#writing is real fun

[daisywords]

One of my biggest nitpicks in fiction concerns the feeding of babies. Mothers dying during/shortly after childbirth or the baby being separated form the mother shortly after birth is pretty common in fiction. It is/was also common enough in real life, which is why I think a lot of writers/readers don't think too hard about this. however. Historically, the only reason the vast majority of babies survived being separated from their mother was because there was at least one other woman around to breastfeed them. Before modern formula, yes, people did use other substitutes, but they were rarely, if ever, nutritionally sufficient.

Newborns can't eat adult food. They can't really survive on animal milk. If your story takes place in a world before/without formula, a baby separated from its mother is going to either be nursed by someone else, or starve.

It doesn't have to be a huge plot point, but idk at least don't explicitly describe the situation as excluding the possibility of a wetnurse. "The father or the great grandmother or the neighbor man or the older sibling took and raised the baby completely alone in a cave for a year." Nope. That baby is dead I'm sorry. "The baby was kidnapped shortly after birth by a wizard and hidden away in a secret tower" um quick question was the wizard lactating? "The mother refused to see or touch her child after birth so the baby was left to the care of the ailing grandfather" the grandfather who made the necessary arrangements with women in the neighborhood, right? right? OR THAT GREAT OFFENDER "A newborn baby was left on the doorstep and they brought it in and took care of it no issues" What Are You Going to Feed That Baby. Hello?

Like. It's not impossible, but arrangements are going to have to be made. There are some logistics.

[alexanderpearce]

ship ask game 😁1 Who would be first to to bite down anc consume the flesh of the other, euphoric in the taste and the heft and the slide of the blood 2. who is the ant and who is the ophiocordyceps fungus? 3. who is the dog and who is the master? 4 when the roles are blurred or reversed who would be first to die and how? would it be by bulletwound? the phallic blade? strangulation? 5. Cocaine or Heroin? 6. who licks up the other’s cigarette ash? 7 who is julius caesar and who is brutus? 8. who is jesus and who is judas? 9. did jesus want it? did julius caesar know it was coming? are the betrayed ever proud? 10. who is irrumatus and who is irrumans? who is pedicatus and who is pedicans? 11. did they ever kiss and why not? 12 if they are two sides of the same coin who is heads and who is tails? 13. and if the coin was the holey dollar? 14. And if the dog bit back? 15 and if the dog bit back? 16 and if the dog bit back? 17 and if the dog bit back? 18 and if the dog bit back? 19 and if the dog bit back? 20. Who buys the other flowers?🥰

[matchingbatbites]

"What the fuck did you do?"

Eddie wasn't expecting hostility when he answered Jeff's phone call, his best friend's usual calm demeanor replaced with open annoyance. And yeah, okay, the annoyance itself wasn’t new, but Eddie doesn’t think he’s actually done anything recently to earn it.

"Well-"

"Actually, no. I'll tell you what you did. You retweeted photos of Steve Harrington - internationally beloved heartthrob actor Steve Harrington - along with the caption 'not to sound like a subby slut but GOD I would be his puppy baby boy in a heartbeat'. So I guess the better question is, what the fuck were you thinking, Eddie?"

Eddie's jaw clicks shut because- yeah, he had done that. Had seen those photos of Steve smoking circling the internet and spent god knows how long just staring at them, had curbed the desire to shove his hand down his pants by posting a single thirst tweet about it.

“I was thinking, Jeff, that I'm allowed to post whatever I want to my private fucking twitter, man. I mean it's a free country, isn't a guy allowed to make a horny tweet about a sexy man every now and then?”

“You are, when you actually post it to your private account and not our award winning band's main account.”

No. Oh no. There's no way Eddie actually-

He rips his phone away from his face to open twitter, and realizes two things simultaneously. One, Jeff is right, he had posted it to the band's account. Not on his private, locked, personal account, but on the account that's actually open and free for literally anyone on earth to look at.

The second thing he realizes is that their notifications are currently flooded with responses to Eddie's tweet, somehow racking up into the thousands in the few hours it's been since. 

Jesus Christ.

“Eddie?”

The metalhead jerks back into the moment and put Jeff on speaker so he can scroll through the horde of replies, says “Fuck, I fucked up. Are we gonna have to do damage control on this?”

In the mess is a reply from Gareth's own personal account: @ corrodededdie stop tweeting from the band account challenge 🙄🙄🙄

”Maybe. There hasn't been any type of response from Harrington or his people, but they might ask us to take it down if it blows up too much.“

Eddie hums, thinking they might be too little, too late about it blowing up too much, and flips over to his main account so he can reply to Gareth's little jab appropriately. He isn't surprised to see that he has a couple of new messages, probably from other people wondering just what the fuck Eddie was thinking, but when he goes to check them-

He's never been happier that he turned on messages from followers only, because then he would have missed this, missed Steve Harrington's little profile picture beaming up at him from the screen of his phone, along with a new message request.

”Jeff, I gotta go,” he says, not even realizing he's cut the other man off.

“Eddie, what-

”Harrington messaged me. I'll call you back.“

Eddie doesn't wait for a response as he hangs up on Jeff, and his hands definitely aren't shaking as he opens the message from Steve. And listen- Eddie is a fan of the guy, that much should be obvious. 

Steve had grown in popularity around the same time Corroded Coffin had; he’d gotten some part in a drama film that had skyrocketed him into stardom, and Eddie fell in love the moment he saw that gorgeous face on the silver screen for the first time. He's never had a chance to interact with the guy, has been in the same place a few times but always missed him, like ships passing in the night, but Eddie's been fine with pining from afar, just like every other person on the planet that's even remotely attracted to men.

Besides, even with how popular Corroded Coffin has gotten over the years - a couple of Grammy’s here, a dozen chart topping metal songs there - Eddie doesn’t expect Steve to just. Know who Eddie is.

With all of this in mind, Eddie is expecting some kind of semi-casual request to take the tweet down, that it's not a good look for his image-

Anything other than what Steve actually sent.

'If you're puppy baby boy, does that make me Master? Or Daddy?'

And Eddie- 

Eddie slides down, sinks into his couch cushion as all of the blood in his body suddenly shifts, rushing to fill his dick like it's a fucking race. The phone almost slips out of his hand and he fumbles it briefly before taking a deep breath. 

Is Steve serious? He wouldn't send that if he wasn't serious, right?

This could be it, could be Eddie's one chance to impress Steve, to get his foot in the door of Steve's interest. He bites his lip and types out a reply, something quick that he sends before he can change his mind.

‘I’m open to either, actually. Do you have a preference, sir?’

He doesn’t expect the typing indicator to come up immediately, and just knowing that Steve is somewhere right now, typing out a response to Eddie, is enough to have him nearly vibrating in his seat.

‘I’m partial to Daddy, myself.’

Fuck fuck fuck.

Eddie takes a breath, tries to think of a response that isn’t just ‘Please, Daddy, can I sit on your massive dick that I haven’t been able to stop thinking about since that one indie film you did that just had all of your junk out in the open?’

