#what is life if not immediate gratification right

[catwyk]

i need some silt body horror to draw and the only thing i can think of is the miracle of the sailors from season 1 (ty possum for putting this in my head weeks ago) but i think drawing a boat would kill me

[battleczar]

The day that straight women stop subjecting female children, female friends, and female relatives to the presence of their male partners in the home is the day they will be able to claim that lesbians have no right to comment on feminist celibacy.

The experience of male violence begins in the crib for most women, including lesbians, and we are deeply harmed by the presence of men in the domestic sphere. I could name a dozen women on radblr who have spoken about being abused or assaulted by the male partner of a woman they lived with.

I feel like there's a massive amount of denial happening with feminist OSA women. Don't we all discuss the way men will wait until after the marriage, the mortgage, the pregnancy, to become controlling? He'll wait until you open a joint checking account, he'll wait until your three-year anniversary, he'll wait until you gain twenty pounds, he'll wait until he gets fired from his job, and there is not a single feminist on this planet who can accurately predict whether or when a man's behavior will turn abusive. There is no level of red flag awareness that can save you when men deliberately hide their true nature and tell you all the things you wanna hear. (And all of these points are discussed and acknowledged by straight/OSA women on radblr regularly.)

So when I, as a lesbian, hear feminist straight/OSA women discussing all of these points about how unpredictable men are and then immediately defending their choice to partner with and live with men, including insistence that lesbians don't have a right to take a stance here, mostly what I hear you saying is "I acknowledge the danger that men pose, I acknowledge that men deliberately hide their intentions, and I am still willing to put myself and every other woman and girl in my life in that danger in order to achieve personal gratification."



[kneelingshadowsalome]

Christian Woman

(König x Nun!Reader)

Word count: 5.2 k Summary: Yup it’s König with a Virgin!Nun!Reader folks. This is all @wordstome 's and @melancholic-thing 's and their König & religion post's fault! :( Tags/warnings: PINING. Eventual smut, eventual blood & minor injuries. A cute, sweet, silly story with undertones of religious despair. Watch out for possible mistakes concerning Catholicism, I was more interested in the forbidden love trope.

Part 1

You don’t know how it even happened, but you became friends with a foreign man visiting your city. 

You bumped into him one day. Literally bumped into him, or then he bumped into you; you’re not entirely sure who’s to blame here, but you would’ve fallen to the ground had he not grabbed you by the arm and hauled you back up and against him. 

It was just to prevent you from hurting yourself, but your mind short circuits for a moment when you’re pressed against the broadest chest you’ve ever seen. The man is tall, so tall you have to crane your neck to see who has such lightning-fast reflexes.

Worried eyes look down at you from above, but the man’s expression softens when he sees how frightened you look.

“I’m so sorry. Are you ok?”

“Yes… Yes, I’m fine, thank you.”

He starts to fuss about being in such a hurry without any particular reason and asks if he can make this up for you somehow.

Could he offer you a lunch or something? No, how about a drink? He’s truly so sorry.

His accent is charming, and the genuine regret and worry make you quickly judge him as a safe enough person to grab a coffee with. Accidents happen, and it’s not illegal to sit down with a man you just met, right?

You tell him you don’t drink drinks, but a coffee would be nice. The man raises an eyebrow when you reveal to him that you’re not only a teetotaler, you’re also a nun. 

“Ah… So you prefer a simple life?” 

He takes you to a dark, cosy cafe around the corner. His inquiry leads to a conversation on the joys of silence and simplicity, then on philosophy, faith, and the cons of modern life. By the time he grabs you a table for two, you’re already discussing how people are always on their smartphones nowadays, looking for instant gratification and pleasures and how it wrecks their brains. You both gush about how nice it is to steer away from all that. 

You find yourself talking to him with ease about your life choices. How the anxiety reached a point where you wanted to get away from all the fuss, and how much peace this solution has brought you. How you have meaning and purpose these days, and how you doubt you’d be able to adjust into a modern society anymore. He gets what you mean immediately, saying he only feels at home when he’s alone in the mountains. How he’s been alone his whole life, really, and that it doesn’t scare him anymore, on the contrary.

You feel warm and safe with him, lost inside a soft bubble you quickly create in the corner table of a cellar cafe. Perhaps it’s the dimly lit environment or perhaps it’s just him, but you have one of the deepest conversations ever with this mysterious man.

He’s attentive and curious without being your usual pervert on the sly. You’ve had enough of men looking at you like you’re the forbidden fruit after hearing about your life choices. 

This man doesn’t try to seduce his way into your pants; he listens to your insights and agrees with you on how silence does you good, especially in times like this. You wonder what he does for work and why he’s here because clearly, he’s not local. You never get to ask him because the conversation ends far too quickly. 

He receives a message on his phone, cruelly reminding you that the magical bubble has burst and you’re back in the modern world. He looks crabby about the interruption too, especially when he says he has to go.

You both agree that you had a nice talk and should continue it sometime – why not tomorrow? Same time, same place.

So you meet him again. 

And again… And again. 

You find out he’s in town for at least two weeks, but when he finally reveals what he does for work, your stomach sinks. He tells you he’s working for some private military contractor and can’t really share any details about his work. When you ask him does this mean that he kills people for money, he falls silent.

“I guess you could put it like that.”

He’s looking at his shoes when he says it, somewhat embarrassed or sad. His feet barely fit under the table, so he has them stretched out, leading to a waitress almost tripping on them one day. Your heart is squeezing inside your chest when he rises immediately and apologises like the perfect gentleman, helps the lady up and never gets insulted by the murderous glares the woman shoots at him. 

He gives you his codename, König, and that he comes from Austria, but then refuses to share any other personal details. You don’t even get to know his first name. You do talk about your childhood, you talk about your schools and what you were supposed to become when you grew up. He tells you about his love for hiking, and you tell him about your dance hobby. 

The usual “Oh? Nuns are allowed to dance?” comment has you laughing. 

“Well… I don’t do twerking, but yes, nuns are allowed to dance.”

“What’s ‘twerking’?”

It’s so funny how you seem to know about modern trends more than him. You know about Tinder and TikTok through your friends; it’s just that these things are really not for you. Still, this König knows even less about dating apps and internet challenges than you. 

It makes you intrigued: he could have dozens of women right now if he wanted to. And not only because he’s attentive and kind: he’s so big and tall that most women would beg him to whisk them away. All he needed to do was go to a hookup site and deal out some likes. 

Most of his muscles are packed in the shoulders and chest area, making it challenging for him to fit through a door. You can see he hasn’t skipped a leg day either, and immediately chastise yourself for checking out his butt in the coffee queue. You ignore your filthy thoughts of wanting to get pressed against those pecs again, you pay no attention to the fleeting musings on how good that short stubble would feel against your neck if he ever chose to kiss you there.

A soldier and a nun make an odd pair, but you find yourself enjoying his company more than anyone elses. He seems to wait for your meetings with eager but polite enthusiasm, too. You know it’s an attempt to make you forgive his choice of career when he reveals to you that his best mission was when he saved thirty women from sex trafficking. And it does make your heart crack open a little. Killing is a sin, but he has tried to protect life in his own crude way.

You start to include him in your prayers. First, you ask for the Lord to guide this man away from the path of killing. Then, slowly, you ask him to be protected from harm, you only pray for him to be safe. 

And you say nothing of this new acquaintance to the others. You ought to, but your lips remain sealed.

You’re allowed to have friends and visit them, and it doesn’t matter if the friend is of the opposite sex as long as the meetings are purely platonic. Which they are. This man could be your brother, you tell yourself. He could be a long-distance cousin. There’s nothing fishy going on around here, and he’s just visiting, so why would you bother to tell anyone? It would only lead to troubled sighs and concerned questions, and you really don’t feel like answering them right now.

You miss a few midday prayers, and once, your chores. The relationship turns out to be far from platonic.

König can’t even keep his eyes in check. 

They travel down your neck and land on the smallest amount of cleavage, barely visible in the loose, dull shirts you wear. They slip further down and stop to admire your breasts next, then quickly rise back to your collarbones as if this was just a mistake, just an absent, wandering gaze. You know you’re wearing a semi-helpless stare by the time he meets your eyes. The blue steel in his is completely swallowed by hunger.

You want to believe it was only a momentary lapse, but then he does it again. Actually, you catch him looking at your breasts, scanning your body and cherishing the tender spot between your collarbones more times than you can count. They’re quick, stolen moments, so harmless that you choose to stay quiet. He usually starts to talk about something trivial right after, or asks you a quick question as if nothing ever happened.

Those stolen glimpses stay with you for the rest of the day though. They give you intrusive thoughts during morning prayers and evening silence. You’ve never felt this… adored.

He has a quiet, commanding presence, and you feel like a mouse under his gaze, a mouse who’s always thoroughly examined. At the same time, he’s so polite and so charming that you can’t think ill of him. He always takes your coat and brings you coffee, always asks how your day or week has been, and actually listens to you speak. He listens to your every word with a softening glow in his eyes, a shimmer that spreads across the table and makes you feel warm all over. 

König always softens in your presence... You always tense up in his. 

Your face is flushed, and you blame it on the overcrowded cafe. You feel both safe and in danger with him, and it must be the virgin inside you talking. But you sense there’s something more at play here. He’s simply not like other men. 

You fear he’s seen hell; in fact, he must walk there every day. From what he tells you, you understand that he has suffered a lot and could use your prayers. But it’s also quite clear that he’s not a victim anymore. 

It’s difficult to see this utterly charming teddy bear in front of you, enjoying his large cup of coffee and giving you the occasional husky laugh, then imagine the same man bursting through a door and starting a massacre. Marching in some dark, dirty recess with a rifle or a shotgun in his hands, hunting down screaming people and putting down his already bleeding enemies.

Because that’s what you imagine in your mind when he tells you he’s sometimes used as an insertion specialist; a human battering ram in short.

You look at his hands around the mug, long fingers curled in search of warmth. He has short, trimmed nails and no sign of blood under them… But that doesn’t mean it’s not there.

…

"Oh honey. Soldiers are the worst," your friend sighs when you meet her at another cafe, different from where you meet your killing machine. It’s bubbly and lively and colourful, just like your friend; it’s the opposite of König, the special operations soldier who’s dark, intriguing, and intimate, just like the dimly lit cellar cafe you meet him in secret.

"He probably owns a Fleshlight," she mumbles with her mouth full of croissant.

"A… A what?"

She starts to cough at your innocent inquiry, and you know you didn’t hear ‘flashlight’ in the first place, it’s just that you’re not sure if you want to know what on earth she’s talking about now.

When she finally survives the munch she almost choked on, she politely tells you what a fleshlight is, and you find yourself not rolling your eyes, but actually thinking about König using one with need.

Christ have mercy…

"Soldiers are crazy. I once dated this peacekeeper,” your friend continues in her usual chirpy way. “Couldn't hold a conversation for his life. Unless it was about guns... And when I went over to his place, the walls were covered with pictures of naked women. It was so pathetic I had to keep myself from laughing. And oh god, now I remember! He offered me microwaved mac and cheese for dinner…"

You sip your coffee and listen politely to your friend ramble about some guy she used to date. She has a lot of these stories, and all of them are worth hearing. Sometimes you think if you’re living your unlived sex life through your friend, the way you’re so curious about hearing all the different descriptions of male genitalia and the crazy, funny, downright unbelievable scenarios that have happened to her. 

Some of the tales are so gross you’re quite happy you haven’t indulged yourself in casual sex. And at times, hearing about all the things your friend has gone through, being an onlooker to all that heartbreak and pining and loss, has managed to strengthe your resolve.

Being a nun isn’t so bad... At least you haven’t wasted your time on shallow men.

"He put so much chili in that shit that my makeup started to run," she continues her story about the poor excuse for a dinner and a date. Usually, the food leads to sex in these tales, and you’re a hypocrite for wanting to hear more.

"Did you sleep with him…?"

"After that? No thanks," she looks at you and raises an eyebrow. "I pretty much fled the building."

Even the most sad, pathetic, crappy tales make you both laugh, especially if enough time has passed. You laugh now, too, both at your friend falling for a man simply because he was a hot soldier and at the poor man who was in obvious need of an interior designer and a cook. Or a girlfriend… Or a mom.

"Look. I'm saying this because you're my friend." She says after wiping a few tears from her eyes, "And because you’re a virgin and a goddamn nun. Like come on, how many years have you been locked up in that dreadful monastery?"

"Convent," you correct.

"Whatever. I'm telling you this man is just looking for some easy pussy while he's deployed."

“I wouldn't call a nun an easy…ugh, you know.”

“Perhaps he likes a challenge then, “ she shrugs. “Men like to hunt.”

"It’s not like that,” you quarrel, trying to ignore the way her lips purse with amusement. “He's been very nice to me and… we have these great conversations. We talk about really deep stuff, you know? He explained the difference between Schopenhauer and Kierkegaard to me last time we met–"

"Ok, that's even worse. That's a red flag."

You look down at your beverage, sullen and beaten. She’s the first person you’ve told about meeting a man over a coffee, and you’re already doing it wrong.

"Does he ever look at your tits?" She asks all of a sudden.

"What?"

Your friend crosses her arms over her chest and tilts her head, looking like an overly self-satisfied detective.

"Do you ever catch him staring at your breasts," she rephrases the question as if she’s talking to a lame person.

"Well… Uh. Yes, sometimes–"

"Well there you have it. Man's just bored with his fleshlight."

"Shh! Keep it down, would you…? Good God..."

"Don't take the name of the lord your god in vain," she chimes. “But seriously, it’s no wonder. If only we could get you out of that convent, there would be a line of men at your door.”

“Oh for God’s sake…”

“No, seriously. We’re talking about fistfights and broken bones. Dating apps would explode. People would get killed.”

You roll your eyes - your friend always loves to exaggerate things. If anything, you’re scared of men, and you loathe the dating world. You’re put off by shallow commitments and one-night stands and getting ghosted and God knows what else. That’s why you became a nun: to find something stable in your life. You always told your friend that Jesus Christ is the most stable man you’ve ever met, and you will stick with him. As always, your friend was not on the same page with you.

“Stable? Excuse me, but didn’t he start a riot or something at the temple? Are we talking about the same dude who lead an uprising against the Romans? Hung out with whores, raised corpses from the dead, fucked around and found out until someone nailed him at the cross? Stable my ass!”

“Look, even if he wants something more, I’m not up for it,” you try to convince - both yourself and your friend.

“Mm. What a shame,” she smirks. “Is he handsome?”

“Yes, but–”

“Mmh. Deep voice?”

“Umm… It’s memorable?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know,” you cry. “Okay fine, it’s nice and deep and I like it. And I love his laugh,” you confess, and your friend does a silent little ‘yay’ and ‘I knew it’ cheer. You know it would be a field day for her if you finally got laid. As cliche as it sounds, you’ve always treated your friend as some sort of devil’s advocate.

You allow yourself to gush a minute, maybe two, about his muscles to your beloved devil. You tell your friend about his broad back, how wide his shoulders are, you tell her about the easy smiles he always sports with you. You describe the tactical pants and the snug black t-shirts he wears in detail, you confess he has a nice butt and that he’s so big he can't even fit the table. 

You tell her how König starts to talk with his hands if he gets excited and how you have to fear he’s going to knock something over and make a mess. You tell about his blue eyes and the way they always soften when he looks at you, and looks at you often. All the time, really. He doesn’t even see other women, uh, you mean, other people in the cafe. He’s polite to the waitresses but never fully acknowledges anyone else but you.

Your friend's enthusiastic grin turns into an uneasy, pitying smile when she realises how deep into this man you actually are. 

"I'm sorry babe… Someone has to give you the tough love," she reaches for your hand across the table. "Do you understand that if this guy is not working for the regular military, he's probably doing some war crime type of shit?"

The way you rush to defend your steadfast soldier who probably has his hands covered in blood, would make your abbess sigh.

"No, no, actually, he's working against these human trafficking cells–"

"Ok, he shoots human traffickers too, that's great. Good for him. You're still about to step into a pile of traumatised, immature, emotionally unavailable soldier shit. Trust me."

"Just because your soldier was like that doesn't mean mine has to be," you blurt.

Gosh - that was a good old Freudian slip...

"Yours now, is he?"

"No, that was… It just slipped."

"So you've actually thought about banging this guy?"

"What?! No."

"You have," she insists with a widening smile.

"No. No, I–"

"Oh my god. You're about to forsake your vows," she brings her hands together in excitement. "Oh my god, oh my god. This is amazing!"

You feel your lips snap into a thin line.

Just whose side is this woman on? Does she want to protect you from heartbreak or push you into some man's lap just for shits and giggles? 

If you're chosen by God, your friend is chosen by the Devil, that's for sure. Nothing exciting ever happens behind the walls of your 'monastery', nothing but endless prayers and boring lectures and monotonous chores. Of course she thinks it's about time you got a round of good dick. She just wants to hear a filthy story when you return from your secret little fling, a fling that could get you kicked out of the convent for good. 

"How tall is he exactly...? Does he have big hands?" 

Your friend's eyes are shining with excitement - apparently the possible war crimes and atrocities König has committed are forgiven and forgotten.

"What does that have to do with anything…?" 

"I can tell you what to expect in the dick department," she smiles with an impish grin.

