. And there he is.

Nanami Kento.

He doesn’t look how you pictured. He’s younger. Broader. Tall enough that you tilt your chin up to meet his gaze. Blonde hair, glasses, expensive-looking suit. He smells like cedar and something clean and expensive. His jaw is sharp. His expression unreadable. But his eyes, they roam your body like he knows exactly what’s under your coat.

“Come in,” he says, stepping aside.

You move past him into the room. The suite is massive. Soft lighting, a king-sized bed with crisp white sheets, a view of the city skyline that stretches beyond floor-to-ceiling windows. You hear the door close behind you. The lock clicks.

“I wasn’t sure you’d come,” he says.

Your voice barely works. “I wasn’t sure either.”

“Are you nervous?”

You nod.

“Good.” He steps closer. “It means this matters.”

Then he touches you.

It’s not a grab. Not even a full reach. Just the brush of his fingers down your arm, slow and steady, his touch so light it makes your skin prickle. He looks at you like he’s reading you, analyzing every twitch, every flutter of your lashes. His fingers find the belt of your coat. He doesn’t tug. He doesn’t ask. He just looks at you.

You nod.

He undoes the knot slowly, methodically, like he’s unwrapping a gift he doesn’t want to damage. The coat falls open. His breath catches.

The lingerie is sheer black lace, delicate enough to feel sinful. You chose it for him. You’ve sent him pictures in it before. But the way he’s looking at you now—it makes your knees weak.

“Beautiful,” he says. It’s quiet. Like he’s talking to himself.

He slips the coat from your shoulders. It falls in a soft thud at your feet.

“Get on the bed.”

You crawl onto the bed, your knees sinking into the mattress, your heartbeat thudding loud in your ears. The sheets are soft beneath your hands, cool against your flushed skin, and you feel him watching you. Not just looking—watching. The heat of his gaze crawls along your spine as you settle on your back, your legs folding to the side, thighs tight with anticipation. He doesn’t move right away. He just stands there, drinking you in like you’re art, like you’re something to be studied.

Then he begins to undress.

Each movement is precise, deliberate. He removes his watch first, setting it on the nightstand with a soft click. Then he unbuttons his shirt, one button at a time, his fingers steady and sure. You watch his chest slowly come into view—firm, broad, sculpted in a way that makes your breath catch. His shoulders are wide, his waist trim, his skin smooth and golden under the low light. When he slides the shirt off and starts on his belt, your thighs press together involuntarily. The buckle clinks. The zipper lowers. And then he steps out of his slacks, revealing long legs, tight black briefs, and the hard line of his cock already straining against the fabric.

He climbs onto the bed with the kind of calm confidence that makes your stomach flip. He doesn’t pounce. Doesn’t rush. He kneels between your legs and runs his hands up your thighs, spreading them slowly, pushing them apart with the patience of someone who knows exactly what you need and intends to give it to you—on his terms. The cool air kisses your heat, and you realize how wet you already are, your arousal sticking to the inside of your thighs. He hums low in his throat as his fingers hook into your panties and begins sliding them down, inch by inch.

“You’ve been thinking about this,” he says softly. “I can feel it. You’re soaked.”

You whimper, arching slightly as he tosses the lace aside. He doesn’t tease. Doesn’t make you wait. He leans down, his broad shoulders pushing your thighs wider, and when his mouth finally touches you, you gasp—loud, sharp, uncontrollable. His tongue strokes through your folds with slow, deliberate pressure, tasting you like he has all night. His lips close around your clit, sucking gently, and your back bows off the bed.

“Fuck—Nanami,” you breathe, fingers flying into his hair.

He groans against your pussy, the sound vibrating through you. He eats you like he means it, like it’s his mission. His tongue moves with skill, pressure alternating between soft flicks and firm, devastating licks. One of his hands slides under your ass, lifting your hips, tilting you up so he can go deeper. The other moves between your legs, and when two fingers slide inside you, you cry out.

Your walls clench around him, tight and wet, your body already shaking. He curls his fingers just right and your thighs twitch in response, your breath catching. He doesn’t stop. Doesn’t let up. He watches you from below, eyes dark and steady, like he’s memorizing every twitch, every moan, every desperate roll of your hips. You’re spiraling. Unraveling.

It hits fast. Hard. Your orgasm crashes over you before you can warn him, a wave of heat and light that rips through your body and leaves you sobbing his name. Your hips buck, your legs tremble, your fingers claw at the sheets—but he holds you down, mouth still on you, tongue relentless.

When he finally pulls back, his chin is wet, his lips slick with you. He looks pleased. Controlled. Like he could keep going. Like he wants to.

“That’s one,” he murmurs, dragging his fingers from your cunt and bringing them to his mouth. He sucks them clean slowly, and you moan again, helpless, already throbbing with the need for more.

He leans over you and kisses you—slow, deep, messy—and you taste yourself on his lips. He rolls his hips against yours, his cock hot and hard against your thigh. Your hands slide down, tugging at the waistband of his briefs, and he lets you peel them down.

He’s thick. Long. Veins running along the shaft, the head flushed and already leaking.

“You want this?” he asks, voice low, rough.

“Yes,” you whisper. “Please.”

He lines himself up and pushes in slowly. Inch by inch. Stretching you wide, filling you so deep you can feel it in your stomach. Your jaw drops, a choked moan escaping as your nails sink into his back.

“Oh my god,” you gasp.

“Too much?” he breathes, pausing halfway.

“No—don’t stop. Please. Keep going.”

He groans, sliding in the rest of the way, bottoming out. He stays there, buried to the hilt, letting you adjust, his forehead pressed to yours.

“You’re so tight,” he murmurs. “So perfect around me.”

Then he moves.

Slow at first. Deep. His hips roll into yours, grinding with each thrust. It’s overwhelming, every drag of his cock hitting that spot inside you that makes your toes curl. You cling to him, moaning into his shoulder, and he presses kisses to your neck, your jaw, your lips.

“You’re doing so good,” he whispers. “Taking me so well. My good girl.”

The praise makes your walls flutter. Your body is already on edge again, hips rolling up to meet his, chasing more.

And then you remember—

“I thought you were gonna fuck me stupid,” you pant.

He stills.

His head lifts. His eyes meet yours.

“I was trying to be gentle,” he says, his voice suddenly darker. “But if you’re going to act like a cock-drunk little slut—”

He pulls out and flips you over in one smooth motion, dragging your hips up, pushing your chest into the mattress. He thrusts back into you hard, deep, and you scream into the sheets.

“—then I’ll fuck you like one”

He doesn’t hold back now. His pace is punishing, hips slamming into yours with the kind of strength that makes the bed creak beneath you. Each thrust drives his cock deeper, harder, making you cry out with every stroke. Your hands fist the sheets, knuckles white, as your body rocks forward from the force of him. He grabs your hips tighter, pulling you back onto him, forcing every inch of him inside like he’s claiming you, ruining you. Your thoughts are gone, scattered, every one of them drowned beneath the sound of skin meeting skin and the filthy things he’s growling into your ear.

“This what you wanted?” he pants, his voice a low growl. “To be fucked like a desperate little whore? You like it like this—don’t you?”

You try to answer, but all that leaves your mouth is a broken moan, high-pitched and needy. Your legs are shaking, your pussy clenching so tightly around him that you feel every twitch of his cock. You’re drooling onto the sheets, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes from how good it feels, from how deep he’s inside you.

He reaches down and grabs your hair, pulling your head back until your spine arches, your back flush to his chest. His hand slides down, fingers finding your clit with practiced ease. He rubs slow, tight circles, the pressure just right. Your body locks up.

“Oh my god—Nanami—fuck—”

“I want you to cum again,” he hisses into your ear. “Cum for me while I’m buried in this tight little pussy. Let me feel you fall apart.”

You do.

It hits harder than the first time, your body convulsing around him, thighs trembling, a sob of pleasure ripping from your throat as your orgasm tears through you. You clench around him so hard it makes him grunt, his rhythm faltering for the first time. He curses under his breath, fucking you through it, prolonging your high until you’re left a shaking, overstimulated mess.

“God, you’re fucking perfect,” he growls.

You collapse forward, cheek pressed to the sheets, too wrecked to hold yourself up anymore. But he doesn’t stop. He slows down, but he keeps moving, long deep strokes that fill you again and again. One hand stays on your hip while the other presses between your shoulder blades, holding you down. You’re gasping, moaning brokenly, your cunt so sensitive you’re already on the edge again.

“Please—please, I can’t—”

“Yes, you can,” he growls. “You’re gonna give me one more.”

His cock drags along your walls, thick and pulsing, hitting every spot that makes your vision blur. Your body is on fire. Nerves raw. Everything tightens again, too soon, too fast.

“Cum,” he demands, and the command alone pushes you over the edge.

You scream his name as your third orgasm slams into you, thighs quaking, fingers clawing at the mattress as you fall apart. Your pussy clenches so hard around him that his rhythm shatters. He groans, deep and guttural, thrusts stuttering as he slams into you one final time and spills inside you with a growl.

You can feel it—his cum flooding your pussy, hot and thick, filling you up as his body presses down on yours. His breath is hot against your back. His weight grounding.

He stays like that for a moment, both of you panting, your bodies tangled in heat and sweat. Then he pulls out slowly, gently, and you whimper at the loss. You feel the slick of his release drip down your thigh.

You’re boneless. Floating. Barely able to lift your head.

He pulls you into his arms, rolls you over, kisses your forehead. His hands are soft again, soothing, trailing along your back in lazy circles.

“You did so good,” he murmurs. “So fucking good.”

He holds you until your breathing slows. Until the ache in your muscles fades into something warm and satisfied. Until the world stops spinning quite so fast.

Then he rises. Dresses slowly. Smooths his hair back into place. He leans down to press one last kiss to your lips.

“The room is yours until tomorrow night,” he whispers. “Order whatever you want. Rest. Recover.”

You blink up at him, dazed. “Where are you going?”

He smiles. “I need to get ready for work on Monday.”

And then he’s gone.

