#used to get them like constantly pretty much every day a few years ago

[house-in-the-backyard-trees]

Was super tired since I woke up at 6:30 for work this morning then got home at 4 and am the SECOND i walked in the door I started getting a migraine aura and I wasn't sure if I could take my emergency migraine medicine with my accutane so I suffered for 2 hours and then figured it was easier to ask for forgiveness than permission and just fucking took one and I still have the headache but no aura and no matter what natural remedies I try I can't get the headache to go away so I'm just gonna go to sleep at 8:30

[kitten4sannie]

middle of the night

pairing: boyfriend! san x fem! reader

genre: pure smut

summary: these days, san can never seem to get a good night’s rest, that is, until he’s able to completely unload himself inside his pretty little girlfriend. good thing you‘re laying right next to him.

w.c: 2.1k

warnings: mean dom! san, subby painslut! reader, both of these mfs are nymphos, somno that turns into full blown sex (they have an established agreement and there is strict consent involved), san’s got a big curved cock as per usual, pet names/name calling, praise/degradation, manhandling, tit play, spit, finger sucking, pussy slapping, marking, possessiveness, spanking, vaginal/anal sex also known as the two for one special <3 (psa: never switch from ass to pussy irl btw), rough altered missionary/doggy/back to missionary, san puts reader in a headlock (muahahahah), creampies, squirting, breeding kink, bulge kink, dumbification, brief oral, san eats his own cum out of reader, this is really filthy btw i should be locked up :3c

a/n: i literally can’t stop writing bc of the horneee that is constantly brought upon me against my will 😞 it’s all san’s fault </3 also i realized i’ve only written one fic about somno like two thousand years ago even tho it’s in my top ten kinks so i gotta fix that <3 *screams* i hope you enjoy this as much as i enjoyed coming up with it~

song recs: angel by massive attack - beware by deftones (GRRRRRRRR BARK BARK)

San couldn’t seem to stop tossing and turning in bed, forcing his eyes shut and waiting for one side of his pillow to grow far too hot for comfort, before letting out a frustrated groan and rolling onto his other side, his cheek squished against the feathered pillow. Squinting at the glowing analog clock on the bedside table across from him, San blinked a few times, his eyes getting used to the darkness inside the room. It was already nearing dawn and he still hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep. There had to be some kind of solution.

It was then that you shifted besides him, emitting a soft moan and rolling onto your back, your loose tank top lowered just enough so that one of your tits had popped out of it, creating another obstacle for San to overcome, one that wouldn’t let him fall asleep until he confronted it.

“Fuck,” San whispered to himself, pushing the covers down far enough to confirm his growing problem. With half-closed, tired eyes, your boyfriend watched his cock repeatedly throb upwards against his loose black sweatpants, as if it was begging him to do something, and quick.

Hs thought back to a conversation you had earlier that week, one you brought up after he had just got done fucking you all over the house in every position imaginable. Like many of your sex marathons, it was initiated because of something simple — you being bent over the washing machine to fill it up with a load of detergent, which, of course, led to San filling you up with his own load in every possible area of your house, including the back patio when you tried to water your poor succulents.

“Sannie, you might as well fuck me when I’m asleep too, at this point,” you giggled, running your fingers through San’s soaked hair, admiring the way he looked in between your legs, with his mouth and tongue exploring your leaking, cum-filled cunt.

“You mean that, angel? My dumb slut wants me to fuck her even dumber in her sleep?” he asked in between licks, humming softly as he continued to languidly clean you up after the destruction he caused to your used hole. It was his favorite pastime, besides rearranging your insides and painting them white with his seed, of course.

Moaning at his mean words, you tugged on his hair, rubbing your soaked pussy in his face like you always did. “Yes, I mean it, baby. Now, shut up and clean up your mess.”

Before San knew it, he was hovering over you, your thighs wide open and resting against his own, your loose, nonexistent sleep shorts tossed to the side so that he could eagerly rub his slick cock along your plush folds, his thick, calloused fingers exploring every inch of your heated skin, groping at your soft thighs, your hips and waist, eventually getting distracted by your tits, rolling your tank top up over them until they spilled out into his greedy hands. He squeezed and rolled them around, bringing his drooling mouth down to your chest to drag his hot tongue up and over your tits until they shined with his spit, pinching your puffy nipples in between his teeth until you whined out in your sleep, feeling your arousal leak out onto his pulsing cock when he finally pushed inside.

“Mmn, my angel is such a good little cocksleeve, so fucking wet for me even in her sleep,” San sighed lovingly to himself, sucking one of your tits into his mouth, spitting on it for good measure, before exchanging it for the other, moaning around your soft flesh, his eyes never leaving your pretty flushed face, even though you weren’t even awake to look down at him.

Unable to hold himself back, he began to buck his hips wildly into you like he always ended up doing when your tight, warm cunt sucked him in the way it did, the headboard beginning to bang loudly against the wall behind it. Grunting, San licked up from your spit-laced chest to your neck, sucking and biting into it, leaving his mark on you. “My baby, my sweet girl, you’re mine, all mine, even when you’re dreaming,” he whispered against your slick skin, slowly pulling back when he heard the breathy gasps you were letting out turn into full-blown moans.

“S-sannieee, I’m so full,” you voiced in a sleepy tone, reaching up to rub your tired eyes, studying your boyfriend’s rosy cheeks and lips, the way his drenched hair stuck to his forehead, a few drops of sweat landing on your face, unable to look away from his intensely dark, lust-filled gaze. “Is my pussy making Sannie go crazy?”

A low growl erupted from San’s throat, a vein starting to grow taut against his skin, now that he was pounding into you with abandon, reaching up underneath your thighs to forcibly fold you in half like you were nothing but a doll for him to use. “Your slutty cunt always drives me crazy, princess, so be good and take responsibility, hm?”

Barely able to breath now that you were akin to origami, your brain grew delightfully fuzzy from the lack of oxygen, encouraging the hazy, half-asleep state you were still in and the oversized cock that was being driven relentlessly into your cervix to work in tandem until pleasure overtook your body to the point of orgasm. “Fuck, Sannie, baby, fffuuck, I’m cumming…!”

“Oh, my dirty girl, creaming yourself so soon?” San mused with his lips quirked into a shit-eating grin, his dimples and canine teeth on display. Just as your eyes begin to disappear underneath your fluttering eyelids, San suddenly grabbed you by the chin, reaching down in between your sweaty bodies to smack his hand down roughly against your spasming cunt. “Look at me when you’re squirting on my cock, baby. You know better.”

“S-sannie, it’s so, oh my god–” you cried out, opening your mouth to moan and instead feeling his thumb slide over your tongue, your lips closing around it. You continued to suck on his thumb as he fucked you through your first mind melting orgasm of the night, biting into it when he smacked your cunt again with his free hand.

“Owww, bad girl.” San watched you lick and suck on his thumb with a lecherous smile plastered on his red, sweaty face, rubbing his other thumb roughly into your puffy clit, rolling it in circles until he felt your thighs trembling nonstop against his moving body, suddenly stopping his movements to sheath himself fully inside you, groaning heavily as he flooded your pulsing cunt with his hot load. “Mm, you feel that, princess? I’m pumping all my cum into this slutty womb of yours, so I can get you nice and knocked up for me…You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Just as he pulled his thumb out of your drooling mouth, you clasped your hands onto his cheeks, looking up at him hearts in your teary eyes, and begging, “Yes, Sannie, I like it, love it so much. Can I have more?”

And there it was. You might’ve been the love of his life and his beautiful angel of a girlfriend, but you were still his personal breeding bitch at the end of the day — and in the middle of this hazy, sleepless night.

“Oh, yeah?” San hummed, slowly pulling out of you and running his fingers through his wet hair, just for it to fall back into his half-lidded eyes, watching as his cum began to flood out of your gaped, fluttering hole. He wanted nothing more than to eat it out of you, his mouth watering at the thought of tasting the warm saltiness mixed with your sweet squirt on his lips, but he still had to pursue his mission of pleasing his baby. “My little slut still hasn’t had enough?”

“No, Sannieee, I need your cock in my other breeding hole. Please?” you whined softly, pouting up at him, hoping you’d get your way now that you were fired up and desperate for him to fill and own as many of your holes as he could before the both of you fell victim to drowsiness.

San closed his eyes to ground himself for a second, not even fully prepared for the filth that you exuded, despite being quite the pervert himself. When he opened his eyes back up, he looked down, his curved cock now painfully stiff and twitching upwards into his heaving abdomen, somewhat winded from how hard he had been fucking you just a moment ago. “Head down, ass up, little slut. Don’t make me ask twice.”

And just like that, you were lying with your head pressed into bed, drooling heavily from both ends, getting saliva onto the arousal stained mattress, your sopping wet cunt pushing out all of San’s load and causing it to drip down your inner thighs, your weak, bruised knees wobbling beneath you, your ass being relentlessly pounded into by your ravenous boyfriend. “Gonna cum, gonna cum–”

Your warning was cut off by a sharp gasp, just as San’s hand collided with the side of your reddened ass, his fingers grabbing into the soft, sensitive flesh until you whimpered pathetically. “You’re such a filthy slut, aren’t you?” he growled between gritted teeth, smacking the other side of your ass and making you cry out before you could answer him properly. He suddenly pulled out of your ass and forced himself back into your cunt, stuffing you completely full, hunching over you so that he could put you in a headlock, loose enough so that you remained conscious, but tight enough so that you could feel deliciously dizzy. “You’re my filthy slut. All mine to fuck raw, to ruin, to breed. Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you whispered hoarsely, opening your mouth up to accept his tongue inside when he closed in on you, feeling breathless once he manipulated your body until you were back underneath him, your legs near your head, his cock so deep inside your cunt that the tip of it created a prominent bulge inside your stomach, one that San was already palming as he began to shudder, his lips, teeth and tongue attacking your neck again to leave more marks, darker ones that you would have to put concealer over before you went to work the following morning. “That’s it, that’s it, cum inside me, San, please, make me yours!”

“You’ve been mine since the beginning, angel, but I’ll make you mine again, and again, and again,” San exhaled onto your lips, wrapping his arms protectively around you, his cock completely sheathed inside you, his tip just about kissing the entrance of your cervix, your bodies so entangled together, neither of you knew where the other began. You gazed into each other’s hazy eyes, moaning into each other’s open mouths, as another seemingly endless flood of thick, hot cum claimed your womb. “I love you so fucking much, it hurts.”

“I love you too, San,” you sighed back, caressing his heated face, your fingers slipping into his hair just as he began to lower himself down, shuddering at the sensation of his lips and teeth making their mark on your chest, abdomen, hips, then gasping when he made his way to your center, his hot tongue slipping inside your pulsing cunt.

Like every time before, San ate his warm load out of you like a starved man, his nose nudging your sensitive clit as he moved his head in an up and down motion, coaxing more of the saltiness onto his tongue, reaching up to rapidly rub your clit just because he could, pleased with the way you began to cry and shake, your warm squirt pouring down his throat. He swallowed it all down with a low, pleased groan, dragging his tongue up and over your used, puffy cunt to collect the last few drops of nectar, before he finally felt tired enough to collapse down onto the bed next to you.

With the last ounce of his strength, he pulled you into his arms, pressing a kiss to your forehead, then to your lips, letting you taste your combined essence. “Bedtime?” San whispered, cradling and rubbing your cheeks with his thumbs, looking at you with a fondness that bordered obsession. He chuckled softly, giving you a dimpled smile. “I promise I won’t wake you up again.”

“You won’t wake me up, but you still might fuck me in my sleep? Huh, nympho?” you teased jokingly, cradling his face back, so close that you breathed in the same air, your eyes never leaving his, despite how heavy your eyelids began to feel. “I need my sleep, you know.”

San was in a similar state, starting to drift off, his hands leaving your face so that he could wrap them protectively around you. “Sorry, baby. I’ll try to be quieter next time,” he murmured, letting out a soft giggle, pressing a kiss to your lips just as his eyes began to close. “Just don’t be mad at me when you wake up with my cock still inside you…”

Leaving a kiss on his nose, your eyes started to close as well, completely relaxing into your boyfriend’s warm embrace. “I’ll be mad if it’s not still inside me.”

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© kitten4sannie, 2024.