Steve saves him by sending another message.

‘But maybe we could start with Steve, and possibly dinner? Though I’d be happy to see where things go after that.’

He- What-

Eddie must have stopped breathing, because the next time he takes a breath his lungs burn, his mid races because there’s no way Eddie’s long term celebrity crush just asked him on a date. He sits there long enough that the screen goes dark and he scrambles to turn it back on, sees the message still there, real and unchanged.

There’s no way he can say no to this, to Steve, and his hands shake as he types out a response.

‘Dinner would be great. Just name the time and place, Daddy.’

[d3arapril]

ᡣ𐭩 invisible string; texts with paige | p.b

friends to lovers is my favourite trope for paige so it’s only right that my first post for her is exactly that! also my first 'text' post. ahh. requests

paige has a crush on you. you're not as oblivious as she thinks.

[arthursfuckinghat]

The sun is your halo, for it is always above you.

Arthur and Weetabix 𑁦𐂂𑁦 Scarlett Meadows

[kamuucab]

Okay ngl I resonate with Sun's new voicelines I feel like he'd be such an excellent person to bitch with. Just talk absolute smack about the terrible people you deal with on a day to day basis, do the thing where your customer service facade drops as soon as they turn their back and just call em an asshole. Sharing that "are they serious rn" look. Ribbing each other and bantering back and forth reading each other for filth. I think he'd have snappy and funny as hell comebacks. I think he'd love making whomever he's working with just break down in giggles over his deadpan delivery and sarcastic theatrics, especially if it interferes with their work and makes them stop what they're doing completely to double over with laughter. Those are his proudest moments. Just a right clown that stops you from being as productive as management wants but it's only a little irritating because he's funny as hell and the place you work at sucks.

[robinfollies]

and we believed ourselves when we said we’d never be alone again 🌼🌈💖

[milfhunter6698]

acquainted

Warnings: 18+ Smut, no use of (y/n), cursing, no describing reader’s appearance, explicit language, nakedness, fluff, angst, teasing, head cannons, imagines, slow living, Victoria’s right-hand, switch!reader & Victoria, just constantly fighting for dominance.

pairing: Victoria neuman, x female reader

notes: Here’s some super-long brainrot, random ass head cannons/Imagines- gosh! i don’t even know where to begin!!!! this woman’s driving me crazy and she’s consuming my every thought, I can’t stop thinking about her helpppp.

wc: 2.5k (slightly proof read)

Watch you fall asleep 

You watch as Victoria, her breathing steadying, drifts into a peaceful sleep beside you. Your fingers, still tracing her bare back, lightly brush against her skin. 

You exhale softly, your heart swelling with warmth at the sight.

The usual tense expressions had softened in sleep, her features relaxed and free from the lines of worry that usually marked her face. In the dim moonlight filtering through the window, you could see the gentle rise and fall of Victoria’s chest as she breathed deeply.

Yet even in her sleep, Vic seemed to carry a hint of vulnerability—a reminder of the struggles she faced each day,

For you, who had grown accustomed to seeing her on edge, anxious, always on guard against potential threats, this moment of calm was a revelation. Recognizing that beneath the stoic exterior lay a heart burdened by the weight of past traumas.

With a gentle touch, you brush the strands of hair that messily splayed over the pillow, tucking them behind her ear. You place a soft kiss on her forehead, the scent of her shampoo filling your nostrils. As you pull away, you take one last look at her serene face, committing the moment to memory.

Turning to the opposite side, you allow yourself to drift back to sleep, the comfort of her presence still lingering in the air.

Late night shifts 

It was past regular working hours, and the city lights glitter outside. The sleek modern office is cluttered with case files, glowing computer screens, and takeout containers.

It’s nearing midnight. Victoria, sits at her desk, rolling up the sleeves of her dress shirt. Her focus is sharp, and her eyes flick back and forth between a digital blueprint on her screen and a series of notes in her leather-bound notebook.

Across from her, you were half-leaning, half-sitting on the edge of the desk, scrolling through data on a tablet. You were dressed more casually now, with your blazer hanging on the back of a chair. The only sound is the hum of the air conditioning and the occasional beep from the computer.

You finally break the silence. “So, Thai or pizza?” You hold up a couple of takeout menus.

Victoria glances up, giving you a tired smile. “Let’s go with pizza. We’re going to need carbs to get through this.”

A while later, the room got filled with the smell of pepperoni and garlic as you dive into your food. For a moment, work takes a back seat. Between bites, You look over at Vic, a mischievous glint in your eye. “Remember when we first met?”

She chuckles, setting her pizza slice down. “How could I forget? You were convinced you’d outshine everyone in the room.”

You laugh. “And I did. That presentation was flawless.”

“You were good, I’ll give you that,” Victoria replies, leaning back in her chair. “But you had this edge, this competitiveness that made me think, ‘Alright, this one’s either going to be a star or a pain in the ass.’”

You roll your eyes playfully. “You weren’t exactly Ms. Congeniality yourself. You kept throwing curveball questions during the meeting.”

“You were unflappable,” Victoria says, with a hint of admiration. “Most people would’ve cracked.”

“Well, most people aren’t me.” You grin, leaning forward as if challenging her. “Admit it—you were impressed.”

Victoria nods reluctantly but the smile that appeared on her face was genuine. “I was. That’s why I knew I needed someone like you by my side.”

There’s a brief silence as you both sip on your drinks, the mood more relaxed now.

You then say, “You know, it’s strange. I thought we’d be at each other’s throats, considering how competitive we are. But here we are, doing late-night stakeouts over spreadsheets and pizza.”

Victoria looks thoughtful for a moment before replying. “It’s because we respect each other. We push each other, but it’s always to be better. That’s what makes us a great team.”

You nod, the banter turning into something more sincere. “Yeah, I guess we make a hell of a good pair. Even if it’s more ‘good cop, bad cop’ most of the time.”

Vic smirks. “And we both know who the bad cop is.”

“Please, I’m the fun one,” You retort with a laugh, tossing a crumpled napkin at her.

After a few more moments of easy conversation and laughter, you slowly return back to your work. 

winding down 

As You returned after running an errand, you stepped into the quiet, empty space of your home. The sun had already begun to set, casting a warm hue throughout the room. Your voice echoed as you called out Victoria's name, searching for any sign of her.

Your gaze fell upon the partially open bathroom door, from which a soft, inviting glow emanated. You gently pushed it open, finding Victoria submerged in the bathtub, her eyes closed, a peaceful expression on her face. The water was warm and soothing, bathing the scene in a calming light.

There she was, lost in the tranquil embrace of the bath, her long hair spread around her like a river of dark silk.

You stood there, taking it all in. The sight of her at peace was unexpectedly soothing. Your shoulders eased, tension slipping away. "Hey," you whispered softly. You couldn't help but admire her form, the dim lighting dancing across her skin.