The silence after he leaves is loud. You lie there for a while, naked in the sheets that smell like him, your body sore and aching in the best possible way. Everything feels distant. Fuzzy. Like your skin is still buzzing with the echo of his hands, his voice, the way he looked at you like he owned every inch of you. You eventually drag yourself out of bed, your legs unsteady, and pad to the bathroom. The tub is huge, the kind of thing you’d only ever seen in movies, and you don’t think twice before running the water, pouring in a generous stream of lavender bubble bath from the bottle on the counter. You sink into the warmth with a soft moan, letting the water ease the tightness in your thighs, the soreness in your hips. Every shift of your body reminds you of what just happened—of how thoroughly he fucked you, how deeply he filled you, how completely he took you apart.

You stay in the bath until the water starts to cool, then dry off and wrap yourself in one of the fluffy white robes hanging by the door. You pour yourself a glass of champagne from the bottle chilling by the window and collapse onto the bed again, legs curled under you, robe slipping off one shoulder. You stare at the city lights outside the window, the skyline glowing and endless. You feel expensive. Adored. Used and treasured at the same time. The kind of full you didn’t know you were craving.

Your phone buzzes on the nightstand.

You grab it lazily, still smiling.

Nanami has sent you $10,000.

You stare.

You’re up in a flash, jumping on the bed like a maniac, the robe falling off as you laugh and squeal and spin yourself dizzy. You don’t even care. You roll across the mattress, kick your legs in the air, and scream into a pillow. Then you check again—just to be sure. It’s still there. Ten. Thousand. Dollars.

You sink back against the pillows, grinning like a fool, and take a long, slow sip of champagne.

This is the best night of your life.

The weekend melts away in a blur of room service and luxury. You spend hours soaking in the tub, order dessert with every meal, and sleep tangled in hotel sheets that smell like him. You keep your phone close, reading and rereading every message he sends. He doesn’t disappear. He checks in constantly. Tells you how proud he is. How badly he wants you again. How he’s counting the hours until next time.

By Monday morning, you’re still sore. Still giddy. You barely hear your alarm over the buzz of your phone. You get ready for class with your phone in your hand the entire time, texting back between sips of coffee.

I need you again this weekend. Same hotel. I want you on your knees when I walk in.

I can still feel you. Still smell you. I’m not done with you.

You’re practically floating when you meet up with Nobara and Maki in the courtyard.

“You’re glowing,” Maki says. “Who are you texting?”

Nobara leans in to peek. You pull your phone away with a smirk.

“No one.”

“She’s lying,” Maki says. “It’s totally a sugar daddy. Look at her.” She jokes.

You laugh. Shrug. Say nothing.

Because they’re right. And you’re not giving up your secret that easy. The three of you head to class, sliding into your usual seats as you pull out your laptop. You open a blank doc, fingers still dancing over your phone under the table.

I want your pussy on my mouth the second I see you again.

You bite your lip, cheeks hot, and set your phone face-down as the door opens.

Footsteps. A soft clearing of a throat.

You look up and freeze.

Nanami Kento walks to the front of the classroom, calm and collected, setting his briefcase on the podium like he’s done it a hundred times. He’s in a fitted suit, glasses perched on his nose, hair neat and perfect.

He adjusts his tie. Opens his laptop. Looks up.

His eyes meet yours.

He doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t falter. Just offers the faintest flicker of a smile.

“Good morning, everyone,” he says smoothly. “Welcome to Ethics in Literature.

Your stomach drops through the floor.

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

[monster-effer]

Camping Trip Gone Wild - Caleb x reader

Summary: Caleb invites you to a camping trip and you two are having a great time. But, after snooping through your phone, his jealous side makes itself known. R.I.P. to your pussy!!! Content: MDNI, explicit smut, Caleb and reader are dating, slight dubcon but the reader is definitely into it, questionable use of evol, oral - f receiving, fingering, pet names used: pip-squeak, princess, my love (2.2k wc) A/N: Caleb has been running laps around my mind lately, so I had to write something with him in it. I hope y’all enjoy ♡

You’re shopping at a local farmer’s market when you feel your phone buzz in your pocket. When you unlock it, you are pleasantly surprised to see a text from Caleb. He’s usually wrapped up in his work at this time.

Colonel Apple: Hey pip-squeak. You’re free this weekend right? You: Maybe. Depends on what you have planned.

You watch the typing indicator go on and off for a few moments before locking your phone and continuing to peruse the produce at the local farmer’s market. When you have a bag full of fruits and vegetables you feel your phone buzz once again.

Colonel Apple: We haven’t been camping together yet. Let’s change that? You: Hell yeah, I’m in. What do I need to bring besides clothes and toiletries? Colonel Apple: I have the rest covered. Just bring yourself 😊

The rest of the week passed by at an excruciatingly slow pace. But you have just arrived at the camping site with Caleb and all your supplies in tow. Before you can ask, he starts putting together a chair for you to sit on. When he’s done, he wordlessly gestures towards it as if saying ‘It’s all yours’.

You plop down into the chair and cross your legs. Then you enjoy the rocking motion of your new seat as you watch him work his magic. You were more tired than you thought because the next thing you notice is Caleb gently shaking you awake, his face close to yours and his eyes filled with warmth.

“Welcome back princess.”

You yawn and blink a few times to adjust your vision. When you look around, you see Caleb has made significant progress while you were napping. There is now a huge tent set up to the right side of the campsite. And a second camping chair assembled near a table with cooking supplies neatly organized on top of it.

There are fairy lights hanging in the nearby trees and looped around the top of your tent, giving your campsite a cozy glow. The smell of burning wood and the sound of a crackling fire catches your attention next.

“Why didn’t you wake me up? I could have helped with something.”

Caleb softly chuckles “I did say that I have everything covered. And you need to relax more, your job as a hunter has you running around all over Linkon.”

You huff and cross your arms because you can’t really argue with that logic. So instead, you decide to change the subject.

“I’m hungry. Let’s make dinner and tell some spooky stories around the fire.”

You two roast some hot dogs and settle down on opposite ends of the campfire. Then Caleb launches into a dramatic tale. By the end of it, you’re gasping with laughter at how cheesy the ending to his story was.

Noticing that it is getting dark out, a question comes to mind.

“Can you remind me where the public showers are again? I want to wash up before we go to sleep tonight.”

Caleb points towards the main road near your camping spot and tells you how to get there. “Do you want me to walk you there?”

“No, I’ll be alright. I’m taking a flashlight with me.”

Caleb hums as he watches you gather your pajamas and toiletries. He pulls his camping chair closer to the crackling fire and is about to settle down into it when he hears your phone’s notification sound go off.

He decides to ignore it, but the notification sound pings once more, and then three more times after that. Since you won’t be back for a while, you can’t blame him for being curious about who is bombarding his girlfriend with texts at this hour.

Caleb abandons his plan to chill by the fire and walks over to the tent. He removes his shoes before climbing in and looking for your bag. Once he finds it, he digs around a bit before finding your phone.

From the home screen he can see that all the notification sounds were coming from one source. They were all texts from Rafayel, who you have saved as  ‘The Little Mermaid’ in your phone. Since you two reunited after his “death”, Caleb begrudgingly accepted that he cannot be your only source of social fulfillment. His work as a colonel keeps him busy for long stretches of time, sometimes you two aren’t able to chat more than once a week.

Caleb is stone faced as he unlocks your phone with your password (that he memorized) and begins reading through the recent messages you received. His curiosity over what warranted back-to-back texts needed to be sated, for his own sanity.

His jaw clenched hard as he read Rafayel’s overly familiar texts.

7:10 pm: are u busy this upcoming week 7:10 pm: need you to be my model for this piece i’m working on 7:15 pm: cutieeeeee dun you want to help me 7:16 pm: i’ll take you out for seafood if you agree 7:18 pm: 💔🥺? 🐟🐠🐡

Caleb is always one to compliment your beauty, but the dark feeling of jealousy fills his chest at the thought of the artist eye balling you for hours on end. Before he can read further up in the text thread, he hears footsteps approaching the campsite.

Not wanting to be caught snooping, he quickly stashes your phone back in your bag and sits in his camping chair. He closes his eyes and tries to relax his body despite the fury bubbling under his skin over the artist taking up your time while he’s not there.

“I’m back. All fresh and clean now.”

When he opens his eyes, he hopes his true feelings aren’t shining through. Although he was left almost void of emotions after his chip implantation, Caleb can feel his anger towards the needy artist increasing by the second. He can also feel that anger transforming into a burning need to re-establish what you mean to each other.

Meanwhile as you stand there you can feel that something is…off. As hard as he tries to hide it, you can read Caleb’s emotions better than anyone else.

“I didn’t know you were so well acquainted with that artist…Rafayel,” he spits out his name as if it pains him to utter it.

You’ve mentioned Rafayel in passing but you aren’t entirely sure where this is coming from.

“Rafayel is a close friend of mine, what about it?” You snap at him, beginning to lose your patience.

Caleb smiles coldly before responding. “From the texts I just read, it seems like you two spend a lot of time together. I think I need to remind you of something.”

You feel anger well up in your body. “Why were you reading my texts Caleb? What the hell. And I think you need to be reminded of something called privacy.”

Before you can chew him out, the unmistakable weight of his evol envelopes your body. You gasp as you’re lifted then held up mid air, as Caleb pulls your camping chair towards him. As you futilely attempt to struggle against the hold, he lets your body slowly descend into the chair and stares into your eyes.

“As I was saying, I’m going to remind you that you only need to rely on me.”

“Let. Go. Of. Me,” you say through clenched teeth.

He ignores your demand and drops to his knees before you. Your breath catches in your throat as he spreads your legs and places butterfly kisses on the tender skin of your inner thighs.

You are furious with him for so many reasons, but at this moment, you can’t stave off the arousal building in your tummy.

Caleb begins to suck small hickeys on your skin between peppering kisses all the way up your thighs. You muffle a whine as tingles of pleasure zap straight to your clit. His face is so close to where you can feel your arousal pooling in your underwear. Your thighs are a sensitive spot, and he knows that. If you weren’t weighed down by his evol right now you weren’t sure if you’d be squirming away (or towards?) the torturous pleasure.

“Caleb,” you whimper.

Your voice broke the trance Caleb fell into between your legs. His eyes have darkened when they meet yours once again.

“Yes, princess?”

“M-More please.”