You eventually leave the cafe with a dirty soul and a skittish heart.

The way your friend described your new acquaintance's probable blessings in the "dick department" left little to the imagination, and now you're actually scared. 

This man has been so polite towards you, so kind to you. He's offered you coffee and pastries and cake along with an intellectual challenge, but now it's all ruined because all you can think about is what's inside his pants. How big his hands are, and how they correlate with what's downstairs. How nice it would feel to lay under him, with his chest pressed against yours, how divine it would be to get pinned down by him. How those strong, narrow hips would fit between your legs, broad shoulders eclipsing the view above as he slowly crawls on top of you. How he'd kiss your neck, your collarbones, your mouth, with such hunger that your legs eventually give in and spread wide open.

You return to the convent with a heavy heart and distressed thoughts, but find some solace in your evening prayers.

Nothing has happened, you remind yourself; these are only thoughts. You have seen a man who's interested in you for half a dozen times. You took part in a shallow, mundane, earthly conversation today with your friend, but nothing carnal or wrong has happened. Everything is the way it has always been.

You’re safe now, completely safe here. There’s no chaos and no guns and no tall men with big dicks, no Austrian war criminals trying to seduce you and then discard you after their deployment ends. 

There’s only a man with a kind smile, warm eyes, and a nice, husky laugh. Some good coffee with distant notes of chocolate and perfectly civil conversations about European philosophers and the crisis of modern thought.

Sturdy walls support you; they have held you for centuries, and the crucifix above you has given hope to so many people before you. The ever-safe embrace of your faith envelops you, and you can always trust that you are loved, even when you’re flawed and incomplete.

Even with indecent thoughts, you can pray for mercy and ask for forgiveness. Even if you have impure urges towards your Austrian mercenary, you can still pray for him... It’s the least you can do to repay the kindness he has given you.

But the heaviness follows you to your room; it makes your chest feel dark and thick. You don’t say your last prayer before bed. You don’t want His eyes upon you tonight.

You don’t want to draw the Lord’s attention to you while your hand travels down beneath the sheets, your thoughts wandering to a certain god-like soldier with eyes like burning ice.

…

The next time you two meet, he crosses a clear boundary. 

König has started to take you for walks, sometimes suggesting you two could visit a museum, clearly wishing you’d show him around the city. In truth, he’s the one parading you around like you’re his cute little lady. He pays for your museum tickets and brings you ice cream while you sit on a bench at a park, grabs your arm to draw your attention to a few swans swimming in a pond. And that’s ok - physical touch like that is ok. Holding hands is not.

Because…

One time, when you’re walking down a hill path, admiring the sunset, a big, warm hand wraps itself around yours. 

It finds you in silence, envelops your tiny palm completely, squeezes you softly and emanates so much heat that a cord of fire shoots across your arm and straight into your heart.

You allow yourself to bask in the warmth of the huge, calloused palm for a few more seconds before ripping your hand away. You take a few hurried steps and turn, noticing he has stopped to look at you with guarded hesitation.

“I’m sorry,” you apologise even if König is the one who went off limits, “but this is not appropriate.”

“Entschuldigung… I know. That was out of bounds,” he raises a hand over his heart and bows his head a little, watching you from under his brows. You could keel over from how the gesture reminds you of Arthurian romances, of knights who place their hand on their heart to swear they’ll never disgrace a lady again. 

Instead, you nod, your soul saved but your heart sinking like an anvil dropped in the sea. You’d want nothing more than for him to do it again, to grab your hand in his and never let go.

The rest of the walk happens in awkward silence, and you thought he would keep his distance - Christ, you thought you would keep your distance - but he insists on walking near to you, and so you continue down the path with your fingers still touching each other every now and then. You don't even try to move your hand away.

I’m going to die, you scream internally while looking at the bleeding sunset in the distance. You can’t look at him; you can’t even talk to him. It’s like your body is pumped full of some drug these days.

Falling for someone so hard is making you feel faint; your insides are churning and turning and your brain is a mess. Your heart is racing so fast that you’re afraid you’ll end up having a heart attack one of these days.

He’s probably used to this: the thrill and the adrenaline, a world laced with rush and extremes, indulging in things such as guns and explosions and blood and women and darkness.

You only have your safe routines, your sisters, a few friends you meet over coffee, a family you visit thrice a year. You’re not used to being bombarded with hormones and raw emotion like this. You have never, ever lusted after a man like this. The only thing you ever craved for was another slice of cake.

“Do you still want to see me?” He asks apologetically when you approach the convent which has now started to resemble a frigid, uneventful prison.

“Of course,” you hurry to say. “Just… No more holding hands. Ok?”

“Ok,” he chuckles softly, and you stop and turn.

He’s never been this near to where you live, and you’re afraid someone will see you if he escorts you to the door. You can’t be seen with a man in your current state, that would be a catastrophe. Anyone in the building could tell that this friendship is far from platonic.

“I’m sure you’ll find some other girl to… hold hands with,” you say, hating how bitter and self-pitying you sound. You even swallow when you look up into his eyes. They’re so soft now that the ice has almost disappeared, devoured by longing, a thick and sinful darkness.

“What if I don’t want some other girl?” 

His voice is so wickedly gentle too.

You can see he’s fighting an inner battle to not touch you again; he’s standing toe to toe with you, towering above you, with his shoulders slightly hunched. If someone walked behind him, they wouldn’t even see you’re there because of how close you two are standing to each other. You can’t back away from him because you’d bump into a tall iron gate - in fact, you’re half-pressed against it now. 

“I’ve enjoyed our conversations,” he continues with a throaty voice. God, how you would melt if he used that voice in bed…

“So have I,” your voice comes out as a wavy whisper. “But there can’t be anything more than that... I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too,” he laments, but the corner of his mouth curves slightly up. “So sorry you wouldn’t even believe…”

It’s mischief and seduction, darkness and deception, and your insides squeeze into a tight little knot.

“Please… Let’s just keep it the way it was,” you plead with eyes that beg the complete opposite.

“Sure... I will try my best, Kätzchen. Is this your convent…?” 

You wonder if he’d pay you a visit if you told him where you sleep. You wonder if your single bed would creak if he tried to make love to you on it... You wonder if you could muffle your cries when you clenched with him inside you. If he’d groan too loudly when he reached his peak…

“It’s just around that corner,” you explain with a frail voice, hating how it betrays every single thing that crosses your mind.

“Good to know,” he replies, with no shakiness to his voice at all. He seems to enjoy making you so flustered; he seems to draw strength from people weaker than him. Which is probably 99 % of the population…

“How so,” you peep, already praying that he wouldn’t come to try his luck with the poorly locked windows. The back door is always open too because some of the nuns are smokers. König wouldn’t even need to use his insertion skills to get in.

“Now I know where to find you if I come to work here again,” he shrugs as if innocent. As if his eyes didn’t betray a few filthy thoughts too.

“Are you… Are you leaving then?”

“Soon.”

Your heart is about to break after two weeks of knowing some random guy, and you feel like the silliest woman in the world.

You try to remind yourself of what your friend said: this man just wants some easy pussy. He’s just bored with his fleshlight. Men like challenges, they like to hunt. You think about Lucky Luke and all the other cowboys who came and went as they pleased, breaking hearts and then riding into the sunset.

This cowboy only got to hold your hand though... And he’s saying he doesn’t want “some other girl”. Of course there’s a chance that he simply visits a brothel after discussing philosophy with you, or goes to a club or whatever, but you don’t want to entertain such horrible thoughts. 

“I’ll miss you, then,” you try to sound neutral while he’s looking down at you like you’re his first love.

“Ganz sicher, I will miss you too. Perhaps I’ll visit you, work trip or not?”

“That would be nice.”

“It might take a while. But you won’t forget me, ja?”

“Of course not. I will pray for you every day,” you smile with a good amount of affection. It has the same effect as saying something like “I want to blow you right here on this street” because your Austrian giant gets visibly excited. His breath quickens, and his eyes start to wander again. 

“...Are you sure I can’t hold your hand?”

You give him a shy smile, then quickly guide your eyes to the pavement. This König is definitely taking it as some love confession when a girl says she will pray for him. Your insides turn to jello when you see his hand close into a loose fist, then open with a spasmlike stretch. He wants to touch you so badly that he has to physically fight against it.

“No…?” He inquires high above you, so desperate that you’re quite sure he’s not frequenting any brothels in the area. He might stroke his cock to the thoughts of you, though…

You shake your head softly, then raise your eyes back to his. What a silly, silly man. If only you weren’t a nun, you’d let him do whatever he wants with you. Even abandon you after using you in every which way, because to be under that adoring gaze is worth a thousand heartbreaks.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

There’s more desperate hope in that question, and you wonder if tomorrow is the last time you’ll see each other. Soon could mean anything, but you can’t bear to hear the exact time and date when he leaves. Not tonight.

“Yes. Same time, same place,” you agree, then flee from under the dark, adoring stare to the safety of your cloister. 

[sitp-recs]

top 10 drarry fics by the sheer force of the feels they gave you? not necessarily good feels! things you remember primarily because they hit hard in some way.

obviously, i'd also love to hear exactly how/why they hit hard if you're up for sharing that!

Oh that’s such a wonderful ask, thank you! I’m sorry for the late reply, the 10 fics came easily bc whenever I see those titles I get immediately transported back to where I was and what I felt reading them for the first time. But putting into words what exactly makes them heartkick-y for me was a bit more challengeging. It’s usually a “when you feel it you know it” kind of thing (and quite literally too, as sometimes it manifests as an actual physical reaction!) but more often than not the fic just clicks for me and there’s no rationale behind it. As Clarice Lispector said: “I suppose that understanding myself is not a question of intelligence but of feeling. It either touches you, or it doesn't."

Anyhoo, I tried my best to keep this short and sweet but since I’ve written individual recs for almost all these fics, I thought I’d include them too :) thanks again, this was super fun! And I’d love to read about your picks as well 👀

An Emerald In The Sky by corvuscrowned | my rec

it doesn’t get more romantic than star-crossed lovers doomed by time travel!!!! (see also: my thoughts on The Eighth Tale by lettered). this is my brand of melancholy, something about the constant yearning, the beauty of stolen moments in liminal space, the unfairness of it all… ugh

Far From the Tree by aideomai | my rec

fft has altered my brain chemistry and ruined me forever with its tender devastation, I had such a visceral reaction to it - to the point of feeling dizzy and feverish. a simple time travel concept (this is my kryptonite istg) but the epic storytelling! the gratification! the bittersweet ending! rereading it would kill me but what a way to go

Forgive Those Who Trespass by Lomonaaeren

easily one of the most haunting and terrifying fics I’ve ever read, one jumpscare after the other but so creative and well-written I was too busy collecting my jaw from the floor to talk myself out of it lol

Little Compton Street by writcraft | my rec

as a queer woman, this one feels extremely personal and is very dear to my heart. I’ll never forget the emotions I felt learning about queer history and finding a sense of peace and belonging. lcs feels like coming home 🏳️‍🌈

Little Red Courgette by blamebrampton

this was my first bb fic and their sense of humor just blew my mind. I was so impressed by the smooth world building, by their wit and clever political commentary. I just couldn’t stop laughing. the dialogue is so good it makes me wanna weep, I can’t explain how much joy and comfort this fic gave me

Merlin Works in Mysterious Ways by lordhellebore

full disclosure: my reading experience was shaped by the fact that I didn’t realize the tagged disability would be major and permanent 🤡 by the time I noticed I was so emotionally invested I couldn’t stop. one of the most painful reads I’ve ever endured, worth it tho

Running on Air by eleventy7 | my rec

introspective fics are my jam and this one was just what I needed while working through some shit at a turning point in my life. so I guess it was more about finding the right fic at the right time, and I’m hit by mixed feelings of catharsis and nostalgia every time I revisit roa.

Still Life (orphaned) | my rec

my definition of a perfect shortfic. gorgeous prose, flawless execution, the “nothing is happening but everything is changing” vibes I live for, one of the best Harry pov I’ve ever read and an ending that always makes me gasp in awe. few authors can write complex emotions so effortlessly as seefin, absolute masterclass

Super Rich Kids by trishjames | my rec

criminally underrated, this story broke my heart but also gave me such a THRILL. I usually avoid substance abuse in fic but something about Draco’s spiral journey felt so raw it kept me at the edge of my seat. devastating but also a surprisingly funny and exciting thriller. the range!!!

The Long Fall by tackytiger | my rec

as someone who’s never been into kid fic and family dynamics, this was a punch on the solar plexus and rearranged my whole view about this trope. I was deeply moved by Harry’s longing for a family of his own and despite not having or wanting kids, this still felt really cathartic and changed me in a way I can’t quite explain.

[saturnrevolution]

signs you're not aligned to your purpose (based on your south node)

SOUTH NODE IN ARIES You want things to manifest fast, but you lack patience and feel agitated. You take actions just for the sake of taking it, without a real strategy behind it. You feel angry or irritated with those around you. You are overly independent and do not know how to ask for help. You are frustrated in life.

SOUTH NODE IN TAURUS You are procrastinating and prioritizing your comfort before your growth. You are scared of change and stuck in a loop that brings you dissatisfaction. You are either emotionally eating or have daily habits that you know are not good for you. Your progress is very slow.

SOUTH NODE IN GEMINI You are overthinking, you cannot take a decision or once you do, you doubt yourself. You like to communicate your goals without taking real immediate action towards them. You are surrounded by people that gossip or you ignore your problems rather than face them right away.

SOUTH NODE IN CANCER You lack boundaries. You are stuck in a victim-like mentality and complain most of the time. You are overwhelmed emotionally, but don’t have practical tools to move forward. You keep falling back into the family patterns that keep you stuck in revisiting the past and in pain.

SOUTH NODE IN LEO You do things based on the validation you want to gain from others, you are concerned with how you will be perceived. You have a clear idea of how to feel better in the present moment, but no clear idea of how to cultivate a fulfilling future. You follow instant gratification with no deeper meaning or substance. Your decisions lack rationality.

SOUTH NODE IN VIRGO You are stuck in overly analyzing things, you focus too much on the flaws of others and yourself. You are paralyzed to take decisions, because you are scared of being wrong. You allow details to distract you from your dreams.

SOUTH NODE IN LIBRA You are focused on surface-level interactions and rewards, you don’t actually resonate with the friends you surround yourself with. You are stuck in a people-pleasing mentality and focused on finding the perfect love or career that will magically solve your problems.

SOUTH NODE IN SCORPIO You are stuck in fear and let it dictate your decision-making. You are addicted to the idea of feeling low, you cultivate an obsessive mindset and look to connect to situations or people that mimic chaos. You crave stability, but you run away from it. You isolate yourself.

SOUTH NODE IN SAGITTARIUS You are always looking for the next adventure, without spending time with yourself and your thoughts. You run away from your own mind through instant pleasures. You don’t create real connections and prefer to keep the distance. You seem positive, but don’t address your mental health as much as you should deep down.

SOUTH NODE IN CAPRICORN You are a workaholic or you have built your personality around your career achievements. You prefer to keep the distance and don’t show your vulnerable side. You have high expectations of yourself that are impossible to fulfil.

SOUTH NODE IN AQUARIUS You believe yourself to be weird and feel alienated from those around you, so you don’t try to connect. You don’t have a real sense of confidence when it comes to your talents and are too rational in your approach to what makes your heart long. Your fear the future without taking action. SOUTH NODE IN PISCES You absorb the energy of those around you and focus on how they feel rather than how you do. You prioritize your emotional wellbeing over your ability to be productive and plan ahead. You are stuck in daydreaming about your wishes, without taking real steps towards achieving them.

[3liza]

seriously though from my experience dealing with other rich middle aged men I can tell you this right here, what we are witnessing right now, is the root of much evil in the world.

guys like Matt own and run everything that's privatized and larger than a certain level of scale. these guys get put in a steel tunnel from childhood onward into this weird little knotted ball of insecurity and entitlement, with no time spent during their youth in developing any interpersonal skills at all that aren't "talking slightly too loudly at a corporate party". I've worked as a domme, and a ton of these guys start hiring dominatrices when they get to Matt's age because they're unable to maintain anyone's attention without paying for it anyway and are so crippled with insecurity they can't be honest with women in their lives if they have any. this doesn't help them much because inauthentic human connection makes things worse. exposing even mild, normalized fetishes make them shut down and lash out, but it's not just a sex thing, it's their whole lives. I've watched so many of them hit their 40s, have a bunch of money and a little power, and realize all the poor degenerates they've spent their lives treating like a spectacle or a fantasy are the ones actually having fun, and who other people actually enjoy spending time around. this is pure speculation on my part, idk anything about his personal life and am not trying to find out. the posts are enough to diagnose a dozen extremely pressing problems he will have to painstakingly deconstruct in $10,000 Ayahuasca retreats to get anywhere.

and I wouldn't be so critical about their personal failings as a class of people if they didn't make those failings everyone else's problem. they are fully aware they are fucking up but have always been able to get immediate gratification by standing still and screaming until someone brings them exactly what they need. they know they could use their money to put people in houses or feed them, they deal with this by just not thinking about it. no one has ever genuinely liked them and they're aware of this, often including their own parents. they are frustrated with women. they have zero creative outlets and no skills. even if they have relationships they don't fall in love or experience limerance. all they do is make money or handle money, they are incapable of performing real labor and are alienated from the concept of labor itself so they invent weird orthorexias and compulsive exercise schedules to feel like they're performing labor. a lot of them develop substance problems because it alleviates some of the crippling inhibition and self doubt, but that causes more problems. some of them are narcissists or sociopaths which helps them cope with the extreme isolation but a lot of them arent, and just constantly afflicted with the same problems people get in solitary confinement or being the pariah at a high school. any of them could opt out of all this crap at any time and simply choose not to. these guys are ruining everything.