Smiling gently, you held out the chilled bottle of champagne, extending an invitation. "Mind if I join you?" Victoria's gaze locked with yours, and she gratefully accepted the offering. "Oh god, yes," she sighed, pouring the wine into your glasses.

Eager to be near her, you began to quickly undress, your blazer, belt, and pants pooling at your feet. As you stepped into the warm water with her.

Settling down in the tub, facing Victoria, as she passed you a glass. "How was your meeting this morning?" The question hung between you, as you took a sip of your own champagne.

Your work at the Bureau not always overlapping. Even being her assistant, you didn't really attend all of the Vought-related meetings with her, and this week was one of them. Sighing, you surrendered to the bath's warmth, cherishing this little quiet moment.

Victoria sighed, her leg brushing against yours under the water. "You know the usual," she replied, sipping her wine. Another sigh escaped her lips. "I couldn't believe it when I finally got to leave today. This week's been fucking stressful." She let out a soft, irritated scoff. "Sometimes I wonder why in hell I ever took on this job."

Her voice carried a hint of annoyance, but you could sense the underlying contentment.

You laughed softly, taking another sip of your glass. "Yeah, tell me about it," You said, pulling her in as she rested her back against your chest.

The warmth of the water and the comfort of Victoria in your arms soothed your frayed nerves. You closed your eyes, savoring the moment, the stress of the week slowly melting away.

A comfortable silence fell in the bathroom as you two lay there, the sound of the water and your breathing the only sounds filling the space. Vic rests her head on your shoulder, her eyes closed, and mind still, enjoying the comfort of your presence. 

The silly little things 

"Where the hell did it go?" You watched as Victoria frantically searched the room, her pacing movements growing more erratic. A strand of hair fell across her face, and she pushed it back with a quick motion.

You couldn't help but laugh softly, calling out her name as you leaned against the doorframe. "Vic, I got it." But she didn't respond, her focus entirely on her frantic search. You chuckled, amused by her desperation to get ready.

"Calm down, love," You said, raising her blouse in the air as a sign of your triumphant finding. You took a few steps towards her, your hand gently landing on her shoulder to redirect her attention. "I've ironed it out for you. Relax."

Victoria's head snapped to yours, and a sigh of relief escaped her lips as she took the blouse. "God you're such a life saver." She leaned in for a quick, grateful kiss before pulling away. 

"You're welcome." You smiled as she slipped into the blouse, buttoning it up.

She hurried to her bathroom, her voice growing distant as she called out, "You coming? I'm hoping to beat traffic."

"No, but I'll be right behind you," You replied from the other side of the room, grabbing your own clothes and starting to get dressed.

Vic stepped out of the bathroom, her heels clicking on the floor as she gathered her things. She grabbed her phone off the nightstand and walked out the door, her scent still lingering in the air.

You chuckled in amusement, shaking your head at her comment about firing you. "No, I wouldn't want that," You called out, a smile playing on your lips as you watched her leave.

In your usual spot, amidst the buzzing energy of the bullpen, you sat working on some paperwork when you glanced up and saw Victoria emerge from the elevator. She called out your name, her gaze flicking to her wrist as she checked the time.

"Please tell me you got-" she began, but you already knew what she wanted. You swiftly handed her the report without breaking eye contact with your desk. Victoria trailed off as you also presented her with a cup of coffee. A grin tugged at her lips as she teased, "And what about-"

You cut her off, your gaze shifting back to her. A coy smile played on your lips as you replied, "Oatmilk, lots of sugar, just how you like it. Anything else?" Her smile widened, and she quipped, "Give me one reason why I shouldn't marry you right now."

You chuckled, watching her as she walked down the hallway to her office. And with a sigh you returned to your work.

Not backing down not without a fight (NSFW) 

Victoria thrives on pushing you to the brink, relishing in the way she can make you squirm. Her love for power is apparent in every aspect of her life, and she particularly enjoys sex when she's in complete control. For you, your euphoria comes from the depth of her desire and the way her body responds.

She revels in having the upper hand and the dominance, the teasing that leaves you both wanting more. But here's the secret no one knows: You love it just as much.

In your bedroom battles, you constantly fight to see who's better, who has the most effect on the other. Your passion often leads to moments where one of you becomes overstimulated, while the other smirks with a smug satisfaction.

~

“Fuck!” The sensation of Victoria's body grinding against your fingers, her skin slick with heat, made your head spin. Your gaze locked on hers. seeing the raw pleasure coursing through her, the evidence in her gasps, whines, and moans that filled the air. Your lips met in a bruising collision, stealing her breath in a gasp that melded with a soft, needy moan.

In that moment You knew she was close— so You slowed your pace, teasing her, denying her the release she craved. You wanted to savor her every reaction, every shudder, every moan as you brought her closer to the edge.

The change in pace caught her off guard, and a frustrated whine escaped her, your eyes lingered on Victoria’s, taking in the sight of her flushed face, framed by her loose brunette curls. The image burning into your memory.

“Hmm?" You mumbled playfully, your lips brushing against Victoria’s, your fingers paused, hesitant to move. "Didn't hear that?"

The feel of your fingers pausing, the teasing words in her ear, made Victoria let out a shaky gasp, her body arching slightly against you. She couldn’t hide how every touch, every tease made her heart race faster, her body begging for more.

Through the haze of desire, she maintained the eye contact, her voice breathless and a bit annoyed. “You... you know what I’m trying to say... Please...”

You let out a sadistic chuckle, your fingers still unmoved inside of her. You shook your head slightly, feigning ignorance.

"No, I don't think I do." You whispered. 

Frustration surged through Victoria, a whine escaping her lips as you continued to ignore her pleas. The look of utter satisfaction on your face made her want to growl in frustration, but all that came out was another needy whine.

She began, her voice hoarse with desire. "You know that's not fair… Please, I... I can't take it anymore. You're driving me crazy."

Grasping her body, You finally curled your fingers, feeling the way her walls clenched. "Good," You whispered, and continued pushing hard into her, hitting that spot that makes her vision go white. 

Victoria’s breaths quickening. Her vision blurred, and she gasped, fingers digging into your shoulders.

"Oh God.... Please don't stop..." Her words were breathless, and full of need.

And you didn’t, Your heart pounded as you felt Victoria's body convulse beneath your touch, her moans filling the car. You clutched her tightly, feeling her squirm in your embrace, your own arousal building with each thrust of your fingers. You held her legs down, maintaining a steady rhythm as her velvety walls gripped around your fingers, the sensation sending shivers down your spine.

The sound of your hushed words echoed in the air as you clutched Victoria, sending another wave of pleasure coursing through her. Her body convulsed and writhed above you, her oversensitive flesh quivering from the lingering touch of your fingers.

Her breaths came in short, gasping moans, her voice trembling as she begged for release. "Oh... god..."

Yet again ignoring her pleas, you pulled her close, your lips crashing in a deep, open-mouthed kiss. You drank in every sensual sound, every moan that escaped her lips, your fingers relentlessly thrusting deeper inside her.