He smirks and doesn’t say a word before forcefully moving your pajama shorts and underwear to the side and licking a long stripe between your glistening folds. His hot tongue is wreaking havoc on your throbbing clit and you all but scream out into the night.

“Oh my god, please please please release your evol. I need to move.”

He detaches from your clit to respond to you. The bottom half of his face is noticeably covered in your slick. And his eyes have a hungry look in them.

 “No can do pip-squeak, you aren’t running from this.”

You let out a high-pitched moan as Caleb leans back in and alternates between dragging his tongue over your clit and making out with your pussy lips.

You take in a sharp breath as you feel tension build up in your belly. Your pussy begins to flutter around nothing.

“C-caleb I’m going to-”

He cuts you off by slipping his middle and ring finger inside of your wet hole. The squelching sound emitting from his ministrations seem amplified by the otherwise quiet night. You can only handle him pumping his fingers inside of you a few times before you reach orgasm.

You almost black out from the overwhelming euphoria as your pussy spasms around the sudden invasion of his fingers. You moan wantonly as Caleb slowly fingers you through your climax.

As you come down from that high, he gently pulls out his fingers. As a small act of mercy, he dissipates his evol and lets your muscles fully relax into the chair. He also pulls down your pajama shorts and undies, leaving your bottom half exposed.

“I hope you’re ready for more, because I’m far from done with you.”

You’re still trembling from the impact of your orgasm as you watch him stand up and remove his shorts and underwear. His thick cock twitches as the cool night air hits it. You hungrily watch his right hand wrap around it and give it a few strokes.

Caleb bends his knees and uses the swinging chair as leverage to line up your pussy with his body. You feel him rub his hot, mushroom tip against your clit and teasingly around your opening.

You shudder at his teasing and consider begging for more. But before you can, he slides himself all the way inside you without warning.

Your hands scramble for purchase before gripping the chair’s headrest. Both of you moan at the sudden, intense sensation.

“I’m so full” you whine as you clench your eyes shut.

He groans and readjusts his hold on the chair.

“Hold on tight pip-squeak,” is all he says before gripping the swinging chair and using it to drill his throbbing length inside of your aching walls. Your back arches sharply from the momentum of being slammed onto his cock.

You can’t do anything but whimper at the deep penetration. Faint creaks can be heard from the chair as your body is forcefully rocked back and forth.

Caleb is showing no mercy to your gushing pussy as he keeps up the brutal pace. You can distinctly feel each vein on his cock drag against your insides. Your mind goes fuzzy when he changes the angle of his thrusts and begins to rut against your most sensitive spot.

Caleb lovingly admires the state he’s put you in. Your hair is a mess, your eyes are unfocused, and it feels like you're sucking him in at every inward thrust.

“There you go my love, all you have to do right now is lay there and take it,” he rasps. He uses his evol to take over maneuvering the chair, so he can rub your clit in time with his thrusts.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as your mind is filled with nothing but pure bliss. His rhythm turns sloppy when he feels you clench around him.

“You’re doing so good, just let go for me,” he practically coos at you.

You’re barely holding onto consciousness as your orgasm feels like it is never ending. Your legs are shaking, and you futilely try to close them against the onslaught of pleasure.

Caleb continues rubbing your clit and sinking himself inside of you while your spasm.

“Where do you want me to come princess?”

“Inside me please,” you say weakly.

Caleb keens before picking up the pace and burying himself deep inside of you. Feeling the warm spurts of his cum makes you reflexively clench around him. After a few moments, he slowly pulls out and collapses into his chair, letting you both catch your breath.

As you lay there you recall being mad at Caleb about something. But your mind is muddled from the mind blowing, back-to-back orgasms.

Well, you assume it wasn’t that important anyway. And if it was, you’ll deal with it later.

Maybe.

A/N: (Spoiler: Nothing was dealt with. You and Caleb ended up crawling into the tent and fucking some more instead. The end ♡ )

[cheonstapes]

miguel o'hara stars in... 'NERD!MIGUEL STARTS AN ONLYFANS' (ง ื▿ ื)ว

a/n~ this popped in my head so quick and i thought i was gonna combust if i didn’t start writng then and there٩( ᐛ )و once again all creds to @nymphomatique 💗

part 2

summary; your nerdy almost-boyfriend starts an onlyfans without you knowing.

wc; 1.6k

pairings; nerd!miguel o'hara x rich!fem!reader

cw; SMUT!!, onlyfans, miguel being embarrassed, m!masturbation, panty kink, humiliation kink, sub!miguel pretending to be a dom, miguel being obsessed with reader (//∇//), dom!reader, reader being possessive (as you should), the woman was too stunned to speak, paint me like one of your french girls, nawt proofread - i was half asleep

ok,, nerd! miguel with a secret onlyfans that he hides from you.

because he’s lowkey embarrassed 

because he wants you to find it and punish him for sharing what’s yours with others

on top of that, he’s one of the top accounts on the site. i mean it’s not a surprise- he’s still hot as fuck. extremely tall, chiseled body, thick thighs, sexy face, big dick- he’s quite literally perfect, and he knows you know that. 

he only started it because of you, anyway. the compliments you whisper in his ears, telling him how beautiful he is, how much you love his body, he never realised how fine he actually is. so one day whilst he was sitting in your dorm, finishing up on of your reports, he decided he would put his body to good use. you were out for the night, and you probably wouldn’t come back until the next morning so he had all the time in the world. 

he scrolled through a few pics you took of him on your phone, but something was bugging him. he looked so…submissive in them. yeah, of course he enjoyed being submissive - but only for you. the idea of other people seeing him in a way that’s reserved for you and you only giving him a strange feeling in his chest. miguel was a virgin before he met you though, so being submissive was really all he knew. being dominant felt wrong, but he was willing to give it a try.

feeling a surge of confidence, he stood up from your desk, stripping himself of his shirt, leaving him clad in his loose sweats. he sat on your queen sized bed, scooting himself up to the headboard. he really was a tall motherfucker though, long legs dangling off the edges of your fluffy mattress. he props one leg up, resting his elbow against it as he angles the camera down towards his chest, bulging muscles highlighted by your warm fairy lights.

he takes pic after pic, different angles and positions around your room even using some of your toys as props. but in all of those pictures, he never showed his face - that’s for you, and nothing can change that. instead, he offered his followers a view of his plump lips, pulled into a lazy grin in every photo. 

a few months pass and he’s been racking up followers like crazy, all the money he makes - he spends on you, of course, buying you bags, clothes, shoes, anything his pretty mommy desires. you don’t question where he was getting all that money from, miguel also came from a pretty wealthy family - he did still spend as much of his parents money on you as he could.

eventually, he was in the top 3 creators of the site. he started to get a bit more raunchy with his posts, after that, he blew up like crazy. the constant *pings*! from his phone, however, was a means for suspicion. since when was your little loser of a boyfriend, well he’s not your boyfriend yet, but since when was he popular? like, people only know who he is because of you, and still nothing really changed since you claimed him as yours - so what’s with this sudden boost in attention he’s receiving?

he sits across from you, at your desk again, as you glare holes into his back from your plush bed. he’s smiling at his phone, the screen hidden from your view and you can only assume the worst. he’s talking to other bitches. everyone knew you were possessive, but when it comes to miguel? that’s a whole ‘nother situation. you wouldn’t hesitate to get rid of anyone who even thought about fucking around with your miguel. having connections is a real blessing.

your tongue clicks in annoyance, voice cutting through the comfortable silence in the room as you call out to him. “miguel, give me your phone.” you hold a hand out towards him, unmoving as your face remains devoid of emotion - although your twitching eyebrow tells a lot. he looks up at you immediately, pushing his frames back up his face. “w-what d’you need my phone f-for?” it was a valid question in any other circumstance, but this wasn’t any other circumstance. this was your obedient, not so little, miguel questioning you.

your brows raise, an amused scoff leaving your glossy lisp. you raise from the bed, strutting over to him as you snatch his phone from his hand. “the fuck is up with this attitude, hm? i don’t remember teachin’ you to be a little brat.” you sneer down at him, he was pathetic, really. face flushing as he realised his mistake, stumbling over his words and whimpering soft pleas of forgiveness. “shut it.” you don’t spare him another glance, gripping his phone as you sit back on your bed, crossing your legs.

unlocking his phone was easy, his password is your birthday - you could smile at how cutely obsessed with you he is but you were too pissed off at the moment. and of course, his lock screen and wallpaper is a picture of you, the same with his instagram pfp as you scroll through his chats. everything was weirdly innocent. there were only brief dm’s between him and what seemed like old friends and some current friends you didn’t even know he had, even his snapchat was completely barren.

you double, even triple checked his socials - not even a finsta in sight. with a deep sigh, you give up. of course you weren’t going to say out loud that you were overthinking but- oh? that stupid notification sound again. you quickly looked down at his phone again, seeing a notification from twitter. you completely forgot about it - seeing as it’s not even fucking called twitter anymore. 

clicking on it, your eyes widen in surprise. this whole account was a complete 360 from the miguel that grovels at your feet on a daily basis. the most teasingly sexy posts litter his feed - promising all that and more if you just clicked on the link in his bio, and that you did. miguel was watching you nervously the whole time, thinking the worst at your silent reactions. he moves to stand, hoping that just maybe he can get his phone back. “sit the fuck down.” and he sits.

what a fucking slut. your good little boy, in all these different positions, fooling his fans into thinking he’s some strong, sexy, dom. getting off in your bed, calling his fans all the nasty names you call him. the whole situation was just so funny to you. these poor people, they didn’t know how much their favourite daddy dom was in fact a little bitch, for you and you only. 

there was a part of you that was happy seeing have so much confidence, as much as you want to keep him all to yourself. it was kinda hot, him trying to act all dominant. you’d be lying to yourself if you said it didn’t make your cunt throb, biting your lips as you scroll deeper, and deeper. one post in particular caught your eyes, though. it was a video, the lighting was darker than the others but his body was just as clear. you put the volume all the way up, snickering at miguel’s frightened gasp behind you.

you can see why this post had so many likes now, cause god was it sexy. miguel laid on your bed, his face not visible, chest on display as he lightly ran his strong hands up and down his body, mumbling deep praises to his fans about how ‘good’ they are for him, how well he could fuck his pretty little sluts, how they probably wish they were there with him. who wouldn’t? his fat cock was drizzled in lube, sticky, hard, and leaking all over his hand. it rested on his stomach, smearing pre all over his happy trail, as he traced a thick finger along the throbbing veins. 

