#|| Butts Daisy Wants To Touch ||

[gutsby]

Mr. Dixon

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Summary: Your efforts to seduce the DILF next door have all failed spectacularly, so you decide a wet hot car wash in front of his house is in order. Mr. Dixon is less than impressed with your antics and plans to teach you a lesson in good manners and ‘neighborliness.’

Warnings: NSFW. Dad's friend Daryl! Drastic age gap!! Daryl's a dirty old pervert in this one :-) Voyeurism. Masturbation. Descriptions of oral sex (m!receiving). Dirty talk. Degradation. Slight misogyny. Daryl may or may not masturbate out a window at some point.

You had an old pair of Daisy Dukes and a dream.

Faded, frayed, and two times too small for your frame, the shorts hiked an inch up your ass every step you took across the room. Made it damn near pointless bending over before the man in front of you—he could see every inch of your butt regardless—but you did it all the same.

This was Mr. Dixon, after all.

Cool blue orbs illumined by candlelight took the sight of you in and flitted away just as fast. His hands busied themselves with the gun he was taking apart, while you reached for the bullet that had just rolled onto the floor.

“Here you go, Mr. Dixon.”

Your voice had a charming lilt as you held the round out to him.

“Over there,” Daryl grumbled, jerking his head toward the end of the table, “An’ what’d I say ‘bout callin’ me tha’?”

“I feel weird calling daddy’s friends by their first names.”

You shrugged and chucked the tiny piece of lead into the pile of ammunition like Daryl had told you to. Then you sat down beside it, crossing your arms.

He could be so cruel sometimes. Just fooling with his pistol and barking orders like a drill sergeant. Never looking at you longer than a second, and if he did, just shooting you a glare or wounding you with a scowl.

He’d been the toughest nut to crack out of all your father’s friends. No matter how straight-laced and upstanding the men around Mr. Grimes had made themselves out to be, you’d always found the fault line—the weak spot that got you access to the filthiest parts of each one. You’d teased and you’d flirted, earned a couple groping touches and open-mouthed caresses from the likes of the late Mr. Walsh and many others. But never Mr. Dixon.

Even now, sitting across from him in your skimpy Wrangler cut offs, wedges, and a skintight, starch white tank top stretched so tight over your tits the fabric was practically see-through, it was like you were invisible to him. You kicked your feet out in front of you as they dangled from the table and actually felt yourself pout at the feeling of frustration bubbling in your chest.

“I wanna help.” Sounding pitiful.

“No use,” Daryl said as he studied the barrel of the gun with an inscrutable expression, “Already told yer dad, ain’ no use for little girls on the range.”

Your nostrils flared as you started back on your feet.

“I am plenty useful, Mr. Dixon. And I— I’m not the little girl you think I am,” you fired back, sounding more miserable and juvenile with every word you spoke.

At the last, Daryl looked you up and down. It was hardly more than a passing glance, but deliberate enough to be expressive. Emotive.

He looked repulsed by you.

And, rather than dignify you with a response, he simply discarded his firearm on the table and left the room. You trailed behind him into the kitchen and watched him swing the refrigerator door wide on its hinges. Blue eyes surveying the shelves for a can of PBR, most likely.

“I can do anything you need me to,” you rejoined in a huff, desperate to be heard, “I’m twice the shot my old man ever was at my age, I can track if I need to— hell, I’m always doin’ stuff, Mr. Dixon. Things.”

You weren’t sure what rattling off your talents to a man who clearly had no interest in hearing them would accomplish, but you tried it anyway. You sounded like your father. When both of Mr. Dixon’s eyebrows raised in mock surprise and he plopped down on a bar stool opposite you, you wanted to melt right into the floor.

“Doin’ stuff, huh? Thangs?” he mocked your twang.

You gripped the door frame so tight your knuckles turned white. Daryl took a couple swigs of beer and stared you down through every swallow. He brought the can back to the counter, near-empty now, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“I got a couple thangs for ya ta do,” he started, grinning, “Why don’t ya put those pretty hands ta work, throw a little apron on, and just...bake me a fuckin’ cake?”

“Funny,” you spat. You felt a surge of bile rise in your throat at the sight of his smug expression.

“Wash my car?”

“Fuck you.”

Daryl’s amusement only grew as the forbidden F-bomb flew from your lips—a word he knew Rick would never tolerate if you’d been in his presence. Presently, his eyes raked over your slight, shaking form at the threshold of the room and figured himself pretty lucky to have provoked such a strong reaction from you. He polished off the last of his drink in a single gulp.

“No need ta get all foul-mouthed, Ms. Grimes, I only—”

“Fuck. You.” Your reply came slower and a touch more measured than he’d expected. Even punctuated with a hint of a smile, making sure to stretch that Southern drawl when you added, “Dar-yl.”

It was the first time you’d ever used his first name.

You weren’t sure you liked it.

Daryl, on the other hand, felt quite certain the sound of his name suited your mouth just fine. A subsequent stir in his jeans wiped the smirk clean off his face, and he began to shift in his seat.

Before he could speak, you were already turning on your heels to leave. Formalities escaped quicker than your anger, and your fingers seemed to move of their own accord to flip Daryl off over your shoulder as you strode out the door, far out of his sight.

Meanwhile, and much to his chagrin, Mr. Dixon was already growing ill with the sounds of your parting wishes bouncing loud off the walls of his skull. Before the front door had even closed, his fingers, too, seemed to move involuntarily and do a thing they probably shouldn’t have done: touch the mound in his jeans.

He rubbed his clothed erection and groaned.

You were such a fucking brat.

Daryl had always thought with a father as eagle-eyed and attentive as Rick, you’d never reach this level of naughty, haughty, and straight up cunt-like, but here you were. Doing Lori proud the way you’d gotten another one of Rick’s best friends wrapped around your little finger.

You were good like that, and still too dense to understand a fraction of the effect you had on him while you did it. The way you’d been looking at him earlier, Daryl was sure you’d convinced yourself he hated you.

If you could only see him now, spitting in one hand and unzipping his fly with the other, freeing his cock, and finally, finally getting his fingers wrapped fast around his shaft with the sole thought of you on his mind as he did. If you could watch him shudder, close his eyes, draw a deep, jagged breath through his nose to scour the air for the faintest trace of your scent lingering there—maybe you’d get it.

Daryl slid his hand down his cock and exhaled a shaky breath. You would simply never “get it,” because he’d already promised himself he wouldn’t let that happen.

As his thumb grazed the head of his red-hot, leaking cock and imagined it was your tongue doing all the work, he had to remind himself this was nothing but a fantasy for him. There was just no way in hell he’d sink to Shane’s level and actually lay his hands on you, no—he was better than that.

He was a man of principle, furiously jerking his cock in his kitchen with the thought of his best friend’s daughter on his mind. He just couldn’t touch you.

Damn if those tits didn’t sit nice under that top, no bra to hold ‘em in. And those shorts…

Daryl felt his head drop back as a wave of pleasure coursed up his spine. In his mind, you were sucking him now, hollowing those soft, sweet cheeks around his member and bobbing your head up and down, again and again, eyes never leaving his. Maybe you’d know to cup his balls, use your tongue to draw a couple lazy shapes down his cock. Any way you wanted it done was exactly how Mr. Dixon needed it, he’d decided.

He squeezed his eyes shut even tighter and fucked his hand like a man half his age.

Someone like you.

Scarcely nineteen and so oversexed they might burst.

The difference was Daryl would explode any second now; he had only to hunch over, pump himself a few more times, and finally shoot his load, pretending it was spraying your insides and not the floor of his kitchen.

He’d intended to do just that, clenching his jaw at the filthiest thoughts of you yet, when suddenly, a sound shook the house.

Daryl dropped his cock and looked right out the window.

Down below, outside, you’d laid heavy on your car horn. Let the noise blare a couple seconds before Daryl came bounding over to the window.

When he did, the man thought his legs might buckle.

You were standing beside his truck in the driveway, sponge in hand, soaked head-to-toe in water and soap and smiling brighter than he’d ever seen you. The fabric above your tits was translucent now, clinging like a second skin and affording his lustful gaze every inch of your torso. Your free hand was waving up at him.

Daryl inched the window open with trembling hands.

“Mr. Dixon, this truck is filthy!” you shouted from down below.

Swallowing and blinking was all he knew how to do, it seemed. Finally, Daryl managed, deadpan:

“I know.”

You placed your hands on your hips and narrowed your eyes up at him.

“Have you always been such a dirty old man?”

Fuck. It was like you knew what he’d been doing, crouched over in the privacy of his home while he drooled and dreamed of fucking you stupid. He watched you cross the front of the car.

And lean down to start rubbing your sponge across the hood.

Daryl sincerely feared you might hear his loud groan the second it rose to his throat. He gritted his teeth, tried to fight the sound, but came up short with nothing to show for his efforts but a whimper slipping past his lips.

You started swirling your sponge in circles, tits shaking with every movement you made.

“Too bad little girls ain’t good for nothin’,” you sighed.

When you leaned flat across the metal surface below you, Daryl pictured himself standing behind you, taking his dick and shoving it deep between your folds. Stretching you out and making you scream into the space in front of you.

Slowly, discreetly, Daryl’s hand drifted back to his cock.

“Yeah. Too bad,” he mumbled as you bent over to soak your sponge once more. When you straightened up, you made sure to squeeze the thing over your chest so the water would douse your front. Daryl took the window frame in one hand and his cock in the other, leaning out just slightly to ask, “This the ‘stuff’ ye’s talkin’ ‘bout?”

“Thangs, really,” you answered dryly.

The two of you exchanged a brief smile, and Daryl’s hand started stroking his length.

Lucky for him, and unlucky for you, the size of the window wasn’t primed to make you privy to the sight of him pleasuring himself. At most, you saw a forearm moving gently back and forth. You bit your lower lip and kept your sponge moving in loops.

“Well these ‘thangs’ are gonna get ya in a whole heap of trouble with yer daddy if ya keep this up, girl,” Daryl warned, nodding toward your house with a wary look.

“It’s empty, Mr. Dixon. Whole place is mine for the weekend,” you replied with a sly intonation.

Finally, you stopped long enough to get a hand back down to your shorts. Facing Daryl still, you popped a button on your denim cut-offs and looked up at him with a glossy, innocent stare. You pretended to feel for something that wasn’t there, snagged the band of your light pink thong, and lifted it up to Daryl’s hungry gaze. You saw his bicep visibly strain as he jerked his cock even faster.

