#(sound of brain expanding and pulsating

[miesozernacma]

twitching and gurgling because i must reserve a hotel room by mysef for the first tiem dor my very importiant future chocie of art colleg

[misctf]

The Cure for a Break-Up

“I still can’t believe it.” Josh mumbles, flipping through old pictures on his phone, “I really didn’t see it coming.”

Tanner looked up from his videogame and shrugged, “Dude, it’s a break up. Shit happens.” He scratches his wiry pit hairs, scrunching his nose at the smell of his own BO, “How long are you gonna go on about it?” Josh glares at his roommate, “Just sayin’ dude, gotta bang and go. Keep it simple.”

“Yeah, but Haley...” Josh sighs, “You wouldn’t get it. She wasn’t like one of your random hookups. I met her in high school... We’ve been dating for years... I was gonna propose when we graduated... I...” Tears threatened to fall.

“Fuck dude!” Tanner slams his controlled down, “I fuckin’ lost.” He glares up at his roommate, “You’re killin’ my vibe dude.”

He walks over to Josh, “Wipe those tears and man the fuck up.” He digs his finger into Josh’s chest, “I could handle a few days of this. Shit, we didn’t say anything when you fucked up on the field last week. But now? It’s gettin’ old roomie.”

“Fuck off Tanner, I...”

“Live a little bro. You’ve been banging the same chick for the last 7 years.” Tanner smirks, “You have a chance to really enjoy yourself now. Be free, bro.”

Josh let out a grunt as Tanner grabs a fistful of his lean pecs and gives them a firm squeeze.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Josh recoils and moves away from his roommate, “I’m not into that... Huh?”

Josh can’t help be feel an inexplainable warmth radiating out from his pecs. He brings a hand to them, the feeling of the fabric against his sensitive nipples causing him to moan. He looks up towards Tanner, who is sporting a smug smirk.

“What did you.... oooooohhhhhhh...” Josh moans as his lean pecs start to swell.

He can feel them press against the fabric of his shirt, straining against it. The two mounds of flesh continue to grow, forming into a pair of squeezable muscle tits. And as Josh lifts his shirt to inspect them, another moan escapes his mouth. Just the feeling of the cool air against his nips and bounceable pecs was enough to cause his dick to stir.

“Oh fuck...” He plays with his pec, biting his lip, “Dude... what...”

But there’s more to it. Josh looks as his hand seems to thicken and become meatier. Muscle packs on to his forearms and travels up to his shoulders, giving his arms an impressive glow-up. The firm muscles of his bis and tris jutting out, putting even more strain on his tightening shirt. Even his shoulders start to widen, causing his shirt to ride up and expose his stomach, which is contorting and shifting.

“This isn’t possible... Tanner...” Josh grabs his head and closes his eyes, “Tanner I can’t...”

“J-man, ya gotta shut up for once.” Tanner mutters, “Most men would fuckin’ kill for a pair of tits like that.” He walks over and grabs a fistful, “And my man, this is just the start.”

Josh lets out another grunt as his torso expands and widens. Each pulsation sending a wave of pain and pleasure through Josh’s expanding body. Through half-lidded eyes, he looks down and grunts as his shirt finally rips away. His eyes widen in surprise. A red tank-top covers his torso, although truthfully it did little to hide what was underneath. His fat pecs jutted out around it- unable to be contained. And he could appreciate the itching as tiny hairs emerged from his once clean-shaven skin.

“Give ‘em a squeeze, you know you want to.” Tanner chuckles.

“Fuck yeah...” Josh mutters, realizing he sounds drunk. He brings his meaty hand to his pecs, giving them a tender, loving squeeze, “Oh shit...” He scrunches his nose as the musky smell from his pits tickles his nose, “I smell...”

“Fuckin’ great man.” Tanner interjects, “C’mon, give it a whiff.”

And Josh raises his increasingly muscular arm and does just that. The smell of his own musk sets off something primal in his shrinking brain and he grabs his cock with his meaty hand. Memories and images of himself shift within his mind, where an increasing acceptance of these changes blossoms. Memories of date nights turn into one-night fuck sessions. His dreams of a family shift into a series of kinks and ways to get off.

“Tanner...Please...Don’t....” Josh grunts, a swelling sense of pride in his muscles emerging. A total disregard for anyone else burning away his capacity for deep emotional connections.

"Bro, I told ya." Tanner replies, "Its a lot better this way. Trust me."

Josh wants to argue. To tell him he's wrong. But he realizes with a sense of increasing dread he doesn't recall anything different. No memory of his committed relationship. No desire for anything different. He bites his lip- savoring the feel of his body. His masculinity. His ability to get what he wanted, when he wanted.

“Fuck... why didn’t you do this to me earlier?” He breaths out, continuing to pump his engorged member- its girth and length growing in his calloused hand, “You fuckin’ held out on me, bro.”

“Nah man, I don’t think you wanted this.” Tanner shrugs, “After all you and Haley...”

“Who?” Josh’s voice ragged.

Tanner smirks, “Exactly, broski.”

Josh grunts and pulls the tank-top off- his musk filling the room. He grunts at the site of his meaty pecs, firm abdominal muscles, and the blanket of hair covering his growing body.

“I’m a stud.” He mutters, “A beast.”

“Yeah, yeah Josh.” Tanner replies.

“No for real, dude. Take a fuckin’ look.”

Josh moans as a tattoo becomes engraved in his meaty pec and arm. He looks at it, a grin spreading across his face. He firmly grabs his cock and falls to the couch, pumping relentlessly. He was made for this. A bull with a massive cock. Anyone... everyone would be lucky to pleasure it. He throws his head back, not even registering as his jaw squared out, his eyes dull, and light stubble emerges on his cheeks.

“Oh god yes.” His voice is deeper, carrying an arrogant air to it, “I’m gonna... I’m....”

He sees his body. The muscle, the hair. The smell of his ripe pits. His massive dick. It felt so right... so good... A deep love for himself bathed his neurons. No one was as good as him.

"Ahhhhhh fuck yes...."

Ropes of sticky cum shoot from his monster of a cock, coating his hairy chest and abdomen. After a few ragged breaths, his dull eyes open and he grins.

“Feel better?” Tanner asks, throwing Josh his tank-top.

“The fuck you talkin’ about?” Josh catches it and wipes away his seed before wearing the tank-top, “Never felt anything but great.”

“Sure stud.” Tanner sits on the couch, getting back into his videogame.

The two sit in silence, while Josh scrolls through his phone with one hand and paws at his cock with the other.  

“Fuck yeah.” Josh smirks and stands up, “That fairy from econ wants to worship these.” He gives his pec a bounce, “Always knew he wanted to. He’s lucky I’m feeling generous.” Another ding on his phone and his smirk widens, “And that slut from the cheer team wants to meet up later.”

“Look at you go.” Tanner remains focused on his game.

“Pfft have fun with your game, bro.” Josh mumbles, “Wastin’ your time if you ask me.”

Tanner watches as Josh leaves, “Fuckin’ finally. Just need to rank up...” He continues to play his game, no longer bothered by any distractions.

Meanwhile, Josh sat in his car. He always liked to send his next fuck-toy a preview of what was to come. With a satisfied smirk, and a new lease on life, Josh revved his engine and headed off.