his moans where still just like you knew them to be, whiny and breathy, small whimpers leaking through his spit soaked lips. his hand worked himself faster, pumping up and down just like you do, skimming over his tip in the same way you do. after all, you’re the only one who knows how to use him. it feels like he edges himself forever. constantly stopping and starting, gripping onto his cock tightly to stop himself from exploding all over himself.

he pants heavily, growling softly as he pulls something up out of frame, a small black lacy thong. your black lacy thong, the same one you had on right now. he wrapped it around his aching cock, rubbing his tip along the crotch before rapidly fucking himself into the fabric. he doesn’t last long though, the thong smelt like you, he had only taken it a few minutes before he started filming - digging through your dirty laundry like some depraved perv to find the perfect pair.

only after a couple quick pumps did he spill all over the pretty fabric, his mouth hung open, chest shimmering with sweat. he brought the soiled panties to his mouth, sensually licking off his own cum before shooting a teasing smile at the camera - the video ending. you couldn’t even speak, slowly turning around to face him, his head hanging down in shame. 

oh, you were gonna make sure he learnt his lesson. his fans too.

to be continued…

- i want his balls jn my mouf

[saltnsugarbear]

there's no one else around (you're touching yourself) (18+)

summary: By pure accident, you stumble across the home page of your manager's brother's cam site. But neither of them have to know, right?

title from: "Wet Dream" by Wet Leg

word count: 2.1k

content warnings: MDNI!!! male masturbation mention, what is technically sex work, camshow/cam work, afab reader genitalia, vaginal/clitoral masturbation, rabbit vibrator you're my best friend, pillow humping ummm, don't think there's anything else

side note: HI BEAR WITH ME I FEEL LIKE THIS IS SHORT BUT TRUST WE WILL GET BETTER WITH TIME

You should not be here. By here, you mean Lip's cam site.

You stumbled upon it completely on accident. It had been a long week, and you needed to blow off some steam, and your friend had suggested looking into cam sites for something more interpersonal than just porn. So it was safe to say you were surprised when, in the top twenty for the local area, Lip Gallagher was streaming.

You only know it's Lip from the triangle tattoo on his chest that you have not stopped thinking about since you saw it.

You should not be here. You should not be entertaining the idea of watching your coworker, your manager's brother. Your mouse is hovering over the video, the stream playing in the small display on the sites front page. But Fiona doesn't have to know, right?

That's what you keep repeating to yourself as you go through the process of making an account (of course Lip would set his page to accounts only, why wouldn't he, it's the best way to insure money is made.)

That doesn't stop you from feeling slightly embarrassed by it. Fiona doesn't need to know, Lip doesn't need to know, nobody needs to know.

You make your user something meaningless, something he wouldn't be able to tie back to you. Once you get the minimum access... It's enough to make you blush, mouth going dry as you take everything in.

In most of the thumbnails, you can only see Lip's chest. In a few of them... Well, in a few of them, you can see more than just his chest. So much more.

There's a few items on his site that require a subscription fee and... Well, you're not ready to commit to that just yet. The streams will do, for now.

You're quick to roll out of bed and grab your headphones from your shelf, wasting no time connecting them to your laptop and putting them on. Once you're sure they're connected, you quickly click on the stream, not leaving any room for hesitation as the video loads.

It is. A lot.

The stream only takes a few seconds to load up before it's playing on your screen. You move by muscle memory, putting the video in theatre mode.

You haven't even looked at the live chat as it blows by, little pings and animations dancing on the screen. You're not taking in any of it.

All you can see is Lip. All you can focus on. The only coherent thought in your mind is him.

"Fuckin' hell-" Lip grunts in your headphones. Your eyes are wide as you take in everything you can. You can't even be bothered to get yourself off, you feel like you'll miss something if you tear your attention away from the screen.

You've chosen an interesting stream to start with.

Lip's body is framed perfectly. It's different from the other thumbnails, more of him being shown. His arm is extended, bracing himself on what you can only assume is the wall beside his setup. His chair is positioned sideways, a pillow folded in half and positioned snuggly in the angle of the chair. The leg closest to the camera is extended, giving him a firm footing as his other rests on the seat of the chair.

If you hadn't already taken your jeans off, you'd be fighting with yourself to get them off as quickly as possible.

You're glad that past you had the forethought to place your vibrator beside you, and all you needed to do now was take off your own underwear. Lip's home page was enough pre-game that you don't have to play with yourself too much to slip in the silicone toy.

You have to hit a few buttons before you land on the setting you want. Timing the grinding of your hips with Lip's movements and the rhythmic vibrations of the rabbit is tricky, but you manage to match the pace as best as you can.

Lip repeats this pattern of thrusting into the pillow, punctuating each one with a firm grind against it and then stilling before starting up again. The motions are enough to drive you mad, letting yourself shut your eyes and pretend the toy inside of you is actually Lip as he groans in your ear about how tight you are.

He encourages you and the audience to edge yourselves for as long as you can. To keep yourself dangling on that edge of release until he tells you to let go.

He gives you the clear right before he lets himself come. He doesn't have to tell you twice as you grind against the rabbit buzzing against your clit. The feeling is damn near overwhelming as you gasp softly, listening to the way Lip grunts out praise and curses.

You slam your laptop shut before you can watch him end the stream. Your chest rises and falls heavily, staring up at your ceiling as your brain registers what you just did.

Fuck.

The pit in your stomach when you see Lip walk in makes you feel sick. You knew he was working today. You're not sure why it jars you so much, but the overwhelming anxiety that seeing him gives you... It's enough to make you regret seeing his cam page.

He spends enough time talking with Sierra on her way back to the bar counter that you can cash out your register. Despite your rush to go, you get everything settled nicely in the pouch you need to take back to Fiona.

When you look up, your stomach drops when you meet Lip's gaze. You're quick to turn around and flee the front counter before he can leave Sierra's side.

"Fi am I good to go?" You walk into her cramped office like a whirlwind. You're already untying your small apron from around your waist and folding it in your hands.

"Yeah. Everything okay?" Fiona looks at you, brown eyes wide and searching your own. You nod quickly, tucking your apron in your waistband and placing your till money on her desk.

"Peachy," you tell her, placing your hand on her shoulder and giving a quick kiss to the top of her head. "I'll see you tomorrow, Fi."

Fiona gives your hand a quick size before you're slipping out of the office, stopping at the locker that stores your and Sierra's belongings. You're quick to swing the door open and grabbing your bag from the top shelf. The way you jam your apron into your bag is a little more aggressive than you usually handle things but you are determined to leave before you can run into Lip. Once you close your bag and slip it over your shoulder, slamming the locker door shut after you and turning quickly on your heel.

You're a bit too in your own head, not paying any attention as you head out of the small employee area, not bothering to check if someone else is coming back there.

That is your mistake, colliding hard with someone else. You're hands act on their own, grabbing at the shirt of the person you ran into to keep yourself balanced.

"Whoa-" Goddamnit.

You shut your eyes and momentary curse whatever cosmic being has it out for you today. Once you know you're steady you quickly let go of his shirt, bringing your hands close to your chest and step back a little.

It would be your luck that on your way out the door you would run into Lip Gallagher. The very person you're trying to avoid facing.

"You okay?" Lip's voice is caring as he speaks softly.

"Fine," you say, looking for a way to slip past him. He takes up most of the walkway, and there's that sour taste in your mouth. Your brain is sending mixed messages, guilt, and disgust at yourself, but your cheeks feel flush with Lip so close to you. Maybe it's his own body heat...

"Y'sure?" Lip asks you gently. "Y'look all..."

The gesture Lip makes is confusing, simply just motioning at your whole body, and it makes you want to disappear into the shitty paint job on the wall.

"Great. Just need to get home, so uh.." You gesture behind him, hoping he'll get the idea so you can brush past him.

"Oh shit. Sorry. I'll see ya tomorrow then?" Like he's sad he missed you on the shift. The sentiment makes your stomach flip, and you have to fight it down as he slips by you, his chest brushing your shoulder so you have to turn if you want to keep looking at him.

"Uh, yeah.. Pulling a double, so I'll be here all day." You're not at all keen on the idea, but one of the girls had practically begged on her knees for you to cover her shift.

Lip huffs and shakes his head with a disbelieving grin. "I'll see ya then.."

He does that nervous habit he has, scratching gently at his nose with his thumb as you give you a small wave as you leave. The interaction is only... Slightly bizarre, if you put it mildly.

Fiona slips out of her office, leaning against the doorframe as Lip walks over to the lockers.

"They seem... Off, to you?" Fiona asks Lip as he grabs his rubber apron. He spares Fiona a glance before he brings the apron over his head.

"Off?" Lip asks.

"I don't know... Like skittish? Flighty?" Fiona tries to explain the feeling that's nagging at her brain. You left in such a rush and left her no room for explanation when you brushed her off.

"A little," Lip shrugs. "Just seems like they wanted t'get out of here before gettin' dragged into more work."

Fiona hums softly, crossing her arms over her chest. Lip nods before shutting the locker softly before leaving the backroom, leaving Fiona to mull over your interaction.

The rest of your week follows the same cycle.

Going to Lip's site, getting off while he streams himself getting off, and then trying not to face him the next day.

The only one who really seems to notice your quick get aways everytime Lip clocks in is Fiona. The not knowing makes her fidgety and agitated, becoming noticeably short with people until eventually she snaps.

"Did you do something to piss them off?" Fiona grills Lip as they watch you bid Sierra goodbye before slipping out the door to the restaurant.

The look he gives his sister is offended. Offended that she would suggest he had done something wrong when he barely had the chance to talk to you this last week. It did strike him as peculiar that you managed to slip away whenever he clocked in or found a way to switch shifts so you two no longer worked similar shifts anymore.

"Why do you assume I did something wrong?" He asks. Despite his defensive position, he wracked his brain for any possible interaction that could have caused your change in behavior.

"Because they only ever leave like a bat out of hell when you come in!" Fiona exclaims.

"Well, maybe you should ask 'em, since I didn't do anything wrong." Lip says, glancing around the restaurant as he stacks dishes in his bin.