Back inside, Daryl was panting, groaning, reeling at the thought of you all alone in your house next door, splayed out across your bed in a baby pink panty set. He soaked in the sight of you and curled his toes into the floor as a new jolt of pleasure broke out through his body.

He was closer than he’d ever been. He rested his head against the window and watched you run your hands over your body, down your front, in your shorts. He imagined your fingers grazing your cunt and how wet you must’ve been then, imagining him right back and fucking him steady with your eyes.

For a moment, your eyelids fluttered, and a blissful look crossed your features. Daryl rutted his hips at the thought of you finding your clit in front of him—desperately wanting to be the source of that pleasure himself—and pumped himself even faster.

“Darlin’, I…I need ya. In such a bad fuckin’ way.” He couldn’t keep the tender term of endearment from dancing on his tongue. The sight of you alone had his brain on the fritz.

You slipped your hand out of your shorts and brought a couple honeyed fingertips to the edge of your lips.

“How bad, Mr. Dixon?” you asked, eyeing him intently.

Daryl whined and felt his insides churn with the threat of release. He knew he couldn’t hold on much longer.

“So— so bad. Need to fuck ya so bad.”

That satisfied your affirmation-hungry itch well enough. You pushed two digits between your lips and started to suck.

From that point on, you didn’t need to see him or hear him or be there waiting patiently on your knees to get a mouthful of his cum—you knew it was coming. Daryl’s face contorted with a blissful, fucked-out expression, and suddenly he was pumping that space below the window full of his load, likely spraying the whole damn thing on the wall.

You stood back and admired your work. Daryl had all but collapsed with both hands planted on the windowsill, wet, brown locks hanging low in his face as the aftershocks of his arousal washed over him.

He was panting and barely able to meet your gaze. You couldn’t quite read the expression.

At any rate, you knew your job here was done.

With a hand waving sweetly back up at him once more, you eyed the mess of a man—your father’s best friend—and started to reach for your bucket and sponge. You buttoned your shorts back up and took a step from his truck. When it seemed Daryl was just then starting to open his mouth to speak, you beat him to it and called out, cheerfully,

“See ya around, Mr. Dixon!”

[bruisedboys]

🍓 “good girl.” With Remus

okay so I took a completely different approach on this one and did dad!remus … hope u still like it angel!! and thank you for the request 🤍

summary: yours and remus’ daughter, daisy, throws a mini tantrum. remus handles it like a champ

mum!reader 0.8k words

Yours and Remus’s daughter looks exactly like you. If you were four years old and quite a bit smaller. She’s got your eyes, your skin tone, your lovely hair. Even her nose is a carbon copy of yours. Remus would be jealous if she wasn’t so pretty. He’s always wanted a kid that looks like him, but one that looks like you is even better.

She’s got a grumpy face that’s shockingly similar to yours, too. She’s pulling it now, sitting on the kitchen bench with her legs swinging and her arms crossed, scowling at Remus so fiercely it’s almost not cute. Almost.

“Daisy girl,” he says patiently. He never wants to lose his patience with her. Ever. Even now, when he’s unhappy with her because she’d shouted at you when you were just trying to help. “You made your mum real upset, you know that?”

Daisy shakes her head vigorously and shouts, “No!”

Remus doesn’t know what she’s saying no to and isn’t sure she knows, either. He sighs.

“No what, baby?” He asks. One of Daisy’s kicking legs catches him in the thigh and he sets a hand over her knee to stop the movement. He squeezes her soft, squishy thigh gently, to let her know he’s not mad. She’s so small his fingers spread all the way to her hip.

She visibly softens under her touch. Her bottom lip wobbles. “No,” she says again, less angry and far more sad.

Daisy promptly bursts into tears. Remus’s heart cracks into a million pieces. Sure, he’s not happy about the shouting, but seeing his little girl cry never fails to break his poor heart.

It only gets worse from there. Daisy starts wailing. Remus has no choice but to scoop her up in his arms and hold her to his chest as if that will glue his heart back together.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he soothes. He holds her with one arm under her butt while his free hand rubs small circles on her back. “Don’t cry, baby. It’s okay. It’s okay.”

Daisy cries and cries and cries. Remus knows you’re gonna appear before you do. You’re not very much stronger than him, when it comes to Daisy’s cries.

You’ve got a look on your face close to heartbreak as you appear in the kitchen doorway. Remus has a funny feeling you’ve been standing just out of sight this whole time. He meets your eyes and frowns.

“Dais,” he says softly into her ear. She’s still crying, shaking from the sobs, but she’s quieter now. She really does sound very sad. “Mummy’s back now. Did you want to say sorry?”

Daisy calms down enough to pull away slightly and look Remus in the eyes. Her face all wet and flushed, eyelashes sticking together, cheeks hot and pink. Remus doesn’t like it one bit. He uses his thumb to push away her sticky tear tracks as she nods.

“Yes,” she says hoarsely, her breaths shaky like they always are when she cries like this.

Remus smiles at her softly. “Okay, then.”

He carries her over to you and she hides in his neck on the way over. Her face is warm and wet on his skin. He can hear every little tremble in her breathing and it takes everything he has not to break down crying himself.

He encourages Daisy out of her hiding place once he’s close to you. She appears, all tear-streaked and so very sad. Remus props her higher on his hip and twists his shoulders so she’s facing you.

“Good girl,” he says to her, softly, encouraging. He strokes a thumb over her hip. “Go on.”

Daisy is quiet for a moment. Then,

“M’sorry, mummy,” she says, quiet as a mouse but so sincere it has both Remus and you smiling like idiots.

“Aw, that’s okay, sweetheart,” you say, never one to hold grudges. You hold your arms out for her and she goes to you immediately.

Remus watches with so much love it hurts as you wrap her up tightly and lay kiss after kiss to her head.

“It’s alright, baby,” you say sweetly. “You know I just wanted to help you, yeah?”

Daisy nods into your shoulder. Remus feels a rush of pride that at least something he’d said to her had stuck.

“I understand that I made you mad, though. I should’ve explained better.” You pull back and Daisy follows suit. You look her in the eyes and smile softly. “I’m sorry, too.”

Daisy falls right back into your chest. “That’s okay, mama.”

You smile so big Remus is sure it aches, your hand rubbing her back soothingly. You meet Remus’s eyes over Daisy’s shoulder, a look on your face that says thank you.

Remus kisses you in lieu of a you’re welcome.

-

[achaotichuman]

Hello!!! I was wondering if you have recs for pro-Tamlin fics, fics where he gets a happy ending in general? Or where the Night Court get called out on their bullshit with a side of pro Tamlin bc I’d devour them but have a hard time finding them (I love your fics btw)

Sure do!

Pro Tam fics can be difficult to find. I found all of these scrolling through either the Tamlin redemption tag, or the different relationship tags on AO3.

I'll link all the fics here. I'll put all the summaries and the relationship that goes with them, if there is a relationship. This is a list of all my personal favorite Tamlin fics, but these creators make other amazing Tamlin fics, and scrolling the pro Tamlin tag can take you to some really cool fanfiction.

A Court of Threads and Daises by @shi-daisy. Tamlin/Lucien.

Tragedy almost struck the Spring Court when Tamlin Evergreen tried to take his own life. Lucien Vanserra manages to save his former Lord, but not his power.

Now that the Spring Court has a new High Lord and the horrors of war are behind them, both Tamlin and Lucien agree to help the new heir navigate court life and attempt to rebuild the broken Spring Court, along with healing themselves.

They weren't expecting to fall back in love in the process.

A Second Chance by @goforth-ladymidnight. Tamlin/Lucien Vanserra. Modern ACOTAR AU – There is a reason that Tamlin disappeared from Lucien's life seven years ago. Lucien just doesn't know what it is. They were more than college roommates; they were best friends. Now, a chance encounter in a bookstore leaves both of them wondering if they can pick up where they left off. A new year is right around the corner, but there is no wiping Tamlin's slate clean. Featuring Jurian and Vassa in supporting roles, this is not a story of redemption, but of finding love—and forgiveness—in the most unlikely of places.

Lovely and Lonely by @praetorqueenreyna. Tamlin/Lucien Vanserra.

"In hindsight, Lucien thinks he fell in love with Tamlin the moment he first laid eyes on him."

**************************

Lucien Vanserra must come to terms with his sexuality, and his complicated feelings for High Lord Tamlin.

Wildflower by @mathiwrites. Tamlin/Rhysand.

Five hundred years before Feyre’s arrival in Prythian, the humans fought against Faeries, led by the King of Hybern, for their Freedom. Tamlin is only seven years old when the war begins, but his family’s involvement and a fated friendship with a handsome young Lord from the Night Court will change his life forever. This is the story of how he becomes the High Lord you know and love, and the redemption story nobody asked for.

TL;DR - before they were enemies, they touched butts.

A Court of Beasts and Chances by M4r0u_Mar. Tamlin/Tarquin.

About a Beast who must be prince and a Prince who wants to be beast. About a Prince who learns of second chances and a Beast who learns of redemption. About looking for love and finding it in the journey rather than the destination.

Or the one where I rewrite ACOTAR to make Tamlin and Tarquin mates.

A Court of Choices Made by Anonymous. Tamlin/Lucien Vanserra. Lucien decides to go after Tamlin to pick a fight after his first Winter Solstice with the Night Court.

I see red, I see nothing by AngryRamen. Tamlin/Lucien Vanserra. Lucien travels to Amarantha’s domain to try and bid for peace between her and the courts of Prythian. It doesn’t go well.

Still Beautiful, Still Mine by @goforth-ladymidnight. Tamlin/Lucien Vanserra. ACOTAR AU - In the weeks following his visit to Amarantha’s Court Under the Mountain, Lucien is still recovering from the loss of his eye. Nuan has made him a replacement out of gold, but the scars on his face are there to stay. When Tamlin comes to see him, Lucien cannot help but relive the events that brought them to this point, if only he could focus on what's standing right in front of him...

A Sunbeam Shining Bright Into the Night by @nocasdatsgay. Tamlin/Lucien Vanserra.

After the Great Rite ritual is completed, Tamlin always goes back to the Manor to see if Lucien is waiting for him. This year he is.

Forbidden by @nocasdatsgay. Tamlin/Lucien Vanserra. Calanmai has come once again, but Tamlin isn’t focused on the females waiting for him.

Breezing on by Sprighnt (SliPuP_Slit). Tamlin/Lucien Vanserra.

His focus was shattered when Feyre dropped onto the bench next to him with a dramatic sigh, “You won’t even say hi after you ditched us last week?”