[derekwriteskink]

The straitjacket

Tyler had just received a mysterious package, he hadn’t ordered anything and was surprised to see a black box outside his door, he opened it and discovered a black leather straight jacket. He was aroused and felt compelled to try it on, he stripped down to his underwear and put the leather crotch straps around his crotch and tightened them, he then placed his arms into the jacket, it felt amazing, he felt it tightening and he grew concerned, as he saw the jacket straps close, as a lock appeared on the straps, trapping him in the straitjacket, Tyler was confused and helpless as the straitjacket held his arms in place, he saw the jacket sleeves spread as they grew to encase his hands in leather mittens, the crotch strap leather, extended and morphed around his cock and balls. Tyler felt immense pain as the leather entered his cock and filled its inside, it hardened and completely covered his cock and balls in hard leather Chasity, Tyler felt pain in his balls as the leather inside expanded and filled them, Tyler struggled desperately as he felt the leather covering his ass and entering through his back passage, it filled his hole and made its way through his intestines, overwhelming him with immense pain. Tyler still felt intense pain, while he struggled to think of an explanation for his situation and how he would use the toilet after his transformation. Tyler’s thoughts were interrupted by a slight vibration inside of him, he moaned heavily as he felt the leather pulsating inside of him, Tyler felt the leather travel up his neck, fully encasing it in leather as it reached his head it reached his chin and the back of his head and Tyler remained helpless as it entered his mouth, it made its way down his throat and continued to travel through his body, filling everything with leather, the leather in his lower half continued to travel through his body, filling everything, his liver was filled, his pancreas, his stomach, Tyler was terrified, the process was excruciating, but what really bothered him, was how much it turned him on, as he continued to feel the need to moan despite the leather blocking the sound completely. Tyler felt his lungs fill with leather and expand painfully, his heart was covered and filled with leather. Tyler wondered how he was still alive, the leather had covered his legs and feet. His organs remained coated and filled, Tyler felt his skin, muscles and bones being affected by the same excruciating process. His muscles grew enormous, he stood motionless in agony. The leather covered and filled his nose. He couldn’t smell anything except leather. Tyler remained helpless, he couldn’t move,he couldn’t even breathe, he didn’t even have a heartbeat and now he can’t smell anything except leather, which smelled so intense that it made Tyler feel dizzy. Tyler heard footsteps and leather creaking. Tyler was unable to turn towards the noise, the leather covered and filled his ears, he now could only hear leather creaking at an incredible volume. The leather reached Tyler’s eyes and the last thing he saw was a handsome man in full leather smiling at him. Tyler’s eyes were filled with leather and he couldn’t see anything. Tyler’s head was covered in leather, the leather covered his brain and Tyler could feel orders entering his mind. The man before Tyler had complete authority over his mind and body. He commanded Tyler to suck his cock, Tyler could hear the man’s voice in his head clearly, despite his ears being filled completely. It was low and booming, it was strict but had a slight tenderness to it. Tyler began to worship his owner’s cock and his owner smiled at his new slave.

[bellatrixobsessed1]

Three Days

Summary: Breaking up with Caitlyn is a breaking point, Vi turns to drugs but the ones that she bought were laced. This drug causes her the inability to sleep.

Warnings: Self Harm, Drug use, sleep deprivation.

She can hear her own rugged breathing, heightened and exaggerated, it makes it hard to focus. She can hear her own heartbeat too, like thunder in her ears. Can feel it’s beating—it hurts. It is pounding too fast she thinks.

She has been awake for two days now and sounds are starting to get louder and lights are starting to get brighter. Smells are becoming more potent. 

Her hands won’t stop shaking and her eyes won’t focus. She squeezes them shut and tries to ignore the pounding in her head. She cradles it in her hands, trying to remember…

Who Was it? 

Who gave her those drugs?

But it only makes her head pound more to think about it. 

It is her own fault really. She had grown up in the streets of Zaun—has she been away for so long that she has forgotten not to trust those cheap dealers in the filthiest of the filthy alleyways?

Vi exhales and peers through the window. 

Almost sunset. 

Almost three days. 

Three days since she had last slept and her mind is beginning to slip. Not that it wasn’t sliding steadily already. Not that it hadn’t already slid so far that she had taken a liking to whatever drugs she could get her hands on. 

She had started taking drugs to forget.

And three days later Caitlyn’s face starts showing up everywhere. 

In her stale coffee, at the bottom of each bottle.

In the reflection of her bathwater, standing behind her with one hand on her shoulder and the other on Vi’s naked breast. She holds it there but Vi feels no warmth, no spark, nothing at all. Nothing but an ever expanding hole. A vacancy where love and touch used to be.

She staggers overs the rest of the way towards the bathtub. Everything in her body aches. Everything around her spins and sways; the walls pulsate, the floor undulates beneath her feet. She climbs clumsily into the bath water, leans back against the porcelain, and stares at the ceiling. 

Three days without sleep and the mold on the ceiling is starting to wiggle. 

Three days without sleep and the cracks are crawling. 

Whatever this drug is that she had taken, it won’t leave her system and it won’t let her sleep. Even though her entire body yearns for it. Even if parts of her mind are shutting off; impulse control (of which she already had very little to spare), common sense, critical thinking, focus, and whatever part of her brain controls basic motor functioning, coordination, reaction time…

And for each part of her mind that shuts off, something else turns on. Something that tells her that there are bugs crawling beneath her skin, something that tells her that Silco is back and that his presence is all around. Something that causes her to hear dozens of indistinguishable whispers ebbing out of the vivid colors that swirl around on the wall. Colors that don’t exist, colors that she has never seen before.

She just wants to close her eyes.

Close her eyes for hours and make it all stop.

Maybe if she bashes her head against the bathtub she can get some proper sleep…

Maybe…

Yeah, maybe…

She curls her fingers around the edge of the tub, takes a deep breath and leans back. She pitches herself forward but misses the porcelain. Instead she finds herself sprawled out in a puddle on the floor. 

Elbows bruised. 

Knees bruised. 

Nose dislocated and bleeding. 

But she doesn’t sleep. 

She hadn’t hit her head hard enough for that. 

.oOo.

She can’t sleep so she might as well go somewhere. Somewhere where the lights are bright and there are real voices to drown out the ones that shouldn’t be there; the ones that echo insults and every degrading thing that anyone has ever said to her in perfect imitations of the voices that spoke them. The ones that say things that have no meaning at all. 

It all began near here, in the alleyway adjacent to this club. 

Maybe she can find the person who laced her drugs. 

Maybe she can find someone who will put an end to her. 

Maybe she can find the answers under flashing, neon strobe lights.

Or perhaps she will see the faces of everyone she ever loved and lost between each flash. 

Those people might just get closer and closer to her.

They might just close in around her and make her head spin.

Caitlyn might slide her phantasmal hands down Vi’s hips. While Jinx looks on in disgust. Vander might turn his head so that he doesn’t have to be disappointed and Mylo and Claggor might ask her “why?” 

And with each strobe they might get closer…

Closer…

Closer…

Until she is on the ground seizing and twitching and spasming. Until they suffocate her. Until her mouth begins to foam and she sees those strange colors in the froth that dribbles onto the dingey ground. 

But she won’t sleep. Oh no, the drug won’t allow that. 

What if she can’t die? 

What if sleep is so lost to her that eternal sleep cannot be achieved. 

She might be bleeding. 

She doesn’t know where from…

Jinx stoops down.

Leans in real close.

“Hey sis…”

.oOo.

Never in a million years did she expect to take care of Vi. She never seemed to need that, always seemed so strong. Jinx always needed someone; someone to tell her what’s what, someone to tell her what to do. She was always so lost. 

She is still so lost. 

But lost with a direction—Isha slumbers on the ratty, makeshift sofa on the other side of the room. 