"I... I can't... I can't take much more..” 

Slipping a third finger into her, you whispered low and husky, "Shh, come on. One more..." You could feel Victoria's body tense, the edge of her climax drawing near.

With a final, deep thrust, you drew out a second orgasm from her. Her body jolted, but you still held her close, your lips never leaving hers, absorbing every tremble and every gasp.

As her body finally stilled, you slowly withdrew your fingers, a hand lingering on her thigh. She looked up at you, her eyes glazed over with pleasure, her chest heaving with each breath.

She mumbled something and you couldn’t help but chuckle softly, brushing a lock of hair from her flushed face, and gently guiding her head against your neck, savoring her warmth as your heart swelled with pride. 

A huff of feigned annoyance escaped her.

"You really know how to throw me off balance, you know that?" She muttered against her lips, her voice a mock grumble.

Your voice tinged with playfulness as you responded, "Oh believe me, I do.” 

A scoff-laugh escaped Vic as she nuzzled her nose into your neck. And your hand gently traced and tapped her back in a comforting rhythm, while the silence gradually crept into the car.

[naffeclipse]

Toying around with a sort of Apex Polarity spin involving Sun and Moon and having them as Arctic Fox type of creatures (think werewolf monster body types but fox style) and Y/N is an Arctic Hare-esque humanoid mythical being with white fur and long ears tipped in black. Of course, it's set in the Arctic tundra. Thinking of calling it Of Fox Maws.

You've seen the fox men before. They'll skirt the outsides of the large valley you like to go to gather arctic willow and sedge out of the snow. Their eyes glint in the harsh Arctic light, watching you. You warily tense your legs, always ready to bolt should the two fiends decide they're hungry enough to attempt to chase you down.

You can't trust foxes.

But you always skip away, out of sight and far from the terror of what could easily be your last day. This happens for a season. Sometimes, they attempt to creep closer in plain view but you turn tail and run, ducking behind snowy hills and hiding low until you're certain they're gone.

Once, you were caught off guard in the middle of your foraging. One voice called softly out to you. You jumped back and found the fox men too close, almost within lunging distance—your little heart fluttered as if to take flight and escape—but you ran and ran and ran until you couldn't breathe. Then, you look behind you.

The fox men were nowhere to be found.

One day, you're amid a rocky field of purple saxifrage, happily picking blossoms to toss in your mouth while twisting your long ears this way and that to listen in for any predators or creeping fox men that might try to break your little neck in their vulpine jaws. You never expected the teeth to come from the ground you placed your foot on. A snap of metal. A bone crack. You're bitten by something cold and terrible, and it chains you to the ground. Terrible pain eats your leg as blood, crimson among the snow and rocks, begins to drip down your fur.

You panic. Such is your nature. You thrash and struggle while the metal trap digs deeper into your leg. The safety of daylight begins to fade as exhaustion and fear begin to take hold, and then you see them. Their glinting eyes, their sharp ears narrowed, their fur white and strangely marked with colorful swirls on their underside, their claws scraping over the ground as they come closer and closer.

You cry it in your terror—you could always run before. They talk low and soft to you, one anxiously coaxing you to stop moving, to stop hurting yourself, but you tug and struggle in your wild franticness. The teeth keep biting your leg—you flounder before a set of arms catches you, pinning you down with strange gold and red fur on his chest that warms your deathly chilled body. You scream but another set of hands holds down your caught leg—this one with deep blue and silver swirls in the fur on his chest. You dissolve in the horror of the end that will come from too many jaws—

A musical steel note plays when he breaks the chain in half with his raw strength. You keep thrashing, struggling to get away, but the fox men are too strong, and the one holding you keeps asking you to stop being frightened—they only want to help. The other digs his dark claws into the metal trap and pries it apart as the other drags you out of reach of the contraption maw, and you cry from the pain of it all.

The two begin yipping and fussing. When they press their hands to the bleeding bite mark on your leg, the anguish overwhelms you until all you see is white, then nothing.

They become frantic at your slumped form and all the blood on your silky white fur. Sun takes to your wound and Moon takes you in his arms, and keeping pressure on the strange bite, they carry you back to their den. There, you'll be safe and warm, and there, they can help you with your broken leg.

Hopefully, you won't keep screaming when you wake up. (You will.)

[re-colligere]

FINE PRINT [AO3]

In which Disgust goes through Fear's nonsensical paperwork out of dream duty boredom, only to accidentally stumble upon his true feelings written within.

As promised, I've reposted an old fanfic of mine on AO3! Simple, but sweet.

[jimlingss]

Three years!

Hello, everyone and happy Jimlingss anniversary! Woohoo! It has been three years since my official retirement and eight years since I’ve began this blog. That’s absolutely crazy since it all feels like yesterday. Time flies when you’re having fun.

First and foremost, thank you to all who still send me messages and give me feedback on my stories! I do check back once in a while and read everything, so nothing goes unnoticed. Your kind words always make me miss the simpler days of writing. :’) It really gets me nostalgic.

Second, here is my yearly update!

I’ve finished my second year of law school! I finished off this year with a bang and did quite well, if I do say so myself. There’s one more year left to go and that’s insane since I remember the first day so vividly. I’m a bit sad for it to be all over — I never thought I’d ever feel this way. But I’ve made so many friends and created so many memories. When it’s all over, everyone will be going their own path. Luckily, I’m sure we’ll remain connected and be close friends no matter what.

I don’t think I’ve had such a positive experience quite like this in all my years of schooling. I’ve always been the type to just scurry on home, never liked what I was studying, and never had too many friends. So this change has been unexpected yet very welcome.

In terms of career, I’ve been working this summer and I have something lined up for when I’m finished school! So soon I’ll be racking in the dough, wooooooo!! Let’s get it!

My family is also doing well — and I feel very fortunate for that. 

Third, and most important, I am happy to announce that I have a boy I absolutely adore! We’ve officially been dating for four months? That seems so short on paper, but we’ve known each other for close to two years! I’m living out one of my friends to lovers fics, I swear (lol).

He’s been a close friend since the start of law school and somewhere along the line I gradually caught feelings (of course I did lmao). I was sure rejection was on the horizon and I wanted to preserve our dear friendship, so I was trying to get over it for months by myself. This included online dating and going on a string of dates (hahaha). I ended up cracking and calling him on the phone one night, but then aborted mission. Thanks to the advice of a friend, I stopped avoiding him and being an embarrassment, and I finally confronted him. He said we should give it a shot, and here we are!

He has brown, curly hair that reminds me of a poodle. And he made me realize why love is so loved — why it’s so revered — talked about — imprinted in each other’s minds. Everywhere. I’ve written countless love stories but never truly experienced the feeling before, and yet, he’s made the heart of my stories come to life. He’s let me live them in real time. 

I really hope it works out! LOL

Anyway, I’m always happy to do these updates and for all those who may be just a bit curious enough about me to check in. Although this is a very positive update (and I hope it continues to be), my life isn’t without its ups and downs either. It just seems to be in a general upwards trajectory. 