[trashpandacraft]

I found fibrecraft tumblr after searching drop spindles because my dad *didn’t even know what that was.* And despite having been firmly of the opinion that I didn’t intend to learn it, y’all have me getting ever closer to giving in. However, I’m also growing ever more enamored with the idea of weaving - and despite recently deciding to give knitting and crochet another go - I think it looks the most fun of the fiber crafts. My issue is that I have absolutely no space.

But I’m beginning to realize there’s a lot of different looms and types of weaving. So I was wondering if you have any resources or tips for small space methods and storage?

welcome to fibrecraft tumblr! it's fun here, we have enablers.

i will admit that while i love knitting, weaving is amazing, and is much better with regards to instant gratification—weaving for an hour gets you a lot more fabric than knitting for an hour.

so let's talk about weaving, because i have great news for you: you can 100% totally weave in a small space if you want to, and you even have options for how you do it. i'm going to go through basically all the small space weaving options that i'm aware of in roughly size order, and if you make it to the bottom of this you'll have a pretty good overview of space-saving weaving methods.

the first question to ask yourself is what you want to weave. maybe you're not sure yet, which is totally fine. if you don't immediately have strong feelings about it, though, maybe consider if band weaving strikes your fancy. this is pretty limited in size, but lets you weave belts, straps (like camera or bag straps), lanyards, etc.

if you think that sounds neat, it's worth looking into tablet weaving, an inkle loom, or a band/tape loom. tablet weaving takes up no space at all—if you can fit a stack of index cards into your life, you can fit tablet weaving. the tablets are small square cards, often made out of heavy cardstock, and even with a project on them, you can probably fit them into an index card holder.

inkle looms are larger, and to be honest i've never used one and don't know a ton about them, but they're also used for making woven bands. the looms can also be very aesthetically pleasing, if that's something you're into. they can be very big, but the ashford inklette, for example, is only 36 cm long and maybe 12 cm wide.

tape looms are—in my experience, anyhow—larger than tablet weaving but smaller than inkle looms, and even the larger ones are only about shoebox size. they vary widely, from gorgeous, complicated little looms to a handheld paddle that you use to create a shed, which is what you put your yarn through when you're weaving.

if that doesn't sound like good times, consider a frame loom. these are pretty simple—if you ever wove potholders out of stretchy cloth strips as a kid, you probably used a frame loom to do it on. frame looms are generally inexpensive and readily available, and can be used for small woven objects like potholders, coasters, placemats, etc. they can also be used to make some truly stunning tapestries. while you can buy a huge frame loom, you're still only talking about huge in two directions—it might be as wide as your armspan, but it's still only a couple inches thick.

another option is a pin loom. these don't get mentioned a lot, and i'm not totally sure why. pin looms are shapes with a bunch of pins (metal points, usually) coming out of them. on one hand, you're limited to making things that are the shape of the loom, but on the other hand, if you've been hanging around fibrecraft tumblr, you've seen all the things crocheters get up to with granny squares, right? there's no reason in the world that you can't do all those things with the squares made on a pin loom. or the hexagons! or the triangles! i've been kinda thinking about getting a little hexagon or triangle pin loom and using it to sample my handspun, then turning the shapes into a blanket.

if you hate all of that, that's ok! we have more options.

you could consider a backstrap loom, which is an ancient way of weaving that's still practiced today in many places. backstrap looms are cool because you can weave probably 24 inches wide on them, but even with a project on it, they take almost no room at all. backstrap looms are fairly easy to diy, because they're basically a bunch of dowels, so they can be a good low-cost way to try out weaving. backstrap looms will let you make longer, wider fabric than anything else we've mentioned so far!

another option—stay with me—is a toy loom. there are a number of cheap looms for sale on amazon/ali express/some local places that are actually fully functional looms. recently i've seen a number of people (like sally pointer, though i'm sure i've seen someone using one of the brightly coloured harness looms, as well) who've used them and report that they're functional, if basic, looms. you're fairly constrained in terms of project size, since there's not a lot of space for the finished fabric to wind on, and there's a very limited width, but the looms are quite small and tuck away easily.

ok, but so what if you hate all of those options? don't worry—there are more options! this is the part where things get expensive, though.

as looms go, rigid heddle looms are actually quite reasonably sized. i think the smallest one i've seen is a 40cm (~16") weaving width, which is about 50x60 (20x24") in length/width, and 13cm (5") high. so that's more space than anything else we've talked about, but it's still not a ton of space, you know? a 40cm rigid heddle will let you weave lovely scarves and things of that nature—table runners, placemats, strips of woven fabric to whipstitch together into a blanket, etc.

but maybe that's enough. so let's talk about table looms. some of them are quite large—mine, for example, is about a metre square and sits on a frame that it came with. it is not what you would call space efficient. but many of them, especially modern ones, are very compact, and can even be folded up into something more or less briefcase sized. (weird way to consider it, since the last time i saw a briefcase was probably the 80s, but you know what i mean, i bet.) the cool part here is that you can weave damn near anything you want on a table loom. the less cool part is that for the compact ones that fold up, you're looking at hundreds if not thousands of dollars. the smallest one i'm aware of is the louët erica, which folds down to 42x62x42cm (16.5x24.5x16.5") and gives you 40cm (16") of weaving width. i feel like that's impressively small. you'd have to decide for yourself if that's enough to justify the $500 usd/$800 aud price tag, though.

finally, we've come to folding floor looms. i don't think someone who's never woven before should run out and buy one of these unless money is just literally not at all a concern for you, but they are basically the dream for those of us trapped in crappy rentals, and it seemed weird to leave them out when i'd come this far.

some floor looms are various levels of collapsible. to be clear, this does you absolutely no good at all when you're actively weaving, because you have to unfold them to weave, but it does you a lot of good if you'd like to have a floor loom and still have the ability to, say, walk through the living room when you're not actively using the loom.

most relevant to our discussion about small weaving footprints, some looms fold up entirely. they are incredibly fucking expensive and incredibly fucking cool. the two that i'm most aware of are the leclerc compact and the schacht wolf line, both of which fold up to about half of their unfolded depth. they're still not small—i think that they're both the better part of 75cm (30") wide and tall, so even if they fold down to 40cm (16") deep, they're still 75cm wide and tall. which is Fairly Large, though much better than having something 80cm deep sitting in the middle of the floor.

this was a very, very long post, but hopefully makes it clear that there's a surprisingly wide range of options, and they all have advantages and trade offs. if you're asking my opinion, my suggestion would be to try something—anything—with a backstrap setup and see how you feel about it. maybe you love it and keep at it forever, in which case you're in good company: there are entire cultures that weave exclusively on backstrap looms.

if you like producing cloth but don't love the backstrap setup, or don't like using your body to tension the warp, you have a lot of other options, and you're out maybe ten dollars of dowels.

personally, my next loom is probably going to be a pin loom. unless i win lotto, in which case it's going to be a house that has a weaving studio and like four floor looms in it. but probably a pin loom.

[paper-mario-wiki]

I feel like I've ended up in the same spot as so transmasc before me: I have a lovely cis boyfriend who loves my tits which I love for him, but I am getting dysphoric to the point I wanna lift my lips and show a lil teeth when I see his hands coming towards them. Feels bad because they are his favorite and we haven't been fucking as much because as soon as he starts touching me I am out of it™ and get all in my head and freeze up. Any advice?

good god, brother. i am utterly baffled at why you have elected me as the strategist for this problem, and i'm even more confused as to why you have chosen to go into as much detail as you have.

but.

if i were to give you some advice on this

i'd say that you should consider a conversation with your partner about the long-term plan for the relationship. a "relationship" is two lives that are connected, right? and your life is not one where you're gonna have boobs for the rest of it (or at least based on what you've told me i would assume, should you have your way, those bad boys are gettin lopped off at some point), therefore it's pertinent that it be brought up, because it concerns your life, therefore it concerns the relationship, therefore it concerns him, yes?

now, the first and most obvious thing to start with out the gate is the boundary, made clear and concise: the hills are now closed, off limits to tourists. all discussions regarding this come next. make it clear that it's about something quite core to your identity, and something that does in fact cause physical pain (a panic response from the nervous system is pain homie).

this brings some followup questions (and remember, this isn't an interrogation, it's a dialogue to share): how does he feel about this? if he's against, why? for that matter, how much does it bother him? is there something he doesn't understand about your discomfort? is there some concern he has about your financial or bodily well-being with regards to the procedure? is it because it's vital to his attraction to you as a partner? if that's the case, would their removal be a deal-breaker?

now keep in mind, these question can be brought up whether or not you've got immediate plans to engage in the aforementioned lopping-off of your aforementioned Bad Boys, because the actual point of this dialectical exercise is to create a simple, easy to navigate, easy to understand conversation, which will set a foundation for further negotiations-- should you learn something new about each other, or yourselves, or the relationship as a whole.

either way, i do not think that letting it keep happening and keeping it to yourself is a good idea. i can understand feeling guilty about withholding some physical and emotional gratification you could give "easily" to this person you care dearly for, but trust me when i say that it's not the way to let it be. not just because it's unfair to your partner to secretly grow to resent them for a reason you don't want to vocalize, but to yourself as well.

you may not know it, but by keeping it to yourself you're slowly building up a resentment. that frustration actually shows up pretty clearly in your message. and even if what you're frustrated about is only that particular activity, that activity is irrevocably tied to another person. specifically, a person that you consider to be a pretty central pillar in your life. if that resentment grows, it can evolve into anger, hatred, fear, paranoia, and all sorts of nasty things. and even aside from the emotional and psychological damage that can do, it can grow into a physiological issue, where your brain wears out more and more due to the growing emotional distress ripping through your neurons with all sorts of "emergency" chemicals. like i said, the panic response is a physical pain, even if your body doesn't feel like it "hurts".

so. to summarize.

ABSOLUTELY bring it up. if you don't, it could become damaging to your relationship, and also your actual real life physical brain.

when you do bring it up, remember that the goals are to set a boundary, and to reach an understanding through mutual conversation. it's a dialogue, not a lecture.

when you reach an understanding, figure out if the relationship needs to be renegotiated in some way. that usually means new boundaries, or expectations. or maybe nothing! though surely your boyfriend can find more things to love about you.

that's as best as i can muster. you don't have to follow it, but hopefully it'll at least give you some ideas you can use.

[ohtobeleah]

Was It Over? // Jake Seresin

-> Chapter Nine: The Pomegranate Theory

Summary: Jakes still trying to wrap his head around what’s happening with your health. Doctor Ignatii oversteps? And you settle in while Jake helps you write some of your newest book.

Warnings: Sick!reader. Breast cancer diagnosis. Jake Seresin x F!reader. Angst, hospital & medical inaccuracies. SLOW BURN ROMANCE/ Inaccurate medical information. Relationship turmoil.

Word Count: 4.3K

Author Note: My birthday present to you all is a new chapter of Was It Over. Once again I just wanted to say thank-you all so very much for all the love and support you have given me throughout this series. It truly means the world to me.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

The Pomegranate truly is the perfect symbol when comparing the differences between men and women. The enjoyment of a pomegranate is something that cannot and shouldn’t be rushed. Instead, it's something that requires patience and gentle hands. With deliberation and commitment comes the reward of its sweet, sweet flesh. 

When rushed, there is failure to collect all the seeds. Many men sacrifice the collection of its entirety for the sake of saving time. They'd rather risk the loss of a percentage of the fruit for immediate gratification. What we often fail to consider is that there may be a reason for the  dissimilarities between men and women. We tend to point out that the majority of men don't have the same attention to detail that women do instead of focusing on our individual strengths, and how they can balance and support each other. 

Instead, you chose, for the longest of times, to consider that your husband was willing to learn something that perhaps didn't come instinctively to him as it did to you. It's the energy you put into cutting and deseeding the metaphorical pomegranate that represented your marriage, but Jake never seemed to want to learn how to carefully harvest all those beautiful seeds. 

You and Jake both collectively brought so much to your marriage, you both had something to learn from one another in order to grow. But choosing resentment when you decided to step away from the man you loved more than life itself was never an option. 

Because resentment always leads to isolation: 

“Okay small steps for me Y/n.” Doctor Ignatii asked as he held your arms and stood before you. Everything hurt, everything felt wrong. Everything was stiff and out of place, but the sooner you were up and walking even if it was only a few steps here and there–the quicker your recovery would be. Having a stroke wasn't exactly defined as a step in your cancer treatment plan. No, it came right out of the left field and took you, your mother and your doctors by total surprise. “That's it, small steps.” 

“I don't think I should keep going, it feels wrong.” Your body didn't feel like your own, the ground underneath your no-slip socks felt uneven. Your feet felt like lead–heavy and weak at the same time. Your head had maintained a dull ache since you woke up post surgery that hadn’t gone away. Overall you just didn't feel like yourself and it showed. 

“Your neurological pathways need time to re-adjust to normal.” Doctor Ignatii was hopeful you'd have a pretty smooth recovery, his worry about any deficits post stroke was at a pretty low concern level just based on how quickly they were able to react to the stroke itself. “Give yourself some time, I'll touch base with the plastics department and oncology to discuss your pre-op notes prior to your mastectomy.” Doctor Ignatii explained as Jake watched with crossed arms off to the side as you took a few uneasy steps around the room littered with Christmas lights and decorations for the holiday seasons. “It's gonna be a slow but steady recovery, we just wanna make sure prior to your mastectomy that your body can handle the additional stress it's placed under while in surgery. The fact you're taking baby steps right now is a really good sign.” 

“Can I have a shower soon by any chance?” All you wanted was to not feel sticky and gross. “Is that in the realm of possibility any time soon?” 

“Only if you try to walk to the bathroom.” Doctor Ignittii replied with a quick wit you appreciated, he wasn't treating you like a sudden gust of a strong wind your be knocked on your sare and you truly appreciated the vote of confidence from your doctor. “But sure, I don't have any problem with you showering, maybe ask for some help?” Doctor Ignatii gestured over to where Jake stood just watching over you. He kept his respective distance but his eyes never left yours. He’s yet to leave your side for more than twenty minutes to grab something to eat, drink and take a deep breath. He was still trying to process how quickly things had changed. 

“Happy to help.” Jake teased as he sent you a wink, the half sided smirk was prevalent across his flustered but composed face. “Respectfully.” 

“Respectfully–” You replied as you stood on your own, Doctor Ignatti had stepped aside to let you take the lead. “You need to call our children and let them know you haven't abandoned them at their grandmother's house.”

“I should do that, shouldn't I?” Jake sighed, he'd been avoiding the call all together. With it being Christmas Eve Eve and your surgery still going ahead as planned, it was a call Jake wasn't looking forward to making. 

“I think it might be a good idea–” You slowly but surely sat down on the edge of your hospital bed, the IV poll you were gripping for dear life pumped against the side before Jake stepped a little closer to fix the tangled wires and cords. “Thanks.” You smiled softly as you watched him work.

“I'll let you know how our pre-op meeting goes, Mrs Seresin.” Doctor Ignatti interrupted with a quick tight lipped smile. “And–” Jake raised an eyebrow as your doctor paused in his tracks. “Although probably unsolicited, I've seen too many families come through these halls to know time is a fickle thing, if your kids aren't aware of your current situation, I favour the side of full transparency, no matter the age.” 

You didn't know how to respond so you said nothing and settled on a simple nod with kind eyes to match. Jake however, wasn't as graceful with his snarky growl. He was the very embodiment of a protective German Shepherd with his guard up.

“It's a good thing we didn't ask for your opinion then isn't it.” Jake snapped, he didn't mean to take his insecurities out on the man who had if nothing else saved your life.he was still trying to figure out who this Jensen guy was. But he did and it made you frown with shock horror that such a snarky comment would come from your husband's mouth.

“You’re right, I overstepped.” Doctor Ignatti held it hands up as if to say he was sorry. “I apologise, I'll be back later with an update for you.” You said nothing, you simply chose to remain silent until your doctor had left the room and silence had once again fallen over you and Jake. 

“I didn't mean–” Jake wanted to say he didn't mean to be so snappy. That he really didn't mean to bite the hand that saved his wife, But you 

“You meant it.” The tone you used broke right through the exterior of Jake's hardened shell. Despite his inability to make it known that all Jake was trying to do in that very moment was show a united front on your decision to keep your family, your husband and subsequently your children in the dark about your current situation—he still helped you back into bed, tucked your legs under the Blau and fixed your pillows. “And he’s right you know, whether we want to hear it or not the kids probably need to know why you left so abruptly.” Jake's phone had been ringing off the hook since he left his mother's house. Jasmine was persistent regardless if Jake was answering or not. Constant texts, missed calls, updates on the kids she knew he was thankful for despite his missing in action status. 