"Oh, don't give me that!" Fiona turns to him, lightly smacking his arm with the till pouch in her hands.

"What?" Lip jerks his arm away from her, as if it actually hurt. He's just merely offended by the action.

"I have asked 'em! They just say their fine and leave as quick as they can!" She sets the pouch on the counter beside the register and rests her chin on her hands.

"Maybe you did something." Lip shrugs, mouth quirking up to squish his cheek up so his eye squints slightly. Fiona turns to glare at him, but he's not looking at her. Busy doing his job.

"What would I have done that would piss them off?" Lip comes up to settle beside her, setting his bin down as if he really needs to give it some thought.

"Well, let's see-" Fiona cuts him off with a hard smack to the chest.

"Let's see nothing, asshole.." Fiona mutters, leaning against the counter as she stands up straight and watches the people walking by.

"It's gotta be somethin'." Lip shakes his head slightly, picking his bin back up.

"I'm gonna figure it out." Fiona promises her brother.

"Yeah, you do that. I'll uh, I'll be in the back doin' dishes while you try figurin' it out." Lip claps Fiona on the shoulder, gives her a quick squeeze, and heads for back of house.

Fiona huffs at him before glancing back at the sidewalk. She's going to figure it out, whether it's a big secret or not.

Fiona will find out.

[rescuebabiesau]

Secret-Keepers

"Ugh... Ow... Wedge? You okay...?"

Hotshot's optics blinked repeatedly, only to find the darkness around them wasn't his vision malfunctioning. His helm tilted back, his gaze shifting upwards to the faint, jagged line of light overhead- the top of the crevice they'd fallen into.

Diagnostics in progress... Mild blunt force trauma to plating. Damage minimal.

Considering how far they'd fallen, Primus was really gracious to the little autobot.

"Wedge?" He called out again, searching the dark. His optics finally found his teammate, huddled up under a rock outcropping, only his optics visible in the dark. "You okay?"

"...No..." Wedge mumbled.

"Physically? Or just... you know."

The skid-steer didn't answer.

"Okay...?" He sat down beside him, "I'll bet the others have already called the professors. We'll be out of here any minute now... And then... Then we can go to our separate places at the Academy and you won't have to look at me anymore..."

He felt a light pulse through his bond, a tap from his father somewhere above requesting correspondence. He sent a calm ping back, hoping it translated to the firebot that his son was alright.

Then he heard a sniffle.

"...I didn't realize you hated my presence that much..." He mumbled.

"I don't hate you, Hotshot..."

"Well, you sure have a weird way of showing you like me, then." Hotshot folded his arms across his stomach, "...Did I do something to offend you or something? Cuz you've been acting all grouchy around me ever since orientation."

"I just... I fought so hard to get on this team, if I don't graduate and have to go back to Cybertron, I-I don't know what I'd do!"

"Come on, Wedge. You're one of the best of us, and even if you weren't, I'm sure your parents wouldn't blame you for trying!"

Wedge winced, his helm drooping down. "My parents...They..." He mumbled the last few words under his breath.

"...What was that, Wedge?" Hotshot leaned closer, "Didn't catch that."

"...My parents don't know where I am."

"...What?"

The skid-steer started to tremble, tears forming in the corners of his optics. "I-I told them I got a contract job working on a construction site off-world and I didn't know when I'd be back. They have no idea I'm on Earth or at the academy. They didn't even know I went to the try-outs, much less made it to the final assessment!"

"Why would you lie to your parents, Wedge?"

"Because..." The skidsteer's shoulders slumped, "...They're Decepticons. I don't think I... I don't I was on their agenda. They fed me and gave me a place to sleep, but... Well... It's not like when I've heard you talking to your mom on the vid feed."

Hotshot was quiet, leaning back against the wall. "...that's why you worked so hard to get here. It was an escape route for you."

"I mean, I guess...?" Wedge crossed his arms across his knees, "I busted my bumper fighting to get a spot on this team. Did probably twice as much training as anyone else, and I made it! But then you show up and for some reason, all of the professors love you! You could mess up a million times and they'd still give you another chance, and I guess I just... I got jealous that you had it so easy... I took it out on you, and... I'm sorry." His faceplate pressed into his arms, "And now it's my fault we're stuck down here and the professors have to waste time rescuing us..."

"Well, I don't think they'd see it as wasted time to do a rescue, I think they'd just be glad neither of us are hurt! Besides, the cliff side looked stable! None of us knew it was gonna crumble."

"Please Hotshot. Please don't tell the others. I'm not quite ready for them to know yet."

"Fine, I won't tell..." Hotshot's brows furrowed, "...but if I gotta keep your secret, then you gotta keep mine."

"What secret?"

Hotshot sighed, "You're right, the professor's love me. It's not super hard to get on their good side for me-"

"How is that a secret?"

"Let me finish... The thing is... They're all a little biased. You know how I mentioned that my dad was stationed off-world all of my life?"

"Yeah?"

"...Heatwave's my dad."

"He's your what!?"

"Shh shh shh! Not so loud...!"

Wedge's helm thumped back against the soil, "It all makes sense now! I thought you were just good at bumper-kissing, but- he's your dad!?"

"Yeah... My mom works on Cybertron, and he works here, so... I mean, he'd video-call us practically every week, so it wasn't like I never saw or talked to him, but whenever I asked if I could come here with him for a little bit, he'd always say no. And then, out of nowhere, when he's gonna the busiest he's ever been, suddenly it's okay for me to be here? I... I dunno..."

"Hmm, maybe it was suddenly safer for you here."

"What do you mean?"

Wedge frowned, "...I don't know what's going on back home, but... I've heard whispers. Mostly from my parents, they're not exactly tight-lipped bots, which is probably why they don't know much about it either. Some decepticons have been chatting, something's in the works, something big, and bots have been going missing- even Bumblebee!" The skid-steer's optics were wide, "Last I heard, they said he made an unauthorized spacebridge jump from a federal facility to some unknown location, and nobody's seen or heard from him since...!"

"Really?"

"Yeah! They think he... Got splintered across space when they shut the thing off...!"

Hotshot could see the horror and sadness in his teammate's optics, "That would be a horrible way to go... But I'm sure he's fine. Probably just undercover."

"I hope so... I'd always wanted the chance to meet him. He's like my hero, you know. The little guy that wound up being one of Optimus Prime's top bots... I want to be somebody like him someday."

There. At least Hotshot didn't feel quite as obligated to admit the truth— that Bumblebee was here, on Earth, and was helm-deep in a secret mission of his own. Perhaps the recruit and autobot would meet someday, if the opportunity arose...

Kzzzzzk-otshot? Wedge? Do you copy?

"Whirl!" Hotshot cheered, "We hear you!"

Are you guys okay!?

"We're fine."

Good. Just sit tight, Professor Boulder says he's got a plan to haul you both back up here to the top!

"Sounds good, Whirl." Hotshot looked to Wedge, giving him a gentle elbow to the side. "Hey... Secret-keepers?"

Wedge gave a slight smile, "...Secret-keepers."

[world-of-aus]

Live Now

Pairing: Camboy!Bucky x Camgirl!Reader

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI (Use of Toys, Masturbation)

Authors Note: Smut has been on the mind, and well what better way to test the waters? Happy Reading BUNS! (Any and all writing mistakes are my own)

He jerks his cock lazily with one calloused hand, the other guiding the cursor down the list of potential cam girl links waiting to be clicked and watched. Many of his favorites have bumped their way to the top, his search defined already to what he likes, the profiles he views often after a night of work. Tonight, he scrolls past them, despite his aching cock beginning for something other than the lazy stroke he provides. 

Your name had been dropped in his comments for weeks now, many of his loyal viewers asking, no begging him to give you a view. They had promised the long-haired brunette he wouldn’t regret it, apparently you put on quite the show if the frequent drop of your site name was any indication. So he scrolls, continues his lazy stroke as he seeks you out. He finds your link two pages in, the live now icon flashing before his eyes, your profile gives little away, nothing like the other cam girls he’s favorited. He leans back into his chair, body sliding down as he spreads his legs, he gives you your chance. 

He presses your link, his screen going black before the loading screen comes on. He removes his hand from the mouse to guide his grey joggers lower around his muscled thighs. He wouldn’t remove them yet; not till he was sure your show would deliver. 

Bucky waits, fist still lightly wrapped around his hardened cock, his stroke a constant motion now, giving himself something to look forward to. When the video finally loads Bucky is floored, a curse leaving the man's lips, his fist tightening around his cock as he takes all of you in. 

You were sin on legs. 

You were kneeled before the camera, your breasts bouncing from where your rode the black dildo that was buried inside of you. The noises the toy pulled from you were blocked by the silicon cock fisted in your hands that you pressed past your lips. Bucky didn’t think it was possible for him to get harder, but the way you push yourself to swallow more of the silicon down has him aching, he had never wanted to be a toy more. 

And like Bucky, your followers are eating it up. The soft pings of comments and coins being dropped for you. He chuckles huskily, his fist moving quicker over his cock as he watches you eat the attention right up, your hands pressing more of the toy into your mouth till your gagging. He watches you pull back from the toy, a thin line of spit connecting you to the silicon, a noise he’d pay to hear repeatedly leaving your lips as you grind down onto the toy below you. 

Bucky can see you need more, can hear it in the breathy pleas that spill from those lips he aches to have around his cock. “It feels so good,” he hears you say, and he swears he’s never heard a sound so euphoric than your wrecked voice gracing his ears. “s’fucking my pussy so good.” You moan your fingers drifting down your body to split through your folds showing your viewers just how well the black toy was fucking you, how wet you were. 

Bucky’s thinking with his cock when he leans forward to type a comment into the chat box. His fist moving over his erect member in fast succession as he watches you get yourself off. The ping catches your eye, your gaze sifting through all the comments that have accumulated but ultimately landing on his. 

“You think you could fill me out better than my toy,” you purr as you lean forward, your breasts pressed and pushed together to offer a view as you ride the toy in tandem now. Yeah, he thinks, he could have you cock drunk before he even sheathed himself inside of you of that he was certain. “You think you could fuck my pussy till I’m creaming all over your cock?” 