Lucien rolled his eyes at her antics, “I didn’t ditch you, I was studying for math. The exam of a subject that I need days to prepare for, remember? I didn’t think you’d even notice me gone, what with all the ogling that takes up your time in our practices.”

“Shut up!” She shushed him, glancing around wildly for any eavesdroppers, “what if he heard you?”

——— Lucien has settled into a routine now. He’s finally able to go back to competing after an accident that had him wondering if he’d ever be able to skate competitively again, he’s out of his hellish childhood home, and has friends that make him happy.

By the Fountain by Sprighnt_(SliPuP_Slit). Tamlin/Lucien Vanserra.

Tamlin is tired of stuffy dinner parties, luckily, he has his best friend, Lucien, to make things more interesting.

———

Tamlin took the time to look at Lucien, who was staring at an elegant fountain nearby. He examined the dip of his nose, the scrunch of his brows, the slight part of his lips that indicated he was contemplating something. Then Lucien’s mouth set in a firm line, meaning he’d made up his mind on whatever the issue was.

Lucien glanced back at him and Tamlin startled at being caught watching. He placed his hand gently on Tamlin’s arm, “I don’t think my father will plan one for me either.”

New Springs by Sprighnt_(SliPuP_Slit). Tamlin/Lucien Vanserra.

“I can’t be here for as long as you,” she clarifies, gesturing to the forest around them.

“You’re leaving?”

She shrugs, “It’s nice here, but my sisters, my father, they’re my only family. Even if they’re, a little difficult at times, and I don’t want to hurt Tam. I was really in love with him, but, to put it plainly, I’m not like you.”

“Like me,” Lucien repeats, confused, “what do you mean?”

———

In another universe, an alternate timeline, Feyre says “I love you”, before she’s sent off and therefore breaks the curse the way it was supposed to be broken. Things are different.

absolution by @praetorqueenreyna. Feyre/Mercenary Lady, Tamlin/Lucien Vanserra.

Things didn't work out between Feyre and Tamlin. Years later, they both find love in unexpected places

Beauteous Evening, Calm and Free by franklinarchive. Tamlin/Lucien Vanserra.

Tamlin heals and then he moves on.

Or, what if Sarah J. Maas hadn’t committed ‘character assassination’ against Tamlin?

When The Sun Came Up (I Was Looking At You) by pansexual_intellectual . Jesminda/Tamlin/Lucien Vanserra.

There was a slight choking sound from the Night Court side of the room, but when you looked, Lucien was expressionless, adjusting his doublet.

It was the worst idea you had ever had. In the shreds of your manor you dropped to your knees. He was gone in the morning, as you knew he would be.

Burning Batter by Sprighnt_(SliPuP_Slit). Tamlin/Rhysand. Rhysand comes over to make cupcakes with Tamlin for Feyre’s upcoming New Year’s party.

A strange thing happened the night of the High Lord meeting by @umthisistheonlyusernamenottaken. Tamlin/Rhysand.

Tamlin shook his head, a small smile on his full lips. “You forget that we were closer than friends once. I know your face. Even when you think you’re being so clever, hiding behind that mask of impassivity, I see you.”

He snarled, even as his heart began to beat faster as the other male approached him.

“You think I didn’t see you? You couldn’t stop looking at me during that meeting.” He took another step closer, and his next words were tinged with playfulness, a hint of the Tamlin he’d used to know.

“Were you thinking of that night too?”

He froze. “What?”

In the Eyes of My Beloved by Alynaw66. Tamlin/Rhysand.

I promise, Rhysand sighs into his mouth; Then down onto the slight curve between his neck and shoulder. Tamlin shivers, feeling dazed. Overwhelmed.

“Another offer,” he begins, one hand sliding down to grip Tamlin’s narrow waist.

(Also fun fact about this fic, I was brought to Tumblr because of a link in the notes, so without this fiction I wouldn't be here)

Stay or Go? by SoulOfStars. Tamlin/Rhysand. Both of their families are dead. Rhysand decides to stay. They fuck in the second chapter.

heaven sent a hurricane by @praetorqueenreyna. Tamlin/Eris Vanserra. After his family is killed and he is crowned High Lord, Tamlin struggles to keep his Court under his control. (Un)Luckily for him, Eris Vanserra steps in to help.

A House of Flame and Flower by Mellowenglishgal. Nesta Archeron/Tamlin, Nesta Archeron/Azriel.

“Spare me the self-righteous lecturing, Feyre. You and your new family believe yourselves superior: that anyone who is not deemed worthy by you must bow or be eliminated. I refuse to bow to those I do not respect: and I owe none of you any such obligation. Nor am I obligated to remain where my autonomy is threatened,” Nesta sighed, gentle yet commanding, her voice low and steady and unyielding. “I renounce all ties to the Night Court. From now on, you are no longer my sister.”

“Where will you go?” Feyre snapped, but Nesta saw it: the sudden realisation that Nesta meant every word.

“That is no longer your business. Goodbye, Feyre,” Nesta said softly. She rose to her feet, elegant as an empress despite her unkempt clothing. As she stared down her youngest sister, Nesta caressed the delicious power shimmering like slumbering embers deep in her heart, until her veins sang with silver fire, pure light, blistering heat, deadly yet silent.

Flame was silent: everything it met shattered and snapped, disintegrating, unable to withstand it.

She was flame. She was undiluted, unrefined, unapologetic power.

She told Feyre, “You will not hear from me again.”

(Side note, I just started reading this fic and it looks FREAKIN amazing) Edit- Anyone who saw that I changed the name of the author to a tag, ignore it, I was wrong.

A Court of Lies and Resurrection by @ashintheairlikesnow. Tamlin/Rhysand. AU: Feyre is dead, torn apart by Amarantha when Tamlin did not send her away in time. Tamlin, forced to submit to Amarantha's terms, finds himself looking for help (and finding affection) in places he never expected, while Lucien allies with an ancient enemy (and one of Rhys's closest friends) to save him. WARNING Extensive explicit adult content, sexual situations, violence, MA

In This Peace Series by @trshtffc, the first fiction in the series is completed The Sorceress . Tamlin/Original Female Character.

Seven years after ACOWAR, Spring Court is struggling to keep from falling apart completely. A mother tries to move on and keep her daughter safe in this chaotic world, but when the young female most needs a friend, she'll give the disgraced High Lord a chance to attone for the pain he has caused, and, perhaps, to finally heal.

TW for - mentions of suicidal thoughts - mentions of loss of a pregnancy - mentions of sexual abuse - mentions of emotional abuse (toxic relationships and toxic family dinamics) - colourism - LGBT+phobia

(This one was recommended to me in the replies of this post, and it looks so good)

And finally, (shameless self-ad) A Court of Song and Desolation by me. Tamlin/Lucien Vanserra.

She had eyes like starlight and a grin that could outshine the moon, "We'll rule the world."

"What if we fail?"

"Then we'll burn it all down."

In hindsight maybe it could only have ever ended like this. Making a man who was never made to rule, High lord. This was all inevitable.

With his Court in ruins and everyone gone, Tamlin lives amongst the broken pieces of his Court and has no intentions of changing that. Lucien, however, will not stand to leave his oldest friend alone.

When Lucien takes Tamlin back to the human lands, they discover a darkness coming for Prythian. If something does not stop it, it will completely rewrite the way Faeries and humans alike live as they know it

I hope you like these amazing fics as much as I do, anon!

Edit- If anyone has any recommendations for pro Tamlin fics, or anti IC fics, please let me know and I will add them to the list!

[inell]

Tease Tidbit Tuesday

🥳🥳🥳 I just now wrote ‘The End’ in my Buddie Ghost Hunters AU doc file. The rough draft is officially complete! 10 chapters and 73k as of right now. I have a title and summary. I feel like celebrating! I can’t wait to share it with y’all! I kind of love this little AU universe.

I was tagged by @diazheartsbuckley @dangerpronebuddie & @rosieposiepuddingnpie so here is a snippet! Sorry it’s so late, but I wanted to finish!

“I think Manteo stressed all of us out,” Buck agrees, chuckling as he shakes his head. “The storm and the delays threw everything out of balance, and we’re just trying to get our equilibrium back. I do want to go on record, though, that Lucy is not ever going to ride with us. I can handle Ravi, he’s like an annoying younger brother, but she’s just annoying period.”

“I thought you liked her when she started working with us,” Eddie points out. During his thinking time, he quickly realized that Buck’s jealous of Lucy, but he hasn’t been able to test out his theory yet. Now, maybe he can poke a little and see if he’s right. “You said ‘that’s one cool lady’, didn’t you?”

“That was before we spent weeks traveling with her,” Buck mutters, slowing down and turning on his blinker. “She’s handsy and loud and teases too much in, like, a familiar way when she doesn’t know us that well yet. And, I don’t care what you say, I know she’s trying to recruit you into some kind of sordid threesome with her and her wife. She’s always hanging off of you and touching your hair and calling you her favorite. Not to mention the photo she sent in chat last night. That was just inappropriate.”

“Okay, so, tell me something. What the hell did that photo even mean? Was she saying I was sweet like the cake? Or did she really think she saw me in the reflection of the window or something?” Eddie asks, blurting it out because he trusts Buck not to make too much fun of him for not getting the reference. “Also, you’re just jealous, Buck, but you have no reason to be because I’m not interested in sordid threesomes with anyone. I don’t like to share.”

“Seriously?” Buck turns to stare at him for a full ten seconds before he starts laughing. “Sorry, I’m not laughing at you, so stop sulking. I’m just laughing because you’re adorable. I’m pretty damn crazy about you and your old man knowledge of urban slang.” Buck swats his hand away when Eddie reaches over to poke his ribs. “Cake is another word for ass. She was saying that the stacked cake resembles your butt, Eddie. Because you could have been the inspiration for Sir Mix-a-Lot if you’d been born, like, two decades earlier.”

“Jesus, she’s a terror. She’s worse than a younger sister,” Eddie says, blushing as he realizes that his entire team knows Lucy thinks he’s got a stacked ass. Not only that, but half of them laughed at the image, which means they must either find it funny or agree. “I actually understood your ‘Baby Got Back’ reference, by the way. I’m not an old man without any pop culture knowledge. I just don’t keep up with slang because I’m a single parent in my thirties with more important things to keep in my head than useless knowledge about butts.”