And Vi slumbers in that sorry excuse for a bed that Jinx had made for herself. She is all bunched up with her bruised and cut arms guarding her face—a boxer stance—even in sleep she is in some sort of fight. But that’s her big sis, that’s Vi. 

She wants to be mad at her still and she knows that Vi will want to cling to her resentment too. 

But there are things to be done now; they can save Vander and Vi needs to be there for it. As soon as she is done shivering and crying and drooling all over the place. 

“Gee that’s gross.” Jinx mutters to herself. She won’t let Vi hear the end of this one! 

Vi gives another twitch. She mumbles something that could have been a, “no, please, I didn’t mean it.” 

Jinx sits down next to her for old time’s sake. And she pulls a blanket up to Vi’s chin for a new spin on a familiar scene. Vi used to bundle her up tightly, sometimes she would pass her a blanket and spend the whole night shivering just so that little Powder could be comfortable. 

Jinx misses that. 

She misses it so much. 

She squeezes Vi’s shoulder and Vi gives a soft little whimper. 

“I guess that I should let’cha sleep then?”

She should probably get some sleep too.

And maybe in the morning the nightmares will be over. 

Over so that the next one can start. 

Over so that maybe, just maybe, the two of them can dream again.

[theheartofone]

Steel in Her Veins, Chapter: Nineteen

Read On: AO3 | Table of Contents | Next Chapter

Characters: Fem!Reader x Roronoa Zoro

Chapter Nineteen: Daemgar

You are everything and nothing all at once.

Your consciousness floats within a void, seeping through under the cracks like the act of spilled fluid. You do not remember who or what you are, where you’re going or what you’re doing within this darkness. But the one thing you’re absolutely sure of is the firm pressing of something gripping at your skin.

Skin. You have skin?

A faint spark of consciousness sets off within you, your chest rattling back to life in the process – but at the same time it arrives, it’s gone again, and you’re back to slithering black fluid.

“Do it again!” A low voice echoes furiously from somewhere in the corners of your darkness. It rumbles your body into ripples, spreading you further across the floor like dancing ink.

In an instant, a panicked, slightly higher-pitched voice joins into the darkness.

“The defibrillators!” He shouts. “Take her shirt off!”

“She deserves privacy for this!” A furious voice intervenes. A faint stream of cigarette smoke trickles into your void, releasing itself like a pile of distressed ribbons.

“Fuck off, cook!” The first voice barks back, with so much intensity and panic that all the echoes go silent. “Chopper, do it right now or I’ll do it myself!”

Another pressure traces across your form, holding you down at your core. A draft of wind hits against you, making you curl up into a ball of stressed fluid.

“You’re not going anywhere, Swords.” The deep voice murmurs on your skin, unsure of what else to say, uncertain of what else to do. The only thing he can do is hold onto your darkness with both calloused hands and make sure it doesn’t go anywhere.

An intense undercurrent of electricity surges through your skin, singeing every one of your blood cells into revival mode.

A creak in the darkness paves its way to you, spilling in a blinding light that even your form tries to shy away from. Your lips open, taking in a desperate gasp, trying to curl yourself away from its shine.

“Keep going!” A female voice urgently pierces through the crack, spilling in strands of orange hair in the stillness of the air.

The same zooming sound of something charging resounds after the command, the tense taste of apprehension colouring each of their voices. When the electricity sings to full charge, you feel a set of fingers shakingly move your fabric away and you’re, again, convulsing from the burn of revival.

You gasp again, your ink pulsating like a grenade toppling over the ground, before, finally, you explode.

There’s black everywhere and nowhere all at once.

You are everything and nothing all at once.

With an aggressive start from your chest, your eyes blurrily blink open. Once, then twice, then three times, before you jumpstart into breathing heavily, as if you were just saved from a typhoon.

Chopper is curled over you, staring at you as you stare back at him. You can tell he’s trying to keep his expression as calm and doctorly as possible, but still, his eyes betray him. A slight sheen of moisture masks over them as his small body expands from a breath of relief.

“Raya!” Nami screams out, grasping at your palms. “Raya.”

“No!” You moan out, scrambling away from her. Your blackened arm screams in pain when Nami accidentally touches it, making you writhe and shuffle panickedly away from all of them.

Painted with fear, pain and confusion, your orientation is merely a fragment of what it once was; your brain being too slow to comprehend, while, on the other hand, your body being too quick to do so.

Chopper presses a hoof against a worried Nami and Luffy, who were just about to inch in on you, and glares at them with a sternness that you’ve never seen him express before. “Stop. Give her space!”

As you continue to confusedly scramble backwards on your two hands, your head aggressively collides against something firm, and in immediate response, a pair of calloused hands come into view from behind to securely hold you down.

As you tilt your head, your gaze meets Zoro's. His expression softens as your eyes lock onto his, his dark expression searching yours for any sign of recognition. His hands, though firm, are gentle as they hold you in place, pressing down on your shoulders like a grounding force.

"Hey," he murmurs calmly. "You're okay. We've got you."

"You’re..." The recognition of the person before you escapes your lips in a whisper, making you bunch up your eyebrows. How is he alright? Where did the Shaman go? What happened when you fell? What is happening?

"Yeah, it's me," he confirms, his voice tinged with slight relief.  His eye, usually sharp and focused, now hold a different shine to them that you've never seen before. It's as if he's relieved to see you awake, as if a weight has been lifted from his shoulders.

“Swords…” Luffy grins, lightly ambling towards you despite Chopper’s panicked demands to him to stay away. He kneels down, staring at nowhere but your eyes as he slips his fingers across yours. “I knew you’d be okay.”

He smiles, this time with more intention. “Let's get you back home.”

Your mind’s a tempest of conflicting emotions, each crashing against the shores of your consciousness with relentless force. Upon awakening, you can't deny the flood of relief coursing through your being, nor can you ignore the warmth of Luffy's smile or the steadiness of Zoro's grip. But beneath the surface, a current of fear runs deep, threatening to pull you under.

Your gaze flickers from face to face, searching for understanding, for solace, but finding only mirrored concern. Nami's eyes widen with worry, her lips pressed into a thin line of apprehension. Chopper's furrowed brow betrays his professional facade, his hooves fidgeting with nervous energy. And then there's Luffy, unwavering in his determination, his belief in you unyielding, despite your doubts.

"I can't," you whisper, your voice barely more than a breath. "I can't stay."

Luffy's smile falters, replaced by a furrow of confusion. "Why not? You’re a part of us.”

Your heart clenches at the word, ‘us,’ a pang of guilt twisting in your chest. How can you explain the danger you pose, the darkness that lurks within your very being? You can't risk their safety, not after everything they've been through together.

Zoro's grip tightens imperceptibly, his gaze avoiding yours, finding solace in gazing at the horizon in view. "You're not going anywhere," he states firmly, his voice brooking no argument. "You still have some swords of mine to fix.”

But you shake her head, your resolve hardening with each passing moment. "You don't understand," you insist, your voice betraying you with anguish. "I can't control it. I'm a danger to all of you."

Silence descends upon everyone like a heavy cloak, the weight of your words hanging in the air between them. Luffy's expression softens, his eyes searching yours with a depth of understanding that takes your breath away.

"We'll help you," he says simply, his voice carrying the weight of a promise. "Whatever it takes, we'll face it together."

Before you can respond, Chopper's voice cuts through the tension like a knife, his tone urgent and grave. "Before you make any decisions, maybe you should see this."