He chokes on a groan, his lips parting as the pleasure courses through his veins. Fuck you were a dirty girl, a dirty girl he couldn’t wait to get his hands on and defile further. He’s moving forward again, the pleasure continuing to build up in his groin as he tried to type something significantly coherent in your chat box. 

Your laugh is breathless, lips parted in an ‘o’, he’s certain this is what you look like when you’re pushing to topple over the edge. “Fuck I would love nothing more than to have your cock in my pussy right now, have you fill me up.” You moan as you push back onto your knees, hands clasped around your breasts as you ride the black silicon toy vigorously. A means to your end. 

The chat box has gone quiet, the only sounds filling Bucky’s room is that of his lube slicked fist rubbing over his weeping cock, the pleasure pleas spilling from those sinful lips as you drive yourself closer, and the soft ping of your viewers dropping more coins for you. He imagines they must all look like him right now; speechless, fists wrapped around their cocks as they race to meet their end with you. 

Why hadn’t he searched you up sooner? 

He has no time to think on that thought, your scream of pleasure meeting his ears, your orgasm seared into his memory. Its enough to push him on, his own orgasm spilling over his fist landing on his stomach.  

‘Holy Shit’, he chuckles, a groan following as he rides the aftershocks. 

A few breaths later and he finds himself cleaning up alongside you. Your movements lax on the other side of the screen as you shift through some of the comments your viewers are leaving. He had typed plenty already, so he sat this part out content enough to watch through the comments with you. Plenty were calling you their ‘good girl’ and he couldn’t help but think of how far from the truth that statement was. You may put on the good girl visage for your Loyals but Bucky knew a brat waiting to be tamed when he saw one. 

He wondered when he might get the chance. If he ever got the chance. 

You wrap up your live with a kiss and a thank you promising to return soon with a special surprise. 

Bucky was certain that after today he would be returning, and with a final praise from you his screen goes black alongside yours. He closes out of the tab, landing on your original link, the live now notification gone like you. He goes to close that tab, but notification pings from the speakers alerting him to a new message.  

His brows furrow as he guides the cursor to the message notification, his heart races, a message from you, Siren, sits in his inbox. He moves to the message clicking it, intrigued, his insides twist. 

“I’ll be damned, buckmeup is a fan?” 

He falls back into his chair, shit. 

[ckret2]

Okay am I missing something that’s going on with the website? I’ve seen one or two posts about it but it won’t load on my phone so I can’t check for myself.

and I saw something about there being even more Gatsby connections? If so that’s great bc it’s one of my favorite books that I happen to have read thoroughly multiple times so I feel like I can actually help solve any mysteries on that front.

go to the site, plug in the password TJ Eckleburg, and currently you get an error message (that by now we suspect is intentional and not an error at all) that looks like this:

If you repeatedly click on Soos's upper body, the messages in the top right change. They're funny. One message offers a link to a PDF of The Great Gatsby to read while you wait; another links to the lofi Gravity Falls theme released a few days ago; and one has Soos display Bill's possessed eyes (aka Boos) and show a coded message that translates to "SO! MANY! QUESTIONS!"

Fandom's been going insane the past few hours looking for any clues to unlock anything further on the site. All have been dead ends; there don't seem to be any other passwords.

People who have dug into the code found that it looks like the site is pinging a text file called /is-it-time/well-is-it.txt and if the text file says "no" we stay on this page with Soos's error message; if the contents of that text file are changed to a URL, we'll be redirected to that URL. So we're probably just waiting for Alex-or-somebody to update well-is-it.txt to get a new URL with the next part of the site.

[ringleaderising]

PIGLET APPLICATION #01 TOOTH THE RESSURECTIONIST.

RULES OF ENGAGEMENT:

These Piglets are for lore clans with a tumblr presence (sideblog, FR posting on mainblogs, etc you simply have to be a lore clan who engages with the community here on tumblr.)

Other players with their siblings (and myself with their parents) will be not only welcome to but encouraged to write interclan letters/in character messages to their siblings, and you'll have to be okay with everything that comes with that (On-Site DMs, the potential of a message going unanswered/etc) I would also appreciate if you ping me for the stuff you do with them because I want to see what they get up to <3

If you win one of the siblings, please refrain from applying for another, this is so everyone interested gets an opportunity and a fair shake at taking one of the girls home!

If you're the selected winner, the dragon is yours to do what you please with! (Regene, change species, rename, change gender identities/pronoun preferences, etc) I ask only that you have a lore/character reason for breed or name changes, as they'll be connected to a wider group of dragons that would need to know these things (What kind of dragon their sibling has become, What to call them in letters, etc) and if you can keep them a modern breed so they can keep their cleavers, well that'd just be nice for their old man Pig.

Please honor the basic lore of the dragon you win, you're welcome to rewrite/reinterpret the lore they arrive with, but please don't eliminate that history entirely, since they'll be interwoven with other clans/players!

[and a big thank you to Khadjin for reminding me I never mentioned this yet!] my lore deviates pretty substantially from site lore. however every aspect can be explained within the context of the site, please don't feel like you have to adopt my headcanons to participate in these!- my "Lesser Gods" are nothing more than magically afflicted/overcharged spirits or magically mutated dragons created in a reactor explosion somewhere in Lightning and some timeloop silliness, and the 'Gaps' are highly concentrated leylines caused by this incident. the eleven gods of sornieth remain the only true gods in my lore much like the site on the whole!- the Piglets and their parents simply lived under the affliction of spirits, cults, and mutated dragons and contextualized them as "Gods" the very same way we create urban myth/legends. While they would know of The Host and the Gaps because of the direct effect both have had on their parents, they are not required to have continued to believe in them as "Higher beings" and can have learned in their time away from their family that these things are likely, little more than the arcane gone haywire.

BLANK APPLICATION

Please copy/paste and fill this out in a Reblog here on tumblr or send it to me through my submit box here so I can keep track of things on a per-dragon basis for the course of the 48-hours each application will be active!

FR Username/Numbers: Basic Clan Lore: (just a general description of the lore/area of your clan you intend to place this hatchling in!) Plans For Dragon: (A little description of any of your ideas, headcanons, story beats, etc you're thinking of for the dragon you're applying for! This can be anything you've got in mind, scries, outfits, etc, feel free to go as big or as little as you want, I wanna see what's going on in your head!) Intended Payment: (These dragons will be PWYW, but I need everyone to acknowledge they're not free, so whatever you're planning on paying/trading for them, even if you change your mind when the time comes, stick something here.)

RINGLEADER'S HEADCANONS

These are just some smaller lore bits and pieces you're welcome to use or disregard for each child, things that I couldn't fit into the bios in a way that made sense. much like the example outfit photo up-top, this is for fun or stuff to help get ideas flowing, if you're stuck!

Tooth has horrible first-child syndrome despite being the third-born, she wants her parents' (and others, really) approval in any way she can get it, which has led to a deathly competitive streak- dangerous in a dragon closer to a horror slasher than anything else.

Tooth is the child with the most heavy proclivity toward plague's flesh and bone sensibilities, and while this is fitting for a necromancer, it makes her look odd when engaging with hobbies that aren't hunting, killing, or doing strange magic- she's mildly self conscious about this.

Her tendency to pull her own teeth to create resurrection daggers has led to her using her mouth as an odd accessory, adorned with teeth carved from precious stones, metals, and various other souvenirs she's chosen.

She's one of the few members of the Piglets who actually has an innate sense of magic, as her talent with resurrection does not require any outside intervention beyond a focus for her powers!

THIS APPLICATION IS OPEN FROM 3 PM DECEMBER 2ND, 2024, TO 3 PM DECEMBER 4TH, 2024. REBLOGS AFTER THIS TIME WILL BE DISQUALIFIED FROM THE RUNNING.

Annnnd the auction pings for my tumblr lovelies!~:

@hor-wod-flir @harpyartisan @fuiran @terra-tortoise @bawkrya @pocketmouse-fr @spongyspingy-rising @avalonianrising @clansunsharp

[future-dregs]

Sam sinks in the fresh, damp dirt.

His knees give out and he pitches forward, chest colliding with the rough hewn cross. Driving splinters through his shirt, into his chest.

His arms come over, and under. His chin hooks over the joint. Hugging it close to him he let's the wood take his weight as he weeps, biting the cord around his neck to gag himself, keep from screaming. His throat is already torn. Last time, there was thick strings of blood.

He hugs it tighter.

Whimpers.

Closes his eyes and breathes the leather from a coat that didn't fit and still won't.

Tries to imagine that the wood is not so. That's its yielding, and holding.

He kisses the wood.

Rocks like a child.

He wants his brother.

He stumbles abruptly to his feet. Mechanically tripping over to the car.

Her back door squeals. It's a low, mournful sound.

"She knows."

Sam can't comfort her.

He pulls an rollup sleeping bag from the car and returns to the grave.

The dirt cradles him, holds him. His pillows his head on the jacket and searches out scent in the old flannel he pulls up to his chin.

His dad.

Dean.

There's only his own.

He dreams. Its fitful.

Wakes up throughout the night, hearing his name.

The morning sun wakes him like it's sorry, but the darkness has already touched Sam's eyes. Everything is dim.

The cross is still there.

His hand is around it.

Dirt under his nails, ground into the palms of his hands.

The car still questions when he gets in alone and Dean is still dead.

Sam stops at a gas station for a local map and the strongest cheap shit liquor they've got.

The cashier hesitantly asks if he wouldn't rather have a coffee instead, maybe a sandwich?

Its six thirty in the morning.

Sam just sneers, his lip peeling up to show his teeth.

There's gravedirt in his mouth and his brother's blood stiff and dark on his jeans.

He twists the top off a bottle and sends it pinging into a corner. Swills some back and walks straight out the door.

He starts drinking in earnest as he marks down every crossroad and "thin site" around.

He doesn't stop.

He can't do this sober. Can't be without Dean. Can't feel every raw pain, unblunted.

He's got work to do.

[Don't Let The Ground Be Your Home on Ao3]

[whatsk-poppinhomies]

GRAPHIC STORY TIME UNDER THE CUT

TW : boils ; swelling ; infections ; major TMIs ;

So to start off, I have this hormonal problem where my body for some reason gets boils everywhere and anywhere from the neck down. Now, for those of you who have the same issue or have gone through the same thing, I’m praying for you. For those who don’t know, it hurts… so bad.