“More important things, huh?” Buck says. “I don’t know what’s more important than your ass, but maybe I just have different priorities. I love to eat cake, after all.” He winks at Eddie, his lips curling into a sexy smirk that makes him forget what they’re talking about for a moment. “As for Lucy acting like a big sister, I can say that Maddie has never once said that I have a stacked ass. In fact, she’d probably be as grossed out as I am at the very idea of it. But, to Lucy’s credit, your ass is a work of art, as I’ve said numerous times since we met, and I can’t really even blame her for appreciating it.”

Tagging: @exhuastedpigeon @hippolotamus @theotherbuckley @diazsdimples @tidesreach

@tizniz @smilingbuckley @lesbianrobin @cal-daisies-and-briars @kitteneddiediaz

@acountrygirlsfun @becausebuckley @queerweewoo @queerdiazs @rainbow-nerdss

@glorious-spoon @spotsandsocks @linus-lucy @sparklespiff @watchyourbuck

@wayfarers0 @pt-soulmate @lover-of-mine @bucks-daddy-issues @loveyouanyway @lookforanewangle

@mairaiscarrierofthepaperclips @cranberrymoons @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @disasterbuck @veronae-buddie @sharpbutsoft

@eddiebabygirldiaz @eddiegettingshot @eddiesfagstache @cowboy-babygirl-eddiediaz @sibylsleaves

@made-ofmemories @littlefreakbuckley @monsterrae1 @onthewaytosomewhere @treasurehuntbuck

[viaviv124]

Random Luigi (potentially Bowuigi) concept i had

Basically Luigi Villain arc. Ik it's probably done a milliion times before but shhh

He's tired of being the butt of everyone's jokes and had quite a bit of mental changes, making him be considered close to insanity tbh.

Now he wants power so no one can push him down anymore but because he's lacking the strength to overthrow the mushroom kingdom he leaves it and returns to a certain mansion in his possession that happens to be filled with Ghosts. Since, bc plot conveniance mainly, he still has king boo's crystal he can easily control the Ghosts to follow him. Polterpup is also doing a lot to keep them in line when Luigi is busy. He calls it the Ghost kingdom.

Insane weegee decides to punish (meaning torture and execute) everyone who ever wronged and made fun of him. Considering it's pretty much everyone he starts to invade/massacre kingdom after kingdom. Settlement after Settlement. Only growing stronger and more powerful with each Victory. And since Ghosts and boos are everywhere his following also gets bigger every time, too. The only kingdoms he hasnt touched yet are Sarazar Land, despite being probably a disappointment to Daisy (he hasnt spoken to her in a long while) he still sees her as someone truly good, The mushroom kingdom, not the strength yet, and the darklands, also not the strength yet. Everything else either fell or got a war declaration.

The mushroom kingdom and darklands put on a temporary alliance, not knowing yet who or what caused all these murderous Ghosts. To them Luigi is simply missing. Until one day bowser sees Luigi by chance. He can barely recognize him. Being the kindhearted coward no more he has a confident and strong presence, a changed style of clothes ("only appropriate to a King" Luigi thought) and this twisted, menacing glint in his eyes.

Now, Luigi doesnt entirely realize what he's doing is wrong. He knows torture and murder is cruel but to him it's deserved revenge. Him breaking out of his own misery. He doesnt consider himself evil or a villain. To him he's doing what's right. Eradicating everyone who has proven to him that they can and will harm others for their own amusement.

Depending on the story Bowser can go to respect Luigi and they Team up eventually, creating a powerful Nation of Terror, or Bowser can stick to peach and help stop Luigi.

[rachi-roo]

Hiyaaaa, Rachi! How are you doing? If fic requests are open, may I please request a (romantic if possible) Lee! Fyodor Ler! Dazai fic?

You know how Fyodor is all calculated and menacing? Yeah, that flies out the moment he's tickled. Let me tell you, it's canon (prove me otherwise😂) that this rat man would be the cutest lee. I'm talking cute-ass nervous/anticipation giggles, his eyes furiously trained on the hands of the ler (our whore-I mean Dazai), twitching when he hasn't even been touched yet. And even Dazai is flabbergasted when he hears the rat's tickly laugh. It's uncharacteristically sweet😂. He doesn't even tease him about it because it's so adorable.

-------------{ ☆°•○•°☆ }-------------

Bungo Stray Dogs: "Did you know rats laugh when tickled?"

Hi friendo! Im doing fabulous, thank you! Hope you're well! Oooh! Another challenging one~ Thank you very much for the ask! FyoZai is an interesting ship, one I hadn't considered before now 🤔 Kinda gay but we love that XD Tough, menacing men's being turned into jelly at just sight of wriggling fingers will ALWAYS be a favourite! I've written them as kind of frenemies with benefits XD I hope it satisfies! ❤️🩷❤️

Summary: Dazai manages to break into Fyodors temporary secret residence and has an important fact he has to share!

Lee!Fyodor, Ler!Dazai, Ship

Tw: Mild 'suggestive' flirting/ physical contact

--------------------☆ ☆-----------------------

Night fell over the busy city streets, Fyodor was sitting alone in an inconspicuous little motel rental apartment. It's just somewhere peaceful to stop off between his usual stabbing and hacking and whatnot.

The Russian sighed, running a hand through his ebony locks as he lay on the bed provided, wearing something a little less formal for his rest. Just some black joggers and an oversized shirt. Nice and comfy.

As he stared at the ceiling, he felt his eyelids grow heavy, starting to slip closed as his mind began to fog up with sleep.

Ssshuk-

The unmistakable sound of a sliding window being lifted startled the resting terrorist, making him sit up instantly, just in time to see a gangly leg and arm fall through the window.

"Hupsy daisy!" The lanky limbs belonged to none other than Dazai Osamu. He poked his head in with a smirk, looking directly at Fyodor with a chuckle.

"There you are~!" He chimed, pulling himself through the tiny window and dusting himself off. "Geez, I thought the information said room four. I just saw the little old lady next door completely butt nude. Not a pleasant sight." He cringed.

Fyodor was already at his mental capacity limit just by having this goon break in through the window. But he knew this was far from over.

"What do you want, Dazai?" He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He didn't bother asking how Dazai found his location. He knew the goober would probably just say 'magic' or something stupid like that.

Dazai grinned, sitting by Fyodors' side on the edge of his bed. "Awww, c'mon buddy. Do I really need a reason to visit my arch nemesis slash bestie?" He chuckled, kicking his shoes off and turning to sit cross-legged on the bed.

"Dazai," Fyodor sighed, covering his mouth as he yawned. "I'm tired, okay? Can we do this another time? Go talk to Granny next door if you're bored." He turned on his side, nuzzling his face into his pillow, hoping Dazai would just leave if he ignored him.

Obviously, that wasn't going to work at all. Being ignored only edged him on. "But I have a fun fact for you! Come ooooon!" He shook the russians arm playfully.

"Uuuugh... Will you go if I listen to your stupid fact?"

"Yes! Immediately!" Dazai nodded.

"Fine! What is it?" Fyodor kept his face half buried in his pillow before feeling Dazai suddenly grab him and flip him onto his back, straddling his waist and pinning his arms beside his head in one swift movement.

"Aaaalright!" The brunette beamed. "Did you know rats laugh when tickled?"

The floor fell from beneath Fyodor. He felt his stomach drop and then fill with butterflies. His heart rate suddenly shot up as his cheeks flushed with a pink glow.

"I did not know... That rats could do that. No." He felt so very silly at just how immediate his reaction was to a simple word. One damn word!

"You didn't know that? Whaaaat? That's craaaazy!" Dazai dragged out sarcastically, knowing he had Fyodor right where he wanted him.

"No, so, is that all? Or is th-ehee! No! No, stop that." Fyodors' demonic reputation was stripped from him. All Dazai had to do was raise his hands and flex those fiendish fingers, and Fyodor melted like cotton candy in a stream.

Dazai smirked, cruelly edging his teasing fingers closer to Fyodors torso, not giving any indication as to where he would actually strike.

"What's the matter, Fyodor? It's not like you're a rat or anything. Unless, maybe you are? Maybe you're a silly, giggly, ticklish little rat~!" God, his teasing was relentless!

Fyodor tried biting back his anxious giggling as he fought with Dazais hands. Swatting and grabbing at any advances the detective made.

"Stohohp! Dazai! This isn't fuhunnyyy!" He managed to grip both of Dazais wrists, grinning giddily up at his attacker as he tried to catch his breath.

"Oh, but it is funny! It's so, so funny to see you wriggling like a widdle wat!" Dazai smirked, letting Fyodor hold his wrists for a moment as he leaned down, softly placing a few butterfly kisses on his 'friend's' neck, making his shoulders bunch.

"Hehe! N-Noho! Dazai! G-Get ohoff!" He blushed profusely, his feet kicking against the mattress. In the split second that he was distracted, Dazai snuck his hands down, digging into Flydors' sides, kneading into them with his nimble fingers.

"Gotcha, ratty!"

"NYAHAHA! Shit! Shiiit! Naaahaha!"

Dazai put his full weight on Fyodor, keeping him trapped as he gripped his hips, drilling his thumbs into the protruding bone.

"Oh, what a skinny rat you are~"

"Wait! Dazai not thEHEHAHAHAAAAA!"

Fyodor wheezed as he tried to curl up, his hips bucking slightly against Dazais. The suicidal numpty chuckled, making silly false moaning sounds.

"Ah~ Fyodor~ Harder~!"

"GET OFFA MEHEHE! Y-You peheherv!" Fyodor pushed on Dazais cheeks, trying to wriggle himself free.

"You crehehEHEHEEP! AH! Ya ub'yu tebyahaha, ublyudok! UMEREHEHET!"

"Uuuh, no tengo espanol?"

"Screhehew you!"

"Ah~! How forward of you my dear~!"

"DAZAI!" Fyodor grabbed Dazais' hands, pulling them away from his hips only to have his own hands suddenly pinned over his head with one of Dazais.

"Got you nooow~" Dazai grinned evily, wriggling his finger close to Fyodors exposed armpits, enjoying the power he weilded as he watched his helpless buddy writhe and flinch beneath him.

"Stohop teasing! You neheheee! No!"

Dazai gasped, seeing Fyodors shirt had ridden up. "Ohoho! What do we have here~?" He cooed, slowly starting to drag his fingers back and forth over his exposed tummy, biting his lip as he watched Fyodors skin tremble.

"A-Aha! Gh-! Stoahahap! Hah-!"

"Coochie, coochie, cooo little rat~" He dipped his finger into his belly button, earning a satisfying squeal. "Hehe, what a squeaky little rat you are! Eek, eek!"