[lilahisntsadanymore]

Growing up with a deatheater father doesn't teach you much about emotions, so when Theo finds himself developing an infatuation with a muggle-born, he thinks she gave him a love potion.

Pairing: Theo Nott x granger!fem!reader

Words count: 1.9k

Warnings: jealous Harry

There is a 2nd part!! <3

≫ ──── ««•◦ ✪ ◦•»» ──── ≪

Unveiled Desires

It was strange to him. So strange how he went from mocking, annoying and occasionally bullying her every step she takes to secretly wanting her. Wanting to have her, or even needing her.

He didn't know how or when it happened, but one day he realized she was constantly in his head. It creeped up on him in small steps and eventually he had developed an infatuation for the girl.

Of course nobody knew about it, Theo wouldn't dare telling anyone. He just kept with his antics, hoping the obsession will somewhat disappear one day. Unfortunately, the more he tried to get rid of this feeling, the more he gave it power, the more it grew.

But he couldn't be with her. He couldn't be with a mudblood.

But he wanted to be with her. The more he thought about it, the less he cared about the blood status. He cursed at himself for these thoughts. Raised by a deatheater father, he would get disowned for dating anyone who wasn't a pureblood.

"Granger, can I talk to you for a second?" A question left his mouth as he approached the Golden Trio. Who was better to talk to about Y/n than her older sister?

The three Gryffindors looked at Theo as if he wasn't good in the head. Just casually wanting to have a chat, a normal chat, with someone outside of his social circle. Pretty unusual for a Slytherin.

"What is it?" Harry asked protectively.

"I was talking to Granger. I need to talk privately."

Hermione looked at Harry and Ron, exchanging suspecting glances. Eventually she spoke, "Alright, but make it quick."

"Great, let's go." Theo started walking, but Hermione stood in her place.

"Where are you going?"

"Somewhere they," he gestured to Harry and Ron, "aren't gonna eavesdrop."

Hermione crossed her arms on her chest, a knowing expression on her face.

Theo raised his hands, "It's not a trap again, I swear."

The girl sighed and walked after her rival.

Hermione and Theodore weren't fond of each other not only because of their houses and their blood statuses, but also because they were academic rivals. Both of them were extremely competitive. Since first year they aspired to be better than one another in pretty much everything.

"Can we stop already?" The girl asked. "I'm pretty sure they won't ear us from here."

"Alright, alright." Theo agreed. "But I need you to promise me you won't tell anybody about it."

"Why me? Why would you trust a Gryffindor with keeping a secret for you?"

Theo lowered his voice to a whisper, "Because it's about your sister."

"What?!" Hermione's voice was the opposite of a whisper. "What have you done to her?!"

The boy gestured telling her to lower her voice. "No, I didn't do anything. She has done...something."

"What on Earth could that possibly be?" A little more quiet, but still unpleasantly surprised, she decided to listen to him.

One last time, Theo looked around to make sure there's nobody there who could be a witness to what he was about to say.

"She used some spell on me." He accused. "Or put something in my food, my drink."

Hermione scoffed with laughter. "You must be joking. You bully her for whole five years, but one time she pays you back for it, it's an issue?"

"Not like that." He took a second to gather his thoughts. "Granger, do you remember how we learnt about amortentia few weeks ago? I think Y/n gave it to me."

Hermione started at the boy for a moment and then burst out with laughter. Y/n wasn't the issue, there was no way a fifth year would be able to make amortentia. Not even Y/n Granger.

Theodore felt annoyed and offended by Hermione's reaction. He looked at her with disgust. "What is so funny to you about it, mu-, Granger?"

Noticing how he almost called her a slur, her expression immediately became serious. "Seriously? You know what, deal with it by yourself. I don't even know why you're telling me all of this."

"Why? Because you have to talk to her, tell her to do something about it! Tell her to stop it!"

Hermione got a brilliant idea.

"You know, I've heard professor Slughorn had a remedy for amortentia."

"Yeah, and I'll end up in the hospital wing like Weasley."

"It was poisoned mead, not the amortentia cure itself. You can ask him to make one from the ingredients in the classroom."

"I will," Theo scoffed, "look at you being useful for the first time in your life."

Without another word, Hermione walked away. "Boys..." She muttered to herself.

"Don't tell anyone I told you this!"

≫ ──── ««•◦ ✪ ◦•»» ──── ≪

"What?! He likes me?!" Y/n asked with blush on her face. "Theodore Nott likes me? The boy that has been bullying me for the past five years?"

"And the thinks it's because you gave him amortentia." Hermione giggled.

Y/n wouldn't ever think that he could be into her and the whole story that her sister had told her was simply unbelievable. But Hermione had no business in lying to her very own little sister, especially not about that.

"Does anyone else know about this?"

"Not yet, but I talked him into asking Slughorn for the cure! I suppose he'll do this tomorrow after class, as soon as possible."

"Who are you and what have you done to my sister?"

The girls were sitting alone in the common room and as Y/n laughed, Ron and Harry walked in.

"What are you two laughing about?" Harry asked, ready to hear that story.

"Can I tell them?" Hermione looked at Y/n. The younger Granger nodded. "Nott likes Y/n."

The girls and Ron laughed, meanwhile Harry stood there with his lips in a thin line, far away from laughing.

"The best part is," Hermione continued, "he thinks Y/n gave him amortentia!"

"What?" Harry spoke eventually, his voice a bit more surprised than it should be. "Y/n, did you give amortentia to Nott?"

"No, why would you accuse me of this?!" The youngest girl defended herself. "Is it that unbelievable that he can fancy me?"

"I mean... You're a muggleborn... And-"

"And what?! Does that mean I'm not worthy of that? We don't know him, maybe he doesn't believe in this whole blood purity thing."

"He does. That's why he hasn't asked you out. And he never will. Because they're all the same."

Y/n's eyes became a little glossy, the tears ready to start flowing anytime. "Are they, though? And you're saying this. You, whose godfather was Sirius Black."

"Sirius was different!"

"We don't know because we don't know what Theo is like!"

"Theo? It was Nott for the past few years that he was tormenting you," Harry put an emphasis on the word bullying, "now he fancies you and he becomes Theo?"

"I would actually give him a chance. It's not his fault that he was born into a blood purity obsessed family."

"Don't you think that's a little pathetic? Running into his hands the moment you find out he might fancy you meanwhile you had chances to date...other Gryffindors."

"Pathetic? You call me pathetic?"

"I didn't call you pathetic, I said what you do is-"

A sound of a slap filled the room, but the following silence spoke even louder. Y/n looked Harry in the eyes, a light red mark on his cheek that her hand left.

Harry could see and sense that it was too much, he said unnecessary words. He regretted them, but he just couldn't stop them from coming out.

The Golden Trio watched Y/n run upstairs. She was so glad nobody else was in the bedroom yet.

≫ ──── ««•◦ ✪ ◦•»» ──── ≪

"Excuse me, professor," Theo walked up to Slughorn after the class on the following day.

All the other students were slowly exiting the room, Harry's eyes fixed on the Slytherin standing by the teacher's desk.

"Yes, Theodore?" Slughorn asked. "Do you have some more bright insights you'd like to share with me?" He was clearly happy to have this conversation.

"I actually need help, professor."

The man's expression dropped. "Yes? Do you have a problem?"

"I'm worried that I've been given amortentia."

Slughorn's eyes widened. He was surprised or even shocked. "Are you sure? I remember seeing other people under the influence of several love potions and you don't quite match the criteria."

"There's this girl who I can't stop thinking about... I suspect she has given it to me."

"Who that might be?"

Theo waited until all the other students exit the classroom before he said the name.

"Y/n Granger."

Y/n stopped in her tracks just as he was about to enter the potions classroom. She was about to show the teacher a part of her project, wanting to consult the texts she has written. Instead, she stopped and decided to listen to the conversation.

"Ah, she's one of the best students in her year," Slughorn said proudly, "but I assure you - she wouldn't do that to you."

"How can you be sure, professor?"

"Well, could you describe your symptoms, Theodore?"

"Whatever I do, Y/n is on my mind," the boy admitted, "I can't eat, I can't sleep, I zone out thinking about her. It's not normal, I've never experienced it before."

The teacher gave his student a sympathetic smile. "My dear boy, you might be experiencing the actual feeling of being in love."

"What? And how could it have been caused? Was it a love potion, after all? Maybe a spell?"

"It's a part of muggle science, biology. The chemicals in your brain cause it and it's not something you can control. It happens when it happens. A truly beautiful feeling."

Theo's mouth twisted into a dissatisfied grimace. "Is there anything I can do about it?"

"You can talk to the girl about it, for example," Slughorn looked at the door and shouted, "come in, Y/n!"

Y/n cursed to herself in her thoughts. How could he know she was there?

The girl walked in shyly, holding a paper in her hands. "I wanted to show you my paper, professor," the girl spoke, "if there's anything you think I should change or... anything."

As the girl handed the paper to the teacher, she looked at Theo. They stood dangerously close to each other. The silence between the was so loud, Y/n was praying for the teacher to say something. Anything.

"Amazing, Mrs Granger," he spoke eventually, "although the Draught of Living Dead is an extremely difficult potion to make. I'm glad you're so ambitious, but I'd suggest you get help from someone more experienced."

"I'm pretty sure I can do it on my own." Y/n assured.

"Maybe Mr. Nott here could help you. The sixth year has been just learning about this potion, actually. Theodore, would you be so kind and help Mrs Granger?"

Suddenly, Theo's gaze somewhat softened. There was no more disgust in his eyes. When he stood so close to Y/n, he wondered why did he act the way he did. Why did he do all the mean things to her. Maybe he had always liked her, but didn't want to admit it, even to himself alone.

"Yes, sure," he said, "I can help."

Y/n felt happy. For some reason, she didn't dislike Theo for all the things he did. She secretly always liked him, he was attractive, and she would even sometimes daydream about the day he would finally talk to her like a normal person. Maybe the day has finally come.

[urno1luv]

sana x reader

what if you were sana's new manager?

(also if this gets enough attention, i'll make a what-if series with different female idols, mostly pretty dark tho so dni if uncomfy!!)

cw: EXTREMELY ooc sana (she's so sweet, but here? not so much😭), age gap, power imbalance, obsessive/possessive behaviours, implied non-con towards the end

💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋

the moment you were promoted to being her manager, everything changed. sana was beautiful, poised, a fan favorite, and an idol who's been around for so long. naturally, you were really shocked, and slightly scared. imagine being in charge of a member of TWICE?? it was enough pressure to make anyone succumb quickly to stress, but you were dedicated to the job, which caught sana's attention, but not in a good way.

sana was not really pleased to see how... composed you were around her. the amount of compliments she got daily made her rather egotistical, so seeing you this "unbothered" when accompanying her to meetings and events really ticked her off, to put it simply. and when she heard about how old you were... sana's pride was HURT. a woman in charge of what she does, one who was younger than her by a few years? don't piss her off.

the next time you saw her, the mask fell off. sana would laugh at your smallest mistakes, throw away the food you gave her after a music show promotion, RIGHT in front of you, and treat every effort as something to be dismissed or useless. "do you think this is good enough? you were running late, i'm your fucking boss. seriously, what kind of manager are you?" sana scoffed as your face heated up in embarrassment, tears pricking at your eyes. why was she suddenly so mean? she stood closer to you, her tone laced with sadistic amusement. "don't cry, love, if you were more competent, i wouldn't be pissed, but... gotta work with what i got."

sana would sneer at your pathetic attempts to please her, and one night, she dropped all of her makeup brushes, and forced you to pick them up one by one. but what sana didn't expect was to feel.. something for you that very second. the way you always came back to her, still took care of her despite her countless insults towards you... she definitely went home to reflect on that.

the conclusion sana came to was that she really did like you. in her own, cruel way. and we've already established how she was an egotistical maniac who uses her power, so she refused to let you step out of line or get close to anyone else, and she’d punish you in small, petty ways if you tried. schedule changes without warning, "accidentally" spilling rumours that made things harder for you, and reminders that you only had this position because she allowed it. as much as you wanted to push back, the truth was undeniable: sana held your career—and your sanity—in her hands.

sana's fixation on you only seemed to get worse, as the months went by. and she made sure you KNEW it. she knew where you were at all times, texting you constantly, filling your phone with messages that were affectionate one moment and threatening the next. if you so much as glanced at anyone else, sana would go out of her way to isolate you, to sabotage anything that might distract you from her. "you’re mine," she'd whisper, almost tenderly, before tightening her grip on your waist as she pushed you against a wall. every attempt to set boundaries only seemed to feed her obsession. and with every passing day, you realized that she’d do anything, and i mean ANYTHING, to keep you by her side, whether you wanted it or not.

one fateful night, where she had dragged you to her penthouse, you would soon come to the realisation that sana was truly someone that you should've ran away from a loooong time ago. you sat stiffly on the edge of her bed, the dim glow of the bedside lamp casting shadows across the room. sana stood in front of you, close enough that you could feel the weight of her gaze. her hand moved to your shoulder, fingers pressing in with a possessive force that left no doubt who was in control. “don’t even think about leaving,” she whispered, her voice chillingly soft, as if daring you to defy her. sana leaned in, her other hand resting heavily between your legs, pinning you in place. every touch felt like a claim, each movement sending a quiet threat through the air. as her fingers tightened their hold, you realized escape wasn’t an option; you were exactly where she wanted you, and there was no way out.

sana's hands moved back up to your shoulders, firm and unyielding as she guided you back against the pillows, her hot tongue tracing possessively along your neck, the saliva cooling down quickly in the cold air, making your pulse race. she murmured sweet nothings into your ear, calming you down, voice low and commanding as she leaned in, body pressing onto yours. her hand slid down to your wrist, pinning it against the bed as her lips brushed close to your ear, each word a quiet, inescapable claim. the weight of sana's presence left no room for protest, every touch a reminder that here, in this room, you belonged entirely to her.

💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋

when you woke, the room was dark, save for the faint glow of her phone screen, casting eerie shadows across her face as sana sat beside you, watching. you tried to move, but a strange, deep ache reminded you how powerless you were in her world, in her hands. her fingers traced along your arm, and she smiled—a soft, chilling smile that only deepened your sense of dread. "you belong to me," sana whispered, voice filled with a twisted satisfaction. "I told you, no one else could ever love you like I do." you couldn’t remember when you’d fallen asleep, or how long she’d been there, but one thing was certain: there was no part of you sana hadn’t claimed, judging from the pain in your heart, and the bruises and hickeys shamelessly left in obvious areas.

[redclercs]

DELICATE✰ CHARLES LECLERC.

iv. you and me would be a big conversation

— the one where both of you have big reputations.

warnings: this one got a little long sorry, bashing towards charles and y/n (i love them ok), taylor swift references,2.6k words.

masterlist ✢ next

FROM DATF1GURL ON TIKTOK: "IS Y/N Y/LN AFTER CHARLES LECLERC NOW?"

[female voiceover]: ❝(...) while it is true she has a contract with Elix the new MAJOR sponsor for Ferrari—horrible drink by the way—rumor has it y/n's actual goal is to get the monegasque driver to spare a glance her way... Like, okay girl, but you left a 3-year relationship five minutes ago, chill.❞

IN pure Taylor Swift fashion, y/n y/ln has found her own ‘Getaway Car’ in none other than the 25-year-old Monegasque Formula 1 pilot, Charles Leclerc.

While nothing’s been confirmed, (come on now, what celebrity will just confirm rumors of their own free will in this day and age? Screw you, PR agents) the actress has been seen at two Grand Prix and the Elix contract gives her good camouflage for being constantly photographed with her new beau.

No matter how much sex-appeal these two exude, let’s not forget that we have a victim here: Aidan Kim. How can you leave a three year relationship with the man that gave you everything and not even two months later you’re already with someone else?

Is it a rebound or are we looking at something serious? In your humble writer’s opinion it’s most likely the former. And let’s not forget what Taylor Swift, in her infinite wisdom, said: “Nothing good starts in a getaway car”, it doesn’t matter if it’s a Ferrari.

SEE ALSO:

→ Aidan Kim buys new home in Sherman Oaks.

→ Every celebrity present at the Miami Grand Prix.

→ Is y/n y/ln really done with RomComs?

May 13th, Los Angeles, California.

“ARE you sure this is who you want as your rebound, babe?” Victoria places the magazine down and turns her head to look at you, using the precise force and tilt for her sunglasses to slide down to the tip of her nose.

“Stop reading that garbage,” you warn, not bothering to change your position in the chaise-longue, you don’t even look away from the script in your hands.

The day started pretty well, sunny Los Angeles made you feel hopeful for the first time in a while as you opened the script Mildred sent you when you got back from Miami. A drama about a young widow. You can work with that.

“I just mean—” Vic shifts her whole body in your direction, “—You have options, what about Timothée? I’m pretty sure the Kylie thing is fake. And he wouldn’t say no to you.”

“Stop that, Vic,” this time you do look her way for emphasis, you mean it. “I’m not looking for a rebound, or anything else for that matter. I want a job.”

“Fine,” Vic makes a show of capturing her lip between her teeth to pronounce the “F” and lies back in the chair. “I’m just saying…”

You’re glad to be wearing sunglasses, so she can’t see the way your eyes rollback. To be fair, you’re at Vic’s house so she has every right to occupy the same space as you at any given minute. Which is all the time.

After the breakup you ran to Vic’s Los Angeles home and left the SoHo apartment to Aidan. Vic's house is amazing, with eight rooms, five bathrooms, a black granite kitchen and of course, the pool. But you miss New York, even if you can fit your own room two times in one of Vic's. At least, according to rumors, Aidan is moving out of the apartment so you might be able to return to it soon.

“I think it’s bullshit that they see me breathing near a guy and suddenly we’re dating,” you drop the stack of papers on your legs, startling Vic with the sound. “Bullshit.”

“It’s just tabloids, babe.” Vic goes quiet, knowing she’s annoyed you and now you feel guilty about that too.

“I know,” you sigh, picking the script back up. Suddenly you don’t like it that much anymore.

Of course you know it’s just tabloids. People talk shit just for fun, but you’ve been their main target for a few weeks now and you cannot wait for them to move on. Which seems unlikely.

You've never been more glad about turning down a Yankees game invite.

Following Ferrari’s disappointing Sunday and the respective mandatory Elix pictures, you hung around the Suite a little longer in aims of gathering your thoughts and the will to leave to meet Vic at another after-party.

“Hola y/n! I thought you’d left,” Carlos carried his bag in one hand as he struggled to put his sunglasses with the other.

“I’m about to,” you smiled at him, locking your phone. “You too?”

“Yep, going straight to the airport. See you in Italy?” he asked, running his now free hand through his black hair, all set.

“See you there, Carlos.” you waved him goodbye before leaning back on the couch.

Vic had apologized for the shenanigans she'd pulled the previous night, saying she knew she should have asked you instead of just running with things. So you were looking forward to the after-party, it would be fun to hang out with your best friend after making up.

It wasn’t even five minutes before Charles came out too, hanging up a call in his half-destroyed iPhone.

“Oh hey!” He greeted cheerfully, the bad aftertaste from the race wasn't evident in his demeanor anymore. They had their debrief and Charles was willing to let go of the negativity momentarily.

“Hi Charles,” your not-as-cheerful tone didn’t bother him one bit. “Are you flying back today too?”

You couldn’t picture yourself in an eight hour flight after everything they’d done today, but they’re not really regular humans.

“We’re driving to New York, actually,” his hand hovered over the refreshment table, until he picked one of the leftover Elix. Charles examined the black can he chose before speaking again, “We’re going to a Yankees game tomorrow.”

“That’s very nice, Charles.”

He hates Elix as much as the next person so you can't help but wonder why he drinks them even when the cameras are off. Carlos and you never do.

“Would you like to join us?” He offered, the last word deafened by the click of the can as he opened it.

You took a few seconds to process the question, long enough for Charles to down about half the can in one gulp.

“Thank you, but I’m flying back to L.A. tomorrow.”

Charles' mouth went down in one corner and you were uncertain whether it was your answer or the taste that caused it. He tilted the can making the remaining liquid dance.

“Maybe another time,” he added, downing the rest of the blueberry flavored Elix. “Don’t worry.”

“Thanks for asking me, though,” you smiled, grabbing your purse from the couch. You had recovered enough energy already, and you didn't want to miss the DJ set at the party. “I hope you enjoy it.”

“Thanks y/n,” his mouth was still frozen in that slight wince and you shook your head gently at the sight of the empty Elix. “I'll see you in Italy, right?”

“I’ll be there.” you assured, although you hoped not. But a week didn’t seem like enough time to secure a gig.

YOU land in Italy the day the Grand Prix gets canceled. Which is very much just your luck. It’s for the better, though, safety must always come first.

It makes no sense to run back to America when you have nothing else to do, so you resolve to stay in Rome and catch up with a few friends you have around. Matilde Bassi being the best among them, and she would rather die than let you stay in a hotel instead of her house.

"I said no," she repeats, and her accent—although barely even there— reminds you of Charles for a split second, before your brain lets go of the image. "I've told you a million times to come visit, I won't let you stay in a hotel."

You give up after that because you don't want to annoy her. Matilde has quite the strong character, which is the reason she got to Broadway in the first place. After years of being in New York, where you met her, she decided to move back to Italy. Mati, still pursuing her passion, is currently the European public's favorite Juliet.

The fact that all of this goes down in a phone call gives you time to pick up what little stuff you've gotten out of your suitcase and check-out of the hotel before Matilde gets there to take you to her house.

─────────

"So, how are you doing?" she asks, refilling your wine before moving back to the stove, where she's cooking your favorite Italian meal.

"I'm fine, I've told you," you chuckle, sipping the drink. Her house is beautiful too, and spacious, but it feels homey compared to Vic's. "Taking it easy."

One thing you tend to forget about Matilde is how she is able to see right through your bullshit, and that's exactly what she's doing now.

"You never take it easy, y/n. And I mean how are you really? How do you feel? A lot has changed for you lately." she flips her head back to remove a stray curl of hair out of her eyes, "You can be honest."

"I'm fine, seriously, Mati," you know drinking so fast will make the wine go straight to your head but you'll do anything to avoid really talking about this. Which is unfair, Matilde is being genuine.

"You moved from one coast to the opposite and you're fine? What are you working on right now?"

You sigh, managing to smell your own alcoholic breath. "I'm with Victoria, and I've lived in Los Angeles before, while filming, it's not a big deal. As for work... I'm just– picking some stuff out, seeing the best options."

Matilde nods and turns around to grab two plates from the sky blue cupboards behind her. "Are you planning on going back to New York?"

"Yeah, hopefully," you get up to help her and she gestures for you to take a seat again. "My name was on the lease and Aidan is moving out of the apartment, according to People Magazine, anyway so..."

"Your apartment was amazing," Matilde smiles, reminiscing the girls' nights you spent together while she worked in New York, it was always so much fun to be with Mati. "I hope you can go back. If that makes you happy, that is."

She manages to carry both steaming plates and the bottle of wine to the table, and finally sits down. "Well, enjoy!"

"Thank you, Mati, this smells amazing," you missed Mati's cooking so much because no matter how many Italian restaurants you visit, nothing compares to hers, and you're also glad to have something on your stomach that will make the effects of the wine go away.

Or that's what you hoped for anyway, because you're halfway through another cup of wine, almost done with your food, when you drop the grenade you've left unpinned in your brain for 2 months.

"I don't miss him," you whisper, resting the fork gently on the edge of the plate, between two of the yellow flowers painted on it. "Am I a horrible person because I don't miss him?"

You gave it a lot of thought ever since you took the plane from New York to L.A. the night you said no. You thought—still think—there's something wrong with you because the feeling that something was ripped out of your life and the hole that it left would never be filled never even appeared. There was no hole, it was a scar already, and you picked at it trying to make it bleed. But nothing happened. Nothing ever happens.

"You're not a horrible person, y/n don't say that."

You're glad Mati doesn't let silence fall between you, it would have made you regret everything that left your mouth, but she's already reaching for your hand and you feel like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders.

Mourning the idea of someone is worse than mourning their absence. And you had missed Aidan for a long time, even when he was with you.

"I just feel awful for leaving and not wanting to go back, I hate myself for being okay."

The rejected proposal is something you keep close to you still. You love Mati, and you trust her, but you cannot bring yourself to touch that subject.

Mati squeezes your hand, her food forgotten as well. "I'm glad you're okay. I liked Aidan, too. But you're my friend, and I love you and all I want is for you to be better than okay."