The past week I’ve been suffering with a boil right at the edge of my ribcage and underneath my boob(my boobs are rather large, which doesn’t make things any better). The first half of the week, it was bearable, it was sore, but not too bad.

Fast forward to today, and it has swollen on the top to the size of a dollar coin, and underneath the skin, it’s swollen to the size of a ping pong ball, and the bruising has expanded the size of a tennis ball. It HURTS. My boobs are constantly rubbing against it, and at this point, the top layer if skin has literally been chaffed off from the constant friction of both my boobs and my bra when I have to wear one.

If I was at my old job, I would have called out, but alas, I just started a new job, I’m on 90 day probation, so I’m scared to call out. So I go in. I am in TEARS as I leave my house, but I don’t want to lose my job, so I pull aside my crew leader (love her so much, she’s amazing) at the start of the night and ask her if I can be on light work. She agreed.

Fast forward an hour into the shift, my back hurts from trying to stand a certain way to relieve some pressure, but I am in so much pain that once I go out on break, I full on cry like a baby in my car. Like, hyperventilating, sobbing, blubbering, I’m a mess. I call my mom, I’m crying to her, don’t know how she understands a thing I’m saying, but she tells me to do what I think I have to do to not be in pain.

SO

I go in, not even finishing my break, I find my crew leader, still crying btw, and I ask if I can talk to her in the office. She agrees, and I get to the office, and I tell her that it’s really bad, I can’t take it.

Now, the cool thing about my job is that we have a medical office and first responders literally ON SITE, they just be working there as normal people until there’s a medical emergency.

So she calls the first responders and the two sweetest, loveliest ladies come up to the office, and they’re trying to calm me down first. It doesn’t work but A+ for maximum effort.

They’re contemplating whether to send me home or not because it is my 90 days (and in their defense, a lot of people bullshit being hurt to try to go home early). So they ask to see it, and lemme tell you, the audible gasps that left all 3 women’s mouths, that shit had me feeling like I was about to die on the spot. (Turns out they were just genuinely shocked and concerned that I came into work, and this was when I still had a bandaid on over it.)

So they take me down to the medical office, and they carefully take the bandaid off, and again, the GASP when they saw the big picture. They were so apologetic even though it wasn’t even their fault, and they were trying to figure out what to do because they didn’t want to touch it or hurt me more. They ended up just putting ointment on it and then gauzing me up like I’ve been shot, but I love them all for how kind they were.

They were offering to drive me home and everything and they told me not to worry about the 90 day thing right now and to just focus on fixing my problem and going to the doctor as soon as possible to get checked because my boil is definitely infected and they don’t want me to go into septic shock.

They even walked me out to my car and made sure I was okay with driving before going back inside.

Like, this job is amazing! Not the work, all work sucks a majority of the time; but the people that I work with genuinely care. I’ve only been there a week and everyone greets me with a smile and they just all care about one another.

I might be in severe pain and on the brink of sepsis, but the people at my job care and that makes my heart feel good. I have to go to the doctors tomorrow though, so not excited for that at all. :(

[rjzimmerman]

Excerpt from this story from Smithsonian Magazine:

The birds weigh about as much as a bar of soap.

That’s how Melissa Boyle Acuti describes the northern saw-whet owl, the smallest owl species found in Maryland and one of the smallest in North America. They’re hardly bigger than a fist with a ping pong ball on top, she adds.

During the fall in Edgewater, Maryland, a small group of volunteers helps catch and band these little owls from sunset to midnight. They’re participating in Project Owlnet, an initiative that seeks to learn more about these birds and their migration and that supports an ever-expanding network of migrant owl banding stations.

Boyle Acuti is the banding station manager for Project Owlnet’s site at the Smithsonian Environmental Research Center (SERC) in Edgewater. She leads the participants through the project’s processes.

The group uses an audio lure to entice the birds, capturing them in mist nets to bring back to the banding station. Once there, they place aluminum bands on the birds—“friendship bracelets for science,” as they’re called within the project. Project participants also measure the owls’ bills, wings and tails.

They use a blacklight to look at the underside of the owls’ wings and see their molt pattern, which helps determine their ages, a difficult task. Old feathers don’t glow as brightly under the light because the pigment has faded, while new feathers have a brighter glow, Boyle Acuti says.

“They nest and summer up in these boreal forests in Canada,” she says. “Those areas, people can’t get to very easily. … So that’s why the fall migration studies are really important to know what’s happening with the population of owls.”

For Christmas bird counts, the owls may be found down in their southern range, possibly showing up at stations in Georgia, Alabama and Oklahoma. “They go pretty far south in small numbers,” she says. “The more that we do with Project Owlnet, the more we learn about their migrations.”

Saw-whet captures have varied widely from year to year at SERC, which became a Project Owlnet banding site in 2017. That year, the team captured eight birds, and the next year, they captured 54. Then in 2019, it was six; the year after, it was 29. And then eight in 2021, 26 in 2022, nine in 2023 and ten in 2024. Notably, one of the birds banded at SERC and identified as a recently hatched owl in 2022 was recaptured nearly 600 miles away in Quebec on October 14, 2024.

Many factors may affect the owl population, Boyle Acuti notes: “You hear about the wildfires in Canada—they’ve been in the news. Even climate change, that could be causing the southern species to move more northerly. The tree species compositions, if those change, that could impact where the owls are nesting and the prey. There’s a lot we don’t know, and that’s why we study them. In order to see trends, you have to have long-term data sets.”

[terraliensvent]

A blast from the past: terras and ip grabbing

so im sure some of you have seen this post over on csmingy, and zaga had actually reached out to me here to post on their actions in terras as well

for the uninformed, zaga (creator/former owner of isopups) was the original site coder for terraliens. recently, they've decided to come out about the circumstances surrounding the original terra vent blog and the ip grabbing, stating that THEY were the one who originally did so after pressure from civ and coy. (and if you weren't here for the doxxing issue, just read through this)

and as an aside: from my personal recollection of actively following the original blog and even having post notifs on, i dont remember any death threats being posted to that blog. what i do remember is the original discussion on kinah being that they were "greedy" for dropping an adopt batch on their birthday, and others bitching about petty shit to that effect. my memory could be wrong, but even at the time i thought the content of the original vent blog was blown way out of proportion.

anyway, on with the screenshots:

(edit to specify: in this screen i say Kinah was the one to influence zaga to IP grab, but later zaga corrected me to state that it was mainly civ and coy, with kinah's situation and attempt influencing them, not kinah directly)

along with this, i was given an imgur gallery of screenshots (lemon and tuna = zaga)

here are some i thought were interesting:

Later on civ says this:

more incriminating shit:

this proves they definitely did have a fucking spec-ops investigation to ip grab nearly everyone involved with the blog, getting people's locations and making spoofed urls. honestly, im not even totally sure how they landed on the people they did as the supposed owners of the blogs, seeing as they were going based off of location and there are a lot of people living in australia. additionally you can see civ blowing things out of proportion on a few messages like this one:

which, that is a completely reasonable thing to say!! if youre making attempts on your life over a closed species, maybe it would help you to remove yourself from that space, just a thought.

and finally the cherry on top of the shit sundae:

they didnt even ban the right fucking person

i highly recommend reading all the screens, it's a whole rollercoaster and not once do either of them think theyre in the wrong for being incredibly invasive, using spoofed links to grab IPs, picking out a random person because they said they lived in melbourne (which has a population of over 5 million) and then doubling down saying "erm but guys we didnt release the info we just used deceptive means to ban them but it turns out the person we banned wasnt even the right one oopsies!"

in fact, according to zaga, the IP they got wasn't even linked to a home address, it was tied to a satellite ping tower, so the user who's IP they tracked could have very well not even been in melbourne. so they just caused a shitload of anguish to Mal for no reason and refused to take it back, even after they realized they fucked up. full explanation here:

finally, zaga did link me to their apology doc regarding isos. i wont go in depth on it because this isnt isopups venting, but ill drop it here anyways for anyone who's interested: link

overall, i dont want to bash zaga crazy heavily over this, seeing as it looks like theyre on a pretty big apology tour right now for their actions here as well as in isopups. they stated in my dms: "I also want to clarify while I wasn’t sorry for it last year, it’s been a long time since this and I feel immense shame and guilt for it, which is why I’m coming out about it," and given their current actions of laying everything out here + the iso doc, i want to say that theyre making a change and i cant knock them for apologizing.

i will say though, that these messages are incredibly fucking damning for civ and OG terra staff, and i will absolutely criticize civ for them since their actions here are pretty consistent with their behavior in every single following controversy: doubling down, blowing shit out of proportion while simultaneously downplaying their own actions, and "everyone is at fault but me"

what a great throwback thursday

[iraprince]

Hi! I'm so glad you're doing quests again, I'm super excited to see how necrotech develops. Is there a way to get notified of updates to the quest? Or would turning on notifications for this blog be the best way to do that? I just don't want to miss anything, I love your work so much

hi, thank you so much! i'm super excited too :) for now i think notifications for this blog is probably the most consistent way; i will always post update announcements here. as far as i know there isn't a way to get notifs directly from the questden site (there's a little eyeball icon in the title line of quest threads on there that says "watch thread" when u hover over it but... my confession.... after over a decade of using the site i still have no idea what that does or what it means.) years ago i used to have a quest discord where i'd ping updates, tho it's now inactive... lately i have been kicking around the idea of having a discord server again, not just for quests but kind of for all my work in general, but i'm still not sure (depends on if i think i would have the energy to stay on top of it/moderate it which seems iffy. maybe i would make it essentially read only in most channels? idk!!!) but until then yeah, i think tumblr is probably where update announcements will be most consistent!

[recentadultburnout]

Info for writer in Thai series fandom: Random food

I added some pictures on AO3 but not here, but I tried searching in English, and it did show the correct item, so if you want to know what it looks like, you can look it up.

Breakfast

Actually, anything can be breakfast, but this is some of what is frequently viewed as breakfast.