Thank you to everyone who still remembers me, and who may still read my stories! I definitely haven’t forgotten about you all, so I hope you haven’t forgotten me either.

Here’s to another year! See you again!

[chez-cinnamon]

What did home exactly do to Wally and the other puppets?

I mean Wally is stressed the hell out and they’re all homeless something must have gone down.

(Great au btw really enjoying it!)

(Thank you!! I'm glad!!)

I'm gonna make a more detailed post post about Home, since there's a lot to it and how it caused the AU's events, but for now I'll leave you with this teaser on it's role:

[ironunderstands]

Double Indemnity, Spellbound and how a retroactive plot twist kicked the communities ass (which also has some VERY interesting implications for Aventio)

I had a very enlightening conversation on TikTok about the nature of these two romance/thrillers, and while unfortunately, I have no idea how to watch them, the plot synopses I’ve seen and analysis other people have made have caused me to come to this conclusion/interpretation of these references:

On the first viewing of the Double Indemnity questline, the reference to the DI movie is meant to be played straight, with Aventurine and Ratio being just as doomed to fail as they are in the movie, and their relationship as equally as toxic and fake.

On second viewing, it’s the complete opposite, and the track (and other movie reference) you receive at the end, Spellbound, proves it.

Let’s start with Double Indemnity.

Also disclaimer I’m gonna be over simplifying the plot/themes of these movies because a) both are singular references, DI is only referenced in the name of the quest itself and Spellbound is only referenced in a track you receive once you complete DI, and references this small probably aren’t meant to be anything more than a fun Easter egg for those who notice it b) this is hoyoverse they aren’t clever enough for that anyways c) the nature of references isn’t going to be having everything be the exact same anyways, so I’m just going to go with the overall interpretation of DI + Spellbound/their impact, picking the stuff which aligns with the actual plot of the DI quest, I don’t care what happens in one frame at 30:01.56 minutes in and neither do the writers

Anyways, how does the Double Indemnity reference on the first viewing seem?

On our first play through of the Double Indemnity quest, we are made to believe that Dr. Ratio and Aventurine do not trust each other, but they are begrudgingly working together for the sake of stealing Penacony for the IPC. Then, Aventurine makes it seem as if he wishes to use the singer Robin’s- also the sister of Sunday, the head of the Oak Family and the one they are negotiating with- death as a means to pressure Sunday into forking over some of the Family’s secrets, which Aventurine will then use against him in future negotiations.

With this setup, the Double Indemnity reference is a solemn warning- Aventurine and Ratio will fail.

You see, in the movie, Phyllis Dietrechson intends to kill her husband in order to earn the money from the Double Indemnity clause (which is a real legal thing btw!), roping in one Walter Neff when he falls for her. However, their relationship isn’t stable and in the end, Walter betrays Phyllis, ratting her out to the investigator Keyes, ultimately meaning they don’t earn the DI clause, also killing Phyllis in the process.

Hopefully you can already see where I’m going with this, but it’s time to draw some fun parallels.

Sunday is Keyes, Ratio is Walter, Aventurine is Phyliss and Robin is Phyliss’s husband.

Although Aventurine a) isn’t married to Robin and b) he didn’t actually kill her, he is the one who witnessed her “death” and in the first viewing of the Double Indemnity quest, we are made to believe he intends to profit off of it, although this time the payout isn’t money: it’s Penacony.

To do this, he enlists the help of Ratio- albeit not seducing him, but still convincing him to help nonetheless- and together they go to meet Sunday for negotiations.

However, Ratio “betrayed” Aventurine, ratting him out to Sunday behind his back and informing him of his plan, which mirrors how Walter confesses to Keyes. This results in Aventurine being sentenced to death, much like how Phyllis dies by Walter’s hand, Aventurine seems like he will die by Ratio’s, calling him a wretch before slinking off.

And there you go, their partnership is as doomed as the one in the movie, failing because their trust + love didn’t hold up till the end, a devious foreshadowing.

At least, that’s how it seems on the first playthrough.

Because Aventurine and Ratio’s plan SUCCEEDS.

And on the second viewing, knowing that the betrayal is fake, you realize they succeed because they do the one thing the people in DI (and I’ll get to Spellbound) DONT do- they actually TRUST each other.

Ratio and Aventurine’s plot is a success. And it’s because they deliberately made it seem like they were doing a Double Indemnity plot. Like they were going to make the same mistakes as the characters in the movie. Sunday falls for the false appearance hook, line and sinker, and that’s his downfall.

They win because they TRUST each other, you can even say because they actually LOVE each other, unlike the characters in the movie, where it’s more list than anything else. Walter and Phyllis don’t make it together to the end but Ratio and Aventurine DO, and they get to continue on with their lives because of it. The reference to Double Indemnity in this quest is genius because it works both before and after you learn the retroactive twist of Penacony. It makes you believe Aventurine + Ratio are doomed to fail, and it makes you realize they were always going to succeed, expertly dawning the false appearances Sunday expects from them, becoming literal actors playing out the roles of two people who will fall short due to their selfishness. Sunday believes he’s seen this film before which is why he BUYS IT, and god it’s just beautiful looking back on it. He thinks he’s Keyes about to uncover a dastardly plot to profit off his sisters death, and in turn he paints Ratio and Aventurine with the identities of those he believes would do such a thing, which they do their best to play into. Ugh it’s amazing.

And now, for Spellbound.

You receive this track after completing Double Indemnity, containing the description above.

Now, this is a reference to Spellbound, another one of Hitchcock’s films.

The main characters in this one are Dr. Anthony Edwards, a man suffering from amnesia, and Dr. Constance Peterson, a psychoanalyst who he was meant to replace, who discovers a dark secret about Edward’s while they fall for one another; he’s an imposter. He believes he killed the real Dr. Edward’s, but she thinks he’s just suffering from a guilt complex. Fake Edward’s goes missing, and the real Edward’s assistant arrived and informs them that he’s missing. She finds Fake Edward again, living under the pseudonym John Brown, and although he tries to leave, she convinces him to stay, telling him that with the help of her mentor, psychoanalysis can help recover his lost memories.

Through an incredibly complicated psychoanalysis of dream, Constance begins to uncover the truth- learning the person who believes himself to be Dr. Edward’s (and is using the pseudonym John Brown) is actually a man named John Ballantyne. Ballantyne accidentally caused the death of his younger brother in the past, resulting in his deep guilt, as well as recalling the location where the real Edwards died- skiing off a cliff to his death. With his memories, they find the body, but it has a bullet wound, so Ballantyne is taken into custody.

However, her boss, Dr. Murchison lets it slip that he actually used to know (and didn’t like) Dr. Edwards, and through another complicated sequence gets him to confess his guilt and ultimately kill himself, which frees Ballantyne, ending the movie with the two going on a honeymoon.

So, what does this mean in the context of the quest line?