Turning as one, you all follow his gaze to where he stands, holding a small silver tome in his paws. The title gleams ominously in the dim light, a stark contrast to the darkness that surrounds them.

"It’s in ancient text." Nami scans over his shoulder, her voice hushed with awe. "What does it say?”

Robin nods, staring down at the book. “It’s the same text they use in poneglyphs. Loosely translated, it writes, “Blood and Mythics.’”

Chopper looks straight at you. “Robin and I raided the Shaman’s den and found it. Raya, I have a feeling that this,” he closes in towards you, showing the contents of the tome, “is the answer.”

“So do I,” Robin nods, crossing her arms. “Something feels different with this tome. And with both of us knowing the language, it’s easily decipherable.”

As the weight of their words settles over them, a sense of foreboding washes over you like a tidal wave, and despite the fear gnawing at the edges of your consciousness, a flicker of curiosity ignites within you.

"Blood and Mythics," you repeat, the words tasting foreign on your tongue. "What does it say?"

Chopper flips open the tome with delicate care, revealing silver dusted pages upon pages of intricate script. Robin’s eyes dart across the text over Chopper’s shoulder, deciphering the ancient language with an insurmountable level of sophistication.

"It's... it's a chronicle," she murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper. "A record of ancient bloodlines, myths, and legends. But there's something more... something else written within these pages."

Nami leans in closer, her eyes scanning the text with a mixture of curiosity and trepidation. "What do you mean, something else?"

Chopper's brow furrows as he turns another page, his gaze tracing the intricate patterns of the script as Robin’s leans even closer to the text.

"There are mentions of... entities," she explains slowly, her words laden with uncertainty. "Entities of immense power, bound to the bloodlines of certain individuals. It's…It’s not about demons, but I can see how the Shaman misinterpreted it."

“Whad’ya mean?” Luffy frowns, scratching his head. “Mis-inter-prat what?”

Robin’s eyes flicker up from the page, her lips pursed. “’Daemgar.’ It has a variety of meanings. Otherworldly, Winged, Blinding, Feathered."

[katebishopofearth]

in the cracks of night (your light finds me hiding in the dark) [an ironwidow fanfic]

Fandom: Marvel Pairing: ironwidow Characters: Natasha | Tony Rating: T Other tags: panic attack | hurt/comfort | Natasha Romanov needs a hug

in the cracks of night (your light finds me hiding in the dark)

Heart pulsating. Stomach churning. Throat tightening. Panting for breath but there’s no air, no air, no air. Natasha wakes up in Tony’s bed shaking, gut-deep terror and nausea rising like the tide and drowning her from the inside. She tries to get up but the blanket twists around her like a shroud, and she flails wildly to be free of it, only narrowly avoiding hitting her boyfriend’s sleeping form. Not out of concern for waking him – her terrified brain isn’t capable of that kind of rational motive right now – it’s a survival instinct. She’s driven only by the need to go somewhere and keep quiet. Fall apart where no one can see or hear.

She’s acting, not thinking, as she stumbles across Tony’s bedroom and towards the en-suite bathroom. Driven by nausea and the fear of throwing up. Better the bathroom than the bedroom. Shoves the door open. Automatic lights flood the room and it’s too much, it drives her into sensory overload. Her bare feet step onto carpet, not tiles. The small conscious part of her brain registers this isn’t the bathroom but she doesn’t care, crawls into the walk-in closet on hands and knees until she finds the back corner where the darkness is thickest, and buries herself in the shadows between Tony’s winter coats and sweaters.

Curls up as small as she can in the dim space. Knees tucked under her chin, arms wrapped tight around her shins as she shudders. Eyes squeezed shut, jaw clenched tight. Digs her nails into her biceps as hard as she can, the pain the only thing keeping her in the physical world. Her heart pounds against her thighs, a juddering, erratic rhythm going too fast, like it’s trying to batter its way out of her chest. The woollen dark is punctuated only by sharp, hot gasps that deliver little oxygen to lungs that have forgotten how to expand.

She has no concept of time passing, but she knows that she’s already spent too long trying and failing to compose herself. So long that the lights have turned off and she’s truly engulfed in the dark. But she can’t make herself get up. Not without shaking or throwing up or passing out. It’s been months since she’s had one this bad, she thought she was out of the woods. That her damage has been fixed enough so Tony never has to find out. That she was safe. But she’s not, the terror always rises within her no matter how long it’s been, and here she is, having a full-blown panic attack in her new boyfriend’s closet.

The door slides open and light penetrates her dark corner. She slaps her palm against her mouth, her entire body trembling, eyes squeezing shut so tightly that a drop of moisture gathers at the tip. She has to keep quiet keep quiet can’t let him know she’s here or she’ll –

“Tasha?” Tony’s voice is groggy. Confused. “You in here?”

His proximity physically hurts. She can’t completely stifle the choked sound that rips its way out of her throat, from the part of her that wants to be held, even more than she fears being seen. The sound punctures the silence of the closet.

His feet shuffle closer. “I’m coming in there. Don’t shoot me, okay?” Rustling as he rifles through the closet. Her eyes are still closed, she can’t make herself open them as she waits like a prisoner for execution. Then shuffling, the sound of someone – not someone, Tony, her boyfriend of two months – crawling on his hands and knees to reach her.

“Natasha.” The way he whispers her name is a prayer of shock, not disgust. Humiliation rises with her nausea and fills her lungs.

A deep inhale and exhale – not hers, her nose and throat and lungs are incapable of the simple act. “Honey, can I touch you?”

She can’t speak, her throat and tongue and vocal cords aren’t cooperating, but she wants – and she loathes herself for wanting – him to gather her into his arms and let her break down in them.

[keep reading on AO3]

[go-river-flows]

Hey haven’t seen you around in a while. Hope you’re doing fine :)

Smashes through wall I'm alive! I've been busy with work, but I've been trying to write as much as possible during weekends. For now, I'll upload one-shots as I try to finish off a series before uploading all at once (aka The Humans of Awa'atlu, but throughout the week in the afternoon).

But here's a one-shot!

I've Been Reincarnated as a Na'Vi!

(2,598 words)

When I was born, I felt as if the world stood still. It felt strange and foreign, the water, the air, the gravity. I looked at the world through strange eyes.

Since I was born I have had these strange dreams. I was small and pink. It was these dreams which felt real and familiar, and the life I lived was the dream. I had these dreams every night, it was comforting, and sometimes they repeated themselves. I had a normal life I think, it was nothing like the life on whatever planet I was on. I had two to three friends, great teachers, and colleagues. In my dreams I was growing up on what I think was a planet called Earth. How do I know what planet it was?

I was 5 when I had my first nightmare. I was much older in my dream. Working a job or something like that, on my way to the “office”, I felt like I knew what that was even though I’ve never even heard the word before, walking down the street. It was crowded and busy like it always was, but I liked it, my usual communal walk. When all of a sudden there was screaming, people parted like the Red Sea and a man charged through the crowd. The woman next to me in her haste to get away, shoved me into the man who unbeknownst to me gripped a knife, his blade plunging into my abdomen. The woman somehow saw the knife because I sure as hell didn’t. The man retracted his knife which was a mistake, my stomach burned as sanguine liquid seeped through my white blouse, my ears rang loudly as my brain was trying to figure out what was going on. 

I looked at the man as my hand gripped around his shoulder, he looked at me stone cold, his eyes were cold, unsympathetic. I frowned. Was this intentional? My legs felt weak as the red puddle enlarged spreading down to my grey trousers, why was no one helping? Why was no one stepping in? My legs collapsed from under me, air escaping my lips trying to take in more oxygen. Am I dying? I ran my hand over the stab wound. It’s large, wet and pulsating, every breath I take is agonising.