"Thank you Mati," it's her words that actually get the tears flowing, and you wipe them quickly with your free hand. "Sorry for dumping this on you so suddenly." you give a choked laugh before clearing your throat.

"I did tell you you could be honest," she laughs, giving your hand a last squeeze before letting it go. "How about we just go straight to dessert?"

You nod, grateful that she leaves to get the tiramisu you bought on the way home from the fridge so you can pull yourself together.

MONACO welcomes you the Sunday before the Grand Prix. Which you are excited about, for the first time in a while.

Matilde proves to be the best company once again, knowing her way around Monaco like it's her own home. You're glad she's attending the Grand Prix too and you were able to get her into the Ferrari Suite with you, unlike your failed attempt at Miami with Vic.

One thing you find out about Monaco pretty soon, is that they're obsessed with Charles Leclerc. He's in buses and billboards and you can see people waiting to catch a glimpse of him outside grocery stores. It warms you up inside that he's so loved in his own country, not many people can relate.

You don't love, however, that the articles online have brought attention to your presence in Monaco too. And although it’s far less than the one Charles gets for obvious reasons, the heat that comes from it is closer to ire than affection.

Still, you take photos with those who ask on your way back from dinner with Mati and ignore the “you’re here for your boyfriend, huh?” Questions that come from people with their cameras millimeters away from your face. Saying “it’s not like that” isn’t worth the effort because it won’t work.

May 23rd Montecarlo, Monaco.

Mati is introducing you to other celebrities that attended the All-Stars game, when Charles comes back from signing autographs to the part of the stadium where you are. He's messy, dirty and all dimples—again— which you start to find annoying. Although it's mildly sweet how he always smiles at you when your eyes meet, you cannot allow yourself to think of that too often. He's a nice guy, he's being nice.

"Hi y/n, I thought I'd see you until the weekend," he greets you, still drying off the sweat from the back of his neck.

You shrug, making way for a couple of guys who give Charles a bro hug, joke about the several mistakes he made during the match and then leave, acknowledging you in the form of a quick scan.

"Good game," you can't help the small laugh that follows the compliment, but Charles only smiles wider.

"I'm a natural," he replies, but takes his hand to the place he hit when he face planted. "Don't you think?"

"Definitely," you laugh again, raising both eyebrows. "I'm just glad you stick to racing."

"Me too," it's his turn to shrug, and run a hand through his damp hair.

“How was New York?” You look over your shoulder to Mati, who’s holding her own conversation a few steps away. “Did you have fun?”

“It was really fun, noisy, big. It’s a shame you couldn’t come.”

“Thank you again for inviting me. I do miss New York, but i had things to do.” You let the air out of your lungs hoping, albeit stupidly, he can’t see in your face that the things you did was read stuff on the internet about the two of you together.

“Oh you live in New York? That’s wonderful, so you know your way around. Lorenzo and I got lost.”

You chuckle gently. “It happens to the best of us.”

“Ready to go?” Mati puts an arm around you, smiling. “Hello, Charles.”

So it is true everyone knows each other in these circles.

“Hello Matilde,” Charles smiles back at her, “I won’t keep you any longer, y/n.”

“No worries, it was nice seeing you.”

“I’ll see you soon, maybe I can show you a place or two in Monaco.” Charles is very casual, but his eyes don’t leave yours for a heartbeat.

Matilde tilts her head and her ponytail falls into your shoulder, the small hairs tickling your ear.

“Uh, yeah, sure. Thanks Charles.” You shake your head away from Mati’s and wave Charles goodbye as he walks by you.

“My advice,” Mati is still holding you by the shoulder. “If I may be nosy… You don’t want to do that.”

“Do what?”

“Charles Leclerc. You don’t wanna do that, y/n.”

You roll your eyes but Mati is unbothered by the gesture. “I’m not doing anything, Mati. He’s being nice, we see each other every weekend.”

“He is a homie hopper, trust me, run don’t walk.”

You tsk, making her shake her head this time. “If it makes you feel better, I’m not doing that, never, ever.”

And although you intend to keep your promise, the first thing you do once your phone is hooked to the hotel’s wifi, is google Charles and his reputation.

Even if you know better than anyone that the internet is full of lies.

─── team principal radio: ❝hello! i really enjoyed creating this chapter, especially the fake media so i hope you've enjoyed it too. thanks for reading!♡❞

✰ paddock club members: @majx00

[beatrixstonehill2]

"This was me at nineteen versus now at twenty-one..... This sucks so bad! My transition was going so well, I was so pretty, my cock was tiny, my tits were big and full. Men absolutely adored me, I could hardly keep them off me. I miss having so many cocks rammed in my ass every day against my will, it was so hot! Ughhh..... I went to the doctor like normal, they tested my bloodwork and stuff. The doctor remarked that my cock was extremely small. I said I was fine with that and wanted SRS, but he smiled and said he thought I'd prefer it if I got to experience real orgasms with my cock before resorting to something extreme like SRS. He also told me I was very skinny for a trans girl my age and asked why I didn't want to be curvier. I told him I wouldn't mind a big butt and bigger boobs, and he put me on some crazy high dose of estrogen.

I rolled my eyes and agreed, because I'm a true submissive. Well..... after about a month I packed on twenty pounds and my cock was already five inches fully erect and I couldn't keep my hands off it. My balls finally got big and plump. It was so fun to jerk off. I used to need a cock ramming my prostate to cum, and even still, my cock would be flaccid, one inch, and barely ooze out one shot of clear cum. Now I was jerking off eight to twelve times a day, shooting rope after rope of milky white cum like a boy. I loved it SO much! Men loved it, too. They had a nice toy to play with as they fucked my ass. My cock became so red and swollen all the time, I posted pics of it on social media constantly! My parents were also thrilled by all the fun I was having with my cock, encouraging me to masturbate all day and go out to get fucked way less.....

I kept packing on more weight, at least twenty pounds a month. I tried to rationalize that it would taper off, that I wouldn't keep getting heavier. Plus in the short term I was so thick and sexy, and men found me even hotter, despite the fact that I had this huge cock now. Or because of it..... Six months on the new meds and I was about 210lbs, almost doubling my weight, and my cock was about a foot long, thick as my wrist, with two extremely generous testicles, both the size of a lemon. They were so hard to sit with and even walk with at times, but I could cum so fucking hard. Fifteen to twenty huge ropes of cum every orgasm. I'd moan like such a slutty princess every time, whether I was getting fucked at a party or at home, covering myself and my computer area with so much glorious cum, I never bothered washing it off. I loved stinking of it, sitting there, my fat belly jiggling, my boobs bouncing, my thick thighs pushing against my oversized balls.

But it kept getting worse. I got fatter and fatter every month. Now I'm so disgusting. You'd never know I was so sexy a couple years ago, barely any cock at all. Now I weigh almost 600lbs, and I can't stand it. I feel so gross and unsexy. Men want nothing to do with me, I'm just another smelly, fat trans girl who turned into a slob. I'm so fat I can barely walk, I just sit home, never bathing, never doing makeup or trying to look good. My cock is about sixteen inches, buried under loads of fat, my balls feel ready to burst all day. But my doctor recommends I don't jerk off, since my health is so bad and my blood pressure is through the roof.

The medication blew me up like a balloon, I wasn't even overeating, but now I stuff my face since it's one of the few pleasures I can still indulge in, even if it makes me feel even grosser knowing I'm just getting fatter. My cock is so hard all day but my doctor tells me all that excessive masturbation I like has put me at a very high risk of heart attack. Sometimes I'm naughty and push my belly down on my cock as I watch pretty girls on Instagram dance at parties like I used to. Their big tits bouncing, their bellies full of kids as they take shots and get fucked all night. I'm so jealous. My favorite is when I follow a trans girl who's nice and petite, getting fucked every night like a good girl, rubbing her tiny cock, only for a few months to pass, and I see her little cock grow to six inches, shooting thick ropes of cum suddenly. Her boobs get bigger, her thighs and butt get super thick, and she gets a cute belly to form, her pretty face getting round, with a double chin, looking so perfect and sexy. I push my giant gut on my cock knowing in a couple years she'll be just as fat and disgusting as me. I crush my huge cock, as my heart pounds through my chest, I moan and pant, and I finally cum, my chest gets so tight, my pulse feels impossibly fast and I make the biggest mess between my legs. Rope after rope after rope. I'm covered in sweat, feeling like my heart might finally give out, and slowly I settle down, my parents scolding me for cumming, despite how they used to encourage me to jerk off all day.... I know I'm so unhealthy and my heart can't take these heavy orgasms of mine, but it's soooo worth it, even if I am a disgusting pig now. I'm so glad my doctor put me on these meds...."

[hoedamn-eron]

lava rolls & caf in the mornings

Poe Dameron is a persistent bastard.

Warnings: Poe is bisexual (Taslet is a pilot in Blue Squadron). Themes of slut-shaming. Mentions of one night stands and sex. Worries of unrequited love. Mentions of fears of commitment. Small mention of parent death (both Poe and Reader). Some swearing. Lots of dialogue. Not proofread so there will be mistakes. It didn't go how I planned it, but I hope it's okay anyway! Word count: 3,821 GN!Reader, no use of Y/N.

From this request by anon. I apologise if this isn't what you expected!

The first time you had seen Poe Dameron was on a recruitment poster for the Resistance.

Your first impression was to scoff and comment on what a pretty boy he was, that the Resistance must really be struggling to get members if they’ve resorted to posters. But wherever you went, you couldn’t seem to escape them, and your eyes always wandered over the serious looking face of Poe Dameron, looking into the distance with those piercing eyes of his.

And the next thing you knew, you were signing up to join and you were shipped off to their base on D’Qar.

Thanks to your father (“You need a true skill to get yourself by.”), you were good with ships; not flying but fixing. You were immediately assigned to the mechanics, and you were soon tossed into the hustle and bustle of the day-to-day life of a Resistance member.

It was hard at first; you felt like you didn’t fit in. You tried to be friendly, really, but you weren’t there to make friends, you were there to win a war. You understand that companionship was one of the most important things in the Resistance (you needed to trust your team, and your team needed to trust you), but to the top dogs of the Resistance, you were just a mere mechanic that was there to fix their ships after a mission.

All of that changed when you actually met Poe.

He’d practically crashed his X-Wing on the tarmac and climbed out without a scratch on him, like it was no big deal. He was even smiling as the other Resistance members rushed over, expecting him to be half dead, and he even had the gall to ask, “Where’s the fire?”

“Your ship,” you’d replied, running over to help put said fire out.

“Ah,” he’d said, shrugging. “It’s just a scratch, it’ll buff right out.”

It did not, in fact, ‘buff right out’, and you knew this personally because you were the one assigned to help fix his ship.

And you say ‘help’, because Poe Dameron is a stubborn bastard, and likes things done his way, so he was constantly over your shoulder as you tried to fix his ship, but you both just ended up compromising, and he joined you. Once he’d cleaned up after his crash landing, you realised that he was as handsome as his posters, but he wasn’t as conceited as you thought he would be. Of course, he knew how good looking he was, but he was at least humble about it.

That’s how your friendship started.

He’d talked to you about your home planet, and he told you about his. You both – oddly – bonded over the deaths of your mothers. Where yours was but a few years ago, long after you were an adult, your heart broke for him when he revealed he was only 8 when his mother passed away. He’d told you that she was one of the reasons he loved flying so much.

Your friendship only grew more as he went out on more missions and requested for you to help fix his ship. Then it turned into inviting you out for drinks with him and his squad, then dinner together after a hard day working, and offers of going off world, to ‘check out that market’ that you’d heard so much about, and as they say; the rest was history.

You weren’t sure when you’d fallen in love with him. It had slowly grown within you, like a flower blooming in the springtime; its roots weaved through your heart, seeking sustenance from every moment that you shared together. At first, it was subtle, like a faint whisper in the wind, barely noticeable, but you knew you felt��something. You put it down to kinship – he was your first friend in the Resistance and had taken you under his wing with no judgement. But you soon realised it was more than that.

You found yourself seeking him out, wanting to spend time with him. His laughter became the melody to which your heart danced, and his smile the sun that warmed your entire being. As days turned into nights and seasons changed, the love you felt for him deepened. Each day brought new discoveries, new reasons to cherish him. Love, it seemed, had quietly taken root and flourished, transforming your world in ways you could have never imagined, never imagined for yourself.