"I swehear I-Ihihi'm gonna kill you!"

"You what?"

"I'll kIHIHIIIIIYAHAHA!" The Russians body arched as Dazai suddenly switched his tactics, clawing at Fyodors underarm.

"Didn't quite catch that, buddy." Dazai taunted, smiling down at Fyodors' exasperated expression. His eyes scrunched shut, his tear stained cheeks a warm pink hue and his bright unyielding smile filling the room with his loud, relentless laughter. It brought out the sadist in Dazai, seeing his loved one like this.

"I could go all night with you like this~ It's quite a nice view. Tickle, tickle, tickle~"

"Plehehease! No! Noho! Mehercy! AHAHAHAAAAA!"

---------

Finally, Dazai was satisfied. He hopped off his partner, stretching his arms as if nothing had happened, slipping his shoes on casually as he listened to Fyodors heavy breathing.

"Did I go too hard?" He asked, turning to look as Fyodor curled in on himself, hiding his face in his pillow as he hugged it to his chest.

"Haha, awww, lil' rat is all tired. Darn, look at the mess you've made." He chuckled, gesturing to the bed sheets that had been pulled loose due to all Fyodors thrashing.

He smiled, gently tucking the bed sheets back under the mattress, so they were nice and neat. "Are you really ignoring me now?... Fyodooor?" Dazai chimed, swiping a finger across Fyodors bare foot, immediately getting smacked across the face with a pillow.

"DAMN IT DAZAI!"

"What!? I thought we were having a moment!"

"OUT! Get out!" Fyodor growled, his face beat red, steam pouring from his ears like he was ready to burst.

"But Fyodooor!"

"NO! Y-You're the worst!"

"Okay, okay." Dazai leaned in suddenly, placing a soft kiss on his partner's forehead, making Fyodor need a reboot. "I'll catch you later, ratty~" Dazai smirked, already halfway out the window again when Fyodor tossed his pillow at him.

"OUT!"

"Love you too!"

Fyodor sighed, flopping back down onto his bed with a huff.

"Yeah..."

--------------------☆ ☆----------------------

[widespot]

Gabriella's problem is, that she's been pining after her stupid high school boyfriend and now she's in mourning for her mother- and father-figures, and that is just too much all-up-in-her-headness for anybody. Clearly, it's Les's responsibility to drag her out into the real world.

"I'll give you a daisy a day, dear! I'll give you a daisy a day! I'll love you until the rivers run still, and the four winds we know blow away." Her taste in music is really soppy, but Les can take it.

They stuff themselves with dessert and compare fandom wank. "Too bad you didn't have TV. The juiciest stuff starts with small-screen old man yaoi."

"Is that a sniffle? None of that! C'mere! You know what your problem is? You're touch starved."

"I just - I want a love like their's, you know? And maybe that's Tommy - probably that's Tommy - but he's so much younger than me, I don't know - I feel like I'm having to live without love for such a long time."

"You don't have to wait for that infant to come to school to be loved, Gabby. Trust me. People'll line up to love you, if you let them."

"I like boys, you know." "I know. You can like more than one thing. And if you don't experiment now, when will you?"

"Excuse me, I couldn't help overhearing, and if you two want -" "We don't. Butt out."

"Not that I blame him for looking. Any couple with you in it is gonna be mighty attractive."

"If I didn't have to prep for a final -" "But you do." "You gonna let me kiss you?" "I - Yes. Experimentally."

[13as07]

Just a Thought

(Sasori)

[Artwork is not mine! Credit to sakotach_art]

Requested by: Your Dog, Possibly

Word Count: 3,938

Warnings and/or Pre-Notes:

Belittling

Misogyny

Themes of Imprisonment

———————————————————————

     Sasori's fingertips carefully toy with my hair, focused on sewing in the hair extensions he asked - demanded - me to allow him to gift me. The fake hair is long, the ends are going to hang below my butt when he's done. I don't want extensions, especially ones so long, but he insisted he'd take care of them so I don't have any other fight to put up.

     "Done," Sasori mutters, toying with the thread and needle for a second before his hands fall away. His touch is only gone for a second before his fingers are back in my hair, brushing through it and shaking it as he looks over his work in the mirror. "Perhaps this will be more suitable," he murmurs, more to himself than me.

     The puppet has a habit of treating me like a puppet; trying different styles, lengths, and colors on my hair, dressing me up in different outfits, and doing my makeup in different ways. I'm sure if Sasori could find a way to quickly change my physical features, he'd do that too. Likely he can't so besides the occasional comment about being too skinny or too round - different insults depending on the idea in his head - he leaves my features and weight alone.

     My hair is continually played with, flipped around, and shaken as he looks it over. "Yes, I believe this will be suitable, Darling."

     "For?" I question, not being able to figure out what has him inspired this time, or the look he's plotting.

     "That annoying boy and I stumbled upon a little shop last week," Sasori starts to explain, pulling back the strands that frame either side of my face. "They had this glass portrait of Rapunzel in their window. It's not unusual for her to be framed in a blue dress, and of course, long hair."

"Oh," I utter, watching as he plays with my hair, pinning it as he wishes. That's not a source of inspiration I'd ever consider for him.

"I liked the way her hair glowed in the window and I hope to recreate it."

I hum in acknowledgment, letting my eyes fall closed to further enjoy the feeling of his fingertips twisting and tugging on my hair. When my eyes flicker open again, my hair is layered with two wide-spread braids, trailing to the back of my head. Sasori's focus is still on the hair-made crown, continuing to fluff the braids. "How are you going to make it glow?"

     Sasori floats away when he's done messing with my hair, searching around the room for whatever it is he's looking for instead of answering me. When he reappears, he litters the table with eight or nine powder blue daisies, the petals looking waxy like they've been made of plastic. "Are they fake?" I ask, picking up one of the flowers to toy with it.

     "No," he answers, snatching the daisy from me before situating a pin to it. The flower - and his hands - disappear behind me, the pin being shoved into the braids. "They've been sealed for your safety, Darling. A dead human is useless to me."

     I ignore his comment, picking up another daisy to twirl between my fingers. "Why are they sealed?"

     "I coated the petals with a fluorophore compound." I blink slowly as I look at Sasori in the mirror, waiting for him to continue explaining. He sighs in annoyance, snatching the flower from me again to situate it with a pin like the first one. "I painted the flowers so they glow in the dark," he explains slowly, his voice belittling as he breaks it down to me like a child.

     "Oh," I whisper, trying to blink away the feeling left behind by the belittling. Sasori thinks he's smarter than me, just because he has a better understanding and has studied chemistry, unlike me. Maybe he is smarter than me.

     "Are you going to cry? That's annoying, Darling. Don't be an annoying crybaby," he grumbles, stabbing a finger into my cheek before his focus is back to pinning flowers into my hair. "Puppets don't cry. What use are you to me if you're not an officiant puppet?"

     "Why are you so mean?" I murmur as I keep my focus on my hands, my - fake and long - lashes blinking quickly to fight off the tears Sasori is trying so hard to pull out of me. I don't need him mad if my tears mess with the glue and make the lashes loose.

     "I'm not being mean, Darling. You're just being annoying. It's not my fault you're an idiotic little girl. However, that's the best kind of woman. Being appealing is the only useful thing a woman of your status can do well."

     The blinking is useless, tears roll down my cheeks and dot my fingers knotted together in my lap. I'm smart, not chemistry smart, but still smart. I can do more than look pretty, do more than be a dress-up thing for Sasori. "I'm smart," I whisper, squeezing my hands together.

     "Sure you are, Darling. I'm sure there's plenty of useful thoughts in your head," he coos, his tone still belittling as he tugs on the ends of my extended hair. "None of which I wish to hear. Your job is to look pretty, perform sexual duties for medical purposes, and be present when I wish. I do not have the time or the want to hear your pointless nonsense."

     "I'm smart," I repeat, clutching my hands together again. "I read. I read the books and magazines you have, the ones you get me, and I'm cultured. I listen to the things about art and travel you tell me. I remember them. I write them down sometimes."

     Sasori sighs in annoyance, tugging on my hair rougher this time. "You always get so irritating when you've been cooped up for too long. How long has it been since I've taken you outside? Since we've done something? Is that why you're so upset, Darling? Do you feel housebound?"

     "It's been five days since you've taken me outside. Sixty-three days since we've done something. Last time you took me out, we got dinner."

     Another sigh comes, his fingertips twirling my hair this time instead of pulling on it. "I should find you something to keep your time more preoccupied. Perhaps a new hobby. Maybe pottery, which is quite time-consuming and could be useful."

     "Useful?"

     "Yes, Darling. If you do well at it, it can be sold, make you some pocket money, like a pretty housewife with nothing better to do. Small little dollars to buy pretty little things for yourself." Sasori falls quiet after that, still tossing the ends of my hair as the gears turn in his head. The thought makes me weary; he's always adamant about me not having more than eight thousand yen at a time so I can't stockpile money as a step toward escaping.

"Perhaps," he whispers, his touch falling away again.

     "Perhaps?" I ask, turning in my chair to look behind me. My eyes follow after the puppet master, watching him paw around the different outfits littered around the room.

     "Do not worry your small mind, Darling. It is just a thought I am working through for the moment. I will let you know if you need to know."

     "I'm smart," I remind him, knowing I could say it until I'm blue and Sasori still wouldn't think so.

     "Yes, you are, Darling," he murmurs, catching me off guard. "The smartest puppet I have ever owned."

————————————

     Sasori's hand rubs smoothly against my ankle, sliding my shoes on for me. Once my feet are firmly on the ground again, his gentle touches slide up my legs, toying with the hem of the fluffy dress he dolled me up in. He might be mean and almost heartless at times, but he is an amazing craftsman and an excellent artist.

     This outfit in particular took him some time. The baby blue dress has been carefully embroidered with equally soft yellows, pinks, and greens, covering the dress in different florals. My shoulders are wrapped in the thin straps of the dress, some material hanging off my shoulders to add to the whimsical feel of it.

     As Sasori climbs back onto his feet, his hands slide backward, checking the crisscrossing ribbon on the back of the dress, making sure the bow is still tight and keeping the material laced on my body. His inspection doesn't stop there, his fingertips back to toying with the hair he sewed into my head this morning. I was right, it hangs below my bottom, barely cutting off before the end of the dress.

     His pale brown eyes jump around, looking for any imperfections in my clothing or my hair or the makeup he delicately painted on my face. "Quite suitable," Sasori murmurs, his touch and eyes pulling away from me. His focus is on the door, popping the locks and pushing the wood open. He holds it open, motioning me through the frame.