Well, let’s say Ballantyne and Constance are representative of Ratio and Aventurine respectively.

“Every psychoanalyst must first have someone else diagnose them.”

If we read Aventurine as the psychoanalyst (Constance) and Ratio as the diagnoser/doctor (Ballantyne), it reveals an interesting interpretation.

That being that they knew the truth from the start/ they had already succeeded.

Or in other words, unlike in Double Indemnity, in Spellbound, they actually succeed.

In the film, Constance is the one doing the diagnosing, the one trying to figure out the truth, and you can see that in Aventurine pretending he’s trying to find out the truth behind Robin’s death. However, in the DI quest, it’s the opposite. Ratio’s as Ballantyne is the one doing the diagnosing for the psychoanalysist, Constance, or rather, Aventurine.

To diagnose someone, you must be very familiar with them, or at the very least the ailment plaguing them, and Ratio he knows Aventurine through and through at the start, and what plagues him (his own sense of meaninglessness) unlike the protagonists in Spellbound who despite falling for one another quickly, don’t begin being intimately familiar with one another.

In this way, they have already succeeded. Aventurine and Ratio already know one another, and while they might not know the reason behind Robin’s death, that was never what they were searching for in the beginning, meaning they effectively can skip through all the drama (aka the ups and downs of Spellbound, finding out the truth behind Robin’s/Edwards’ death), and reach their happy ending- a honeymoon; or in DI’s case, Aventurine attaining his cornerstone, and fulfilling his end of the plan.

Interestingly, Aventurine slots into the role of Ballantyne and Ratio as Constance equally well, with the phone call Constance makes to save Ballantyne being reminiscent of the note Ratio makes to save Aventurine, as well as Aventurine being the replacement, or in the sense, the one to find the truth about Robin.

Personally, I think Aventurine and Ratio are reminiscent of both the main leads in Spellbound, which is why it’s complicated to discern the meaning of the reference. Oh how I wish I knew what the original Chinese description for this was (if you do please tell me 🙏).

Is it just meant to signify them being in love? Is it meant to signify that they will succeed, due to how well they know each other? Is it both, which is what the inclusion of Double Indemnity (the movie) suggests?

Either way, it adds onto the already present idea that the trust between Aventurine and Ratio is what allowed them to succeed in Penacony, and that’s not just something expressed by these movie references.

Think Aventurines Eidolons: Stag Hunt Game and Prisoner’s Dilemma, both of which are game theories about trust. Or how Aventurine says that Ratio knows him best, or how Ratio entrusts Aventurine with close secrets of his, like him being the “Genius” of the council of Mundanites.

“Do you trust me?” “That depends on you.”

These are 2 lines in their 2.0 conversation that really stick out to me. Ratio will always offer his trust so long as Aventurine can prove himself worthy of it, and as we have seen, Aventurine always delivers, proving himself long before Penacony in the Final Victor lightcone, albeit in his weird homoerotic way.

Therefore Ratio will always trust him.

And because of that, they win.

Now whether you take the deep trust between them to be romantic or platonic, or infer the literal honeymoon at the end of Spellbound to mean something for Aventio, either way the feeling absolutely there, and it’s crucial for an understanding of their relationship.

Also damn, the retroactive plot twist fucking slaps.

[sleepy-steve]

@steddieangstyaugust 05/08 // ‘Please Please Please, Let Me Get What I Want’ by The Smiths

wc: 2.2k // rating: M // cw: language, negative self talk // tags: YEARNING, post-s4 but vecna dies, eddie has some self-esteem issues, mild references to sexual content

divider credits @steddiecameraroll-graphics

Eddie isn’t sure when it started. When this… obsession took over his life. When he suddenly couldn’t think of anything but Steve Harrington.

It could have been when they started hanging out every day, the threat of otherworldly horrors gone and the Big Evil defeated. When they realised that while they don’t necessarily have much in common, they both care to learn about what the other likes.

It could have started before that, when Steve continually showed up to help him through his physical therapy, never wavering in his kindness despite how many times Eddie snapped in frustration or lashed out at him. Steve always took it in stride, but never patronised him. Or was it even before that? When Steve showed up everyday to his bedside in the hospital, at first appearing to just be chauffeuring Dustin, but then visiting on his own. Spending hours talking with him or letting the silence settle between them, filling the hours where Wayne couldn’t be there.

Shit, if Eddie really thought about it, it went further back than that too. Before Steve carried him out of hell and quite literally saved his life—though that alone was enough to make a guy swoon—and before the moment Eddie flirted with him in the RV (and really, what was he thinking with that?) and even before their little heart to heart in the aforementioned hell after the first bat attack.

No, if Eddie was honest with himself, it all went back to Steve’s surprise appearance in the boathouse, shoved up against the wall with a shard of glass pressed to his neck and fear in his eyes. Eddie remembers feeling Steve tremble as Eddie held tight to his jacket, watching as he swallowed, skin of his throat pressing against the glass. Eddie’s own hands shook around the broken bottle, from exertion and fear, and god help him he was not going down without a fight in that moment. Their all too literal colliding of worlds was not something he could have been prepared for, nevermind the fact that Eddie almost killed him. But it was that brief moment, so miniscule, right before Eddie let him go, that he realised Steve really wouldn’t hurt him. Despite being held up and almost having his throat slashed, Steve had dropped the oar.

It was the first hint he got that all those things Dustin had said about Steve were actually true. That all the ideas he’d previously had about Steve Harrington were undeniably false. And Eddie only continued to be proven wrong by the sheer magnitude of Steve’s kindness, his patience, his unending love for his friends. Which now, by some miracle, Eddie was a part of.

It had grown. Out of something that should have just been a trauma-bond that then dissolved once they were quote-unquote healed and realised they actually had nothing in common besides the shared experience of almost dying in an otherworldly dimension. It had grown into something much more than that, something that Eddie never really had before. He’d had friends before, sure, his little sheepies and his band mates, but nothing quite like this. It was both his fault and also not. When he arrived in middle school and was immediately bullied for daring to be a little bit different—despite the differences having more to do with his class status than anything he had truly picked at that time—the walls came up. People could get somewhat close to him, but ultimately Eddie decided just how much he would give to people, and arms length was always safest. They wouldn’t be able to hurt him at arms length.

And yet. Steve Harrington had somehow wormed himself past the walls, beyond the arms length barrier, and settled himself neatly within Eddie’s rib cage. Not only that, Steve brought along the rest of his little group, a family that knocked down Eddie’s walls and forged a space just for him. It went beyond the trauma bond. It had grown into something that almost felt like Steve cared about him. Actually, that wasn’t fair. Steve absolutely did care about Eddie. He’d shown it time and time again. Shown up and held tight and given his time and space and love, being the kind of best friend Eddie only dreamed of having.

And here he was, greedy. Desperately craving more. More of the connection, more of the love —platonic though it is—more of which he has already been given. Arguably he’s received far more than he ever thought he deserved (despite what his new friends might say). But Eddie can’t help it.