But then…he asked out that new pilot on Blue Squad, Taslet.

Then Tracey from droid repair.

Then that Twi’lek girl from the medbay…her name escapes you.

And you’ve come to realise that Poe Dameron would never settle down. He was too much of a free spirit or something of that kind. It hurt, to know that you would never really be together, but you would rather have him as a friend than nothing at all.

And over your dead body Poe would ever find out about your feelings for him.

You’d been in the Resistance for two years now, and you have only grown closer to Poe, and gained more friendships with his squad. And you love him, you’ve established that, but you’re about to punch your best friend in the face.

“I said no, Poe,” you say to him.

“Come on,” he replied, giving an overexaggerated groan. “You haven’t dated a single person since coming here – “

“It’s almost as if I came here for a different reason other than dating around,” you say, rolling your eyes as you stomp your way into the hangar, where Poe had obviously put some damage to his ship, again, and now you had to fix it.

This time, it was just a paint job.

Poe whines your name. “Come on, let me set you up.”

“I’m not interested, Poe,” you say, giving him a laugh as you reach his X-Wing. “Besides, I don’t even think anyone here is remotely concerned in dating me.”

He pauses for a moment as you climb onto his wing, focusing your attention on the deep scratches that were left there by Maker knows what. You frown at them, knowing that there’s some matching X-Wing paint somewhere on base, when Poe’s next words throw you.

“I might know someone.”

Your eyes meet his, a mixture of disbelief and curiosity on your face. You merely raise an eyebrow at him.

He gives you a dopey smile. “I might be interested.”

“’Might’ be?” you ask him, your eyebrow still raised.

“Okay, I am definitely interested.”

Your eyes widen a little, your body tensing. He said it so casually. How is he not sweating? The thought of you admitting your feelings to him sets you on edge all the time, and you have to go to a quiet place to calm down. Yet here he was, just…just telling you.

“You’re not serious,” you say, giving a nervous laugh. You’re giving him the opportunity to take it back, to say he’s joking.

He’s not. “Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be? You’re good looking, you’re great to talk to, I trust you with my life, and my ship. You’re great with BB, why wouldn’t I want to date you?”

You snort in amusement. “You’re just saying all’a this – “

“No, I want to date you. Let me take you out.”

You look at him in disbelief, that smug grin on his face as he just…stands there, looking at you with his hands on his hips, as if he’d just told you how his day went.

You give a small laugh. “No.”

That wiped the grin off his face.

“Why not?” he asked, his brow furrowing, showing off that cute little crease between his eyebrows that you’d imagined yourself kissing away a million times.

You couldn’t answer that. It’s not because you didn’t know why, it’s because the reason might change your friendship forever. He was just teasing you, trying to make you feel better about ‘not dating anyone’. So you tell him so, that he’s just saying that because he’s just put his foot in it.

Poe shakes his head. “No, no, that’s not true – “

“You’ve literally been with every unavailable person on base, Poe,” you tell him.

“Be reasonable,” Poe said, giving you a look. “It’s not every available person.”

“It’s enough,” you say, giving him a grin. You hop down from his X-Wing, standing in front of him. “I think you’re a great guy, Poe, but you’re just…I wouldn’t date you.”

He looks at you still, with a determined look on his face.

You take his silence as a sign to continue. “I don’t want you to take this the wrong way but…but you…you’re – “

“You can call me a slut, it’s okay,” he says, grinning at you.

You shake your head immediately, reaching to run your hands through your hair in frustration, lightly gripping at your roots. “No, Poe, that’s not what I’m saying – “

“Then just spit it out,” he says, almost laughing in frustration. “It’s me.”

You sigh and drop your arms, before averting your gaze. “You’re not a relationship kind of guy. You date a lot and fuck around a lot, and that’s okay…for you. But that’s not…I don’t want that.”

Poe goes quiet as he studies you. He doesn’t say anything as you finally looked back at him, your cheeks warm and you shift uneasily from one foot to the other under his scrutinising gaze. His eyes, like pools of warm caramel, seem to pierce through you, as though probing into areas of thoughts you've long kept long hidden from him, and the world. A faint flicker of amusement dances at the corners of his lips, hinting at the secrets he might already have unravelled from you, and the look on your face. The silence between you stretches as the weight of his gaze continues to bear down on you.

You find yourself feeling self-conscious, as though you’ve been laid bare before him.

“I can be a ‘relationship kind of guy’,” he says, the corners of his lips twitching again in mirth. “For you.”

“Stop,” you say, shaking your head as you turn away from him, suddenly desperate to find that paint for his X-Wing.

“No, I won’t,” he said, having no problem keeping up with you, even when you sped up. “You won’t date me because…I’ve slept with a few people?”

“I just want something serious, Poe,” you say, sighing as you stop and turn around to look at him. “Like I said, it’s okay that you’re not. You can sleep with whoever you want. We’re in the middle of a war, there’s no room for relationships, right?”

Poe looks at you with an uneasy look on his face. “I’m trying really hard not to be insulted here.”

“No, this isn’t…” you heave a heavy sigh and rub your hands over your face. You feel stressed. This isn’t how you imagined your day going. It was supposed to be a slow day, there were no missions, no supply runs, where you could get on with the small repairs you’d been putting off.

But no. Poe had to try and convince you to go out on a date. With him.

“I’m not bothered that you’ve…that…to put it nicely, that you’ve fucked around, okay?” you ask. “I know you. I know you’re safe and use protection, you’re not an idiot. I get it. Commitment just isn’t your thing.”

You’re met with silence again. He’s just staring at you; the crease in between his eyebrows is back again. You both stand there for so long that you look around nervously, about to tell him that you’re going to find the paint for his X-Wing but he cuts you off before you could get another word in.

“I’m going to change your mind.”

You blink at him, your mouth falling open a bit. You weren’t expecting that.

“It’s nice that you don’t judge me for having sex. And I have had a lot of sex,” said Poe, grinning dopily at you. “But I’m going to prove to you that I can be serious. I can be serious with you.”

You shake your head, knowing that he won’t last as long as he thinks he will, before turning away from him. “We’ll see. Now help me find the paint for your X-Wing.”

Poe is persistent.

He’d greeted you at your door every day with a cup of caf, a lava roll, and a big smile, BB-8 usually spinning around at his feet, beeping at you happily. You’d walk together to the hangar, where you would share the lava roll.

He’d invite you to have lunch with him, where he’d ask you about your day so far, and you would tell him about the repairs you’d been assigned with that day.

At the end of the day, he’d walk you back to your quarters, where he would ask you out for dinner, as a date.

And you said no. Every time.

He would just grin at you and tell you he’d see you tomorrow.

Where he started the cycle again.

After the third week, you took a seat with Finn and Rey in the cantina for lunch – the first one without Poe since he was with the General for a mission debrief.

“Hi guys,” you greet them, placing your tray of food down as you sit opposite Finn. You tucked in immediately; you were starving.

“How’re you doing?” Rey asked you, a kind smile on her lips.

“Can’t complain,” you reply, shrugging. “You?”

“Not so bad,” she replied.

“You dating Poe yet?” Finn asked you.

You chuckled as you continued to eat your food. “Nope.”

“C’mon, put the guy out of his misery,” Finn said, smirking at you.

“Poe is fine,” you say, shaking your head and rolling your eyes, giving Finn a good-natured grin. “Stay out of it.”

“It’s sad,” teased Finn. “All he does is pout about how you won’t go out with him.”

“He’s doing it to prove a point,” you say. “He’s not serious.”

“Who’s not serious?” a voice asks behind you, and the three of you look up to see Jess and Karé joining you.

Rey told them how you were talking about you not accepting Poe’s offers of a date.

“You’re already dating him,” Jess said causally, taking a seat next to you as Karé sits opposite her and next to Rey.

You snort in amusement. “No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are,” she said, giving you a pointed look. “He comes to get you every morning and you have lunch every day. That’s dating.”

“No, we did that all the time before,” you say. “We’re friends.”

“But you want more, right?” Karé asks, giving you a pointed look. “Because we’ve all seen how you look at Poe. It’s like he hung the stars.”

Your mouth falls open. “N-no! No, you’re wrong. He’s just…we’re just…”

“I don’t know why you’re so weird about it, he feels the same way,” Karé said, casually eating her food.

Your heart races as at her admission, and your stomach fluttering with nervous anticipation. Your mind reels, grappling with disbelief. You find yourself questioning the authenticity of Karé’s words. She was just saying that. That’s the silliest thing you’ve ever heard. Poe doesn’t like you like that.

Does he?

It's too good to be true, isn't it? You've dreamt about this moment countless times in your time here, but now that it's supposedly happening, scepticism creeps in like a dark shadow, almost like a plague on your self-esteem. You feel all your insecurities come rushing to the surface, because your friends surely are only making you feel better about your unrequited feelings for Poe.

The thought of allowing yourself to believe it feels like stepping onto thin ice, afraid of it cracking beneath your feet. You've built up walls to protect yourself from disappointment, and now someone is asking you to tear them down based on a mere observation, from word of mouth. You don’t believe it.

“No he doesn’t,” you say finally.

“Honey,” Jess says, giving you a grin. “He’s been trying to get you to agree that you’re dating for weeks.”

“We’re not – “

“Stop, please, you’re giving us all a migraine,” Karé said, almost annoyed. “We all know you’re worried about his reputation, but why should it matter? He’s a good guy who enjoys intimacy, there’s nothing wrong with it. It’s still the same Poe.”

“I don’t have a problem with it, it’s just…” you go quiet before sighing, then lean in. “What if, after a while, he realises I’m not what he wants? What if I’m too serious for him? Because I don’t date around.”

“You don’t think Poe will want to be in a relationship?” Rey asks, raising an eyebrow at you.

You nod. “I’ve talked about this with Poe, but he’s determined to prove me wrong.”

Your friends look at you silently, before Jess eventually shrugs at you.

“So let him.”

“Hey,” you call up to Poe, who was messing with the control panel of his X-Wing.

He looks at you at the sound of your voice before giving you a thousand-watt smile. “Hey there.”

“Can we talk? Please?” you ask.

Poe’s brow furrows in confusion but he wastes no time in climbing out of his X-Wing and standing in front of you, his look of confusion slowly melting into one of concern as he asks you what’s happened.

You’d been thinking about Karé’s words all day, and how your other friends hadn’t denied it. In fact, they seemed to agree. And after thinking about it…maybe they were right.

Maybe it's the way Poe smiles when he sees you, or the genuine warmth in his eyes when you talk. Perhaps it's the way he goes out of his way to spend time with you, or the way he laughs at your terrible jokes a little too eagerly. You had always thought he was just being friendly, but he…he didn’t act like that around the other who he’d slept with.

You’d started to entertain the possibility that maybe, just maybe, Karé was right all along. Maybe Poe did like you in the same way as you do with him. And in that moment of acceptance, a surge of exhilaration had coursed through your veins, and you suddenly found yourself in the hangar.

You refuse to let fear or doubt hold you back any longer.

“Okay,” you say, taking a breath as you look at him. “So this…this is going to be long so just…just stay with me please.”

Poe nodded. “Okay.” He places his hands on his hips as he looks at you.

Oh God, why does he always have to look so good. It wasn’t fair that the Maker made this man into a perfect specimen. A caring, wonderful, funny specimen.

“I just want you to know that I love you.”

Poe slowly smiles at you. “I love you too.”

“No, no,” you say, giving him a firm look. “I love you.”

He falters, his smile fading a little as he stared at you.

Your heart stops.

Oh, shit, everyone was wrong.

You start scrambling.

“I’m sorry to throw this on you,” you say quickly, trying to correct your mistake. “It’s just that you’ve been trying to get me to go on a date with you for weeks and I just thought it was for fun, you know? That it was a bit, but then I thought that maybe it wasn’t, that you were serious, that you actually want to take me out on a date – “

He interrupts you by calling your name, but you don’t hear him over your babbling.

“ – and I really want to go out with you, like so much, and I know I was a dumbass and thought that you couldn’t be sincere, since you…well, you know why, and I’m sorry that it came across as me being judgemental, because I was, a little bit – “

He tries to interrupt you again with your name.