     I walk past him, stepping outside Sasori's workshop that I call home for the moment. He has a few of them, five or six small little cabins littered around the Great Nations. They're all the same, for the most part. A big room for his puppeteering, a room for a makeshift kitchen, and then a bedroom for me connected to a bathroom.

     I'm mostly kept in the workshop on the outskirts of the Land of Wind, but something happened to make Sasori move me to the cabin tucked away by the Land of Fire. I don't mind though, seeing how the weather here isn't as hot as my primary home, giving me a nice break from the heat. As I slide outside, the weather coats my skin, a hint of warmth and a breeze melting together to make a comfortable feeling.

Sasori follows behind me within seconds, the tick of his chakra threads filling the air before they wrap around me. The sizzling of his chakra wraps around my thighs, the electric blue buzz hiding just under the hem of my dress.

The door locking fights for space with the soft sizzle before falling away. Sasori moves toward me, his hand settling on the small of my back; another way to control my movements and stop any attempts to run away if I attempt to. I don't plan on it; I've tried enough times to know I won't get far and I've been with him long enough to know I don't have the means to survive if I did manage to get away.

     Sasori's free hand is focused on placing his usual outing hat on his head. A pale straw hat curtained with white clothes to hide his face, a red string tied with a bell on one side. The bell jingles as we walk forward, holding my attention as I'm led forward. "Darling?" He murmurs, balling up some of the material of my dress.

     "Yes?"

     "I have decided you will not be doing pottery." Well that was long lived, wasn't it? I guess his mind went to the same place mine did. "It's too messy and requires too much." Or not, I guess. "What other hobbies might you like to try?"

     "I like my reading," I murmur, looking around at the different trees and plants making up the scenery. "And I like my cooking but it's not much of a hobby since it's just us. Well, just me most of the time."

     Sasori lets out a long hum, using both the threads and his hold to tug me closer to himself. "Perhaps," he murmurs, his hand sliding from my back to my side, his fingertips digging into my ribs.

     "Perhaps?"

     "Nothing, Darling. Just a thought," he grumbles, a small shake of his head to wash away the thought. "Maybe you should try writing. I hear a lot of readers enjoy writing as well. Yes, yes, writing will be your new hobby. Perhaps your writing will bring me some joy, Darling."

     "Maybe," I whisper, my thoughts swimming with short and empty ideas. I have no idea what to write that Sasori would enjoy. I guess I could write whatever I want since he won't enjoy anything I write about. "I'd be fine with a couple of new books. I don't need a new hobby."

     "You shall be gifted both," he answers, making the final ruling with no room to argue. I guess I have a new hobby, but at least I'll get a few new things to read.

————————————

     The blue bands twisted around my thighs tighten, the buzzing of chakra racing across my skin. My eyes drop down, landing on the tightening threads that connect Sasori to me. I follow the threads, walking around the bookshelves piled high with different stories until I'm settled in front of the puppet master. "Hello."

     "Darling," Sasori mutters, not looking up from the book in his hand. When he does look up, his eyes lock on me, his hand busy dropping the book into the basket I'm carrying. The weight is added to my arms, the basket weighed down with the two books I've chosen and the one he added. "Quite suitable," he whispers, his eyes swimming over my frame for a moment.

As soon as the moment starts, it ends. He turns away from me, his fingertips rolling over the spines of the books. I stay in place for a beat or two, waiting to see if he needs anything else. When no other sound comes from Sasori, I turn back around, heading back to the section I was grazing over. I wander around the aisle, looking over the different fantasy books, stopping occasionally to look one over.

Time slowly passes as I explore the bookshop, breezing around the different sections - romance, cookbooks, fiction, nonfiction - adding a book now and again when one catches my attention. When I settle in the mystery section, toying with a complete collection of one author or another, Sasori calls again.

"Darling?" My head pops up, scanning the made-up hallway for him. The mousy red of his hair pokes around a shelf, eyes caught on me again. "Hello, Darling," he mutters, straightening up before he trudges over to me.

The basket is taken from me when Sasori stops in front of me, dumping the books and nick-nacks he's holding into the carrier. I peek at the items; a few more books, a couple note pads, and some fancy pens. I guess he wasn't kidding when he said he wanted me to pick up writing. What a strange hobby he keeps insisting I have. "You know how to write, yes?" He murmurs, tugging on the strands chaining me to him, forcing me to follow behind his steps.

"Of course I know how to write," I snip, keeping my tone low but coated in anger. It almost amazes me how stupid Sasori believes I am.

"Wonderful," he utters, continuing to drag the two of us toward the front of the shop. Sasori's eyes glance at me, the reminder to be seen and not heard coated in the look as we walk toward the register. I fall still behind him, jaw locked shut and eyes cast down.

"Hello! Is this all for you?" The man working the desk cheers, starting to unload the basket.

     "Yes," Sasori mutters, eyes flickering back to look at me.

     "Yes, thank you," I echo, glancing up at the clerk. A book on the counter catches my attention, the word 'parenting' glistening on the muted yellow of the cover. My sight burns on the book, trying to get a better peak at it. It must be one that Sasori added, but why? What use does he have for parenting skills? Maybe he's taking my advice and acting like the adult in his two-person squad.

My staring is cut off when the clerk picks up the book, typing it into the register and stashing it into a bag. Still, curiosity eats at me.

"Thirty-five hundred yen, please," the clerk asks, a smile on his face as he pushes the cloth bag toward Sasori.

The puppet mutters about the price, insisting it's too high despite the large collection of books and the few other things we have. He drops the money on the counter, grabs the bag, and yanks on me as he heads out the door. I follow behind - not like I have much of a choice - with my eyes swirling on the bag.

     "Sasori?"

     "Darling?" He calls back, freezing along the strip of stores. The one that caught his eye is a clothing store, a cute little boutique.

     "Why'd you buy a parenting book?" I whisper, keeping my voice low to not disturb the other people looking around the store I'm being dragged into.

     "It's just a thought, one that does not concern you yet so stop meddling," he hiss, tone just as low as mine. Maybe he bought the book because he's still upset about the sorry excuse of a fight we had this morning. Maybe if he treated me like a human with needs and feelings instead of a puppet that happens to breathe and live, I wouldn't be so 'irritating'.

     "Whatever," I mutter to myself, rubbing my thighs over my dress once Sasori loosens his strings. They're loose enough not to start cutting into my skin, but still very present, dangling on my thighs as a reminder of my placement decided by the puppet himself.

Sasori could read all the parenting books in the world; it won't make me less of a prisoner or him less annoyed with me. At least he's trying, I guess. That's a thought of a long-term prisoner becoming attached to their keeper, though it's hard not to get attached when he's the only person I have contact with aside from the occasional five-second greeting from his akatsuki partner.

     I roll my eyes at the situation, wandering off to look at the different clothing I know I'm not going to get. Sasori makes my clothes, whether it's another sense of control or because he likes to is beyond me. At least he makes pretty things like the dress I'm wearing and not stuff like a potato sack.

     Maybe being stuck with him isn't all bad. I'm always fed, homed, clothed. Money and a job aren't an issue since he provides me with all my needs. He's even kind enough to provide me with books to read and material to start a new hobby. That's another prisoner thought, though, isn't it?

     It gets lonely and scary at times. I'm left locked in the cabin when he's busy with work, left alone with nothing but myself and my thoughts. And my books, of course. There are times when he's gone for days on end, leaving me worried he isn't returning for whatever reason he has or possibly because of death. Leaving me worried my food will run out and I'll be left to starve. However, he has always returned, but what if he doesn't return? What will that leave me?

     "Stop that," Sasori's voice whispers in my ear, his fingers back to clinging to my ribs. His cheek is pressed against mine for a second, the only slight affection he ever offers. I blink slowly, trying to piece together what he means. I've stood frozen in place during my train of thought, alone next to one of the racks of clothing. What could I possibly have done to make him order me to stop? "Whatever has your mind worried, I have already taken care of."

     Fat chance of that but alright. I guess there's no point in worrying about a bridge that's nowhere in sight. Besides, I can always fester on it during his next leave of absence, left to worry without Sasori somehow crawling into my thoughts.

     He pulls back, touch falling away but the strands buried under the dress's layers tightening around me. "Thoughts, oh so smart, Darling?" Sasori asks, dangling a piece of cloth in front of my face.

     My eyes - and thoughts - focus on the clothing, a new wave of weariness and confusion coating my mind as I look over the outfit. My hands slowly work upward, clinging to the bottom of the onesie being shown to me. "I like the duckling," I murmur, my sights stuck on the small duck stamped in the center of the cloth.

     Sasori moves closer, my back tapping against his chest in unfamiliar contact. He hasn't ever stood this close to me, has never enveloped me with his whole being. Even during 'medically rooted sexual practices', as he calls them, he keeps his touches to a minimum. It scares me, his sudden appearance in my personal space. "Alright, Darling. Ducklings it is," he sighs, pulling away about as soon as he pressed against me.

     "Ducklings for what?"

     "Just a thought, Darling. One I haven't decided on yet," he murmurs, waving his fingers in an order to follow after him, the strings around my thighs snapping into action. Oh Lord, Sasori is going to dress me as a duckling next, isn't he? "Come along, Darling. I'm sure your body is growing tired."

"I'm not tired," I grumble, despite my feet screaming to stop walking and my legs almost shaking from all the walking we've done today.

"Sure you aren't," he answers back, matching my tone. Sasori settled next to me, his hand balling up the back material of my dress again. His head is on a swivel, like always, glancing around the busy village as he leads the way back to our little hidden-away cabin.

"Why are you acting so weird today?" I carefully ask, sparing him a glance.

"I'm not acting unusual," he utters, tugging on me to situate me in front of him, away from the group of Shinobis walking past. Sasori's hands settle on my hips, threads tightening as if he's worried someone from the group will snatch me away from him.

"Yes, you are," I whisper, glancing down even though I know the skirt of my dress covers the chakra keeping me tied to the rouge ninja.

"How am I acting unusual?"

     "You were quite willing to take me out and about today. You spent a lot on my books this trip and even got me stuff for a new hobby. You've been very touchy too and haven't been sharing your thoughts like you usually do when we spend time together. It's... weird."

     Sasori stays silent, his hands not falling away from my hips after the group makes their way past us. "Well, if I do decide to give you a child, I don't want to risk you leaving the safety you possess. You'll need things to keep you preoccupied and nine months is a long time to be cooped inside so I figured the fresh air would be good for your well-being. As for the contact, I haven't touched you more than usual, you're just more aware of it today."