“You wanna tell the kids what’s going on?” You and Jake hadn’t really discussed it, he was following your lead on this one. Jake didn’t want to overstep any boundaries you’d set he wasn’t aware of, or had unintentionally forgotten about. He was holding off on everything, telling his sister what the hell was going on, telling his mother more than she ever deserved to know, telling the kids their mum was a little sick. 

“No—no, I wanna tell the kids, for now, that I’m just a little sick and that’s why I needed you here more than they needed you over the next few days.” You explained your view. “I don't want them panicking about me, they're young, too young to need to know the severity of the situation.” 

“Not telling them doesn't make the truth any less real, Honey–what if we tell them and–“ Jake never got a chance to finish his sentence, he never got a chance to say that if you didn’t want to tell your kids he’d support your decision regardless if he agreed or not before you interrupted to explain where you were coming from. 

“They don't need to know Jake, I can't tell them, I can't tell my children that I might be dying alright I just can't.” You were a little more harsh than need be, but the emotional weight of the situation was taking a toll on you. “But I wasn’t about to bite my brain surgeon's head off for offering a valid opinion on a rough situation.” 

“You know what?” Jake cooed as he reached out to touch your cheek, the pad of his thumb caressing your soft skin. The gentle touch brought you a solace you'd never truly understand as Jake's emerald eyes swirled with all the love and admiration in the world. “You’re right.” Jake didn't want to argue, not now, not when he could tell your emotions were running high and life seemed like it was against you. You needed him in your corner, for better or worse. “I’ll call Jas, I'll tell her what's going on, full God's honest truth and then we’ll tell the kids that you're just a little sick.” 

“Just a little–” You replied with tears in your eyes, they were pooling at your lower lash line, ready to spill and open the flood gates. “I'm sorry I didn't tell you.” Jake listened as the pad of his thumb worked to catch the falling tears that cascaded down your cheek. “I should have–you needed to know.”

“I understand why you didn't.” Jake sighed as he sat by your bed side. “I wasn't–” he began to explain but shortly after changed what he was about to say. “I put myself in a position where I could lose you, and I shouldn't have, you and me and whatever our marriage is right now isn't the priority so just know I'm not saying this to fix that.” Jake cooed as he felt his eyes watering. “Right now all that matters is that we focus on you and your health and making sure you are the only priority.” 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***

“I got you one of those pant by numbers kits and some lego flowers I thought you might be able to do to fill the time.” Your mother wore a fake smile so painfully obvious that it made your heart want to burst inside your chest. This wasn't and hadn't been easy on her, carrying the burden of being the only one who knew about your diagnosis. Now, as Jake sat by your bedside, your mother wanted nothing more than to tell him how thankful she was that she now had someone else to carry the weight with. 

But Mary wasn't about to do that, no. She wouldn't make the situation about her. But watching her little girl go through something she wouldn't wish upon her worst enemy was brutal. 

“That's really nice of you mum, you didn't have to do that.” Jake frowned momentarily when he heard you say that go to line. ‘You didn't have to do that.’ It was a sentence he hadn’t heard in a long time. You always used to say it, Jake just wasn't sure when you had stopped saying it to him. There wasn’t an awful lot of things he was going out of his way to do that would earn him a bashful or somewhat self deprecating response like that. 

“I know, but I saw them at Target and thought they might keep you occupied.” Your mothers smile faded just slightly as she placed your presents under the small christmas tree that sat on the top of the small cupboard that could be used to house clothing and personal items patients brought with them. You hadn't paid much mind to unpacking, all you had managed was your toiletries. But your mother had gone above and beyond to make the space you were taking up residency in a little more homie. “How’re you feeling anyway?” 

“I'm alright, a little stiff but Doctor Ignatii said that's to be expected, he’ll be back soon to help with the first few steps.” You knew your mother wasn't really prying about a health update, but more about a romantic one. Her eyes quickly darted to where Jake still sat holding your hand in his. He was afraid that if he let go that you'd disappear. Or worse. “A little shocked to find out my children are still in Texas but I'm sure given the circumstances I'll manage.” 

“Well at least they're supervised and with family, that's all that matters.” Your mother replied as she pushed a little of your hair behind your ear. “Have you given any more thought about cutting your hair?” 

“You were thinking about cutting your hair?” Jake finally managed the courage to jump into the conversation, he still felt like an intruder of some sort. He was still trying to process everything, the very idea that you were battling an aggressive form of breast cancer along with the fact you'd suffered a very recent stroke was all too much for his brain to comprehend. 

“I'm gonna lose it all anyway.” You shrugged as you pressed your lips together in a thin line. “May as well get ahead of the curve and shave it all off before it falls out.” Hair holds memories, in some cultures it's even considered sacred. In some religions women cover their hair after marriage for only their husbands to see, others keep theirs pure and untreated by dyes. Some women of colour from countries across the world prefer to wear their hair in protective styles that give their hair longevity and life. 

But you? You were losing yours. The keratin in your follicles had stopped reproducing, your follicles were dying off and snapping. It was a hard pill to swallow if you were being completely honest, but if shaving your hair off before you were subjected to looking like your daughters weird barbie doll was something that could help you maintain whatever dignity you had left, you were going to do it, regardless if you were slightly worried about your head being an odd shape. It beats you know, dying after all. 

“Doctor Ignatii already took a pretty big chunk anyway from the surgery.” Your mother added. “Besides, it's a little more empowering to shave it yourself than losing it over time.” Jake understood, so he didn't argue. It was your choice at the end of the day. “Now, I'm not staying for too long, I thought I'd head back to yours, tidy up, make sure the house is in order for when you're able to go home.” Before you had a chance to argue or say she didn't have to, Jake was advocating on your behalf. 

“Thanks Maz, that's perfect.” He smiled softly as the pad of his thumb rubbed against your hand. All you did was nod along in agreement, it did sound nice. Unnecessary in your humble opinion, but nice. 

It wasn't long after that your mother was saying her goodbyes to the both of you for the day, being along with Jake wasn't awkward, but it did feel a little uneasy with so much still left to discuss. All the potential what if’s and could be’s. 

“Can you please pass me my laptop?” You were the first one to break the silence that had fallen between the two of you, only the steady threthem of monitors could be heard amongst the thick silence. 

“You still working on that book?” Jake asked rather tentatively, it was a touchy subject. If you said yes then that meant you hadn't had time to finish it before your due date. Jake knew he played more of a role in that then he’d like to admit, but the idea you were still working on the same book meant the separation truly hadnt boded well in your favour to focus on your career. For Jake however, it had opened up another career advancement. The Daggers. 

“Uh yeah actually I am.” You sat up a little straighter in your bed and fixed up the blanket covering your legs. “I shelved it there for a little while.” The explanation truly was just that, you hadn't really had all that much time to work on a new publication while trying to raise three children on your own. “I picked it up again around August, just haven't made much progress with it with everything that's been going on.” 

“Do you feel like sharing some exclusive details with your number one fan?” Jake was almost unashamed in his attempt at breaking down your walls. “Who knows, I might be able to inspire some creativity.” 

“Oh you're my number one fan now are you?” You chuckled softly as you watched Jake reached into the drawer your mother had put your laptop and charger in. “And there isn't much creative freedom when it comes to writing a bibliography for true crime, unless you count ghoulish overkill and an absurd use of dark humour to cover up the truly graphic details of the world's most notorious crimes.” Jake smiled back at you as he held your laptop in one hand, the rose gold Mac with stickers randomly pleased all over the lid. 

“Don't be fooled by the good looks Honey, I can read a sentence or two without stuttering.” 

“Could've fooled me.” You fired back without hesitation as Jake faked a shot to the heart. “You really want me to read some to you?” Jake hadn't asked about your work in months. You'd stopped wondering if he cared about your career path before you decided to walk away from your marriage to focus on yourself. At the end of it all you left believing Jake had stopped caring about the things that made you simply you. 

“Yeah, of course, I mean–it would be nice to read some new material, after all–the copies I have back in North Island are pretty much falling apart from how much I tend to flick through them.” Jake had never been a big true crime fan, that was until you published your first book. 

“Wait, you have my books? Which ones?” The revelation made your heart skip a beat inside your chest, so much so that Jake saw it on the monitor. It made his cheeks flush a crimson red at the very thought he could still make you this flustered. 

“Uh–” Jake started as he came back down to sit beside you, opening up your laptop and placing it on the small but practical table that could go over your legs. “I have all five.” Jake would read the dedication every night before he went to bed and every morning before he went to work. They were all slightly different but the sentiment remained the same. His favourite one to read was:

“Dedicated to the man who loves me so, thank you for your service, I love you with all my heart.” 

Jake knew deep down, after all the two of you had gone through, after all the hurt he’d unintentionally caused with his emotional disconnect, that the dedication in your newest book wouldn't be for him. It would be for your children. 

“You've never told me this before?” Jake should have told you, he should have been more open, more honest about his feelings. He shouldn't have lost sight of what was truly important to him and it definitely shouldn't have taken losing you to realise how important you were. Jake had never known female rage until he dealt and fought with a woman who was feeling undervalued, unappreciated and unwanted. 

“I should have, I know that now.” It was only a small gesture at the bottom of Everest itself but Jake knew now was the time he had to really put the effort in, to show you he truly cared, that he really did love you in sickness and in health. “I'd really like to sit here and maybe I can read what you've written so far out loud so you can just rest–and if there's anything you wanna change, I can do it for you.” 

“Oh you don’t have to—“ Your sentence trailed off into nothing as you looked into your husband’s eyes, searching for an ounce of hesitation or burden in them. But all you saw were those emerald green eyes staring back at you with all the love and warmth in the world. Jake wanted to do this, truly. “Sure, yeah if uh—I’d really like that.” 

It felt nice to be taken care of, to be valued and loved. But it wasn’t enough to undo the damage that Jake had unintentionally caused. He was going to have to put the work in, fight for you as much as you had to fight for your life. 

“Okay.” Jake smiled as he cleared his throat and turned the laptop his way. “Alright Honey, let’s go from the top shall we?”

“Take it away Mr. Ghost Writer.” You cooed as you settled into your hospital bed and found a comfortable position, if anything you were feeling rather tired. Maybe you’d be able to get some more sleep soon—that wasn’t such a bad idea. 

“In the early hours of January 1996, after an evening spent celebrating at Club Bayview in the Perth suburb of Claremonth, 18-year-old Sarah Spiers called a taxi to nearby Mosman Park. But when the cab arrived, she’d already gone. Sarah was never seen again.” Jake read out loud as you listened and laid there wondering if this was all some Lavender Haze to mask the reality that your marriage was over: 

 Or really how Jake wanted the two of you to be. Together again, in sickness and in health. 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***

“Just tilt your head a little.” Jake was being as gentle as he ever could be. “Let me know if I'm hurtin’ you.” The steam from the shower filled the bathroom as you sat on the little shower stool. The hot water cascaded down your naked self taking all the grimy sticky remanence from surgery away with it. 

“Feels perfect.” You sighed in relief at the feeling of being clean once again, Jake stood behind you washing your body with a small lofa in soft circular motions. Under the water with you. It wasn't awkward to see each other so exposed, however, given the circumstances, you felt incredibly vulnerable. “Can you get my neck a little more?” Jake obliged to your request and moved the soap free suds around your next. It felt surreal, otherworldly even after the last few days. You let the silence fall around you as you reveled in the sensation of Jake's hands roaming your naked body in a not so sexual way. It felt nice to be touched in such a way that made you feel safe. 

“Jake–?” Your voice sounded softer than it did just a few moments ago, your eyes lingered over to the sink where in the corner of your eye, you could see the clippers you’d bought with you to the hospital in preparation for this very moment. Originally you were going to do it yourself, then, you thought perhaps you could ask your mother–but now, sitting under the stream of steady warm water with Jake helping to cleanse your weakened body post surgery– you knew you had to ask him. 

“Yeah Honey?” Jake cooed as he washed your body, being ever so careful to not knock and bump the cords and wires that were still attached to your arms. Doctor Ignatii had assured Jake they could get wet–but he was still sus.  

“Will–will you shave my head?” The silence that followed as deafening as you felt Jake's hands nearly came to a complete stop. “I just–I dont think I'm strong enough to do it myself.” Again, Jake's silence was all consuming. “You don't have to if you don't want to, I uh–i understand if it’s too big of an ask–I can always ask mu–” Before you could go off on a tangent, Jake was interrupting as he came around to kneel before you. 

“No, no Honey, of course I'll help you.” Jake made sure to clarify. “It's just–it's just no one ever prepares you for your wife to ask you to do something like this.” You saw the sadness in Jake's eyes, the understanding and compassion. “But of course, yes, I'll do whatever you need me to and if being your barber is something you need then consider me the best in the biz.” 

Your heart couldn't contain itself inside your chest as you reached out to caress Jake's scruffed cheek. For whatever reason, you couldn't stop the worlds from escaping your lips. 

“I love you–” The Pomegranate truly is the perfect symbol when comparing the differences between men and women. The enjoyment of a pomegranate is something that cannot and shouldn’t be rushed. Instead, it's something that requires patience and gentle hands. With deliberation and commitment comes the reward of its sweet flesh. 

Jake knew it was the environment, the situation and the fear of being slowly taken by disease, but he couldn't help but to lean in, cup your face and kiss you like he’d missed you everyday since you left him back in January. The slow pull of desire ached in Jake's chest as your tongue danced with his: and as he pulled away to let his forehead rest against yours? He allowed himself just a single moment of reprieve: 

“I love you so much Honey–oh so much.” 

***~***~***~***~***~***~

Tags: @blindedbythelightt @starset21 @tayl0rhuynh @mamachasesmayhem @marvelogic @itsmytimetoodream @maverick-wingman @kodzukenmaaa @eternalsams @seitmai @nota-professional @jessicab1991 @hardballoonlove @senawashere @lafrone @fanficfandomlove @withahappyrefrain @dizzybee03 @maisie-rebloging-blog @goldenseresinretriever @a-reader-and-a-writer @sunlightmurdock @shelbycillian @memoriesat30 @accioprocrastination @the-aspiring-fanfic-writer @athenabarnes @eternallyvenus @emma8895eb

[acidxinxwonderland]

you're bound to get burnt

18 plus smut shot! Minors DNI!!!

Pairing: Glamrock Freddy x F!Reader

Summary: On an outing to meet your friends for dinner with Freddy, you find yourself getting a bit frisky underneath the table. This inevitably leads you to a punishment from your lovely boyfriend.

Word Count: 6.8K

Tags: Size Difference, Size Kink, Robot/Human Relationships, Public Play (sorta), Female Reader, Top Freddy, bottom reader, Orgasm Denial, Light Bondage, Discipline, Overstimulation, Multiple Orgasms, Bratty Reader, Established Relationship, Blow Jobs, Vibrators, Vaginal Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Butt Plugs, you made feddy angy, Dom/sub, No Beta We Die Like Afton, Praise Kink, Large Cock A/N: Long time no see! I have brought you a meal right off the stove, it's a big one too!

This poor one shot has been sitting on the back burner for far too long, finally got the motivation to finish it.

It's not completely polished, I'm quite sicky and my head feels funny. I hope you enjoy nonetheless! <3

AO3 link if that's more of your style: https://archiveofourown.org/works/52475623

Tonight was the night to celebrate one of your friends, Emily, graduating from college. It was just a small get together, you, Freddy and a handful of others were heading to a nice restaurant to share some drinks and talk over good food. 

There was no denying you’re elated, a bounce in your step as the two of you walk hand in hand to the main entrance. Every time you frantically looked up at Freddy you could see his eyes laden with both adoration and amusement, he couldn’t blame you; it was only a few months ago Freddy’s sentience was proven and he gained rights. Since it was all so fresh, the two of you haven’t been out together very often, it was basically like dating a celebrity. 

Yet this was the night for you to dress up and spend time with your boyfriend, who can’t eat, but at least gains gratification for you enjoying a simple pleasure of life such as this one. You had a feeling this was going to be perfect.

The two of you walk into the restaurant and not to your surprise, heads turn. Freddy immediately stops in place once he notices all the eyes on the both of you, leaning down to talk quietly near your ear.

“Are you sure you’re going to be alright with…” His glowing optics dart around the room. “All these eyes?” 

You look around yourself, a heavy feeling settles on your chest at the people who were blatantly staring at the two of you or trying their best to avoid the sight. You almost regretted everything, wearing your prettiest dress and doing your makeup, helping Freddy pick out a nice button up and pants to wear. Although you feel a squeeze on your hand from the bear and all those strong feelings are pushed down as you look up to see kind optics. 

“We can turn around if need be.” He was confident in his words, showing that he was willing to do anything to keep you comfortable. 

You feel that familiar flutter in your heart, the kind that reminds you why you fell in love with Freddy in the first place.

“You know what? Fuck it.” You finally say, looking forward only to be brought right back to him with the squeeze of your hand that was clearly a warning. 

“Language, superstar.” His tone was mixed with both sternness and admiration, you give him an apologetic smile. “Although I am very proud of you for pushing through this. We got this.” 

You nod your head firmly. “Yeah we do. Let’s get in there and kill it!” 

“Yes! Although without killing anything, preferably.” 

You snort, rolling your eyes as the two of you finally make your way to the server. You couldn’t tell if he was doing a really good job at keeping it all together or if he truly just didn’t care less about Freddy’s presence. 