I fell to my side gasping for air. Why is no one helping?! Help! Help! Help Me!!! A person ducks into my peripheral as my vision starts fading. A man. I begin choking, the taste to metal permeating my tastebuds. I’m choking on my blood. The man is saying something to me, he’s shouting something I can't hear, I can’t understand it. What are you saying? My ears rang louder, blocking out any and all sound, I can barely register anything. No one is doing anything. Why aren't you doing anything? The man above me is screaming I think, four words rang through my brain as the ringing subsided a little, as if whatever entity was looking over me wanted me to hear those words.

“You're gonna be okay.”

My vision fades further as all I could see was white. I woke up on the other side. Nothing surrounded me. I felt for the stab wound but to my shock and surprise there was no blood, however, just a wound. I unbuttoned my white blouse to get a better look. Strange. The wound was strange. It was open and untouched. I could see my internal organs scaring me a little, a small gasp escaping my mouth and in that second I noticed something. I wasn't breathing, my lungs weren't expanding, my heart wasn't beating. I really am dead.

Yes, you are.

I looked around, searching for the voice within the white void. It confirmed my fears.

“Where am I? Where is this place?”

Somewhere.

The cryptid voice said. That single word scared me.

You're afraid, my child. 

“Where am I? Who are you? Where are you?” These were only just a few questions that I asked aloud.

I am Eywa. 

Eywa? Who the fuck is Eywa?

“Okay…Now where is here, exactly?”

The space in between. You do not deserve what happened to you. So I am offering you a second life. 

A second life? Huh?

I will give you two options. Reincarnate, or pass on.

Reincarnate? Pass on? I looked at my gaping wound. Suddenly the loud sound of wind gushed through my ears. The scenery changed though it did not completely surround me. I turned to look around, the lush greenery unlike anything I've ever seen before. It was completely different to Earth’s concrete jungle. Wow! 

“What is this place?”

Pandora.

Pandora? Like Pandora’s Box? The planet Pandora?

You will live your second life here.

All of a sudden there was a giant mirror in front of me, a tall creature standing in front of me. Blue, striped, with a tail? Wearing near to nothing garments, a headpiece, many bracelets and large neckpiece, carrying a longbow on one shoulder and a woven carrier with arrows in the other. 

“Is this me?”

Yes. This is who you grow up to be. You are a hunter and warrior…and a healer…and a provider to your clan…you are Na’vi.

“What the hell is a Na’vi?”

A native to Pandora.

I ask the all important question.

“What if I don’t want to be reincarnated?” Silence. The voice didn’t respond. “Why can’t I just stay dead? I wanted to die before, I am no one important. I’m not a warrior, or a hunter, or provider. I’m not all these things you say I will be. So why do you want me to be all these things? That’s a lot of pressure.”

My child—

“I’m not your child. Just let me die peacefully.” I turn away and walk toward the white void, but it moves away just as my foot reaches the edge. I move toward the white again, but again it moves. “What are you—?” I run to the void and it again moves. “Stop it! Let me die!” A large gust of wind blows me back. This bitch. I move fast, diving for the white void, only for the wind to sweep me off my feet, spinning me around and sending me toward the mirror. As I collide into it, it smashes, the wind sending me through. I scream out in agony.

I wake suddenly. The dream was extremely vivid, sending goosebumps down my back and arms. I cry and my wails wake my father who shot up from his slumber. I planted myself into his chest as he wrapped his warm arms around my torso, holding me tight.

“Calm my child, it was just a dream. I’m here,” he spoke softly, his gentle voice calming me down. He held me swaying a little. The body next to me moved, the familiar face of my older brother scrunched up as he shuffled.

“Dad? Sister?” He whispered out loud to not disturb our mother.

“It’s okay, go back to sleep. Your sister had a nightmare,” our father rocked me back and forth, lulling me back to sleep but I fought it. The tears flooding my waterline, my brother sat up looking at my face. He gently swiped the stray tears from my cheek, the gentle action soothed me but felt somewhat foreign. A part of me felt strange, it brushed it off as a remnant feeling from my dreams. My fathers swaying managed to lull me into a sleep as one question resounded in my brain. Who am I?

That feeling and thought lingered as I grew. I felt like my family was not really my family despite my mother and father telling me that I was their daughter. My older brother, Rau’Txim, stayed by my side being the protective older brother he was. Playing with me with our friends running side by side with each other. 

I was ten when I realised that the dreams were memories of my past life. Memories of my former human self. She didn't exactly have a good life just from the memories. From her childhood, she was invisible, treated unfairly, neglected. And as she grew, she learned to just deal with her issues with bad habits despite trying her hardest to become hyper-independent, I got a sense that her death was her relief from the world she grew up in. My dreams were recurring, even the nightmare that tormented me, remained. I got depressed as a result of it. I had to visit our clan’s Tsahik and ask her to remove them, they’re too painful. I found myself in her tent alone, so as not to worry my parents and brother. Don't get me wrong, I love my parents. They were completely different from the parents I had in my memories. Ma Sepmu and Sa’nok give me more love and attention than my human parents. I was an only child as a human, and I now have an older brother. The differences were jarring, but at least I lived happily here at Hometree.

“Now what is it you wanted to see me about, child?” the Tsahik asked.

“I've been having these dreams…I think they’re memories…from my old life…” I confessed to her. She hummed out in thought and I continued, “I keep having this nightmare, that I died. I was killed by a human.”

“A demon?” the Tsahik asked.

“I was a human too…on Earth. And I was killed by a man and I woke up in a white void. And Eywa spoke to me…she offered me a second life,” I paused, “Human me. I refused but Eywa kept insisting, she forced me to reincarnate.”

“My child, why didn't you come to me sooner?” the Tsahik asked as she moved closer to me.

“I was scared…” I look down at my hands, “I thought I could forget them…but the dreams keep repeating. The nightmare, it kept repeating. I feel like this is a dream and those dreams are real.” Those dreams flashed through my mind, the happy and the sad. “I just want to forget them. Why do I keep remembering them? Why does my brain keep playing them? The same dreams every night,” I smacked my head repeatedly with my palms, to clear my head. The Tsahik took ahold of my arms with a firm but gentle grip, stopping me from making any rough movements. 

“My child, don't hurt yourself,” she restrained my movements.

“Why does Eywa keep doing this?” I ask her. The flap of the tent opens, a pair of footsteps come closer as my brother says my name.

“What happened?!” his voice filled with concern, "Are you hurt tsumuke?" 

“She is fine, just bad dreams. I know a way to rid of those bad dreams,” the Tsahik dismissed my brother out of the tent. Her arms remain around my shoulders. “Oh, sweet child,” she cooed, brushing my hair out of my face. Her eyes softened as if she finally understood the reasons behind my strange behaviour. 

As the Tsahik comforted me, my parents and brother burst through the tent opening.

“Oh my sweet daughter! What is the matter Tsahik? Why is my daughter here?,” my mother rambled, wrapping her arms around me.

“I would like to speak to you both, without the children,” the Tsahik said. My parents looked at me concerned, my fathers warm but rough hand caressed my cheek. 

“Rau’Txim, please take your sister,” our father requested. Rau’Txim came closer, taking me from my mothers arms. He held my hand as he guided me away. I looked back into the tent making eye contact with our father who watched my movements.