“ – but I was an idiot and I’m sorry, I’m sorry for saying you couldn’t be serious enough for a relationship, I’m sorry for stringing you along for the last few weeks, it’s not fair on you, I should be more considerate to your feelings – “

He shouts your name, causing you to jump at the sudden volume. You look at him with wide eyes, breathless after your rant. You both stare at each other for a moment, and you can feel the panic claw at your throat at the unreadable look on his face. You can always know what Poe is feeling, what Poe is thinking, and it’s unnerving to know that you don’t know what’s going to happen.

Eventually, he reaches out to you, and holds you by your upper arms. “What’s brought this one?”

“Karé told me you like me,” you say quickly. “In a like-like way.”

Poe looked at you for a moment before he broke into a grin and started chuckling to himself.

Now you look confused.

“You are a dumbass,” he says, still laughing.

You couldn’t help but laugh with him. “I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologising. Listen,” Poe says, giving a dramatic sigh as his hands slides down your arms and hold your hands. “I’m not going to lie, it did hurt when you said you wouldn’t date me because I’d…slept around. I understand, though, that it can be a little much.”

You bite your lip nervously before looking at the floor, shamefully.

“Hey, no, don’t look away,” said Poe, before grinning when you look back up at him. “I want you to know that you mean the world to me. And more. And I love you too.”

You give him a slow, dopey smile.

“And although you’ve been ‘stringing me along’ for a weeks,” he says, giving you a teasing look, causing you to giggle. He gives your hands a squeeze. “I still love you and want to date you. Now, will you go out on a date with me?”

You grin excitedly before nodding. “Yes, I will go out on a date with you.”

“Finally!” said Poe, grinning at you. “I was starting to lose faith in myself!”

“I just don’t want to miss out having a lava roll first thing, they’re always the first to go,” you say teasingly, pulling him towards you as you wrap your arms around his waist.

He immediately slid his arms around you too.

It felt food. Natural. Like you were meant to be doing this the whole time.

“Oh so you don’t want me to be with you for love, you just want me to bring you lava rolls and caf every morning,” Poe teases back.

You grin and nod. “Mhm.”

“Now I know where I stand.”

“Bet all your other partners will be upset they’ll never get lava rolls and caf.”

“They never got them anyway.”

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for "forcing" my best friend to break up with his boyfriend?

🧸

I (22 cis m) and my best friend 'A' (21 ftm) have been friends since we were 10 years old and I love him more than anything. He’s genuinely the sweetest, most thoughtful, and funniest person I’ve ever met. He means everything to me and we’ve been there for each other through the hardest times of our lives so far and I plan on staying until the end.

It’s always been us two. Btw, everyone mentioned here uses he/him pronouns exclusively.

A has been with his boyfriend (21 cis m) for about 2 years now, and from what he told me, things were going great. Even if I’m not too fond of his boyfriend. A few days ago, we got pretty drunk at a friend’s housewarming party. A and I live together, and as soon as we got home, he suddenly started rambling about how he wishes his boyfriend cared about him the same way I do.

Legit felt like I was in some dumb romance movie for a moment there. I felt a little uneasy and asked him to elaborate. In short, his boyfriend essentially treats him like a doll instead of a person with real emotions. He feels as though his boyfriend just uses him to get his daily fix of physical affection and sex, that’s it. The only positive thing his boyfriend can say about A is that he’s cute, which boggles my mind. It’s true but there’s so much more to him as a human being.

A is an incredibly talented artist, super kind, super emotionally intelligent, and has a plethora of interests he loves to infodump about. I’m trying my hardest not to make this entire post about how amazing he is. He’s helped multiple friends clean their depression apartments and took them out to get fresh groceries etc. because it’s basic decency to him. He has such a big heart and holds so much love in it for everyone in his life. Being around him is just so easy and makes life worth living.

He’s just an incredible person all around and every single person that has him in their life recognizes that, except his boyfriend. They’ve had issues in the past because they’re not sexually compatible, which led to some miscommunication and made A feel like he was coerced into things he didn’t want to do. He just did them to make his boyfriend happy. He does a lot of things for his boyfriend, actually. He’s constantly buying little gifts, remembering what he likes, and plans cute dates for them to go on. His boyfriend does none of these things.

I want to mention that A has bpd and avpd. He has an intense fear of rejection and will do everything in his power to appease others so they won’t leave him. I always take the time to reassure him that I love him for who he is and not what he can give me. Basically just making sure he feels loved. Keep in mind, his boyfriend is aware of this but he just gets annoyed when A seeks reassurance from him. His behavior has made my blood boil several times in the past already, but I always kept it to myself for A’s sake. If I was vocal about disliking his boyfriend, it probably would’ve caused A a lot of distress and emotional turmoil.

Still, I don’t think this relationship is healthy for A and I know him well enough to know he won’t break it off on his own. It’s just his combo of personality disorders that makes it impossible for him. I told him about my concerns and he agreed, but said he feels bad for his boyfriend since he apparently doesn’t have any friends outside of A. From my POV, it just looks like his boyfriend knows A is out of his league and is grasping at straws to make A stay with him out of pity.

This is where I might be the asshole. I got a little frustrated and raised my voice, which I severely regret. I don’t want to blame it on the alcohol but it definitely had a hand in it. I finally told him about all these grievances I have about his boyfriend, how much I dislike him and how A deserves so much better, etc.. At one point, I essentially gave him an ultimatum. It’s me or his boyfriend. I didn’t really mean it, it was just a heat of the moment thing I spat out. I would never leave him like that.

A started crying and begged me to calm down, at which point I realized how shitty I was being and immediately began apologizing. We hugged, I comforted him, and we spent the rest of the night cuddling and talking about how he could approach the breakup.

Now that I’ve sobered up I feel like absolute shit. I know it’s not my place to tell A what to do with his romantic relationships, even if I’m his best friend. Plus, I want to be 100% honest here and say I might have romantic feelings for A. I think I have for a long time, but I always wrote it off as intense platonic love. So I may be biased in this whole conversation about his boyfriend.

I didn’t say these things because of that. I genuinely think his boyfriend is a huge dick and full of shit, no matter how sweet and loving he pretends to be. It’s all in the way he treats A. He’s one of those guys that paint their nails (nothing wrong with that but you know the kind of guy I’m talking about), pretend to be feminists, and steal their romantic partner’s personality to seem cooler. He even asked A to stop taking testosterone because he didn’t like how hairy A was getting or some shit like that.

He’s pansexual but has only ever dated girls and started dating A before A began medically transitioning. There’s obviously nothing wrong with that and changes nothing about the fact that he’s pansexual, he just pisses me off when he criticizes A for being 'too masculine'. You can have a preference for feminine people but don’t make that shit your partner’s problem when they just want to pass.

I feel like A’s boyfriend just thought A would always stay the smooth, baby-faced twink he was before going on testosterone and now makes him feel guilty for looking like a grown man. Some people don’t know how to appreciate hairy tummies.

Sorry for making this so long but I just want to be as honest and informative as possible to get proper opinions on the issue. A is now dead set on breaking things off because he now knows that I actively despise his boyfriend and he always puts my opinion above everyone else’s.

Was I in the wrong for doing this or am I just protecting my best friend? I’m glad he intends on ending things but I feel a bit like a conniving snake considering everything. It feels like I’m taking advantage of his mental state even if I’m not doing it consciously.

[ghoulfuckersincorporated]

Joshua Graham (Fallout: New Vegas, Honest Hearts DLC) NSFW Headcanons 2

(A follow up to this post from the other day because I've been continually plagued with thoughts about this man for the last few days...)

Terrible at dirty talk. He isn't incapable of saying things that you'll find erotic, things that'll turn you on, but intentional and explicit sexual talk is not a strength of his. Doesn't curse, nor does he really use crude nicknames for various body parts or sexual acts. The most you'll get out of him a lot of the time is a series of commands. The words "cock" and "cunt" do exist in his vocabulary, but they only slip out once in a rare while, usually when he's already turned on beyond rational thought, and you can always tell he's a little embarrassed to have said either of them once he's calmed down again.

Handsy when you're alone, and rather aggressively so. He wants you to constantly have his touch on your body fresh in your mind, so the moment you two leave camp or everyone retires for the evening he's teasing you physically every chance he gets. Pretty good at making a lot of his touches seem accidental, but oftentimes he fully abandons that pretense and lets it be fully known that he's intentionally trying to rile you up, which only riles you up more. His favorite move is to saddle up behind you and slowly slide a hand into your pants, playing with you until you literally can't stand properly before helping you back to your feet and going about his business.

Not the most adequate at romance due to his discomfort with the vulnerability it requires. Holding your hand and quoting Song of Songs is about as romantic as he gets face-to-face. Better with gestures that don't require him to perform them while you watch, but he's just not very traditionally romantic overall. He had a family that showed him a lot of love and care when he was young, but there were many years where the main forces in his life were violence and lies. That history doesn't exactly lend itself to poetic thinking, but he does try if you tell him that it's what you want. Will occasionally give you a bundle of flowers he picked, or a small tchotchke he found that he thinks you'd enjoy. Will also make frequent bids to get you to spend time with him. He isn't without ways to show he cares about you, but many of them won't be ways you're used to. He can be a tad more lovey-dovey during and after sex sometimes, but it requires him to be both relaxed and in a very good mood, conditions which are rarely both met at the same time.

Likes to think he's above thinking with his dick due to his impeccable self-control, but you quickly prove to him that he's not as infallible as he believes himself to be. This man would do a lot, and I mean a lot of things to see you on your knees with his cock in your mouth, and you're more than eager to use that knowledge against him. If he's upset with you, he'll do his best to avoid a situation where you can do so, because he's quite embarrassed at how easily he folds the second you tug on his fly. Scolds you for being such a debauched whore the first time you swallow his load, though soon he's all but making you swallow every time.

I spoke a few days ago about how I firmly believe Joshua is in the middle of becoming a ghoul, which is why his injuries from years prior "won't heal". The truth is that the burns have long healed; the sloughing and blistering in his flesh now is because he's in the middle of a long, painful transformation process. Finally exposing him to a little bit of radiation and demonstrating its ability to ease his pain will make him incredibly grateful; having grown up in the post-war world, he's always been taught to avoid extra radiation as much as possible, to avoid contact with questionable foods and stay out of the rain, and it would never occur to him to treat these things as therapeutic (largely because he's hesitant to accept what he's becoming).

Finally having a way to properly manage his pain will raise his spirits noticeably, at least relatively compared to how much he panics about what his new status says about his soul. But it'll also blow the lid straight off the Pandora's box that is his often-neglected sexual drive. Be ready to go from only being able to touch him once in a while when the wind blows right to him actively pursuing and propositioning you multiple times a week. He'd be thrilled to have the energy to fuck you the way he's always fantasized about.

[addaerontruther]

hello!! i must admit i have not heard much about addaeron ship but i am increasingly curious!! would you mind sharing what it’s all about perhaps i’ll join the club

PLEASE JOIN OUR CLUB!! Sorry this took me so long to answer, but I knew it was going to turn into a dissertation and I was right. HOPE IT'S AT LEAST A GOOD READ!

It starts with Daeron being sent to Oldtown. At this point in the story, he's the only Targaryen, ever, to be sent to ward. He's at the center of the anti-Valyrian club with no one around that looks like him or understands where he comes from. He was a Targaryen prince with a pretty dragon in a city notorious for hating Targaryen's and dragons — which would've been hard enough, without the differing races & customs, considering his sexual identity. He was a baby gay of 12 when he was sent to Westeros's Vatican.

Cue: Addam of Hull, shiphand to his mother, Marilda, constantly working on one voyage or another. The biggest port in Westeros is King's Landing, right near Driftmark, but the second biggest port is Oldtown. My theory, and most other shippers, is that this is where they met. I like to think Daeron and Addam met by chance on the docks, and Daeron decided to take a closer look because he was the first person he'd seen in Oldtown with the silver hair and purple eyes that signaled Valyrian heritage. Once they actually met, and talked, the connection was instantaneous.

I believe Daeron fought it at first, and tried to just keep him as a friend, but the more time they spent together, the harder it became. Addam ultimately made the first move, but from the moment he did, Daeron was all in. They both were, really.