Once you give him your friend's name he leads you to the table. It was a bit secluded in the corner, your friends already sitting around the large, round table and looking down at their menus. 

“There you guys are!” Emily says with a big smile, rising from her seat to give you a warm embrace.

“Hey! Congratulations.” You reply, taking a step back to give her shoulder a gentle squeeze.

“Thanks, couldn't have done it without your emotional support.” The ginger glances at Freddy, smiling warmly. “And you too big guy - get over here.” 

“We are always happy to help.” Freddy envelopes Emily into a hearty hug, leaving a big smile on your face from the heart warming sight.

After exchanging greetings with your three other friends, Freddy graciously pulls out a chair for you. As you take your seat he settles down beside you. 

There is a big smile on your face, you probably looked ridiculous despite the loving look the animatronic bear had on his features that told you otherwise. Part of you wishes it was just the two of you but you know this won’t be the last time you dine out with him. 

Drawing your chair closer to him, a pang of sympathy hits you—wishing he could partake in something as simple as enjoying a meal. He always insists he's content just watching you savor each bite, but you can't shake off the lingering thought in the back of your mind.

“What should I have?” You hum out, enjoying the way your arms brushed together. “All of this doesn’t seem very… Appetizing.”

“Of course it doesn’t, because it isn’t my cooking.” He says in this playful tone. “Hm… Why not the cheeseburger? You always seem to enjoy that!” 

“Mm, yeah, but only when you make it. You really did ruin other people making food for me.” 

He lets out a soft laugh, wrapping an arm around your shoulder to pull you closer towards his metal frame. “You’ll be alright.” 

You enjoy the closeness, his perfect mechanized laugh and the coolness of his metal that invigorates you. It was safe to say you’re utterly in love, with other relationships the honeymoon stage has never lasted this long. 

A waiter comes by to take your orders, he was close to asking what Freddy wanted but evidently stopped himself. It wasn’t long until your food came to the table, your cheese burger looked decent enough. Your friends immediately called you out for ordering something so simple but like always, Freddy went right on their cases, speaking in a matter of fact tone why you chose what you wanted. 

Conversation around the table flows seamlessly and you find yourself having a wonderful time, relishing in the company of others but especially Freddy’s. He was just so close to you, sometimes it made you frustrated how hard your heart still pounds whenever you’re near.

Irrevocably in love is what you are, nothing could hold a flame towards how you feel about him; of all of the people in the world you chose him to be your life partner. You appreciate him and everything he does, and now more than ever you have the desire to show him just how much you worshiped him.

An idea sparks in your mind, a very daring one. A plan that might catch Freddy off guard, yet welcome it all at the same time. With a mixture of excitement and anticipation, you prepare to turn this thought into action.

Your hand starts off by just laying on his large thigh, it was clear he thought nothing of it, but once you trailed up a little more his head snapped over to you. You look up at him to give him a soft smile only to be greeted with a look of warning in glowing blue eyes. A gaze you know all too well. 

There was something that always bubbled up whenever he looked at you like this, a feeling of pure defiance. You turn your attention back to your friends, acting as if you were doing nothing wrong as your hand nudged upwards just a little further. 

You’re getting close to what you desire to touch, feeling your thighs push together at the mere thought of his heavy cock. You are having a hard time keeping focus, your pinkie just about to brush against him until you hear a deep, gravelly voice whisper against your ear, “You know very well you’re playing with fire superstar. Are you looking to get burnt?” 

There is a hard shiver that runs up your spine, the dominance clear in his words. It was tantalizing, fueling your insatiable need to continue.

You give him an innocent look, not only to look inconspicuous for your friends but also to drag out that low growl that rumbled through Freddy’s metallic chest. You drag your hand up, biting back the gasp once you feel how hard he already was through his pants.   

He gives you a glare as your lips tug up into a smug smile. You give his growing bulge a small squeeze and his eyes widen, it was clear he wasn’t expecting you to be so forward.

Freddy’s giant metal paw wraps around your wrist tightly, instead of pushing it off he pushes your hand down. You bite down on your lower lip at the feeling of the outline of his cock, it took everything in your power to not leave right then and there so he can have his way with you.

The plan you had in mind keeps you in your seat, Freddy was easily sexually frustrated, it was understandable due to experiencing pleasure recently. Despite it being a bit fresh to him, he was practically a god in bed. It wasn’t easy for either of you when it came to keeping your hands off of each other. 

So you continue this process of teasing him throughout the entire dinner, you do good in acting as if nothing was happening. You talk to the others with ease, feeling a sense of confidence from your ministrations, it was one of the few times you had power over him. He couldn’t do anything, just sit there suppressing low groans that barely reach your eyes. 

You know you’re in for it later but right now it feels very much worth it. You teeter on the dangerous side, giving him firm squeezes when he converses with your friends, sometimes his words come out strangled, having to apologize and blaming it on a voice box error. 

You keep up this sweet torture till the very end of your dinner, you can feel Freddy’s frustration with you as he gives a short goodbye to the others. You give Emily one last hug before taking his hand to guide him out of the restaurant. His grip around yours was tight, not enough to hurt but enough to tell you that you should be a bit worried about what will happen later on in the night. 

Once you are outside with the clear starry sky above your head you go towards the large van with Freddy. While you pull the keys out from your purse and go to open the door you feel his large hand placed firmly on your shoulder. Just as you look back at him you are spun around and pushed up against the side of the van.

You look up to see blue optics staring harshly down at you, a disgruntled look on Freddy’s features. 

“I should have known you were going to misbehave.” A low growl leaves him after, causing the hairs on your arms to stand up.

You feel giddy from his reaction, clearly your mission was a success but you weren’t done just yet. “What ever do you mean? I’d say I have been nothing but perfect.” You bat your lashes, wanting to fuel his frustrations.  

He pushes you harder up against the van, leaning in with a dangerous look in his eyes that was ever so enticing. 

“You know exactly what I mean. You do realize what’s going to happen right?” One of the hands on your shoulders trails up your neck tenderly before thick fingers enclosed around your throat. He gives a soft squeeze as his voice comes out in a low, dangerous tone. “You are going to be ruined once I’m done with you.” 

He uses enough pressure to restrict your airway, the feeling brings a sense of pleasure to wash over you. Your face grows red, your smile only widening as you reveled in his predatory stare. “Is that a p-promise?”  

“You know it is.” He lets go of your neck and you take in a small breath of air. “Get in, now. I do not want a word out of you until we are home.” 

Freddy’s dominant energy was always overpowering, it was easy for you to fall into obedience when he used a certain tone with you that brought you to your knees. You turn around, feeling your heart pounding in your chest as you get in the van and fasten your seatbelt. 

He gets in and grabs the keys from your hand, silently fuming as he starts the ignition and smoothly drives out of the parking lot. 

You begin to play with the end of your dress as a million scenarios go through your head. What was he going to do to you? It had to be good. You capture your bottom lip with your teeth as your eyes fall onto the large bulge in his pants, he was still just as hard as before. You yearned to touch it once again, to feel its outline and hear Freddy to let out the hottest noises. 

“Eyes forward.” His harsh tone pulls you out of your trance, you can’t help but give him a slight glare before looking straight ahead. He then lets out a hum of approval, taking one of his hands off the wheel to place it on your knee. The bear rubs circles into your skin, you know it was his way of telling you that he actually wasn’t mad at you, you already are very well aware he liked playing these types of games with you. 

So what was the harm in continuing it? Despite how good the silent praise you just got for obeying felt, you still had this need to keep pushing it. You keep your eyes trained on the windshield ahead of you, placing your hand on his. You start to guide him slowly up your thigh, he doesn’t move away despite knowing what you are doing. 

Out of the corner of your vision you see him glancing over at you as you inch his hand closer and closer to your aching cunt. 

“You really can’t help yourself, can you?” His tone was gruff, giving your thigh a tight squeeze that makes a small gasp escape your lips. “You’ve been such a bad girl… I’m trying my absolute best to not pull over and take you right now.” 

The mere thought of him deep inside of you made your thigh tense underneath his touch. You know even though he was speaking to you, it did not mean you were allowed to talk back, yet right now you just couldn’t help yourself. 

“What’s stopping you then?” As soon as you ask he squeezes your thigh again, harder this time, eliciting the smallest trace of pain.. 

“Superstar.” Freddy says dangerously. “Quiet. I am not telling you again, stop making this worse for yourself.” 

You let out a sigh, leaning back in your seat and crossing your arms. You finally do as you're told, not saying a thing as he continues to drive the two of you back home. You become more fidgety once he pulls into the driveway, taking off your seatbelt and immediately getting out of the van. You walk inside of the house with him trailing behind you, feeling exhilarated once you look back to see the fiery look on his face. 

“Bedroom.” He demands and you nod your head, turning around and going straight to the room the two of you share. 

As soon as the two of you enter, Freddys large hand wraps around the back of your neck, you shiver from the metal on your skin as he brings you to the bed. He pushes you down harshly, kicking your feet apart while growling out as he pulls your dress up. “I want your hands behind your back, and I want you to keep them there.” 

As soon as you move your hands in position you feel his hand coming down onto your ass. You let out a loud gasp from the impact, your body being pushed forward as you are left with a stinging sensation on your skin. 

“What were you thinking?” He asks, swatting your other cheek. “The few times we are out in public you decide to pull a stunt like this?” Another swat. 

“I-I just couldn’t help myself!” Freddy spanks you again after you speak, causing you to hiss out from the way it burned. 

“Oh? Is that your excuse?” He runs his hand over your now red skin. “That you have no self control?” 

“Y-yes!” You choke out, craning your neck to look back at him. “You just… Looked so nice tonight.” 

He gives you a stern look and you return it with a sheepish smile. He places your hand on your head, shoving your face back down onto the mattress, groping at your burning flesh. 

“Compliments are not going to get you anywhere. Do you have any idea how hard it was for me to not ravage you as soon as I saw you in this pretty, tight dress? Yet I was still able to show some restraint, to not risk getting in trouble at a restaurant.” Freddy spanks you again, making you yelp out. “Hold still.” 

You then hear the sound of his belt unbuckling behind you. You feel a sense of nervousness, not knowing what he was going to do with it until he began to wrap it around your wrist. He pulls tight, the leather biting into your skin and causing you to let out a grunt. 

“There we go…” His hand goes up and down your back soothingly, he never fails to give you loving gestures even in his ‘scary’ moments. “I do not want you moving an inch, you understand me?” 

“Y-yes.” You murmur out, feeling your face become unbearably warm as you shove it into the mattress below you. You don’t dare to look back as you hear him walking away for only a short moment, the sound of a cap opening and something squirting out hits your ears. 

Your eyes widen as he pulls your panties down to your knees, letting out a guttural groan just from the mere sight of you. 

“You’re going to take what’s given to you. Not a single complaint out of your pretty little mouth.” 

You nod your head, a small gasp emits from you once you feel something cold and wet push in between your ass. You only realized it was a butt plug once he began pushing it past your ring of muscles. You groan out against the sheets as it goes inside of you.

“There we go, that’s a good girl.” Freddy lets out a small hum, rubbing his hands along your ass before giving it another hard spank. “Oh, the things I’m going to do to you, superstar. To think we are just getting started.” 

He grabs a handful of your hair, guiding you to stand up and spinning you around. His other hand grabs your chin, forcing you to look up at him. Maybe you should be a little more scared but you can’t help but think he is unbelievably handsome with the way his optics bore into you. 

“Initially I was going to make your pretty bottom bright red until you were begging for mercy but I realize I need something to tide me over.” His thumb brushes over your bottom lip before dragging it downward. “So I’m going to put your bratty mouth to use.” With that he pushes you down to your knees, grabbing your hair again and shoving your face against the front of his pants. 

“This is what you were wanting, right? Wanted the big scary bear to come out and show you your place?” He hums out in a chilling tone, rubbing his bulge against you. “Take it off.” Your brows knit together, with your hands bound there was not much you could do. “With your teeth.” 

You look up, having to stop yourself from giving him a glare before nodding your head. Your face was a bright red, feeling a bit embarrassed as you used your mouth to get to his zipper. You bring the piece of metal in between your teeth, pulling it down to the bottom. Pulling your head back you stare at the red boxers, not knowing where to go from here.

You hear him chuckle above you. “How cute…” He murmurs, running a hand through your hair. “Is this part too hard for you? Need some of my help?” 

You timidly nod your head, breath hitching in your throat as you watch him unbutton his pants and slowly pull it down. His heavy cock springs out, a simulated sigh of relief escaping from him.

You giggle, knowing he was so relieved because of how long you’ve been teasing him. Freddy’s optics then zone in on you, his soft touch turning rough once again as he jerks your face towards him. He grabs the base, rubbing the head against your lips. 

“Open wide, tongue out.” 

You obey his orders, keeping your eyes on his as you lull your tongue out. He guides your head onto his cock, the textured underside sliding against your tongue as he pushes his length inch by inch. He was so big, the girth stretching your lips as he made you take as much as you can. 

His head hit the back of your throat, causing your gag reflex to be triggered. A low groan escapes him from the feeling, keeping you there for a few seconds that seemed to stretch on for eternity. 

“Mm… Your mouth feels so good around me, my precious star, the thought of destroying your throat until you could barely speak sounds like pure ecstasy.” His words cause your already wet cunt to pulsate, yearning to please him in any way possible. 

Just as you begin to feel light headed Freddy pulls and pushes you on his cock with the grip on your hair. He goes slowly, seemingly wanting to watch the way you take him.

Soft groans left his muzzle, although it was clear his patience was running thin as he gradually picked up the pace. 

“There we go, look at you, taking me so well.” The grip on your hair tightens, his hips beginning to rock back and forth. You sputter and gag around him, tears welling up in your eyes while he lets out a dark chuckle. “It’s not too much for you, is it? Mm… I thought this is what you were wanting?” 

He shoves himself as far as he can down your throat, your eyes widening as you feel yourself getting more dizzy by the second. Just as it was about to get too much he begins the motions of thrusting deep and hard, making you bop your head back and forth to meet him every single time. 

All you can do is sit there and take it as he grunts and growls, gripping harder at your hair till it is teetered on the edge of pain. He begins to become louder, one of the many signs that he was getting close. You feel a deep sense of excitement, desperately wanting him to spill his seed down your throat but before you get the chance he tugs you off his cock with a wet pop. 

You gasp out once you are able to properly breath, panting harshly as tears spill from your eyes and down your cheeks. 

His eyes darken at the sight of you, leaning down and wiping the tears away with his thumb. “Look at you ruining your makeup.” He lets out a deep chuckle. “I can’t wait to see how you look once I’m through with you.” 

“T-there’s more?” You rasp, your chest rising and falling.  

“Oh superstar… We are far from over.” His loving caress on your cheek turns into a rough hand around your throat, squeezing at the sides as he leads you to your feet. 

Once again you are pushed down on the bed, Freddy wastes not even a fraction of a second as he pushes up your legs until your knees are bent, keeping you nice and spread for him. There was a glint in his eyes as he looked down at the sight before him, looking at you as if you were a meal. 

“You’re soaking wet.” He lets out a low groan as his finger traces your slick folds, purposefully not going any further. “You poor thing… All of this torture without any form of stimulation, you must be so restless.” Your body squirms as his metal finger brushes against your slit, letting out a long whine from the teasing. You try to push your hips forward but just like clockwork Freddy’s free hand grabs your waist and pushes you back down onto the bed with a strong force. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” His tone becomes harsh, squeezing at your skin. “You know better.” 

“S-sorry.” You murmur timidly, feeling your cheeks heat up as he continues to play with your outer folds. “Just… Just need you so bad.” 

“Well you should have thought of that, hm?” He uses two fingers to spread your lips apart, getting a good view of your dripping wet hole. “God… You’re twitching.” He seems memorized by the sight below him, one of his fingers brushing against your engorged clit. 

A gasp falls from your lips at the small stimulation, the anticipation being too much to bear as he gives your aching clit feather light touches. 

“Such a pretty little thing… Do you know what I’m going to do with this sweet pussy of yours?” His finger finally presses down firmly, not moving an inch as you shake your head in response. “I’m going to bring you to the edge, over and over. Even when you’re crying and begging for release I won’t give in.” Freddy does the smallest of movements against your nub, sending pleasure shooting up your spine.

“Hopefully this will put you back in your place…” He leans forward, his eyes darkening. “Below me.” 

He withdraws his hands, a long whine of pure frustration leaving your lips from the sense of loss. You are getting more and more pent up by the second, watching him with needy eyes as he grabs the bottle of lube and a wand vibrator sitting beside you. 

“T-the vibrator?!” You frown, feeling a bit worried. “That's so strong…” 

Freddy lets out a chuckle of amusement as he opens the lube and pours it on his fingers. “Oh I know superstar, I know exactly how you’ll react to it.” 

He brings one of his thick metal fingers to your entrance, tracing the edges before prodding the tip against you. You bite down on your bottom lip, spreading your thighs further to encourage him. 

Finally he begins to push in inch by inch, making you let out a pleasurable sigh of relief. He keeps it still, wiggling it back and forth before beginning to push in and out at a slow pace. 

“The urge to skip the preparations and shove right into you is stronger than ever with the way you clench around me like this.” He adds a second finger in as he speaks, giving you a thorough stretch. 