Khao Tom (Boiled rice/Rice porridge)

Joke (Rice porridge/Congee)

Tom lueatmu (Pork Blood Soup)

Khaoniao mu ping (Grilled Pork Sticky Rice)

Khaoniao mufoi (Glutinous Rice with Shredded Pork)

Khai kratha (Pan egg)

Namtaohu songkhrueang (soy milk with topping)

Sandwich boran (thai style sandwich)

and everything westerners consider breakfast.

Northern food

Namphriknum (young chili paste)

Namphrik-Ong (Ong Chili Paste)

Khaepmu (Crispy Fried Pork Rinds)

Sai-Ua (a type of sausages)

Kaengho

Kaenghangle (Hung Lay Curry)

Khanomchinnamngiao

Khaosoi 

Central food

Nam phrik long ruea

Nam phrik kapi

Homok (steamed fish with curry paste)

Thotman (a type of fish ball)

Pucha (deep-fried crab meat and minced pork in crab shell )

Kaengchuet

Kaengphet

Kaengsom

Khaophat (Fried rice)

Yam

Northeastern food (E-san food)

Soup nomai (bamboo shoot soup)

Tomsom (fish soup with ginger)

Kaeng Om

Kaeng Proe (Bamboo Shoot and Yanang Soup)

Kaeng Het (Mushroom Soup)

Kaeng Khai Motdaeng (Red ant egg soup)

Somtam 

Southern food

Kaeng Taipla

Kaengsom

*Kaengsom in the central and southern regions have some differences. Recently, there was even a debate online about whose Kaengsom is superior.

Kaenglueang

Kai Tom Khamin

Khua Kling

Phatsato

Phat Phet Kop

Yam Nam Budu 

Nowadays, every part of Thailand eats everything I mention here, but its origin is still very obvious, and the origin can give some impression about what it will taste like for people who try it for the first time.

Popular Foreign food

Chinese food (some kinda Thai-Chinese more than actual Chinese)

Japanese food

Korean food

Mexican food

Indian food

Vietnamese food

Westerner food (Farang food)

Drink

Green Tea

Iced Tea/Thai Tea

Lemon Tea

Cocoa

Nom yen/Nom chomphu (Pink milk)

Oliang

Yok lor

Coffee boran

Butterfly pea juice

Lemongrass and Pandan Juice

Nam daeng (Red drink) (Hale's blue boy sala flavor)

Nam khiao (Green drink) (Hale's blue boy cream soda flavor)

Bubble tea

Chain Restaurants  

Sizzler

KFC

McDonald’s

Burger King

Starbucks

Subway

Taco Bell 

MK Suki

S&P

Barbecue Plaza

Yum Saap

Fuji restaurants 

Katsuya

Yayoi

Ootoya

Chester’s Grill

Pizza Hut

Pizza Company

Narai pizzeria

Hachiban

Mos Burger

Dairy Queen

Swensen

Easy to find dish

There a type of restuarant call ran-ahan tam sang (ร้านอาหารตามสั่ง) (Cooked to order resturant?) which is basically everywhere and this is a basic almost every those restuarant will have.  

Rice top with fried basil

Fried rice

Stir Fried Vegetables with Rice

Garlic Pork with Rice

Stir Fried Chili Paste

Suki->Thai Styled Sukiyaki (water/dry)  

You can select the type of meat yourself, even if the name includes the word "pork," (it's just a place holder) and you can add extra meat (more of the one you select or something else) or eggs if desired.

Eating utensils

The most common choice are just a spoon and fork. In places like noodle shops, it usually has chopsticks as well. and for steak, a knife.

List of online supermarket site

Index

[darkartcorner]

Wanted to keep my infodump/notes away or, at least, until I get some art to come with them, but thats the harm in dropping in here?

Below my notes (copied from Discord) in relation to the End Times aka the "end game", the age/times of Iterator collapses and outlining events in regard to my Iterator Gazing Upon the Stars and being a rough timeline of things and/or events

The eventual collapse of Gazing Upon the Stars (it's a miracle he stand for so long considering being 1.5 gen and being of unorthodox, utilized by the time not tested technology, construction). Can fall relatively soft, into formed marsh beneath it so it did not cracked wide open

For a pretty long time being unable to function, still being consciousness and registering the world, but severed from larger superstructure (like he knows it there and sometimes get faint pings of activity, but cant pin point them. He also lost contact with overseers outside the can and maintain the contact with the one inside only because of the feature of his own puppet (the auxiliary communication build into his antennas)

He would let it go and allow time to fully dismantle him if not for two thing: previous communication with Whispers went very badly and he did not wanted for it to be the last, but also the realization (and further confirmation by sending overseers to investigate) that his memory array, constructed so carelessly at the bottom of the can, landed right in the marsh with the whole superstructure, is not only damaged, but decaying at alarming rate (Stars is quite obsessed with knowledge and the prospect of loosing is one of the most dreadful for him).

So the task become clear: contact Whispers and say last sorry and goodbye, and find a way to write/copy the information on more time resistant material, still yet acceptable for someone in the future (He did taught everything he could his Scavengers before sending them away, but he still thinks it isnt enough).

To achieve first thing he needs to fix communications: auxiliary array is completely irresponsive. The primary communication mast reports localized damaged which can be fixed, but it would require retracting it for proper repairs (which is impossible because the mechanism is damaged beyond repair) or scale up the mast and perform required repairs manually (which is impossible to do while being stuck in the puppet chamber). However he managed to restore (albeit by just running overseers with new inputs and outputs) connection with his quite advanced (think 4th gen) experimental wing and this gave him an idea - he cant entrust the repairs to a purposed organism (nor does have resources nor time to raise and train one), but desperate enough to try the completely different approach - circumvent the self-modification taboo and get free from the arm and for this he had just the right organism blueprints peeked from a Sliverist group which actually achieved some progress in this field.

Long story short he managed to get off the arm and cut the umbilical while maintain remaining connection via puppet auxiliary communication (he doesnt know how much of him is his can and afraid enough to not test it, not until his tasks are done) and slowly, navigating collapsed and ruined corridors and passages, get to the surface and see the world by unobstructed eyes (err, lenses?). Find the tools and start climbing still extended and slightly bend from the collapse mast to conduct repairs. Slowly he makes his way to the top while fixing faulty connection and rerouting which cant be repaired. Eventually he makes to the top and experiences that he though is outright impossibility by his nature - he meet an Echo (turns out one was bound to the top of Communications mast, the Echo of the last Site Director, still cursing Ancients for abandoning the void above for the void below)

After fixing the mast and rerouting remaining input/output commands of his can through it he tries to contact Whispers of Shimmering Stars, but here comes the weird thing - her communications array is working, he receives conformation that communications request is delivered, but no responses. He tries to use his seniority to force the broadcast - still nothing. Tries to access the can, but still unable to get through. He send an overseer to check, but the can is in lockdown (although facility grounds and individual facilities gates are open shut) and unresponsive. So it leaves him with only one option - make way on foot and try to interface directly

He makes his way to the can though the snow and evolved wildlife (having few close encounters on the way) and eventually manages to reach the can, forcing his way inside. The superstructure is barely warm inside, as if it running on idle, observed overseers running rampart like they lacking guiding intelligence and systems overall stay on "Stand by". At last he navigates to the puppet chamber to discover.... Whispers, still being there, but also... not there. Puppet still powered, still connected, but... empty. No personality, no intelligence behind it, as it snuffed out by something. The realization hit hard as he connect reports surrounding uncovering the state of Sliver of Straws after she sends out the Triple Affirmative, [insert rapid progressions through stages of grief and regret and being so preoccupied with them to miss the notification of some fury creature making inside of his can, his puppet chamber and very soon leaving it]

(note: Stars and Whispers were close, like, very close (as in they are 100% into each other), but never acknowledged it (even if everyone around could see it as bright as day). And ultimately it was too late for acknowledgment, for both of them)

Upon returning he's confronted with the second thing - find a way to transfer vast amount of knowledge onto something which could outlive him and be accessible all the same. The solution however was practically handed to him - visit to Whispers' exposed him to her own hobby and why she requested so much paint as all walls of her puppet chamber were covered in beautiful murals and writings, all made by her artistic expression. Writing on physical surface, steel or stone, was the solution, very primitive, but something which might endure for millennia.

And so Gazing Upon the Stars found that he later started to call "Last Library", writing, categorizing, organizing vast amount of knowledge he accumulated since his activation through Mass Ascension of his Creators, to observing wild life and raising new civilization in the race against the time and deterioration of his memory array... and his own puppet and mind (as the time comes, in the moments of rest from endless toil, he's being visited by strange data burst, no doubt caused by loose code and faulty logical connections, visions and images, feels and emotions. (yes, he start to have dreams)

And by this went many more years, toiling on set by himself and his believes task, but eventually the last chapter of the last "book" is made. A shadow of the former Secondary Senior, he finally can rest, but not before leaving a small note dedicated to long gone friends, his workgroup and his Herald, the forever loyal scavenger and a friend.... as one particular fury creature finally makes it way to the Last Library

[writesaboutdragons]

About Me

To slice through any questions here, I'll just pin this to the top of my page. I'm a Christian Dad of 4 special needs kids, all adult now, four ADHD and two of them also on the Spectrum. My wife and I are also ADHD, so it's easy to see where all that came from.

I've been involved in Christian Children's Ministry as well, #AWANA primarily, and for the last 20 years or so I've been writing songs and books that entertain but also align with my faith.

I have about 250 songs written so far, and about 40 of those are published up on iTunes and Spotify. Here's a Magnet Link for one of my albums:

Many of the rest you can get to through my author page, www.Lynvia.com, along with the 30 or so books I've written.

There's something for most anyone in the things I've written - Fantasy, Science Fiction, Christian Devotionals, Advent Stories, and oh yes there are two hilarious real-life self-help non-fiction books I've written about our Life in HyperSpace (about #ADHD) and Through the Wormhole (About#Autism). These books are packed with side-splitting accounts of the crazy things my kids have done as we've done life together, but much more importantly, they represent years of in-lab research on what worked and what didn't in training up our kids.

SO, WHY AM I HERE?

Well, to drop devotionals I'm writing for whatever I'm cranking out today, to network with other Christians and encourage them, and to make these books and songs known so more families can find them.

Ping me if you want to talk, or find me on Twitter and Facebook through the icons at the top of my Author page. I tend to be much more active on those sites.