Rau’Txim brought me to the edge of the village, our usual spot.. He sat me down on a log before sitting and holding me.

“What's the matter sister?” 

“I–I’ve been having bad dreams,” I tell him, “These dreams…they’re memories from my past life. I can't forget them…E–Eywa won't let me.” I explain to him. The sad memories flooding back to my human self slumped on the floor, the temporary pain from piercing her hand using her own fingernails. The constant numbness and dull ache in her stomach is overwhelmingly nauseating. I just want those memories gone. The sad, sad memories I held. I just want the good ones. Eywa! Why couldn't you just give me the good ones?! I feel that pain and numbness in my blue body. Everything here just feels so wrong.

“Sister. Sister, look at me,” Rau’Txim cupped his hand around my cheek, “Those memories don't define who you are now. Let’s make some good ones together, okay? We’ll make them go away,” he said in the most gentle voice I've ever heard from him. Our parents arrived where we were sitting. Our mother and father looked so sad, their eyes wet and ears flat against their heads.

“My sweet girl,” my father knelt down in front of us, hugging the two of us. My mother joined in, “There is a way to get rid of those nightmares. We’ll be here for you every step of the way.” 

And for days they prepared me for a ritual led by the Tsahik. She explained it the day before the ritual was to take place. It was called Unil si Aku, Dream Removal. We were up in a cave within a floating island of the Hallelujah Mountains, the ritual had to take place in a body of spiritual water and the Hallelujah Mountains hid one of the most powerful bodies of water. Located directly above the Tree of Souls.

My parents and brother were asked to leave the cave, as the Tsahik and myself were left inside. I was asked to lower myself into the shallow water, only leaving half of my body above the water. I closed my eyes as the ritual began. The Tsahik began chanting as the water surrounding me began to warm, then glow yellow. I fell asleep as instructed by the Tsahik, and allow the dreams to pass. The water rose to cover the rest of my body as my past memories began playing out, but as they finished they faded away as the next memory played out. This continued for a while. The good memories, the bad and the nightmare I had all the time passed and faded away into oblivion. When all was done, the water fully drained from the small concave, I woke with a bit of spiritual liquid still on me, rolling off into the dry pit. The Tsahik held her hand out for me to take.

“Is it done? Are my past memories gone?” 

“They are gone for now. But if they return we would have to do the ritual again,” the Tsahik said. I took her hand as she helped me stand, “How are you feeling?”

“Light,” I took a deep breath as the weight I carried for seven years disappeared. I smiled a sad but relieved smile.

And for years I would not dream of my past. All I would dream about are my family, my brother, my happy life. The next seven years would pass in a flash. I would pass my Uniltaron, Iknimaya and claim my ikran with flying colours. Rau’Txim was a fully fledged warrior like my father, as I would become too. I would hunt with my mother, and learn healing from the Tsahik, becoming exactly who Eywa said I would become unbeknownst to me as those memories faded. And that is the story of how I died and was reincarnated as a Na'Vi!

Taglist: @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed, @ducks118, @writerfromcz, @dyingofcookies,

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[abandonedquishe]

Great! Officially, I'm not sleeping tonight.

WHY THE HELL DID I DECIDE TO READ THIS AT NIGHT RIGHT BEFORE GOING TO SLEEP.

TW: Spoilers of DDLC, detailed instances of suicide

So if you all aren't aware by now(I assume you are but whatever) there is a rare easter egg you can get in doki doki where the entire screen goes red with pulsating veins on the side. While this occurs the music is muffled and you start to hear this horrifying sound like flesh being ripped apart, with occasional squeaking in the background. Well I let my bf hear this easter egg and he brought up something absolutely horrifying to me and I just had to share it. So when I showed him the easter egg he was under the assumption that it was going to be the sound of flesh being ripped apart or eaten but he slowly looks at me and says "Uhm Madi...that sounds like Sayori hanging." My jaws fucking dropped man and I asked him to explain. So he said(warning for graphic detail here) that when someone hangs themselves "properly" their neck snaps. Well after they are already dead their body is obviously still hanging there...and while they hang their neck begins to slowly stretch out, because it is suddenly carrying a huge amount of dead weight. This would make a horrifying flesh stretching noise as it expands. As for the squeaking that everyone assumes is rats; while the neck is stretching any last pockets of air left in the throat is pushed out with all the force, emitting a high pitched squeaking noise. Now as we know Sayori did not fall from a great enough height meaning she instead essentially suffocated herself. This makes the sound even worse. This turns them into the sound of Sayori struggling against the rope, all of the air being sucked out of her by the tightness of the rope. This would also explain the red screen and pulsing veins; could possibly be all the pressure that might be accumulating in her brain. Would also explain the muffled music; if this is a video game and that music is going on 24/7 it wouldn't be far fetched to assume that Sayori hears it all the time, even during her death; but muffled because of all the pressure on her ears. Whichever way you look at it its fucked up.

[pitgritted]

𝐀  𝐏𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐓                                                  smell  of  blood  fills  the  caverns  of  his  nostrils  ,  so  sickeningly  dry  ,  sweet  ,  &  metallic  .  the  scent  stems  into  the  receptors  of  his  nasal  cavities  ,  triggering  the  nerve  -  ending  bundles  of  his  brain  .  hard  -  wired  on  the  lustful  desire  for  more  .  his  tongue  pokes  out  [  ;  ]  breathy  &  hot  ,  lapping  up  the  dry  tasting  airs  of  ionian  summers  .  such  heat  was  irritable  &  ignited  his  fists  to  keep  thrashing  down  without  recoil  .  in  a  feverish  want  for  more  ,  hands  dolled  up  in  a  fresh  pelt  of  crimson  [  ;  ]  webbed  in  fine  sticky  strings  that  thin  the  more  he  expands  the  gaps  of  his  digits  ,  he  slowly  retracts  his  form  .

                                                   a  bit  of  it  encrusts  between  the  divots  of  his  knuckle  duster  ,  outlining  the  cracks  of  teeth  that  layer  the  jutting  maw  of  the  wolverine  .  it’s  crimson  eye  socket  hollow  &  gleaming  back  at  him  .  

                                                  ❝  BOSS  —  !  get  ‘yer  head  outta  the  clouds  !!  you’ve  finished  him  —  !!  ❞

                                                  get  my  head  outta  the  clouds  …  but  his  fists  still  throbbed  beneath  crimson  excretions  ,  it  burned  with  a  stringent  desire  [  ;  ]  𝐊𝐄𝐄𝐏  𝐅𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆  .  the  pads  of  his  fingers  were  embedded  with  gold  ,  pulsating  with  what  he  assumed  were  his  old  blood’s  power  .  it  became  so  concentrated  in  matter  ,  it  sticks  to  the  bulbs  of  his  eyes  &  hair  ,  all  he  could  see  was  in  fact  white  .  his  nose  suffocated  with  an  overwhelming  sense  of  fresh  𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇  .  

                                                  ❝  don’t  give  me  orders  ,  boss  knows  what  he’s  doin’  .  i  ain’t  a  guy  with  a  nut  for  a  head  …  right  ?  ❞  jutting  fangs  rest  comfortably  against  his  bottom  lip  ,  hair  sprouting  chin  coated  in  saliva  .  perhaps  he  was  drooling  .  his  body  felt  hot  [  ;  ]  it  wasn’t  from  ionia’s  sweltering  hot  season  ,  no  .  he  felt  overstimulated  .  pushed  to  his  limits  .  