“Mm.. P-please, I need your cock so bad.” You let out small whimpers, feeling yourself unravel from the thick fingers pumping into you at an agonizingly slow pace.

“You are insane if you think you have any sort of say in this.” 

You give him a small, cheeky smile. “Mm… I don’t think that’s true, you can give in pretty easily with the right amount of pressure.” 

Freddy’s fingers still inside of you, his gaze turning into a stern glare that made your blood run cold. 

“Of course, even now you have to push my buttons.” He presses his fingers into you hard, a small grunt emits from you. “I wasn’t going to go too hard on you but now…” He uses his free hand, grabbing the vibrator and turning it as high as it goes. “Now you’re in for it.” 

You feel your heart skip a beat as he begins to thrust his fingers once again, yet this time at a brutal pace. Your mouth falls open each time his fingers brushed up against your g-spot and once the vibrator was pressed up against your clit it was game over for you. 

Your back arches up against the mattress below you, an electric jolt cascading throughout your being while he firmly keeps the vibrator down onto you. Your limbs twitch uncontrollably, looking down at him with widened eyes. 

“Don’t have much to say now, do you?” His teasing tone made you want to bite back but the knot forming in your stomach was making you lose all train of thought. 

Your orchestra of moans only grows, feeling the muscles in your thighs grow taut. Just as you were about to be pushed over the edge Freddy stops his ministrations immediately, pulling off the vibrator and halting his fingers. 

He always knew when you were about to cum, he knew every single sign.

Your walls flutter around the intrusion, a groan of unadulterated frustration pushing past your lips. 

“Freddy!” You whine out, trying to sit up despite your binded hands. 

“You stay still.” His command makes you freeze, letting out a huff as you glare up at the ceiling. “You know very well you can take it.” Once he feels as though you’ve cooled down enough he begins to move inside of you again. “Don’t you want to be my good girl? To reap the rewards of obedience?” 

An unabashed moan is ripped from your throat as he brings the vibrator back down, your walls clench down instinctively around his thick digits, the feeling of an orgasm climbing once again. As soon as he recognizes you getting close he stops, leaving you feeling incredibly hot underneath your skin. 

You look at him with glazed eyes, a pout on your lips. “Please Freddy, I’m sorry- ah!” Your words were cut off once he placed the toy back on your engorged clit.

“You’re too late for that. If you wanted a sweet release you should have behaved during dinner.” He growls out in that low tone that drives you insane with desire. 

It was all getting so overwhelming, especially when he took it off once again, only giving you a few seconds to calm down before pressing it right back down. Tears begin to well up in your eyes, unable to keep yourself quiet and still. You didn’t know how much longer you could do this, you wanted to beg for more but you knew it would only make things worse. 

Just as you were about to reach your climax for the fourth time Freddy stops completely, pulling his fingers out of you with a wet pop.

You look up at him with watery eyes and a pout on your lips, shifting in place to feel your arms have fallen asleep behind you from being bound together by the belt. It was uncomfortable, becoming almost painful. 

“F-Freddy… I’m sorry but my arms…” You trail off, looking to the side. 

“Are they hurting?” You nod your head. “Alright, sit up.” 

No matter what Freddy always wanted to make sure you are comfortable, one of the many things you love about him. 

You struggle to sit upright, shuffling on the bed awkwardly to adjust your position to grant him better access. His actions are swift, nimble fingers unwrapping the belt. The moment your hands are released a sigh of relief escapes your lips, and you instinctively reach to massage your tender skin. However, he brings your wrists into his grip, encircling them once more with the binding belt.

A pout forms on your lips from your freedom being taken away, looking up at him to whine. Yet all words on your tongue became a forgotten memory as he pinned you back down with your arms above your head. 

“Did you truly think I would allow you such freedom?” Freddy purrs in a low tone, a deep chuckle admitting from him. “You really do think I’m soft, don’t you?” 

If it wasn’t for the fact you’ve been edged so many times and your brain was complete mush you would have said yes, but now the only thing you could think of was his cock filling you up and making you scream. 

You shake your head. “N-no! I don’t, I-I’m sorry for what I said earlier. Just, please…” You whimper out, giving him a pleading look. 

Freddy brushes his muzzle against your lips, a simulated sigh of satisfaction leaving his voice box. “There we go, that’s my good girl.” He leans back, using his free hand to grab the lube and slick up his heavy cock. “Looks like I finally broke you down, hm?” 

He removes his hand from your own, yet you knew that did not give you permission to move them. You stay still, not willing to risk the chances of getting it all taken away from you as he lines himself up with your entrance. His large hand encloses firmly around one of your hips, dragging the tip up and down your folds. 

“Are you ready superstar?” He rubs a circle into your skin with his thumb.

You give an eager nod of your head, never have you needed something so bad. You keep your glazed over eyes trained on him as his thick head pushed into your entrance, a sharp moan escapes your lips as he sinks inch by inch in. The stretch was just what you needed as his heavy cock pressed into you. Your body stretches and accommodates for his size, walls clenching possessively around him.

“Please.” You manage to beg through clenched teeth, caught in the storm of pleasure taking over your body. Freddy lets out a grunt in response, snapping his hips forward until he is balls deep. You let out a loud moan from the sensation, eyes widening from the feeling of his tip brushing against your cervix. 

“You’re so tight. So perfect.” He groans, pulling his hips back half way before shoving himself in again, keeping himself still. “Just look at you, such a needy, desperate little thing. Finally giving you what you’ve been begging for yet all you want is more.” 

You let out a whimper, a pout on your lips that makes Freddy chuckle with adoration. “You are just too precious. I’ll give you what you want, my little star, but on my terms, you’re going to let me use this perfect hole for how I see fit.” “Y-yes,” There was no more fighting from you, the blistering flames of submission and arousal were too high by now. “Please, use me as much as you need. I-I’m yours.” Freddy seems nothing but satisfied, as a reward he began to rock his hips back and forth. “Beg for it then, tell me how much you need this, how you are here to pleasure me and me alone.” 

“I need it so bad F-Freddy, your dick is all I think about. It’s all I n-need. I want you to use me like I’m your whore.” You were so caught up in it all, so desperate that you didn’t even realize the colorful language you used. To your luck it seemed like something snapped inside of Freddy once you called yourself such a name. 

Freddy withdraws his hips then slams himself right in, if it wasn’t for the hand on your hip you would have been pushed up the bed. His thrusts were sloppy and fast, forcing loud moans and gasps out of her throat. 

“You feel incredible. So… Incredible.” He groans out between thrusts, each one making your eyes roll to the back of your head. 

His free hand falls upon your clothed breast, giving it an eager squeeze as your moans mixed in with his. “Want to hear you scream for me, want the whole world to remember exactly who you belong to.” Your head spun, the way he dragged in and out of you at a breakneck speed brought tears to your eyes. “Oh, oh my god!” You gasp out, wishing your hands weren’t bound so you could grab on to anything, to have some sort of anchor amidst this storm of pleasure. “S-so… So much!” 

Freddy chuckles darkly at your words, his claws digging into your hip. “Is it too much for you superstar? This is what you were wanting, you made it very clear. There is no backing down now.” To make matters worse, he removed his paw from your breast and brought it down between your thighs. His thumb wasted no time finding your clit, expeditiously rubbing at the aching bud that made your limbs twitch. Every sensation became magnified - from the feeling of his hard cock filling your depths to the delicious friction of overstimulated nerves. 

Your back arches off the bed, sobs wracking through your body as you are consumed by the intensity of it all. You feel a knot in your stomach, tightening so quick that you couldn’t even warn him besides yelling out his name. Wave after wave hits you like a roaring sea, throwing your head back as you go through the most intense orgasm of your life. He rubs you through it, but of course, he wasn’t planning to stop there. 

“There you go, doesn’t that feel nice?” He grunts out, plunging inside of you with pure force. You writhe and whimper underneath him, staring into blue optics through blurry vision as overstimulation quickly takes over. “Freddy- ah! Freddy please!” You plead, not even knowing what you were begging for. Did you want more? Did you want him to slow down? In the end it didn’t matter what you wanted, you were only able to take what was given to you. Optics staring down at you with pure satisfaction while he quickly brought you to the brink of another orgasm. 

“Please wh-what?” His voice box glitched once he asked the question, a tell tale sign he was getting close. “Please make you cum again? Please fill you up?” He chuckles, snapping his hips into you and making you yelp. “Don’t worry babydoll, I’m going to give you my all.” He leaned in till his face was a mere inch away from yours, keeping that swift pace. “Who do you belong to?” 

His commanding tone reverberates in your ears, fueling the desire that made you yearn to obey him. “You, I-I belong to you! I’m yours, all yours.” You speak between loud cries, your own words not registering as that coil tightens in your stomach once again. “Ah!” You cum again, harsher than the last, your legs kicking in the air as your cunt convulses around him. 

“G-good- Good girl. That’s my good sta-ar.” He only manages to squeeze out his words of praise before a loud groan escapes him. He pushes himself all the way inside of you that causes you to gasp as rope after rope of his synthetic seed covers your walls. 

Your body goes lax against the bed once he stills, panting harshly as your limbs twitch and move on their own accord. It was as if time itself stopped, both of you stuck in the same position while recovering from the passionate moment.  

“Are you alright?” Freddy finally asks, pride in his tone. 

You open your eyes, not even realizing you’ve shut them as you manage to muster a weak smile. “A-amazing.” You breathe out. 

“Good, I was worried for a moment.” Large paws come up to your bound wrists, swiftly unwrapping the belt and tossing it to the side. He then takes your hands into his own, massaging the red imprints. “You did such a wonderful job taking your punishment. I am very proud of you.”

Your heart skips a beat, just like it always does when he says such sweet things. “You think so? I thought I was being pretty naughty.” He chuckles, “A bit, yes. But you caved a lot quicker than what I had calculated.” Thick arms then slide underneath you, pulling you up against his metal torso as his muzzle lightly brushed against your forehead. 

“Calculated… You calculated this?” You ask in disbelief, were you just completely out of it or did he really ‘crunch the numbers’? “Of course I did, on the way home. Although plans changed, I still knew what I had in mind.” While talking he lifted you up, swapping positions so he could sit down on the bed, his cock still embedded inside of you. “You’re unbelievable.” You laugh, leaning back to stare up at him. “I suppose, but so are you.” He places another kiss upon your forehead, running a hand through your hair. “You know I was never mad at you, right?” 

“Of course Freddy, I know this was all a part of our game.”  He always had to check in with you every time, you thought it was nothing short of sweet. “You were… Really hot.” “Yeah? Not as much as you.” He hums, pulling you even closer. “I believe you deserve a reward now, how about a nice bath and then I’ll make you some hot chocolate?” You are clearly pleased by this idea, melting into his embrace. “With a movie?” 

“Of course with a movie, my starlet.” 

[jojo-oliver]

How to tumblr for artists… my own version

A collection of things that have been working for me, but may not work for everyone

~~~ your posts ~~~

!!!reblog your own stuff!!! you need to reblog your own stuff, there is nothing morally wrong with reblogging your own stuff regularly. in fact, it is morally right to allow the chance for more people to see your artwork.

~~~ queue it!! ~~~ my queue is 500 posts strong. maybe don't try to make your queue hundreds of posts strong in the same day omg but like… once every month or two i'll go through my whole blog and just scroll and "add to drafts" to every one of my own posts i have. then i'll use the "mass post editor" to add content warning tags. and add to queue, and shuffle. and then I write down what the date was for when I last added my posts to be reblogged on queue. this is helped by turning on timestamps for posts in tumblr "dashboard preferences" settings.

queueing is necessary and life saving for me. It takes out so much work with decision fatigue and the anxiety around posting. It also guarantees that even if I suddenly need time off or away from my phone, I don't just disappear and lose all traction. It also breaks the instant-gratification cycle that you expect when you finish an artwork. It's hard to keep creating when you post something and, when you're expecting to get that gratification, you get none... If you queue your new artwork to come out at a later time, you've separated that expectation - with time. It hurts less and contributes to a more consistent gratification thing instead of peaks and troughs.

~~~ tag ya stuff ~~~ when you're making a new post, the first 20 tags are what gets put into the searchable tags. do not feel shame for using lots of tags. shame is the mind-killer. tags are hard. hard to know what to tag a post with. hard to remember the tags. so I found some ways to help myself. maybe they'll help you too. dedicate some time towards just figuring out what tags you want to use. i have a list in my phone notes that i add tags to and reference whenever i'm making a new post. i have the phone right beside the laptop while i'm tagging so that i can just look at it and scroll. tags are the only way for people to find your artwork, other than people manually coming to your blog because they saw you somewhere. there is no algorithm. posting without tags, until you have an established fanbase, is throwing something into the void.

When I'm doing tag research, I look at what people seem to use - when you put something in the search bar, tumblr recommends you some that have a higher following, typically. Looks like this on desktop:

if you like one tag, look at what other people who use that tag also tag their posts with. Observe and learn how this tag is used. search through a bunch of them and write them down.

here's what i got in my notes, for the specific kind of art I post and look for:

these tags are sort of specific to me and the kind of art I make. You'll want to research your own tags, but this is an example of how I keep them organized to make posting more effective. I generally only write down a tag when it's got more than 2k followers. You might be tempted to use the tags with millions of followers, but I've actually found those a lot less functional for small artists. If your stuff doesn't immediately get a bunch of notifications, you're drowned out and pushed to the bottom much faster. But the bigger tags are better than no tags, so I keep them if I can't think of anything else to tag something with.

~~~ post at the right times….? ~~~

fridays and saturdays is when I post fresh new things... usually. every website has it's own peak hours, and you can find those hours in many different online articles that try to sell you social media growth services. tumblr is unique in having later hours.

here's some random graph from google images:

please don't over think this. please don't let this consume the idea of when to post, preventing you from posting at all. it doesn't mean too much - if you post during very active hours, maybe your art would just be pushed down the feed faster. if you post at the end of hours, maybe everyone's going to sleep… if you post at inactive hours, maybe there's less 'competition'… if you post at the beginning of active hours, maybe that's just more time for your post to circulate for the day, if you have enough people reblogging it once it drops....

this also is in EST. So fuck the other time zones, I guess. I'm over here in europe knowing that the "best" time to post would be like 2-3am or something. It's like this for most english-speaking majority sites - higher traffic in north american time zones.

it's also worth mentioning that this is scattered as heck, compared to other social media sites. and it's not like, the activity times of your followers. it's not the best time to post for your niche. this is just tumblr, broadly. all of tumblr.

~~~ Plan ahead for annual dates ~~~

Your artwork will get more circulation if it's posted on a celebratory day. You could just put them on your calendar and if you're wondering what to make, look on the calendar for what's coming soon. For example, asexual awareness day, trans day of visibility, location-specific holidays, etc. Here's my phone notes thing with my own recorded annuals:

I got these dates from googling and reading different articles, but I find that I still miss dates, and then I add them for next year. If you know of some I missed, tell me and I'll add them please <3

~~~ reblog other people's stuff ~~~

tumblr is sorta about ecosystems. things get passed around within groups of people that are all following eachother. to enter this ecosystem, you must engage and reblog other people's stuff too.

if you reblog other artists' stuff, sometimes they'll come over and reblog your stuff too. sometimes they'll follow you back. this is called becoming a mutual. I'll search specific tags for the kinds of people I want to follow and the kind of art I like - those are listed in the screenshot of my tag note under "Tags for finding new people".

I see a lot of blogs out there that are very clean, posts are tagless, and are only for the artists' content. like scrolling through a portfolio. I imagine this is good for people who are migrating to tumblr but already have their own established fanbase from elsewhere.

you don't need to do reblog other people's stuff on your art blog, you can do this on a separate blog. but if the two don't look very closely correlated, it's hard to tell who you are when you're interacting. and hard to make sure people know that you are the same person as your art blog. and you gotta remember to promote yourself on your personal blog.

~~~ have an art tag ~~~

make your blog easy to search!

if i go to your blog, and you've written 'artist' or 'sometimes art' in your bio, i wanna see it… it make me so sad when i don't get to see it. i want to reblog it. please let me reblog it :(

to make a tag on your own blog searchable, you don't need to repost it to add a tag. you don't even need to reblog it. you can actually just go back to the original post and edit it to add your tag. I've seen post people just have their art tag be something like #(blogname)art . you can see my own in my tags image above. if it's very unique, then it'll work tumblr-wide. I think that's good, since the tumblr search function is really weird. Otherwise it should still work if it's not entirely unique, people just have to make sure they're searching specifically your blog to see only your stuff.

I like to have a link in my pinned post where people can click to have immediately searched for my art tag. Convenience is king. Keep in mind that most people are on mobile, and if something isn't immediately clickable, they often won't find it.

~~~ be consistent and be patient ~~~

!!!this time will pass anyway!!! how many notes you have is not correlated with how good you are as an artist. wanting to earn something from your art means you essentially have two jobs. two potentially full time jobs. this shit's difficult. most of the job is promoting yourself. don't undersell how hard it is to do… don't feel bad for not immediately succeeding. I would write about how hard it's been to promote myself, but it would just be long and sad I think.

This isn't a full guide, please feel free to add more!!