     "What?" I exhale, stopping my steps.

     I'm pushed forward, my shoes rolling across the road as Sasori continues leading me away from the village. "Hush, Darling. It's just a thought, one I haven't finished reviewing yet. See what meddling gets you? Situations you don't understand. Just be silent, Darling. Women are seen not heard."

     My teeth clink against each other as my mouth closes, the word 'child' still rolling around my head. He's kidding, right? It's just one of his scare tactics, it has to be. "What?" I repeat, trying to make sense of what he said.

"It's just a thought, Darling."

[roughribo]

What does your kinky garden look like?

No seriously. What does it look like? You should always be striving to cultivate trust between you and your partner in a bdsm dynamic and I say that to ask: have you checked on your kinky garden lately? What does your kinky garden look like?

Plant your kinky seeds with intention and structure your garden how you want it to best fit your needs.

Where does the spanking tree go? Does it go front and center where it's easily accessible or do you need it in the back to help shade and give your domestic discipline clematis something to climb on so it can thrive? Do you even need a spanking tree or do you just feel pressure to have one?

Develop your garden and make sure it's getting plenty of sunlight and water and attention. The edging around the orgasm control bush may need more careful tending to in order to keep it healthy because your partner gets so sensitive to touch.

Meanwhile the obedience peonies seem to do fine all on their own because your partner loves being obedient so they don't need as much reinforcement, but still need nurturing.

Maybe you found it more enjoyable and less intense for you to have cat-tail mouth gags at the water's edge rather than latex hood lilypads in your garden's pond.

Maybe your kinky garden is a zen garden because you're asexual. You keep around plenty of bondage bonsai's and masochism hedges, but you don't need any blowjob bluebells or intercourse irises in your kinky garden like most of your neighbors do.

Also did you make sure to use the praise mulch on your degradation daisies like your partner asked? They won't grow without it they said!

Maybe you'll have an unforeseen allergic reaction to the hotwife heather you planted and you can't keep that plant around, but that's okay, that's why we keep a hard limit compost pile near the soft limit locked shed. What's important is you tried and found it didn't work for you.

Maintain your garden and when the ears of butt plug corn aren't looking healthy, ask questions, be supportive, and do your research and plant waxplay soybeans instead to rotate with the corn. So you have variety

And remember that sometimes you may need to leave patches of your garden alone to let the soil get healthy and fill with nutrients again so that your kink garden can thrive and plants can be added.

How your kinky garden is cultivated matters.

To cultivate means to "to make an effort to establish, develop, and maintain a relationship." You can have whatever rules you decide on in your power dynamic and kinky fun, but just make sure you cultivate your relationship like you would a garden.

Trust is vital and connection is everything. Cultivate your kinky relationship like a garden and it will flourish, but flourishing never occurs without effort.

What does your kinky garden look like?

[twittercomfrnklin2001-blog]

Twisters

Early in Lee Isaac Chung’s TWISTERS (2024, Peacock), cocky tornado wrangler Glen Powell and traumatized meteorologist Daisy Edgar-Jones race each other to get to the perfect storm as Benjamin Wallfisch’s score thunders forth with a Western theme that seems like something Elmer Bernstein or Jerome Moross might have written on steroids. It’s a harbinger of what’s to come — a derivative action film long on spectacle and short on originality. You know, or is that dread, that Powell will turn out to have a softer side and help Edgar-Jones get over the pain of having lost three colleagues to an EF5 she was tracking five years earlier and that whatever they’re trying to accomplish can only be achieved by falling in love and working together.

The film’s big effects are expertly achieved. It’s hard not to be moved by a mother feverishly clutching her little girl as they cling to the pipes in a swimming pool while trying to avoid getting sucked up into a tornado. And the sight of buildings being blown apart is impressive, even if you’re aware it’s mostly CGI. Edgar-Jones is a sensitive, intelligent actress, and once he gets past acting like a butt, Powell can be very charming. As a bonus, there are scenes with the wonderful Maura Tierney as Edgar-Jones’ mother, and she gets to smile and crack jokes, something that rarely happens in most of her TV roles. But other actors, like David Corenswet and Sasha Lane, are pretty much wasted. They take a back seat to the special effects and the plot contrivances.

Although Chung and writers Mark L. Smith and Joseph Kosinski get points for making Edgar-Jones, even at her most tortured, a strong leading lady more capable than most of the men around her, there’s also a creeping sense that this is a disaster film for the second Trump era. Powell’s self-taught team are consistently presented as just as competent as and more honorable than Edgar-Jones’ highly degreed colleagues, who are revealed to be working with a real-estate developer so he can cheaply buy up properties destroyed by the tornadoes. Since he’s barely seen, that makes the scientists (aside from Edgar-Jones, who doesn’t know about the dealings) the bad guys, which would play well with MAGAts. Then there’s the touching moment in which Powell tries to show Edgar-Jones the positive side of Oklahoma life by taking her to a rodeo, thereby extolling the fine American tradition of animal torture. And even though Tierney wonders about the increase in tornados along with other severe weather, there’s not a word about man-made climate change until almost two hours into the film, and that’s just a hint flashed under the closing credits, when most people would be leaving. Chung has said he cut earlier references from the script because he didn’t want the film to be too preachy. Did he not understand the plot?

Though this is billed as a sequel to the 1996 TWISTER, it’s nowhere near as much fun. As in the first film, there are some WIZARD OF OZ references, but there’s not the lovely grace note of having members of the team act like equivalents to Dorothy’s friends on the Yellow Brick Road. There’s no real playfulness, either. Instead of running gags and character quirks, you just get special effects blasting you in the face like an over-stimulated toddler who’s just learned how much fun it is to scream. Worse yet, there are no cows. I miss the cows.

[lucygraysboy]

“makes  me  happy,  too,”  the  outlaw  admits  honestly,  struggling  to  refrain  from  reaching  out  and  tracing  the  curvature  of  her  plump  bottom  lip  with  his  calloused  thumb.  it’s  witchcraft,  he  reminds  himself,  the  way  her  smile  can  make  his  heart  skip  a  beat,  his  gaze  bashful  and  face  flushed.  “thank  you.  i  don’t  have  many  opportunities  to  talk  ‘bout  her  these  days.”  he  could  never  talk  to  jesse  about  his  grief  because  it  would  make  him  look  weak,  couldn’t  talk  to  alice  because  it  just  didn’t  feel  right,  sharing  sacred  parts  of  his  wounded  soul  with  her.  with  lucy  gray,  everything  is  different.  

being  praised,  he  offers  her  a  subtle  nod  of  acknowledgment  but  remains  silent  for  a  moment,  lost  in  thoughts  that  only  serve  to  stress  him  out  —  all  the  sudden,  the  mere  thought  of  starting  a  family  with  anyone  but  her  makes  him  feel  disappointed.  it’s  her  dainty  fingers,  curling  around  his  forearm,  that  draw  his  attention  back  to  her.  sky  blues  flicking  to  her  face,  a  sweet  smile  tugging  at  his  lips.  “guess  there’s  nothin’  wrong  ‘bout  that.  let  them  see  what  kind  of  effect  their  mama  has  on  their  dad,”  he  laughs,  tucking  a  stubborn  curl  behind  her  ear  before  focusing  on  the  doll  again.  too  shy  to  keep  gazing  at  her  —  it’s  like  gazing  at  the  sun.

“mhm,  yeah,  but  everybody  just  calls  me  billy.”  and  he  hopes  she  does  the  same  thing.  william  sounds  too  official.  “you’re  not  the  only  mystery  under  this  roof,  mrs.  —  mrs.  antrim.”  now  that  doesn’t  sound  right  at  all,  he  thinks,  but  can’t  really  call  her  mrs.  bonney.  winking  at  her  as  his  smile  turns  playful,  eyes  twinkling  with  amusement  at  the  idea  of  joining  her  band.  “wouldn’t  that  be  something?  the  two  of  us  in  a  band  together.  we’ll  teach  daisy  and  baby  billy  how  to  play  different  instruments  once  they’re  old  enough.  oh,  and  if  we  keep  havin’  babies,  we’ll  have  an  entire  orchestra  of  our  own  one  day,”  he  can’t  help  but  laugh  along  with  her,  gently  nudging  her  with  his  elbow.  unable  to  keep  his  hands  to  himself.  he  just  wants  to  keep  touching  her,  in  the  most  innocent  way,  of  course.  “since  when  is  being  honest  considered  rude,  hm?  alright,  let’s  teach  our  littles  to  be  liars  instead.”  feigning  annoyance,  he  rolls  his  eyes  but  then  spots  her  finger  and  pretends  to  bite  it.  his  teeth  clamping  on  the  air  near  it.  “rightfully?  i  disagree.  if  i  remember  correctly,  i  was  here  first.  your  first  baby.”  large  hand  capturing  her  tiny  one  with  ease,  but  not  before  she  makes  his  side  sting  and  coaxes  a  squeak  out  of  him.  he  doesn’t  hold  her  hand  for  long,  but  it  still  makes  him  feel  all  tingly  inside,  awakening  something  deep  within  his  chest  that  he  didn’t  know  existed.  “you’re  such  a  good  baby,  daisy  baird  antrim.  are  you  hungry,  too?  mommy  will  sure  fix  you  a  bottle  once  we’re  done  with  all  this  clean  up,  alright?”  he  babbles  on,  running  the  cloth  between  the  doll’s  legs  as  if  he  really  was  wiping  a  baby’s  butt.  he  repeats  the  motion  several  times,  making  sure  she’s  clean  before  taking  the  clean  diaper  from  lucy  gray  and  slipping  in  onto  daisy.  “watch  her  for  a  second,  love?”  eyes  flickering  to  the  curly-haired  brunette  again,  smiling  because  seeing  her  cradle  a  baby  is  just  too  beautiful  of  a  sight,  “i’ll  throw  this  stinky  cloth  away  and  be  right  back.”

"i'm happy i can be a reminder of her goodwill and nature." a gleeful smile etched across her face, probably because her and her mother had that in common. although, her mother would finally crack once she was stepped on enough but she still had the intention to believe the world could have good in it.

"well, i'm real proud then." voice lifts with higher spirits now, peppy and elated as she touches his forearm before going back to their play pretend. "you're a prince to me and that's final. you'll just have to blush, sweetheart." plus, she liked staring up at him and admiring him blushing away like that. it was the most endearing thing she ever did see. billy taupe... you couldn't get him to react that way. he was too hard up for that kind of business, which she hated about him.