They spent the next few years falling in love and having their moments when they could. Daeron took him flying on Tessarion whenever he was able, and Addam loved both dragon's. When Mouse (Addam's mother's ship if you're unfamiliar) was docked in Oldtown, they were together every single second possible. When they weren't, they sent letters back and forth through other shipwrights moving between them, but that was rare for fear of being found out. Mostly they just spent their time apart wishing they were together.

And then the war started, and Addam was no longer able to visit Oldtown. They were unable to send any messages back and forth, but Daeron had anticipated this day and made the decision long ago that there was only one person in his life worth fighting for, and it was not the Greens. When Ormund set out with his army, Daeron stayed put; thus Ormund begging King's Landing for a dragon despite his squire having one.

When the Red Sowing happened and Corlys came to Addam and Alyn, Addam saw an opportunity to rise up to a level where he, a bastard, would be good enough for a prince — a dragon prince at that — and give himself a chance to earn amnesty for his lover. Having learned High Valyrian commands from his time with Daeron and Tessarion, Addam succeeded where Alyn failed, and claimed Seasmoke.

After the Gullet, Addam and Corlys had a conversation that not even Mushroom reports on; I believe this is when he confessed to his grandfather, now hand of the Queen, that he loved Daeron, and would fight as hard as he could as long as he could, but he needed Daeron to live.

Unfortunately, Daeron did not get that memo. He heard a bastard from Driftmark named Addam claimed the dragon of the late Laenor Velaryon, and that was enough. Addam actively fighting for the enemy on dragonback meant he was now on Aemond (long since Prince Regent at this point) and Vhagar's radar. So, he climbed onto Tessarion's back, and joined the war himself.

His victories were all honorable and/or bloodless for a long time. He was, mostly, used for intimidation and scouting. And then Maelor was ripped apart by the smallfolk after Lady Caswell barred her gates to him, and the rage and stress and pressure bested Daeron, and he sacked the city so hard they renamed it Bitterbridge (previously known as Stonebridge).

Despite this, Corlys still tries to spare Daeron. He asks Rhaenyra to let him live, but she refuses, sends Hugh and Ulf on Vermithor and Silverwing to kill him, and asks Addam to stay in King's Landing to protect her and her sons.

Things don't go as she planned, of course. Hugh and Ulf join Daeron rather than fight him, and Rhaenyra, understandably, unravels. Mysaria convinces her that Daemon betrayed her for love, and then she decides that Addam, too, is a traitor, and should be sharply questioned to prove his innocence... something that is, more often than not, fatal in Westeros. Her having such a strong and immediate change of opinion in him after these betrayals makes a lot more sense if you believe she knew he loved Daeron and feared he had something to do with Ulf/Hugh and/or would betray her alongside them.

Addam was no traitor, even if the love of his life had, as far as he knew, lost his damned mind. Addam had no way to know Daeron hated the betrayers and was actively planning their deaths to rid himself of them despite their extra fire power changing the tides of the war, or that he hadn't actually been involved in the carnage of First Tumbleton, or that he had, in fact, begged the Hightower in charge to make it stop.

So, Addam raised an army and turned it to fight Daeron. The actual killing of his lover was the first thing he did when he got to Tumbleton, because he knew he would never be able to do what he had to do if he saw him. Despite setting the tents on fire, he still turned towards Tessarion the second she "took to the skies, shrieking and spitting flame." I believe he wanted to see if Daeron was on her back, and that was why he kept spinning around her on Seasmoke in the beginning.

Once he saw her saddle was empty, he knew his mission succeeded, and he lost all heart. Tessarion was riderless and had a taste for blood, yet he couldn't get himself to make a fatal attack... or attack at all, really. This was Daeron's dragon. A dragon Daeron had his whole life, the only friend he had in Oldtown when Addam was gone, and a dragon Addam himself was familiar with and loved dearly. He couldn't do it.

Tessarion couldn't do it either. Daeron might be dead, but he was still her only rider ever. She could still feel him, his loves and hates, and she couldn't get herself to hurt Addam or Seasmoke. When Vermithor started getting too close, she left.

But Addam and Seasmoke didn't. They slammed into Vermithor, a dragon twice their size, in what could only be a suicide mission, and Addam proceeded to attempt to eliminate Jaehaerys's creature (derogatory).

He would've failed, and who knows what carnage Vermithor would've inflicted after, if Tessarion hadn't come back. There was no reason for it. Daeron was dead, not forcing her to do this. But Daeron was dead, and Addam was the thing on earth he loved most. She slammed into them, and it became Seasmoke, Addam, and Tessarion against Vermithor.

Ultimately, Addam died in the same field where he killed Daeron, alongside his dragon. Tessarion, the smallest dragon of fighting size in the entire war, one third of Vermithor's size, avenged them. She was not in good shape after and bitch ass Benji Blackwood had her put out of her misery, but she, ultimately, killed herself in an attempt to protect, and then avenge, the man her rider loved.

It's worth noting that Silverwing was also present at this battle, and her and Vermithor had been mated for around 100 years at that point. She, too, was riderless, and she did nothing to help him. She actually said fuck all that and flew away. Tessarion and Seasmoke may have known each other as hatchlings (and I believe they did/they were both Meleys's children), but we know Vermithor and Silverwing did. We know they had a bond. And yet they did nothing to help each other.

Tessarion didn't mate with Seasmoke for no reason. She didn't kill herself trying to help him and Addam for no reason. Daeron and Addam loved each other so much that even in death, Daeron's dragon, who had seen them fall in love and felt it right alongside Daeron, still felt it, and gave her life trying to preserve it.

TLDR; their relationship explains 75,000 plot holes for them both and George couldn't have made it more obvious, in my humble opinion. It's about love, and youth, and war, and two boys that felt alone for much of their lives being together even in death.

[d1xonscult]

Dating Daryl Dixon would include…

female!reader x Daryl Dixon

Spoilers included

slight sexual content included

————————————————————-

- Being very good, maybe even best friends for years before things started to get romantic

- sunshine x grumpy

- he remembers every little detail of the stories you tell him, which amazes you everytime he brings up conversations you two had years ago

- the two of you being in love with the other since the group found the prison and everyone noticed but you guys

- ever since Carol noticed him liking you, she wouldn’t stop teasing him, often making him almost die in embarrassment

- Daryl loves to spend time alone, but you’re one of the very few people he accepts to be alone with

- you admitting your feelings to him first, making him back off for a while because he doesn’t know how to deal with his emotions

- him accidentally admitting his feelings during an argument about you’re safety after a few days of awkward atmosphere

- you being the one to make the first move almost everytime during the beginning of the relationship

- he’s very insecure at first, especially about his scars, but it never bothered you so you try your best to show him that they are nothing to be ashamed of

- it takes him a lot of time to get used to this ‘being a couple’ thing

- you having to convince him to cut his hair because it hurts you seeing it fall into his eyes constantly

- you’re his number #1 priority

- “I’d die for you” being yours and his “i love you”

- his love language is gift giving while yours is physical touch and words of affirmation

- he almost always tries to find something to gift you during scavenge runs, mostly it’s a pretty rock or flowers if he has the luck to find them

- always going on scavenge runs together and the group always thinking you guys are doing something else which sometimes is the case

- the two of you not minding to spend days alone with just each other in the woods

- him always giving you the best part of whatever animal he has hunted

- in general, he cares a lot about you having enough to eat, even if it means him not having any food at all just for you not to starve

- Not much PDA but little kisses on the cheeks when passing each other in Alexandria or occasionally holding hands while on runs with the group

- he is the big spoon, meaning him laying on his back while you have your head on his chest

- soft kisses most of the time but if he’s slightly tensed or angry he gets more rough not just talking about kisses iykyk

- he wakes up really early sometimes, often waiting for you to wake up while smoking cigarettes by the window and trying not to wake you up

- he never lets anyone touch his hair but you do it anyways and he secretly loves

- you almost loosing your senses when Negan took Daryl

- you also being the one to almost go and get Daryl out of the sanctuary yourself (If Rick didn’t force the group to literally watch you non stop)

- always being on the same side when it comes to arguments in the group

- being called each others wife/husband by everyone

- HE IS DEFINITELY VERY OVERPROTECTIVE

- nah fr he won’t let anyone hurt you

- he would do everything, really everything to keep you save

- he has avery raspy morning voice

- you guys being uncle Daryl and aunt y/n to Judith and RJ

[rearranged-fanfic]

(Update 6/3)

Sit down a spell, weary traveler. Come and sit by my fire; bask in the warmth of the flame and rest your aching scrolling finger. You'll be sitting a while, for I have a tale to tell:

Okay, so I've had a Toshiba laptop for the better part of ten years. Maybe a little longer. That laptop has survived being struck by lightning, submerged in a bathtub, and literally having a whole bookcase topple down onto it. I thought it was immortal...

I was sadly mistaken.

About six months ago, I noticed that the typing was getting sluggish. I'd patter away at the keyboard and the letters would appear with a bit of lag. That's fine, since I use Dragon to talk-to-text for quite a bit of my writing. I really only use the keyboard for final assembly, editing, and doing quick rewrites. So, it really didn't bother me. Fastforward to April, which we will call The Great Depression. The time discrepancy between typing and having letters appear on screen became a whopping 40 seconds. Yes, I timed it.

But that was okay, because I could still use my Dragon headset.

Until I couldn't.

It would connect, but the words wouldn't appear on screen. I made sure that all of my programs were up-to-date, and that everything was working. The headset connected to my family's computers just fine. So that meant it was something wrong with mine.

Without being sure if it was the hardware or software at fault, I backed everything up to OneDrive and Google Docs.

I factory reset.

Twice. To no avail.

Over the next few days, my laptop stopped registering any keyboard input at all. It got to a point where I wasn't able to turn it on or off.

Taking it to an electronics store to get repaired didn't help, either. No luck. They said that it would be more cost effective to just buckle down and get a new one, since the age of the laptop meant that I would probably be constantly maintaining it.

My poor Toshiba died kicking and screaming, putting up a fight worthy of an epic ballad.

I saved up for a few weeks, got a new laptop, and went through the rigmarole of getting all of my programs back on it. My files are in order. My life is in shambles (but that's normal, LOL).

I DID do some story work without my computer, but... it's bad. Like, I'd die in shame if I posted anything that I thumbed in. So. Many. Spelling. Errors. How people write on their phone is beyond me. That's a talent I simply don't possess.

At this point, I'm thinking of renaming this story "HIATUS" lol. JK. But I'm seriously peeved that this happened after my last big break. Why couldn't the Depression and laptop breakdown coincide nicely? I guess that's too much to ask of the universe *Shakes fist at the sky*.

I'm creating a damn bingo card for every stupid thing that happens to me while I try to write. Because this is getting ridiculous. I broke my fingers, there was a total solar eclipse, I had a major-ish mental breakdown, and my computer bit the big one. With a free space, that's a bingo. Let's hope I don't get a blackout before the end of 2024.

I doubted the fanfiction curse. I really did. But it's apparently real. And this writer's curse has teeth, people. It bites hard.

I have my MerMay two-shot pretty well done (because I was typing it during The Great Depression), but the next chapter for REARRANGED is still rough. Crimson Chapter 3 is halfway done, but who knows how long that'll take.

The bottom line is that I'm alive and still working on the stories. The next update on this blog will be the posting of several chapters for a few different works. Fingers crossed.

Also, I'm very, very slowly answering the comments in my AO3 inbox. Some of them were pretty lengthy, so it might take a bit. Oof.

If there ever comes a time that I drop this fanfiction or am unable to continue for whatever reason, either I or my husband will be posting the entirety of my outline, as well as anything that's been pre-written for you guys to enjoy. That way there are no questions left unanswered or mysteries unsolved.

[dailyniallnews]

Niall Horan: Cynics fuelled me to succeed with Modest Golf

Niall Horan has opened up on the cynicism he faced when he launched his golf management company in 2016, detailing how it fuelled him to make it a success.

Speaking in the December edition of bunkered, the chart-topping musician reflected on the launch of Modest Golf Management in 2016.

The boutique firm was dismissed by many naysayers as a non-credible ‘plaything’ for the former One Direction star.

However, seven years on, it has built an enviable stable of clients – amongst them Tyrrell Hatton and Leona Maguire – and has expanded its reach with the opening of a new office in the US, whilst also diversifying its business interests.

It’s all a far cry from the early days, when the skeptics were out in force.