I'm sure in another year I'll disagree with a lot of this, it will become irrelevant with time, and I'll have a lot of different opinions. Chip in and share what you've been doing? Teach me? This is very overwhelming. Don't do it all at once, just like, try one thing at a time, and see how it works for you. Your niche might be different. One size does not fit all. If you're confused about some of the things I talk about in here, you might be on mobile. I do most of my queueing and posting from the desktop browser version.

I will update this with more as things change, but I think you'll have to click through to see the updated post

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

pictures of you, m | myg

pairing(s): yoongi x reader; mentions of jungkook x reader

summary: You like taking photos of your boyfriend, Min Yoongi. Just for you. Although you've tried, and will continue to try, to convince Yoongi to to make porn. Why? Because he's sexy, that's why.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; established relationship (yg/you); mentions of sex work - yes, technically Yoongi has been in the photos with his face hidden but we'd like to see more; light smut (fem reader, intense making out, fingering, heavy petting, slight D/s themes); fluff tbh; non-idol!AU - (secret) sex worker!reader x music producer!Yoongi, mentions of video editor / photographer!Jungkook

part of _thehornedsin au, but can be read alone

-

“What are you doing?”

“I just want to take pictures of you.”

“Usually, people don’t wear Louis Vuittons and a gown to take photos of other people.”

You carefully placed one of said black heels on his chest and brought the camera to your eye, feeling and seeing a pair of hands reach up to encircle your ankle. Deft fingers fanning out to crown your step with his touch. Through the lens, you could see the open black dress shirt. Prominent collarbones, silver necklace tangled around that slim neck. Gleaming porcelain skin and parted lips. Hazy, half-lidded, dark brown eyes under smoked liner.

Min Yoongi’s long hair was messy, black, and sprawled out over the white backdrop.

You took a photo.

The side of his pink lips quirked upwards.

You make the move to remove your foot but Yoongi spread his hands over the patent leather, gripping tightly. You had only put a little pressure on the ball of your foot, but most of your weight was on your other leg standing beside his body.

You cocked an eyebrow at him, lowering the camera.

He matched your nonchalant, almost-bored expression with his own eyebrow tick.

Neither of you said anything.

You pressed the sharp heel into his skin just a little. Giving him the hint. The half-smile grew wider. A sensual sigh leaving those sinful lips. You felt him shift, his back arching a little, and the tip of the stiletto dug in deeper, indenting inward right below his ribs.

You raised the camera again and took another photo.

Looked down at it, admiring your boyfriend in the preview screen. One of his hands was further up your calf, the other along your heel, as if he was making the photographer step on him. Black satin from the sides of your gown draped along the edges of the shot, casting shadows along the bottom half. The silk dress shirt had fallen more open, pooling by his sides. Black strands draped over his forehead, highlighting his closed eyes and the masochistic gratification gently spread over his features.

You felt your inhale still in your throat.

“Yoongi, I think you should make porn.”

He smirked below you.

“No.”

You sighed in faux disappointment. After all, you got to keep the photos.

“Let me take a photo of you.”

You chuckled, removing your leg from his grasp. With force. “I haven’t put on any makeup.”

“You never need it.”

“You do with these lights. They wash you out.”

“Get down here.”

It was not that easy of a feat. Vuitton didn’t make shoes meant for immediate on-the-knees activities. The corseted, black satin gown was also a slight pain-in-the-ass, not to mention the heavy camera in your hands that wasn’t yours. Now that he was your photographer, Jeon Jungkook left a set of his work things in your home studio. Made life easier for him.

Sometimes, you borrowed it to photograph your boyfriend, Min Yoongi.

“This is better.”

Thanks to the high silt in the gown, Yoongi’s hands were on your ass and squeezing hard, long fingers digging into the softness as he bunched fabric up to your waist. Your knees on the ground. For someone who wished that he was horizontal for more than half of his life, Min Yoongi sure knew how to sit up quickly. He was pulling you to him and you were resisting, tilting the lens of the camera so the plastic hit his bare chest, keeping a measured distance between yourself and those playful dark eyes.

“At least let me put this down.”

His finger was toying with the side of your panties, slipping under and following the curve. He ticked his head. “Put it down then,” he echoed. Drew out the syllables in his deep, raspy voice.

You put down the camera beside you and him.

Careful with it.

It was a precious treasure, even more so considering the contents.

Yoongi shoved a finger into your pussy and placed his palm behind your head, pulling you into a kiss.

You wondered why he always said no. Other than being a famous music producer and all. Well, you knew that was the major reason that Yoongi would never join you in your erotic photography, but there was a difference between a I-would-but-I-can’t no and the no he gave you. The refusal Yoongi gave you was an anxious one and you wondered why that was because he was so, so sexual. On every level. From the way his long hair brushed against your cheeks, to the way he held your head, crowning his fingers around the base of your skull, to the slow slide of his finger in and out of you despite the layers of clothes, none of these obstacles bothering him, none of them obscuring the lust in every kiss, lips to lips, and you wondered why Yoongi thought he shouldn’t make porn.

Warm and wet dripping down.

He sighed into your mouth and slid in another finger, moaning into your throat.

Your fingers followed his cheekbone, his jaw, his soft skin under the pads of your touch, and you kissed him again, again, remembering that he didn’t like kissing when you first met him. He liked to fuck, of course, but he didn’t seek to kiss. Not because he didn’t want to kiss you, you learned, but because he did, and that was frightening to him, being addicted to a kiss.

All because it was from you.

“There is no one more beautiful,” Yoongi whispered, rough and breathless.

You ran your fingers through his soft locks with a contented sigh.

“I’m looking at him,” you murmured back.

His eyes darted away. A soft smile found its way to your lips. He was fully ruining your panties by shoving them to the side and firmly stuffing his fingers in all the way to his knuckles, repeatedly, sucking in a breath as he felt your pussy squeeze them, pulsing. You were more in his lap now, his erection against your thigh fighting for dear life in those loose black pants, but it was clear that he wanted this instead, your arms on his shoulders and his face in your hands, cradling the sides of his head with your fingers fanned out.

Like a blooming lotus flower.

Yoongi looked up at you again, pink lips parted.

You closed the distance, your hair falling over your shoulder, rolling your hips into his hand as you kissed him again.

I’m better with you.

I make porn. I’m not a good person by society’s standards.

Doesn’t matter, because I know that I am better with you.

Yoongi often told you his music was better now that you were his. It was experience too, but you understood what he meant, because your erotica was better ever since he became yours too. He wasn’t in the photos, but he was. In the way you posed, knowing all the angles he liked. In your selection of lingerie, keeping in mind the parts of your body he enjoyed most – all, duh – and in every photographed expression, sensual, seductive, unafraid. It didn’t matter if you were always blindfolded.

Your lips could tell a story.

He hit that depth and speed you liked.

You smiled against his lips, tangling your fingers in his hair.

Dark brown orbs watching you under lashes and you could feel the fierce love in them, unrelenting and unwavering, almost childish in stubbornness, and so what was there to fear when you had something so raw and so powerful standing beside you?

He made you even more confident in your sexual nature.

You licked his lower lip playfully.

Yoongi caught your tongue with his teeth and sucked on it, devious glint in the narrowing of his eyes.

Shallow breath, rising heat, push and pull, riding his hand as he fingered you, closer, closer, almost there and he shoved another finger in, making you gasp and cutting off the rise, the slight despair adding to the pleasure. The sound. Wet and lewd and hunger. Hard and fast and deep, so deliberate it was maddening. Shared gaze so intense it made your core clench and your pussy shiver. Soaked inner thighs, sweet heady scent of sex, so strong you could taste it even as Yoongi sucked on your tongue, still holding your head to him, your entire body shuddering.

He let go.

A hot exhale escaping from your lips, washing over his open mouth.

Stinging bliss, all over and pooling at the base of your hips, spilling, spilling in vicious throbs within your inner walls, clamping down on his long fingers buried deep inside, and your head tipped back, palms molded to his head, your taut fingers laced with black strands spread out, mirroring the shadow of a blooming lotus flower.

Yoongi smiled as he watched the lustful pleasure ripple over your face.

“I look ten times more stupid orgasming than you do,” he hummed.

You laughed, shaking your head, slowly rocking your hips to extend the feeling. “You do tend to bark out ‘fuck’ a lot more. It’s charming.”

“Mmm.” He slid his fingers out of you and raised his hand. Separated them, admiring the way your viscous juices clung and collected around his knuckles. “I think Jungkook could do porn.”

You calmly smiled as Yoongi licked his hand clean right in front of your face. “I doubt it. He’s impatient and needy.”

He cocked a shoulder. “He needs training.” Pink tongue curling around his knuckles.

“And the tattoos?”

Yoongi shrugged again. “Put a sleeve on that arm, tie him up, blindfold. No one’s gonna know.”

“He likes saying my name during sex a little too much,” you pointed out as Yoongi lowered his hand, then paused, seeing your fingertips resting on his bare chest. He reached over and wrapped his wet fingers around your hand, bringing it lower.

“Like I said, he needs training.”

“Your friend is naughty and unruly.”

Yoongi molded your palm to his covered, twitching erection, locking eyes with you. You were about to look down but his other hand came up and his knuckles rested on your chin, keeping you facing him as he rubbed your hand over his hard cock through his pants.

“I know, but he’s cute when he begs.”

You tightened your grip, pressing your entire hand against his length. His cock jerked in his pants, begging for more. His hand was still damp, but there was dampness under his pants too. Pre-cum soaking his boxer briefs. Yoongi was using that raspy Daegu satoori with you now. Hm. Sly. Knew exactly what he was doing. He was still massaging himself with your hand, undeterred by your interference.

Maybe even welcomed it.

“And you?” you breathed out in a smoky, dangerous whisper.

The side of his lips curved upwards.

The most devious smirk.

“Fuck me,” Yoongi whispered.

Soft and slow. Hot exhale, savoring the words, drawing it out. Dark eyes barely visible under lowered lashes and with a tone an octave away from desperate. Gripping your hand around his length, letting your feel the hardness and the pulsating twitch of dirty desire. And then he did the unthinkable.

He bit the right side of his lower lip and said it better.

“Fuck me, please.”

-

in case you want the visual

(this photo poster was sent in emails for winners of the Seoul tix raffle and, yes, I saw it and my imagination went places, what, he didn't do bite his lip to be innocent)

--

masterpost

[dark-frosted-heart]

Roger Barel Main Route - Blind Love Chapter 22

As usual, can’t guarantee 100% accuracy on this. I’m doing this for archiving purposes and you can probably find a better translation out there

Jude: —You’ve been shortenin’ your lifespan by testin’ on yourself.

(—Huh?)

I immediately turned heel and went back into the hallway.

(What did Jude say just now)

(...Roger…on himself…)

My heart was pounding.

I still wanted to hear the rest so I eavesdropped by the door.

Roger: …Oh? Al’s directly asked me before, but it’s the first time you are. How’d you come to that conclusion?

Jude: We went to beat up a mafia boss dealin’ cannabis once.

Roger: Yeah, that casino owner with the wild beard.

~~ Flashback ~~

Casino owner: Life’s a game! Let’s make a bet on who dies here, us or you!

Jude: The hell ya yappin’ ‘bout, just go die.

Roger: Heh, hey now. So, if life’s on the line, you gonna have us play a fun game?

Casino owner: I have two glasses here. One’s tequila, the other’s poison.

Roger: So picking the poison means death.

Casino owner: Yes, that’s right. Since I’m a gentleman, I’ll let you choose first.

Jude: We ain’t stupid enough to fall for such an obvious trap—Huh? The hell you doin’?

Roger: What? Just choosing like he said. I chose a safe one. Now, how about you drink the poison.

~~ End flashback ~~

Roger couldn’t help but burst into laughter as he recalled the past.

Roger: Pfft, hahaha. He was shaking so much he couldn’t drink. What a masterpiece.

Jude: Back then, I didn’t take the bet ‘cause I knew it was a trap. Ya could tell by the color of the glasses that they were both poisoned.

Roger: … You’re always looking out for others. You love me, don’t you?

Jude: Keep your ego to yourself.

Roger: Yeah, you’re right. I’ve been experimenting on myself. Makes me immune to most drugs and poisons. You could say I’m borrowing my own life…Well, don’t think I’m gonna live as long as others.

Jude: Shortenin’ your own lifespan to save the Cursed. Haaa, hypocritical self-gratification*.

Roger: Would’ve made it more presentable if it was, but it’s not like I had a choice. It was hard to find Cursed Ones before I joined Crown. When I needed one to test on, I only had myself. That’s all. A former doctor should take care of himself. That’s why I started working out.

Jude: I couldn’t care less if ya lived or died. If ya wanted to live, ya wouldn’t be ‘ere. However.

Roger: But?

Jude: Ain’t that princes gonna cry or somethin’?

Roger: Huh?

Jude walked away from Roger and pushed the door open.

Jude: …Don’t forget that people feel a void when someone they care ‘bout passes.

Jude muttered something as he disappeared past the door.

Roger: …”I heard you”, Jude. …Thanks for the warning.

Even after Jude had left, I stayed still behind the curtain.

(...Roger’s borrowing from his own lifespan and doesn’t have much longer to live)

(No way…)

--

I couldn’t bring myself to face Roger when I was in this state…

I finally let out a breath after finding a place where I could be alone.

However, the chaos in my mind didn’t quiet down.

(...Oh yeah. There was something that didn’t feel right)

~~ Flashback ~~

It was back when we went undercover at that village led by the Spirit God where Roger synthesized a treatment for tetanus.

 Roger didn’t hesitate to take it himself to conduct a clinical trial.

He didn’t let Liam be the test subject.

~~ End flashback ~~

(...He had to have known the side-effects would’ve been minor, or else he wouldn’t have done it)

Like Jude said, a “safe and guaranteed tomorrow” is far beyond Roger’s consideration while living in the dark as Crown.

That’s something I understood the moment I became Fairytale Keeper.

(But, I wonder why…)

—Why did I think our days of laughing and bantering would last forever?

—Why did it feel like Roger would always be there with me?

(...I see. That’s why Roger gave me a final trial)

Roger was still human.

I definitely would’ve been hurt if I found out after we became lovers.

(That’s why—he’s waiting to the last moment to let go)

Kate: …

I was so grief-stricken that my legs gave out on the spot.

Ale: Arf arf.

Kate: Ale…why…

Ale came running over and propped his forepaws on my lap in worry.

Kate: Did you perhaps run after me?

I smiled as Ale looked at me with his large, round eyes.

Kate: …I see, thank you. Ale, did you know that Roger won’t live long?

Ale: Woof!

Kate: …I became aware of it just now. It’s cruel how Roger would leave us when we love him so much. Did he even intend to make me his lover…

Ale: Woof!

Kate: Hehe, is that a “YES” or a “NO”?

But, even if I didn’t understand Ale’s answer,

As he listened to me, my mind that was reeling from shock started to calm down.

(Huh…? It’s true that I’m feeling sad, but other than that)

(...For some reason…I’m getting really, really angry…)

Kate: If I knew this was going to happen…

I wish he left me alone

I wish he never pushed me around +4 +4

I wish he never did all those lewd things to me

Kate: I wish he never pushed me around, ugh! That self-centered egoist!

Ale: Woof?!

Kate: And yet…I let him do whatever he wanted. I told him I loved him, and now he wants to let me go!

(I can’t be apart from Roger anymore)

Kate: I will never let you do that, Roger Barel! 

Ale barked cheerfully as if to give encouragement when I stood up.

Ale: Arf arf arf!

Kate: I’ve become stronger and I’m not going to let this discourage me.

(It’s true that Roger might not live for much longer)

(But no one knows what the future has in store for us)

(Also, there’s a chance that being together can extend his lifespan, even if it’s just by a day.

(In order to do that…)

I’ll need to successfully avoid the “farewell” from Roger’s final trial.

Kate: Now that I’ve made my decision…let’s go, Ale!

--

Ale and I eagerly burst into Victor’s office.

Kate: Victor. The month we agreed on is almost up. So before it’s over, I’d like to make a request. That being—

And so, when Victor heard my “request”, he said—

Victor: Pfft, haha…You’ve really become tainted by evil. Okay, I am fully on board with your proposal.

Roger didn’t know about this conversation between Victor and me…

--

Back at the lab, we had finally made what we were striving for.

Roger: …The antidote’s complete.

Kate: You did it, Roger!

Roger: Yeah, you were a great help. Thanks, Kate.

We smiled at each other, feeling happy and satisfied that the antidote was complete.

But then my smile fade…at the thought of what we were about to do.

(From this moment—)

“Condemnation” begins.

--

To start…

The doctors and Privy council that Victor and William had locked up were now gathered in a room in the palace.

They were all handcuffed, but like the rumors said, the poison had affected their central nervous system, making them all groan and pants like beasts.

(...They’re suffering)

Roger: …

Roger silently looked down at the kneeling criminals who were unable to stand.

Listening to the heavy breathing of the people poisoned was unbearable.

But there was no room for mercy given what they’ve done.

Privy Council Lord: …Haaa…Ugh…Did you call us here…to mock us?

Royal Hospital doctor: …Haaa…help us…

Roger: We went through the trouble of getting you out of jail. Kate.

Kate: Right. Do you know what’s in these test tubes?

I pulled a test tube out of the tray and held it in front of them.

Kate: …This is an antidote that Roger made.