He wants. He craves.

He fucking aches for it.

It grips him in a chokehold, this desperation with which he begs to receive more. To have more. To be more. It wasn’t enough to have Steve’s friendship, Eddie wanted his whole heart. His whole soul, even. Every tiny speck of stardust that came together to create him, Eddie wanted it in his possession. Wanted it all to himself, to hoard like a dragon’s greatest treasure. To lock this man away and keep him safe and shower him with love and devotion every day for the rest of his life. He longed for it to the point of feeling more animal than man, a slave to his own desires. Helpless against his own hunger for a connection that would run bone deep between them, etched into his skull, woven into his blood. Eddie burned to fucking consume Steve Harrington and be consumed by him. To have their souls merge together in a supernova and, and, and…

And nothing. Because it would never happen. Not for Eddie, not the way that he wants it to. He reminds himself constantly that he should just be grateful to have the friendship, to cherish it for the special thing that it is. That guys like Steve Harrington didn’t want guys like Eddie Munson, at least not in that way. Not in the way Eddie wanted, because Eddie never got what he wanted.

Well, not never. But rarely. When he goes down this spiral, he struggles to remember times he has actually gotten what he wanted. In love, in romance? Never. Kisses—too fast, too hard, too scared—shared with boys who met him behind the bleachers and didn’t know what they wanted. Or rather, did know but wished they didn’t. Those that ended in the boys running away, or worse, threatening to hit him—to kill him—if Eddie dared to speak about what happened. Not that anyone would believe a jock would ever turn to Eddie The Freak Munson, even as an experiment. That’s all he ever was when he was younger, an experiment. It was all he thought he deserved, at least until he got a bit older and was able to venture out of Hawkins. Then came other stuff. Quick, filthy hookups in club bathrooms and dark alleyways in Indy. A stranger’s tongue in his mouth and their hands in each other’s pants and maybe their mouths on each other and the flash of a smile before leaving and he’d never see them again. It was fine. He got what he set out for in those moments, but nothing more. He never felt like he was owed more, never felt worthy of more, so why would anyone give him that? At least they didn’t end in threats of violence. At least he felt desired, somewhat. But, if given the chance, he’d trade all those experiences for one night of feeling like he was the prize, like he was the one worth fighting for, like someone wanted his heart.

And the craziest part was… sometimes he did feel that way. Sometimes Steve made him feel that way. Like Eddie was the most special person on the planet. Like no one else could draw his attention away. Like they were the only two people in the world. Like Steve could actually…

No. It wasn’t like that. Eddie had to remind himself endlessly. It wasn’t like that. This love wasn’t reserved just for Eddie, who watched Steve share it with all of them. When he picked up Dustin to take him wherever he wanted to go, despite the squabbling they shared. The way he and Robin seemed to read each other's minds, attached at the hip whenever possible. How he helped Max after she got out of the hospital, ready to drop everything at a second’s notice if she needed him. Spending afternoons training basketball with Lucas, giving him all of his tips and shining with pride at his skills.

Still… there was something. Something in the way Steve’s eyes lit up whenever Eddie arrived. Something in the way he was almost always too close, fingers brushing as beers were passed, arms and legs pressed against each other during movie nights, arms held tight when nightmares returned, and one glorious evening of warm cuddling and dreamless sleep after sharing a joint. Eddie lived in those moments, let them play on an endless loop in his mind, reading deep into each tiny interaction. Thinking about every smile sent his way and was it any different from the smiles anyone else got? God, he wanted to believe Steve had a special one just for him. One that was a little bit softer and sweeter and shyer.

The idea is nice, but it’s washed away by the cold reality of the fact that it would never happen. Even if, by some miracle, Steve was anything other than straight, why would he want Eddie? He could have anyone he wanted. And Eddie wouldn’t get what he wanted because that’s just how life was for him. Though he may beg and plead with invisible entities for it, though he might crave and ache to the point of feeling feral with it, though he might promise—swear on his life—to himself and anyone up there listening that he’d treat Steve so well if given the chance, Eddie knew it just wasn’t on the cards. The sooner he accepted that the better.

His resolve in place—forget about it, or at least bury it until it could be forgotten—Eddie makes his way up the driveway to the Harrington house. He wouldn’t think about it for the entirety of movie night. He absolutely would not.

“Hey, man!” Steve answers the door with a perfect smile and joy in his eyes. Eddie’s resolve wobbles. “Just in time.”

Eddie takes a moment to steel himself, firmly reminding himself of his goal, as he follows Steve into the house. And it lasts for all of two minutes before he’s pulled down onto the sofa, thigh pressed against Steve’s. Was there truly any reason for Eddie to be tortured this way? He tries to remember that Robin is on the other side of Steve, and that there’s limited room on the sofa but fucking hell… Their shoulders brush, the soft grazes through layers of fabric sending Eddie’s mind spinning, until Steve places his arm around behind Eddie on the sofa-back, not quite touching but close enough to feel the heat of his skin. And god, this is so much worse. The desire to lean in and cuddle him, just nestle right in and have Steve’s arm around him, drives him crazy. The idea that they could… that this could be normal for them, domestic even. It went beyond the physical, Eddie wanted to take care of him. To show him the love Steve had so willingly given to him, and give it back ten-fold, hundred-fold. To create a life with him. To be proud of him and show him off and love him endlessly. To go to the ends of the earth to grant Steve his every wish, if he could just have one chance, he was begging—

Get it together! Eddie’s internal voice hisses at him, and he tries to shove all his thoughts back down into a vault, feeling a bit like trying to get water back into a broken hydrant. He does his best, managing to get it back down to a simmer, rather than a rapid boil.

Steve shifts slightly, suddenly a bit closer. It all comes rushing back. The warmth where their thighs are touching becomes burning hot and all the aching, craving, yearning, wanting that Eddie tried to shove down and out of his mind is suddenly front and centre and focused on the way Steve laughs and those glorious moles dotting down his neck. He feels insane with longing, desperate to press his lips to those moles, as if that could ever convey the depth of his feelings for the man beside him. Overcome with the need to drag his fingers through that beautiful hair and maybe even pull on it a little, just to see what kind of noise Steve makes, Eddie hears the tiny voice in his mind telling him off for staring. He just can’t seem to drag his eyes away. Steve throws his head back with a laugh, exposing his throat, and Eddie might as well perish right then and there, distraught with how much he wants to bite it. To just sink his teeth into the skin and feel Steve’s pulse beneath with his tongue. To leave bites and bruises all over his body, everywhere Eddie thinks is beautiful…

Before he can summon enough shame to look away, Steve catches his eye, and just grins, eyes lit up with that same brightness he always seems to have when looking at him.

Eddie’s a fucking goner.

[skyloftian-nutcase]

After a month of Whump, it’s gonna be Fluff Time!!

Hello! This is Fluffvember, a month long event of pure fluff and comfort! This was originally an idea made by @/kjpurplepineapple, to follow a month of whump (whumptober) with a month of fluff, and I loved it so much I’ve just carried it on for the last two years. :) Figured I’d make some prompts so we could all have fun together.