                                                  he  crushes  sounds  that  threaten  to  leave  his  gullet  ,  sinking  huffs  &  grunts  beneath  his  blood  soaked  molars  .  his  vision  blinks  ,  color  infusing  through  the  mask  of  white  that  glazes  over  his  eyes  .

                                                  his  sternum  felt  like  it  had  become  stretched  ,  along  with  the  seven  ridges  that  barricaded  his  vital  organs  .  it  was  a  painful  shot  that  scorched  up  his  tailbone  ,  his  expanded  fingers  gripping  at  the  air  for  anything  to  grab  onto  .  a  guttural  hiss  seethes  through  his  teeth  ,  finding  his  attempts  thwarted  .  a  pair  of  wide  hands  strapped  him  in  place  against  bodies  ,  meant  to  stop  him  .  keep  him  tamed  .  𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐃  .  

                                                  ❝  snap  out  of  it  boss  .  you’ve  won  .  ❞

                                                  a  deeper  feminine  voice  touched  his  ears  &  there’s  a  stiff  shift  of  his  jaw  .  his  brain  tried  as  hard  as  it  might  to  link  this  voice  to  a  face  .  his  molten  flesh  felt  entombed  against  a  rough  surface  ,  it  was  cool  but  it  was  large  .  he  couldn’t  move  at  all  .  his  arteries  felt  clogged  as  a  hand  mounted  against  his  wide  neck  ,  stifling  his  attempts  at  even  biting  .  not  that  he  was  going  to  anyway  .  

                                                  his  vision  continues  to  blink  &  spiral  into  a  series  of  dismantling  colorful  images  .  there  was  a  mound  of  red  at  the  center  ,  surrounded  by  a  heavily  saturated  surrounding  .  his  pit  …  that’s  right  .  he  was  in  the  ring  .  he  was  𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐃  on  account  of  a  greater  ticket  being  cashed  in  .  awaiting  sacks  of  coin  to  spill  it’s  impregnated  canvases  over  his  desk  .  

                                                  wait  he  —-  won  ?  she  said  …  he  won  .  his  enclosed  limbs  slowly  were  dispelled  of  the  heat  ,  his  magic  ,  &  became  turmoiled  with  pain  &  exhaustion  .  ❝  wait  …  really  ?  ❞  he  rasped  out  to  her  ,  so  hushed  ,  so  ingrained  with  spent  resources  .  she  mimics  her  reply  with  a  belated  hum  .  ❝  i  got  you  ,  settrigh  .  the  bouts  have  already  dispersed  the  crowd  …  you  got  your  pay  .  nobody  seen  what  has  happened  .  ❞  

                                                  so  much  for  that  …  sett  would  delegate  his  workers  ,  making  sure  there  are  enough  big  bodies  guarding  the  profits  ,  while  he  prepares  for  a  jam  -  packed  audience  ‘  hankering  for  blood  .  ‘  who  was  he  not  to  give  his  blood  -  thirsty  customers  of  his  a  deserved  show  ?  no  matter  the  gore  behind  it  .  but  if  it  was  enough  to  draw  even  his  trusted  to  thwart  him  ,  this  won’t  be  a  pretty  sight  for  old  eyes  .  

                                                  ❝  be  honest  with  me  ,  farhozi  …  what’s  the  damage  to  that  crooked  fella  ?  ❞  

                                                  ❝  about  as  dead  as  the  croonies  you’ve  slaughtered  in  the  past  .  but  you’ve  ripped  into  him  ,  despite  his  passing  .  damn  near  unrecognizable  .  ❞  she  replies  .  ❝  well  …  more  just  a  sack  of  meat  than  recognizable  .  ❞

                                                  ❝  fuckin’  hell  …  ❞

                                                  ❝  you  might  want  to  get  ‘yerself  cleaned  up  before  filing  up  those  papers  for  the  deceased  .  ❞  she  advised  .  sett  scrunches  his  nose  &  scoffs  .  

                                                  ❝  yeah  …  just  give  me  a  sec’  ,  will  ‘ya  ?  ❞  once  he  stated  this  ,  his  body  had  finally  been  freed  .  blood  smearing  on  his  face  as  his  palms  rubbed  the  plates  of  his  rugged  face  .  his  vision  finally  gets  back  at  him  ,  reading  his  environment  &  deducing  visible  information  .  

                                                  that  red  mound  could  be  depicted  as  an  obscene  distortion  of  gore  [  ;  ]  gristle  broke  through  flesh  &  marrow  sticks  upwards  ,  completely  disregarding  it’s  original  purpose  or  shape  .  sett  couldn’t  even  make  out  what  belonged  to  what  in  the  skeleton  .  entrails  are  flattened  &  pasted  against  the  ring’s  floor  ,  thick  pink  innards  caved  in  with  shapes  of  his  brass  knuckles  .  chunks  of  the  scalp  with  specks  of  black  hair  loiter  about  with  the  flecks  of  blood  splattered  a  bit  of  a  distance  away  .  

                                                  ❝  shit  …  did  i  really  do  that  ?  ❞

                                                  farhozi  sniffs  at  him  ,  wiping  her  thumb  against  her  nose  .  ❝  in  all  my  years  of  being  a  professional  pit  contender  ,  this  is  the  most  gruesome  thing  yet  .  ❞

[madamlaydebug]

The sixth chakra, Ajna, is in the area of the third eye, which is found in the space between the eyebrows. It encompasses the pituitary gland, eyes, head, and lower part of the brain. An invisible yet powerful third eye, this is your center of intuition. A spiritual chakra, which means “beyond wisdom,” Ajna leads you to an inner knowledge that will guide you if you let it. An open sixth chakra can enable clairvoyance, telepathy, lucid dreaming, expanded imagination, and visualization.

The Sixth Sense

Your world is experienced through the five senses. Even before you passed through the womb, you heard noises like your mother’s voice and heartbeat, and listened to muffled sounds outside. You experienced touch, taste, and even perceived light. And since the moment of birth, you’ve attributed your experiences to what you perceive through the senses. You’ve learned to trust your senses in what you can taste, smell, touch, see, and hear. While sense perception is great in life experience, it limits you when it comes to expanding your awareness.

At one time, you had to count on your sense of intuition and inner knowing. Before modern technology, we had to rely on signals from the environment and a more primal instinct to guide us. Just like birds can sense when a tsunami might hit, or squirrels know when it’s time to gather food for the winter, humans too have an intuitive sense. We’ve simply lost touch with it as well as our ability to trust in it.

Feeling Your Way to Intuition

Your physical senses can give you clues as to how to follow your intuition. For example, have you ever had the feeling that a carton of milk was bad? You smell the milk, look at the expiration date that’s still a couple weeks away, and even ask everyone in the house, “Is this milk bad?” Then, not detecting anything concrete, you go ahead and drink it but experience severe stomach pain as a result? That’s because on a very subtle level, your sense of smell detected something wasn’t right and gave you a cue that you doubted.

Here’s another example: you’re making a business deal with someone and everything adds up. The person seems great and honest. But when you shake hands you feel something just isn’t right. When the deal goes through, you find out it was corrupt.

You receive these clues through your senses, but when something isn’t visible you tend to ignore it. The good news is that you can learn to trust these clues and make better decisions based on your intuitive sense. When your decisions turns out right, write them down to reinforce that your intuition guided you in the right direction. Remember that just like the animals in the forest, you too have always had this sixth sense; you simply need to find it again.