Privy Council Lord: I-it’s…real!

Roger: Yeah, and the efficacy’s been tested. You’ll feel relief within 30 minutes of taking it.

Privy Council Lord: Haa…hurry up and hand it over!

They couldn’t even stand, and no matter how far they stretched their hands out, they couldn’t reach us.

Roger: Who said I’d just give it you you?

Pricy Council Lord: …What…did you say…?

Roger: Privy Council. You lot stole my life’s worth of research materials by threatening an unrelated party. And you doctors from Gracefield Royal Hospital. You hired funeral directors to kill people for research specimens. There’s a whole bunch of other crimes that keep turning up.

Privy Council Lord: …We

Roger: “We haven’t committed any crimes.” “We, the Privy Council gain Her Majesty’s favor and bring prosperity to Britain.” “We doctors will advance medicine in Britain with our experiments.”

…Is that what you wanted to say?

It appeared that everything Roger said in their place was correct. They looked at us with eyes full of hatred.

Roger ignored them and continued.

Roger: Those are some fine ambitions, and we wouldn’t be able to thank you enough. …However I’ll never forgive anyone who uses their ambitions to justify devaluing human life.

Roger: Kate.

Kate: On it, Roger.

I raised the tray of test tubes with the medicine.

Privy Council Lord: Y-you can’t possibly be…

Royal Hospital doctor: D-don’t…!

They screamed—I slammed the tray down as hard as I could.

The test tubes shattered, glass and liquid spread everywhere on the floor.

Royal Hospital doctor: Ahh…

Privy Council Lord: What did you do…

Their faces turned pale and they tried to sip the antidote from off the floor, but the liquid had already soaked into the carpet and there was nothing they could do about it.

Roger: Die a miserable death. That’s the only kind that suits you wretches. 

That sort of “despair” suited them.

But then—

Roger: …Just kidding.

Next

-

*Here, Jude says オナニープレイ (onani play). Onanism means the pull-out method, but is also now synonymous with (male) masturbation

[sol-consort]

Repost of an ask I accidentally deleted.

Pov: You're a turian discovering this new sapient species broadcasting their whole location to the galaxy very loudly and decide to go down to investigate the humans.

Humans are like a rubber ball, which is what the first contact war proved. The harder you throw them, the harder they bounce back, and the next thing you know, all of your loyal turian population are sending creepy fanmail letters to the cute human news reporters.

The fact that we express joy by showing our teeth probably is something that never sat well with the turians ever, huh?

Also POV: you're the Councillors meeting the human team sent to you trying to convince you on why they should have an embassy right next door and please let them in the citidal please please please please please please-

We Don't bite .Often. We are silly little guys let us in come on. We have been STARVED for any galactic connections. Please we were this close to blowing each other up with nuclear weapons.

Ignore that last bit. Hahaha. Ha. So let us in! Friends! We are friends, let's be friends now. Tell us how you guys reproduce and what you eat. We have cats! We have chocolate, and we have produced more porn than a single human can consume in their lifetime! We have everything you need so let us join the partyyyy.

We've brought beer :) You don't have that, right? Let us in, and we will give you all the food we've made.

Humans annoying their way into getting an embassy so soon is very hilarious.

Because you know damn well that our politicians played the first contact war card and guilt tripped the council into letting us sit on the big kids' table after the turian bullied us to hell and back. We brought the waterworks and pretended they really hurt our feelings just to get the shiny human embassy office.

It didn't matter that they threw us in some random office next to the elcor and the embassies food court. You know damn well none of the humans stayed on the office and they're constantly annoying their neighbour embassies or the citidal tower instead.

Hell, we even stooped so low to accept being called the council's new favourite pet race just so we can get all the benefits and jumpstart our integration into the galaxy.

Constantly asking questions. Constantly touching things. Constantly asking to eat this and drink that without regards to if it will kill us or not.

That's how they found out humans had the most diverse genetics btw, before they could get any tests done on the humans with viable results, they found the said humans eating everything they come across and updating a google docs sheet of things they tried that haven't killed them yet.

The doc is shared between all the humans on the Citidal, and everyone adds their updates. Some even tried inedible stuff just to see, because what if space plastic is different than our plastic? Sure, they ended up in emergency care, but it was so worth it.

The humans are very impatient, and the other races quickly learned. They want something done, and they want to do it now, and they want to get the gratification immediately! They make the salarians look like monks despite their short life spans

In the span of a year, earth humans were sending in job applications to different colonies and planets, ones they haven't even visited yet.

By the span of 5 years, humans successfully spread through the galaxy and you always find one nearby. It's harder not to spot a human than it is to spot them.

How do you find out if the person wearing this armour is an asari or a human? Simple, just wait.

The human will announce it themselves by doing some dumb shit like twirling the loaded gun in their hand to do a really sick trick they saw on the human social media app, tiktok.

Udina was a little shit, yes, but you know that man was knocking on the councillors' doors every day at 3am. to show them his powerpoint presentation on why humans deserve a seat on the council.

Humans fit wherever you put them. They eat everything, they can handle most temperatures. they only need oxygen and some sleep, and they're good to go!

It's hard for the aliens to predict just what type of human any given one of us they meet could be.

There's just too many to keep track of. The most rude person and the nicest person a turian have met are both humans.

They want to see the stars, they want to take pictures, they want to stare at pretty sunsets on different planets and they want to speak to aliens, hug them and learn more about them

They're burning bright like a star, wanting so much all the time. It's intimidating to the other races how hungry humans are for information and connection that they come across as a bully. Their friendly nature gets misunderstood and their kind gestures gets questioned for ulterior motives.

Because humans love helping, it's in our genetic code as a tribal species. We love feeling useful for the tribe and fulfilling others needs. We love giving someone a sip of our drink, opening the door for someone else, picking up a stray empty can and throwing it in the trash.

Going on useful fetch missions just to see someone else smile, hearing a stranger vent because we have been there, smiling at people we make eye contact with, giving compliments and laughing at jokes we overheard from strangers.

We are social, be it online or offline. We love others, we love loving others and we want others to love us back. Each human is so different yet so similar, some of us will feel more at home with the aliens than with other humans while others might not even stomach leaving earth

We are also...kinda of feral in a way? We don't notice it because we're surrounded by humans.

But if you look closely, so many of our traits are animalistic and could be perceived as scary by an alien that had thousands of years to evolve past them. Our hardware is still relatively new, and an update won't come for a long time.

The hugging. the yelling, the dancing, playing tag. games of chase. We evolved from predetors, our eyes are trained to follow a single target precisely.

Rough playing with your friends, enjoying throwing objects and catching it like a ball, enjoying tearing through food with our teeth. Hell we look like predators, we act like ones too.

We're not like worker bees, like turians who always give their all to everything they do.

No, we preserve energy, then lunge at our target the second it's gaurd falls down. A persistent predator that wears you down rather than overpowering you like a krogan

Btw, Korgans evolved from prey because of where their eyes are placed. Only predetors have forward facing eyes to focus on a single thing, the wider one's vision is the more likely they used to be a prey animal.

Side note, but Krogans would probably taste kinda good bc of that, predators' meat evolves to be shrivled and bitter. While Krogans have a literal hump full of food nutrition! Turians would taste bad unless chicken in that case... CHICKEN.

So do you think Hanar and Drell find it adorable that we used to be aquatic?

Anyway so-

In a single decade, humanity successfully integrated fully into the galaxy and joined the Andromeda project to explore the new one. We're like the opposite of hanar. So many other races achieved less than half of what we did in ten times the amount of years

Because we need social contact, it's vital for our survival as much as the sun is. It's our drive for exploring and hoping for aliens, for some other race out there we could befriend and learn about.

New things give us such a rush of dopamine and we're constantly chasing it with stars in our eyes.

In a way, the aliens probably felt the most special after meeting the humans. To have a race so interested in you and learning about you and appreciating your culture. To have thousands if not millions of humans ready to dedicate their lives to documenting you just because you happened to be the prettiest race in their eyes.

Like I'd gladly throw my life away to study the Drell.

And we things other races don't! We party harder funny enough.

A turian mentions it in ME2. How most alcoholic beverages everyone uses today, was invented by humans. How it seems like humans found out every intoxication there is and let it spread like wildfire to others. Out endless libraries of music, the videogames we've made, the art, the instruments we play.

And a Salarian mentions how human food is their favourite. Don't the Hanar also like our sushi? funny enough.

We're infectious. Easily accept anyone and everyone into our groups if we happened to click with them, we even befriended the animals on our planets enough to care for them like our own children.

[engie-ivy]

(I wanted to write this a while ago, but I did not have time before now, but since it's still March, I'm posting it now!)

@wolfstarmicrofic : Avada Kedavra

915 words

Angst, Major Character Death

Remus' mind is playing cruel tricks on him in an attempt to deter him from his path to self-destruction.

Shards

Strange, that is. By now, the spell comes as easy to him as Expelliarmus or Patrificus Totalis. Accessing that part deep inside of him he once didn't know he had (or maybe he actually didn't have before) has become second nature to him, and he can cast the spell almost without thinking:

Avada Kedavra

Yet, he washes his hands every time he has used it. Which doesn't make sense. Literally speaking, there's no blood on his hands, and figuratively speaking, he doesn't want to wash it off. He wants to be responsible for their deaths, he wants their blood on his hands.

Perhaps it's just a silly habit he really should break, Remus thinks as he turns off the tap.

“Or perhaps it's a final sign that you still possess some humanity.”

Sirius is sitting on the kitchen counter to his right, looking at Remus with a frown.

Remus ignores him like he usually tries to do. He opens one of the kitchen cabinets of the small and dingy kitchen block in the equally small and dingy flat he's currently using as his base, and as he reaches out to grab a glass, his hand trembles.

“You're exhausted,” Sirius says.

“And you're dead,” Remus snaps though he immediately regrets it.

“Yes,” Sirius says dryly, sliding off the kitchen counter. “And the fact that you're seeing me and talking to me just proves my point of how exhausted you are.”

Remus fills his glass with water, frustrated with himself that he acknowledged Sirius’ presence. “There are still Death Eaters to kill.”

“So, what then?” Sirius asks, taking a step forward and placing his hands on his hips. “Maybe the next one you kill will finally give you any sense of satisfaction, will finally help you find whatever it is you're looking for, will finally make you feel something, something other than numbness, even though the one before that never did, and neither did any of the ones before that. And if it's not the next one, who knows, maybe it'll be the one after that, or the one after that, or the one after that, to finally offer some gratification, some relief, some closure…”

“I'm not looking for closure,” Remus interrupts sharply, staring straight ahead with a determined look. “I'm looking for vengeance.”

Sirius regards him for a moment, before speaking softly “You don't even know which one killed me.”

“Are you going to tell me?”

“You know it doesn't work like that,” Sirius replies. “I can't tell you anything you don't know.”

“Well then,” Remus says calmly. “Then I'll just have to kill them all, don't I?”

Sirius stares at him in silence, and something pained appears in his gaze. “You're throwing your life away chasing meaningless revenge.”

“What do you want from me, then?!” Remus shouts in a sudden wave of anger, throwing his glass away to have it shatter on the kitchen floor. “I've always told you that I couldn't go on without you!” He angrily points his finger at Sirius. “That didn't stop you from charging into a room full of Death Eaters!” He drops his hand and lets out a humorless laugh. “What? Now you can't bear to face the consequences of your own actions?”

“I did not want to die,��� Sirius says pointedly. “But I was not given a choice in the matter. You, on the other hand, seem to be set on self-destruction, and don't you dare pin that on me.”

Remus leans back against the fridge and presses his hand against his forehead, suddenly acutely feeling his tiredness. “What do you want from me, Sirius?” He repeats, in a much more quiet, almost desolate tone.

“You know what I want from you, Remus.”

Sirius is suddenly standing right in front of him with barely any space between them, and Remus can't escape the intensity of that silver-gray gaze as Sirius’ eyes bore into his as he cups Remus’ face in both hands, though of course, Remus can't feel anything.

“I want you to see how much you still have left to live for, I want you to feel some other emotion, any other emotion, than this hatred you are hiding behind and that is consuming you from within,” Sirius pauses a moment and then says “and I want you to move on.”

Remus wants to squeeze his eyes shut, but the intensity of Sirius’ unwavering gaze is making it impossible.

“I want you to let me go,” Sirius continues. “Cry for me, mourn me, and then let me go. Keep my memory close to your heart, but don't let it consume you anymore. Find your peace with what happened, and let me be at peace.”

Remus shakes his head. “This isn't real, this is happening inside my head.”

Sirius lowers his hands from Remus’ face, takes a step back, and smiles. “Of course it is happening inside your head, Moony, but why on earth should that mean that it is not real?”

“It's in my mind, all in my mind…” Remus’ voice is barely a whisper as he reminds himself.

“Yes,” Sirius easily agrees. “And so, I cannot tell you anything you deep down don't already know to be true.”

Remus is alone in the kitchen. He looks down at the shards of glass covering the kitchen floor. He reaches into his pocket and takes out his wand.

Yes. perhaps it's time to pick up the pieces.

[roosterbruiser]

*cough* pegging mafia bobby though, that's gonna be interesting

"yeah, just like that," Bob grunts through grit teeth, fingers sunk into the plush mattress below him. he bites his lips hard, eyes screwed shut as you can't your hips forward at a bruising pace. "fuck, doll, givin' it to me so fuckin' good. oh, baby."

"still tryin' to boss me around?" you pant, a tired but exhilarated smile tugging on your painted lips. "what makes you think you can make me do jack-shit right now? huh, baby?"

he groans at your words--Christ, you know just what to say to him. his neglected cock is dripping pearlescent drops of pre-cum onto the expensive sheets, the tip red and swollen.

his knees are aching from being in this position for the last half hour--not that he's complaining at all. sure, his knees are aching, but everything else feels fucking perfect. your delicate hands gripping the bend of his hips, fresh manicure puncturing the skin there. the strap on, a smaller and sleek thing that's only been used a handful of times, is hitting a spot inside of him that's making his thighs quiver. the rapture he's in right now is totally overwhelming all of his sense--so much so that he can hardly do anything at all except sit there and take it.

"fuck," Bob groans, shaking his head. you're still thrusting into him at that dizzying pace, the one that legitimately has stars dotting his vision. "fuck, doll."

he knows he's in no position to spout off anymore--you're already pissed at him for missing dinner, for leaving you hanging. in fact, you're still in your heels right now--unwilling to take them off. that dress he wanted to tear off of you is now on the floor, but it wasn't ripped off by him. no, no--you made him sit on the end of the bed on his hands as you slowly undid every single button, keeping your pouty eyes on his, before you told him that you were going to be fucking him nice and good tonight.

this is the first time that Bob has really given you total and complete control. sure, here and there you've gently grazed the sensitive area when blowing him or teased it with a playful tongue--but this, you fucking him, it's new.

and you fucking love it. the strap is delivering fantastic friction to your sopping cunt--not nearly enough for any real gratification, but enough that it knocks the breath out of your lungs a little bit each time.

"fuck, I--I, oh God, please, I just--I fuckin'..." Bob can't even form coherent sentences anymore. but he knows what he needs: release. and you haven't given it to him--in fact, you've withheld it from him. bringing him to the edge and then pulling him back over and over again. "doll, I--!"

"tell me what you need," you tell Bob, digging your thumbs into the tan flesh of his hips. god, he feels good beneath your hands. a shivering, sorry thing that pushes back against you to meet your every thrust. "g'on, baby. say it."

Bob immediately breaks.

"need you to touch my cock," Bob cries, head falling onto the sheets in exhaustion. "please, doll, I need it in a bad, bad way."

"yeah?" you mutter, hand drifting from his hip to the soft skin near his cock--dotted with groomed but coiled hair, ultra-sensitive. "need me here real bad?"

you let your fingers dance there, grazing all that skin that's been neglected. you're so close to his cock that tears of relief begin to stream down Bob's pink cheeks. he knows that as soon as you wrap that pretty little hand around his throbbing cock, he's gonna cum. and it's certainly fixing to be the best orgasm of his life.

"oh, you're a fuckin' angel," he says, uttering it like it's a most sacred prayer. he wants release so bad--so bad that he would literally denounce God and start worshipping you right this moment if you just let him cum. he'll worry about Hell tomorrow. "god, fucking--I love you so much, baby, please touch my cock. wanna cum for you. please, doll, please."

he's so desperate that it almost hurts when you pull away. not just your hand--everything, entirely, simultaneously. Bob, who was standing on the edge of the best orgasm of his life, is suddenly empty and reeling from the loss of contact.

"are you fuckin'--!"

reaching forward, body taut and hot, you hold onto the back of his neck and press a few kisses there, reaching around with your free hand to languidly stroke his cock a few times. he's suddenly back on the edge, dizzy from overstimulation and under-stimulation, gasping when you suddenly nudge him over and make him cum; all while holding his throat and kissing his ruddy cheeks.

he cries out your name as he cums, entire body quivering and tensing, fingers cracking as he tightens his grip on the sheets. and you work him through it like the good little doll you are, nibbling his earlobe, tonguing a few of his stray tears.

"next time you think about doing your dirty work and standing me up, I want you to think about this moment," you mutter into his skin. "'cause only I can make you cum like this, baby, huh? and I can take it away just as easily."