“To be honest, I kind of expected the cynicism,” explained Horan. “There are agents on the range who have been there for a long time. They know the tour inside out and they’ve had their pick of the players for a long time. When they saw me turn up and try to get involved, they were bound to be a bit like, ‘Who’s he?’

“We heard bits and pieces here and there but that just gave us more drive – a healthy drive – to prove them wrong. Not in a ‘we’ll show them’ kind of a way. More, ‘we really want to do this’.

He added: “Six or seven years ago, golf looked the same as it had for many years. The governing bodies had been run by the same people for a very long time and so on.

“I’m not going to lie, it wasn’t easy to begin with. It was hard getting turned away from things pretty much constantly, but I always knew that if we stuck to it and worked hard then we’d get there in the end. Now, we’ve got a great relationship with all the governing bodies and all the agents, too.

“Slowly but surely, it’s turned around and people have started to realise, ‘Oh, wait a minute, maybe they are in it for the long haul.’”

Mark McDonnell, who co-founded Modest Golf with Horan, added: “To this day, I still get people saying to me, ‘Is Niall really involved?’. I mean, of course he is! Obviously, he can’t be at every single event and in every single meeting but, throughout all the major decisions and moments in our company’s history, he’s been there.”

“This has never, ever been a pet project for him or a little plaything to occupy his time whilst he figured out what he wanted to do next. And to be honest, I felt like it did me a disservice when I heard people say that.

“I know there are celebrities out there who’ll put their name to something just to make a quick buck and I would never stake my own career on that. I knew Niall’s passion for golf was genuine, and that’s why it was really easy for me to want to get involved.”

Horan also expressed his hope that his involvement with golf will help encourage more young girls to take an interest in the sport.

“I always say this but, you know, I’ve got 40 million Twitter followers and a few more on Instagram,” he adds. “If me posting about golf here and there makes just one per cent of my followers take an interest in golf, well, look, I’m no mathematician, but it’s a lot!”

“Don’t get me wrong, I know a lot of them will be like, ‘oh great, he’s talking about golf again!’ But I guarantee there’s quite a few who’ll read that tweet and go to the driving range, or go to Topgolf, or even just try to get involved in some shape or form. It’s just about letting them know the sport exists really.

“You never know how many will go, ‘Well, if Niall thinks it’s cool, it might be cool.’”

Read the full interview with Niall Horan in the December edition of bunkered, on-sale now from all good newsagents.

[zvtara-was-never-canon]

What do you think about this take? Do you agree? https://www.tumblr.com/zuko-always-lies/764888302529757184/cobra-diamond-had-this-very-interesting-take-on?source=share

Half agree, half disagree. I'd say that's what BRYKE wanted people to see Azula's arc/ending as, a tragic "death" of her very spirit, leaving just a hollow shell behind. It's impossible to redeem or heal her, not because "she's too evil", but because she's just not there anymore. And obviously the opinion of the guys that had THE final say on the show affects the narrative since they decided what would or would not be part of it.

But they still allowed things like Aang saying "EVERYONE has the potetial for great good and great evil", Zuko looking at Azula with pity in the finale and even saying he believes even Ozai could change. And the head writer, Aaron Ehasz, REPEATEDLY pushed for a redemption arc for Azula, with a reconciliation with Zuko, and the seeds for it are all over the original show. It's not that difficult to look at all that and wonder "What will happen when/if Azula recovers from her breakdown?" because since the story stops just a few days after her fall from grace, it is not set in stone that she will stay like that forever, even if that's indeed what Bryke wanted us to take from that scene.

Most importantly, as of this moment, everything else Bryke approved of post OG series leaves Azula's fate far more open-ended.

The Yang comics disrespected her character horribly and made the heroes go from witnesses to her tragedy to people directly causing said tragedy - but Azula is also far, far, far more "alive" than she was at her ending scene. She's sick and evil, yes, but she has goals that she's actively working towards (even if they make no sense because Yang is bad at his job). She's not just in constant agony, crying and screaming and unable to even talk, or completely catatonic. Her soul is corrupt, but not gone.

Same for the recent (and much better written) Spirit Temple comic, in which Azula resigns herself to constantly repeating the same cycle of getting new people to boss around, pushing them too far, being abandoned and then replacing them, she is making the CHOICE to stay in that cycle. It's a bad choice, but it's hers. Once again, Azula is corrupt, not dead.

Korra is where it gets a bit tricky because, well... Azula is not around and is not spoken about ever. Since the comics happen before Korra and Azula spends 90% of her time in them disappearing into the woods and confusing the main characters, it's very possible that she's not mentioned because she fucked off from their lives years ago and they have NO IDEA what she's been up to, if she's even alive.

Is she commiting petty crimes just to get by and bitching constantly about no longer living in luxury? Is she plotting her vengeance against Zuko in some weird cult she's been the leader of for decades? Is she living happily on some remote island with tons of children and grandchildren? Did she die young after tragically jumping off a cliff or stupidly choking on food? Is she the drunk, mentally ill philosopher that ruins the day of every pretentious intellectual and acts obscenely in public, Diogenes style?

Who knows? Not me. And I don't know because Bryke, at some point, clearly decided that Azula did NOT "die" in the finale. It makes sense. They wanted the story to end after the three seasons of Avatar, but they've turned it into a full on franchise now, and Azula is one of the most popular characters AND a main villain, so bringing her back inevitably draws people's attention, regardless of if they want her to recover or to just be defeated by the good guys again.

Maybe they'll "kill" her again at some point, but considering she got a solo comic and is mentioned by name in the announced comic of Kiyi, her sister/replacement, going to the very school she used to go and how Zuko worries about what that might lead to, it's pretty clear that she will be affecting the narrative(s) for a bit more time, be it directly or indirectly.

Basically: I think I know what Bryke originally intended, I have no fucking clue what their current plan is (assuming they have one) and I don't care because I basically only take the original show into consideration and it left PLENTY of room for my headcanons.

[hiswordsarekisses]

THE QUESTION THAT CHANGED MY LIFE:

‼️LOVER OR PROSTITUTE?‼️

by Dr. David Ryser:

A number of years ago, I had the privilege of teaching at a school of ministry. My students were hungry for God, and I was constantly searching for ways to challenge them to fall more in love with Jesus and to become voices for revival in the Church. I came across a quote attributed most often to Rev. Sam Pascoe. It is a short version of the history of Christianity, and it goes like this: Christianity started in Palestine as a fellowship; it moved to Greece and became a philosophy; it moved to Italy and became an institution; it moved to Europe and became a culture; it came to America and became an enterprise. Some of the students were only 18 or 19 years old--barely out of diapers--and I wanted them to understand and appreciate the import of the last line, so I clarified it by adding, "An enterprise. That's a business." After a few moments Martha, the youngest student in the class, raised her hand. I could not imagine what her question might be. I thought the little vignette was self-explanatory, and that I had performed it brilliantly. Nevertheless, I acknowledged Martha's raised hand, "Yes, Martha." She asked such a simple question, "A business? But isn't it supposed to be a body?" I could not envision where this line of questioning was going, and the only response I could think of was, "Yes." She continued, "But when a body becomes a business, isn't that a prostitute?" The room went dead silent. For several seconds no one moved or spoke. We were stunned, afraid to make a sound because the presence of God had flooded into the room, and we knew we were on holy ground. All I could think in those sacred moments was, "Wow, I wish I'd thought of that." I didn't dare express that thought aloud. God had taken over the class.

Martha's question changed my life. For six months, I thought about her question at least once every day. "When a body becomes a business, isn't that a prostitute?" There is only one answer to her question. The answer is "Yes." The American Church, tragically, is heavily populated by people who do not love God. How can we love Him? We don't even know Him; and I mean really know Him.... I stand by my statement that most American Christians do not know God--much less love Him. The root of this condition originates in how we came to God. Most of us came to Him because of what we were told He would do for us. We were promised that He would bless us in life and take us to heaven after death. We married Him for His money, and we don't care if He lives or dies as long as we can get His stuff. We have made the Kingdom of God into a business, merchandising His anointing. This should not be.

We are commanded to love God, and are called to be the Bride of Christ--that's pretty intimate stuff. We are supposed to be His lovers. How can we love someone we don't even know? And even if we do know someone, is that a guarantee that we truly love them? Are we lovers or prostitutes? I was pondering Martha's question again one day, and considered the question, "What's the difference between a lover and a prostitute?" I realized that both do many of the same things, but a lover does what she does because she loves. A prostitute pretends to love, but only as long as you pay. Then I asked the question, "What would happen if God stopped paying me?"

For the next several months, I allowed God to search me to uncover my motives for loving and serving Him. Was I really a true lover of God? What would happen if He stopped blessing me? What if He never did another thing for me? Would I still love Him? Please understand, I believe in the promises and blessings of God. The issue here is not whether God blesses His children; the issue is the condition of my heart. Why do I serve Him? Are His blessings in my life the gifts of a loving Father, or are they a wage that I have earned or a bribe/payment to love Him? Do I love God without any conditions? It took several months to work through these questions. Even now I wonder if my desire to love God is always matched by my attitude and behavior. I still catch myself being disappointed with God and angry that He has not met some perceived need in my life. I suspect this is something which is never fully resolved, but I want more than anything else to be a true lover of God.

So what is it going to be? Which are we, lover or prostitute? There are no prostitutes in heaven, or in the Kingdom of God for that matter, but there are plenty of former prostitutes in both places. Take it from a recovering prostitute when I say there is no substitute or unconditional, intimate relationship with God. And I mean there is no palatable substitute available to us (take another look at Matthew 7:21-23 sometime). We must choose.

[beatrixstonehill2]

"One year later and our son's detransition is fully complete! We were accepting of his transition at first, but by the time he hit nineteen he it was apparent he was really letting himself go and becoming totally enamored by life as a sorority slut. His social media was nothing but videos and pictures of him flaunting his giant, estrogen-inflated 'breasts', him binge eating as he bragged about how thick he was starting to get, and how much he fantasized about getting really fat. And of course what trans girl's feed would be complete without dozens and dozens of hours of him sucking frat boy cocked and getting fucked in his ever fattening ass. It was obvious like so many other 'trans girls' he was going to become nothing but a massively fat nymphomaniac, so we decided to intervene.

He came over last summer between semesters and we sat him down for a talk. We brought up our concerns and he rolled his eyes, trying and failing to fold his arms over his oversized 'breasts'. We told him how ridiculous he looked and he seemed like deep down he agreed but he was so addicted to the sorority lifestyle of endless pleasure, sex, eating, drinking, that he couldn't be honest with himself. We decided to arrange for him to meet with some of the other former trans girls he used to be friends with in high school, who've since detransed. He reluctantly agreed. They apparently spent the first hour fucking his big-titted brains out, then once he was mellow and lethargic from getting fucked so hard, they started talking to him.

They told him how fun it was to fuck girls like that. Instead of getting fat and weak and leaning into their role as little more than cum receptacles with various blubbery curves and folds for men to salivate over, they were now the strong ones. The active ones, going out and impregnating all kinds of sexy girls. They described how it felt to go on T, to cum for real, like a man is supposed to, the rush of finally getting to top and fuck so many pretty girls. Miraculously, their little plan paid off, and that evening our son finally agreed to detrans! We were elated! Though it would've still been fun to see him hit 500lbs..... but I digress.

We threw him a detrans party, gave him his first shot of T and hired some sexy pregnant dancers to feel him up, get him used to being a man even if he was still so curvy and had those ridiculous breasts, which he thankfully got rid of a week later. He was in heaven, feeling up their bodies, kissing them, squeezing their huge breasts. He even tried topping them but came so fast the girls just giggled, telling him he'd be able to do way better after a few months on testosterone..... And he definitely is! He already has a cute girlfriend he carries around like a toy. They just met two months ago and she's already pregnant. He fucks her all over the house and it's so refreshing seeing him act like a boy for once! We have to practically pry them apart, he ravages this poor girl for hours every day, she'll be sweating, moaning, panting, begging him to please stop, and like a good man he asserts that he's the only one who can say when he's done. He spanks her constantly and overfeeds her, the poor thing's already put on like forty pounds in two months. He just loves curves and big asses..... This poor girl is going to become such a pregnant hippo, but as long as our boy is happy we'll help him get her as fat as he wants.