"billy is short for william." she figures, since she's known some other william's go by billy too. and henry is one of her animals names, so that's cute. "you just hit the jackpot, i guess." amusingly answering, then brows perked. "another thing i didn't know..." he can play those instruments? right when she thought she couldn't admire him more, he put another layer of stars in her eyes. "guitar." she pointed over to hers leaned up in the corner, "i'll let you play the guitar, then. that sure is somethin' special... that we can just live off playin' in a band together." she laughed, but genuinely found this bizarre and beyond interesting about him. "oh, no, maybe i smell it. i just ain't so rude like your father." she wagged her finger in his direction while looking to their daisy. "be quiet, i'm raisin' two human children not three." small hand gently pinches his side at his snickering. "mhm, that's how you do it." lucy gray confirms, turning around and hopping up on the bed with billy the second in her arm and holding the diaper in her palm out for him once he pretends wipes daisy's bottom.

[ask-hannah-blog]

Not sure if it's too late to suggest things for Daisy but here I go: First, since she belongs to you maybe she needs a more permanent reminder of her status as your property. A nice collar with big jingly bells for instance, with a leash for you to take her around in. Only yours to touch of course. Once your feet work up a smell maybe you ought to really give that collar and leash a good rub down. Don't stop until it's got your scent on it. That way she'll always remember who her mistress is. Maybe even get her a cute tail butt plug and see if it becomes a real one? Just an idea.

I think you should also confiscate her shoes, not sure if you two share a similar size but since she's yours to own it only makes sense that her shoes belong to you as well. If you don't want her going around barefoot in the office you could just give her one her shoes back but only once you've transformed them into something more befitting of her.

I think that all sounds fair to me. As for your foot size, wouldn't it feel good for your feet to be so big and domineering it could completely cover up Daisy underneath it? Not to mention that the larger your feet are, the more sensitive and pleasurable Daisy's worships and massages will be, just ask Brittany!

Hope this can be of help to you Honkers, have a great weekend.

What the hell is going on in this office?

[the-mortifying-ordeal-of]

I'm cold and craving a bath. Daisy Haites came in and I'm really enjoying it - already a quarter through and would happily binge the rest to the exclusion of other activities. Might soothe my need for warm water by doing the dishes and hand washing my delicates. Spent a butt-ton on ice cream for my three Thanksgivings I hadn't planned contributions for, which feels very adult of me. Woke up chilled and wanting to lift the covers so Vena could crawl under with me. I feel wrong spending Thanksgiving without my love, but we texted this morning and that felt good. Made myself cry while smoking this morning, imagining his funeral: isn't it dark that I find the depths of my love in the most painful, voluntary bouts of suffering? Avoiding a soccer ball text this morning, cringing at so many layers of disconnection and story that hang heavy between her and I. I'm really loving Spotify, still and always. The texture and color of my life would be so different without my music, and how delightful to have /my/ music again. A reconnection, a renewal; now I just need a choker necklace. I'll make another round of tea, shower after I've had my last cigarette of the day. Laura McKowen's We Are The Luckiest highlighted the small joys of having the mundane in place - washed dishes, changed light bulbs, a made bed - and I do appreciate that my anxiety-scanning reveals nothing profoundly neglected. Minus that damn soccer ball and the DTR I gotta have this Saturday. I feel slow today, wanna sway and breathe and cuddle into something soft. I think I'm okay, just evermore in touch with my rhythms and needs. Building space and capacity for all the things. Creating the revolution inside me, cultivating all that I already am and have. Breathing. Feeling. Loving.

[sunnyie-eve]

ELEVEN

Series: Life Lesson || Sorority Boys

Paring: (Adam/ Adina x OFC!)

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: language

Last | Next

"Leah, Leah, Leah." Mia chases after her sister.

"I'm never dating anyone! Guys! Girls! They're all the same!"

"Can you tell me what happened? Talk to me. That's what we do." Mia reaches for Leah's arm stopping her in some random hall.

"Daisy acts like a different person in public but we all all night in private at home. Plus she says she's moving back to Minnesota."

"That's such a stupid cop-out..." Mia says to herself but Leah hears.

"Thank you!" She throws her arms up walking away making Mia chase after again. "Maybe if I can find her and we can just talk it out." She hears Daisy in the distance.

When she opens the door Mia sees Dave and Adam hugging, "Minnesotan, huh?" She leaves and Mia looks at the two.

"I'll take care of it. Just find your damn tape so you can explain everything to her." Mia shuts the door chasing her sister. "Leah!" She calls out her name looking for through everyone.

"Excuse me. How would you like to go to bed with a very rich man?" Kloss does the same with Mia as he just did to Leah touching her butt.

"Fucking perv!" She slaps him across the face where Leah hit him not too long ago. "Ugh!" She sees her sister going over to sit next to her.

"I want to go home." Leah sighs.

"You know Daisy and Adina aren't a thing, right? They're best friends celebrating because Daisy got a new job. They don't have a secret thing for each other. Adina actually has a thing for me. She kissed me before you bump me." Mia tells her sister half the truth.

"I feel like shit now... I think someone has a thing for someone else then I get assaulted." Leah huffs.

"That rich perv touched your ass too. He just did it to me when I was looking for you."

"Thank you for chasing me." Leah looks at her sister.

"You're my older sister by eight minutes... I'm always right behind you when you need someone." Mia leans into her as they sit alone.

"Dogcatcher!" A whistle is blower and Leah and Mia are getting pulled up and apart but men.

"Ow, let go of me!" Leah shouts at them.

"Let her go! Let me go!" Mia gets held between the two waiting her turn.

As Dave and Adam were walking around they here what was going on and run to the deck.

"Put her down. Leave them alone." The rest of the girls try to help but get held back.

"Let me go!" Mia fights to get her arms free from Kloss and Dave's dad.

"You'll get your turn next dear." Dave's dad tells her and they start the countdown to throw Leah overboard.

"Stop! Put her down." Dave says in his girl voice.

"Hold on, Darling. You'll get your chance after the beauty." Kloss touches Mia's face so she tries to bite his free hand before they start counting again.

"Dad!" Dave yells normally causing everyone to look at him letting Leah loose. Dave takes his wig off showing himself. "Oh, Leah, I can explain." He tells and she rushes off. "Let go of, Mia."

His dad and Kloss let go of Mia finally so she moves away from them as Jimmy runs up to Adam. "Give us another chance. I can live with the fact that you don't love me. But maybe with time, you could learn to-," Adam cuts him off.

"Hey! It ain't gonna happen." He pulls his wig off shocking more people. "I'm a dude." He says making Mia slightly chuckle because it was obvious and he didn't need to say it.

He sends her a glare, "Sorry." She apologizes to him as Spence shows up with Doofer.

"There's mutiny a door. Convene the high council..." He tells all the guys.

"Girls, let's go home." Mia tells them so they all go get on the boat they got here on. Mia looks at the guys crossing her fingers hoping everything goes well for them.

When all the girls were off the boat the meeting was held. "We must punish these thieves to the full extent of the original charter. Any last words, gentlemen?" Spence asks the three.

"Yeah. Hey, you see those girls out there? Well, you guys treat them like garbage. Why? What, so you can feel like a real man? You all should be ashamed of yourselves. You know, I learned more in one week Y D.O.G. than I learned in four years at K.O.K." Dave says and Adam nods his head agreeing. "And after seeing myself through their eyes, I don't want to be a KOK anymore."

"That's sweet. Is that all?" Spence asks so Doofer pulls out a tape saying what it is. But wasn't 100% sure it was. Dave plays it anyways and it starts to play Adam having sex but then changes to Spence stealing the money out of the safe. Spence tries to say he can explain them but is thrown overboard too.

Back at D.O.G. Mia follows Leah to her room. "Did you know and for how long?" She snaps at her sister.

"Since we all agreed to play in the Powered Puff game. I found out after realizing some things. I said I wouldn't say anything so they could finish their plan. Leah, they needed proof they didn't steal the money out of the safe. A tape on that boat proves they didn't. They just wanted to be un-shunned... When they first started living here they didn't care about us but along the way they did. They learned a lot living here and I know they aren't the same anymore. Dave wasn't playing a game. He really fell for you while being Daisy. Now, y'all showering... I don't like him for that, but I know he really likes you. He didn't what to hurt your feelings." Mia tries to explain to her sister.

"I just want to be alone. So please get out of my room." Leah points at the door so Mia does going to her room to go to bed.

[ghosts-of-gotham]

Emmylou watched Daisy as she hovered for a few moments above her, positioned perfectly to sit on her and go inside. Emmylou would probably hit her first orgasm for just feeling Daisy at this rate. The feel of Daisy's voice in her ear and skin on hers mixed with the sweet air made Emmylou want Daisy so bad.

Her member pulsed when Daisy's soft butt was against it and wiggled. She sat up so their breasts touched and pressed together. Emmylou just looking at Daisy like she was in love... or heat.

"Barnyard." Emmylou said. "I hope ya can handle what I can do because you're making me feel as hot and heavy as a rabbit in heat. And ma mind wants ta pick you up and make ya scream as I breed ya." She confessed. "I imagined you folks used some machine... but now I think I use you to get off. Where does the sperm go? Do ya collect it or are you gonna let me fill ya like a bucket?"

She leaned in, wanting a kiss so bad. Parted lips leaned in for Daisy. She wanted to feel her so bad and knew she would come back soon and demand her. Maybe in a few days or even an emergency appointment tomorrow. She just wanted Daisy and release after so long of holding it in.

Emmylou relaxed with Daisy as her touch was so soft and her voice relaxed her tense muscles. She laid down on the pillows and sat up to see Daisy undress for her. She was so in awe of her beauty and cuteness, she just looked at her with a rosey blush. She twitched for her and even leaked some pre-cum.

She liked what she saw. The ears. The poof just above her butt. Her figure. She wanted to shower Daisy in love and affection, stroking her hair as they relaxed on the couch but a part of her wanted to grab her by her hips and slid right inside her and take her. Breed the rabbit like a real one.

She snapped out of her little daydream when Daisy spoke. "I,um, don't know. You're ma first person to see this and touch me. I just should warn ya that I usually fill a few buckets before this thing goes down so I hope ya got the strength and stomach for ma milk, Daisy. Why don't ya use your hands and let me know what ya think might be best.... I trust you." She smiled.

[fiiingertrap]

tag drop: andrea ruiz