RULES:

The prompts are listed in a numerical order, but they are not tied to any given day. Do whatever prompt on whatever day you like! If prompt #1 appeals to you but you don’t have time to get it done by November 1, do it any day of the month. :) You are also more than welcome to just stick to the order listed.

Writing/art can be pure unadulterated fluff, calm slice of life moments, easygoing reading… it can even be hurt/comfort! As long as the comfort heavily outweighs the hurt, all warm, fuzzy vibes are welcome. ❤️ The point of this event is to share nice vibes, both to our characters and each other. :)

You don’t have to tag me if you don’t want to, but it would be fun if you tag your writing/art with #fluffvember so I and others who want to indulge in comfort/fuzzy vibes can find it!

Without further ado, here are the prompts! Pick a theme/word prompts or a quote, or both!

Snow // “I’m stealing your blanket”

Blanket fort // “Come back to bed”

Nature walk // “I’m sorry, when did we step in paradise??”

Hot spring // “This hits the spot”

Apple picking // “Oh my gosh, you do not know how to cook”

Windy day // “Come closer, I can’t hear—ahhh too close, too close!”

Massage // “I didn’t know you could sing”

Bird watching // “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Homecoming // “I missed you”

Accommodating // “I’ve got you”

Teaching/learning // “It’s tradition”

Dog/cat/pet // “I can die happy now”

Friendly competition // “You’re going to love this”

In the rain // “Let me help you”

In the firelight/candlelight // “I love you”

Hug // “This isn’t a negotiation, friend”

Favorite book/story // “I wanted to share this with you”

Music // “I learned this from my parents”

Family time // “We’re very blessed”

Coming of age // “I’m so proud of you”

The Reluctant Softie // “UGH FINE I’LL DO IT”

Teddy bear/animal plushie // “Give [insert] a kiss for me”

Self care // “Thank you for believing in me”

Cuddle pile // “You’re not gonna let go, are you?”

Washing someone’s hair // “I can stay with you”

Infodumping // “I love hearing you talk about this”

Gift giving // “This made me think of you”

Inside joke // “I definitely missed something, didn’t I?”

Accidental acquisition // “Uh… whose kid is this?”

Cooking as a love language // “Do you like it?”

[johnslittlespoon]

omg it was so hard to pick butttt could i request 1 and 2 from the smut dialogue list (list 3) with buck and bucky!

prompts | "i want to hear you beg" + "arch your back for me" + playing around with smth a little different for their dynamic <33 ~800 words of filth below the cut >:-) this was so much fun ahh thx sm for the request!!

“Oh, baby,” John rumbles appreciatively, sitting back to get a good look at Gale while he rolls his hips languidly into him. “Look at you.”

Golden hair frames Gale’s head on the pillow like a halo, blue eyes half hidden by heavy eyelids, doll–like lashes fluttering each time John sinks his cock in deeper. Messy love bites mark a trail south, scattered across his chest and stomach and increasing in numbers where angular hip bones and soft thighs had just begged for John’s teeth to make themselves at home.

Gale rocks his hips down, dragging his kiss–bitten bottom lip between his teeth to muffle a needy little noise as John’s eyes rake over him. That just won’t do.

John stills, wrapping firm hands around Gale’s thighs where they drape over his own, squeezing gently.

“Keep going,” Gale breathes out, eyebrows knit together in frustration, still trying to fuck himself on John’s cock.

John purrs out a laugh, heart twisting in his chest at the glare Gale shoots him; it’s hard to look intimidating when he’s laid out pliant and pretty and cock–drunk beneath him, but John doesn’t tell him so. He just snaps his hips forward once, watching with satisfaction when the scowl leaps off of Gale’s face as flushed lips fall open to let out a gasp.

“John,” Gale almost, almost whines when he makes no move to continue, lithe hands coming up to wrap around John’s wrists imploringly, and John hums thoughtfully, stroking his thumbs over Gale’s thighs.

“You need something?” He tilts his head, feeling a little thrill at the huff he gets in return.

Gale levels him with an unimpressed look, but the light flush that creeps over his cheeks betrays him.

“I want you to ask for it,” John murmurs. He grants Gale with the smallest roll of his hips to egg him on when he stays silent, and he feels his hands tighten around his wrists.

“Want you to fuck me, John.” 

And oh, that’s something– his cock twitches at the rare vulgarity, and judging by Gale’s sharp inhale, he feels it. But it’s not quite what John’s looking for.

“That’s good, baby,” he praises him, delighting in the way his flush deepens. He leans down, sliding his hands up Gale’s hips as he goes, settling them on his waist. He brushes his lips against Gale’s in a ghost of a kiss, trailing them along his jaw until he reaches his ear.

“But I wanna hear you beg for me, Gale,” he whispers. 

The immediate pressure around his cock as Gale reflexively clenches down has his head dropping into the crook of Gale’s neck momentarily, cursing under his breath. He can’t help but press his hips forward, needing just a bit of relief, sitting back up once he collects himself, determined to keep the upper hand.

“C’mon,” he rasps out, running his hands up and down Gale’s sides, fingers splaying over his ribcage. “I know you can do it, angel.”

Gale does whine this time, high and desperate in his throat, eyes slipping closed to hide from his own embarrassment. But–

“Please, John,” he says, barely above a whisper. “Need you.”

“Jesus, Gale,” John breathes, head spinning. “Good, so good, baby.”

John’s not going to push– that’s already a lot more than he’s usually able to goad out of Gale, and he’s going to unravel a lot quicker than he intends to if he keeps talking like that.

“Arch your back for me, pretty thing,” John prompts instead, beginning to shallowly fuck into him, and Gale does, tilting his head back on the pillow to bare his neck as his spine curves beneath John’s hands.

The sight nearly knocks the breath out of John, and he groans, sliding one hand under Gale to flatten his palm against the small of his back, feeling the way it flexes as he jerks his hips forward.

Gale cries out so sweetly when he really starts driving his cock into him, grasping desperately at John’s arms, face going slack as he finally gives him what he needs, and it gets to John like nothing else, forever dizzy with the knowledge that he gets to make Gale feel so good.

Dragging those pretty noises out of Gale and feeling him tremble because of him is what really does it for John every time, and it’s what inevitably has him tipping over the edge seconds after Gale spills over his stomach with a broken whimper.

John sinks his teeth into Gale’s collarbone just to feel him squirm beneath him as he fills him up, hands digging into his hips, rutting into him like he can bury his cock impossibly deeper, feeling nails scrabble at his back as the softest mewls escape Gale’s mouth.

He laves his tongue over the fresh indents in apology before lifting his head to capture Gale’s lips in a messy kiss, swallowing his gasps and sighs as he gives him a few more lazy thrusts, chest warm and fuzzy and lovestruck. 

John smiles into the kiss, and Gale laughs softly, and god, he’s going to be the death of him.