Ask Your Inner Knower for Guidance

You can also use your inner sense to ask for guidance to make the right decisions. Taking into account your mind, intellect, and ego, you are now including your soul in the decision making process. Just as you turned to the third chakra in the area of the solar plexus to guide you with comfort or discomfort, you will pay attention to a hunch or a subtle feeling of moving forward or holding back. If you are conflicted, ask for your sense of intuition to be opened to you in order to help you make the right choice.

How to Balance Ajna

Just like any of the spiritual chakras, Ajna is best balanced through meditation. Often, new meditators will report having a tingling feeling in the third eye or equate it to a headache. A tingling or pulsating sensation around the area of the third eye during or after meditation is a sign that you are opening this blocked chakra.

A great Pranayama breathing technique is called Brahmari or the bee breath. Bring both hands to your face. Place the two middle fingers over your eyes. Allow the index fingers to rest on the eyebrow line and the pinky fingers under the cheekbones. Close your ears with your thumbs. Take a deep inhalation and exhale the word AUM with the emphasis on the “M” sound while creating a buzzing sound like a bee. Do this for two minutes or more. You can alleviate tension in the head and it works to open the sixth chakra.

Asanas, Sounds, Colors, and Gems

Any yoga Asana where the forehead is pressed down is a good one for the sixth chakra. Try child’s pose (Balasana) with your forehead pressed to the floor or a yoga block. Dolphin pose is another helpful pose when you lift the head up to look toward the floor.

The color for the sixth chakra is indigo and the mantra sound is SHAM.

Gems that help open the Ajna chakra are amethyst, lapis lazuli, and azurite.

[national-public-school]

The Symphony of Senses: Unlocking Learning Through Play at NPS Sarjapur's Montessori Classroom

Imagine a classroom pulsating with vibrant colors, textures, and sounds. Children, their eyes wide with wonder, explore objects, immerse themselves in activities, and engage in play unlike any other. This is the magic of sensory play, a cornerstone of the Montessori program at NPS Sarjapur, one of the leading Montessori schools in Bangalore. But this playful learning goes far beyond mere amusement; it plays a crucial role in fostering cognitive development and laying the foundation for lifelong learning.

The Montessori Philosophy and Sensory Play:

The Montessori philosophy, developed by Dr. Maria Montessori, emphasizes learning through sensory experiences. Dr. Montessori believed that young children learn best through their senses, absorbing information and developing vital skills through touch, sight, smell, hearing, and taste. NPS Sarjapur's Montessori curriculum embodies this philosophy, creating a rich sensory environment where children engage in play-based exploration that ignites their minds and bodies.

A Multisensory Journey:

Step into a NPS Sarjapur Montessori classroom, and you'll be greeted by a sensory feast. Smooth wooden blocks invite tiny hands to grasp and stack, their natural scent filling the air. Sensory bottles shimmer with colorful liquids, captivating eyes and sparking curiosity. Sandpits entice tactile exploration, while musical instruments awaken auditory senses and encourage creativity. Every element, meticulously chosen and arranged, serves a purpose – to stimulate the senses and trigger neurological pathways that underpin learning.

Benefits of Sensory Play in Montessori Education:

Cognitive Development: Sensory play strengthens neural connections in the brain, enhancing memory, concentration, and problem-solving skills. Engaging with sensory materials helps children classify, categorize, and make connections, forming the foundation for critical thinking and abstract reasoning.

Language Development: Sensory play provides ample opportunities for communication and vocabulary development. As children describe textures, sounds, and smells, they expand their language skills and learn to express themselves effectively.

Motor Skills Development: Fine motor skills, essential for handwriting and manipulation, flourish through activities like pouring, sorting, and manipulating textured objects. Gross motor skills also benefit from active play involving movement and exploration.

Emotional Development: Sensory play provides a calming and therapeutic outlet for children to manage emotions and self-regulate. Engaging with calming textures and soothing sounds can lessen anxiety and promote focus.

Social Development: Collaborative play with sensory materials encourages cooperation, communication, and turn-taking, fostering social skills and building positive relationships.

Beyond the Classroom Walls:

The sensory learning extends beyond the confines of the classroom walls. Nature walks expose children to diverse textures, sounds, and smells, while art activities engage their visual and tactile senses. The schoolyard, with its sandpits, climbing structures, and outdoor play areas, provides opportunities for gross motor development and sensory exploration.

Making the Choice for Your Child:

As you search for the best Montessori school in Bangalore, consider the emphasis NPS Sarjapur places on sensory play. By nurturing children's natural curiosity through hands-on, multisensory experiences, the school lays a strong foundation for cognitive, emotional, and social development. Witness the joy of learning at NPS Sarjapur, where sensory play orchestrates a symphony of understanding, paving the way for a bright and successful future.

[benjamin-ovich]

wrote a bipolar sirius ficlet a while back during a particularly rough mental health period and felt like sharing

i.

Everything is beautiful. The sun eats the sky and bursts open with light. Sirius’ smile is a blinding half-moon, and it’s filled with diamond dust – James kisses him there, then everywhere and all over.

These are the good days.

Sirius’ bright-eyed chatter takes up a whole room, and he talks just to talk. Words that rise up, words that swirl, expand, form galaxies in the air. Dizzying promises, drunk on laughter, a spinning wheel of conversation that keeps rolling all night. James sits up and watches him move, painting portraits in his mind. Rendering each detail for safekeeping in the chambers of his memory.

No time to sleep. Dreams burst free. Sirius is dancing, pulsating, glowing with life.

Hands moving fast, mouth pouring kisses. James has never felt so wanted, so adored. You’re my best friend in the whole wide world.

Sirius is electric and radiant. Sentences flying out so quick they're almost unintelligible. When he’s like this they’re touching all the time; always falling, pulling, tangled together. He can’t get enough of James. His lips are in James’ hair, on his neck, behind his ear. Skin flaring with heat, eyes like flashing lights.

Sirius leans in and whispers I love you like it’s something he wants only James to know – something private, precious as a secret.

ii.

Not all the good days are good.

When the light shifts, it becomes visceral. Sirius’ mind suddenly turns itself inside out, overrun by racing, disjointed thoughts. Blaring so loud it sets his whole body in motion. Shaking hands, shaky breath. Each heartbeat an explosion, a bomb in his chest.

Panic sets in. Shapes meld and blur together, a whirlwind of sensation and sound. He’s paranoid all the time now: Who are my friends? What do they want from me? James tries to hold him, and Sirius scrubs him off like a stain.

He won’t eat, won’t sleep. Has nightmares in the daytime.

James asks what’s wrong but Sirius’ eyes have turned to steel, suspicious of everything. Talking’s no good, crying is worse. James yells why won’t you trust me and Sirius slams the door in his face.

Reality warps into something strange and unnatural. Sirius starts having visions, losing time. James watches him chase the sound of voices down empty corridors, haunted by ghosts no one else can see. The seam that parts the real from the surreal shifts and morphs at will. Sirius’ clarity grows elusive, transient, slippery.

Nothing makes sense. Nobody understands. Teeth bared; he’s drawing blood, breaking bones, puncturing walls with his fists. Don’t fucking touch me. He looks in the mirror and smashes it to kill the monster staring back at him. This isn’t me.

Sirius is made of stars and burning white. Sirius is made of stars and setting things on fire.

iii.

On his worst days, Sirius empties his body out like a gun, vacant and shell-shocked. Eyes wide, seeing nothing. His arms fill up with a red ladder-rung of scars.

Self-inscriptions; slick, sliced, sins on skin. He's unravelling in threads.

James talks to him, and Sirius pulls the blanket over his head, turning away. Leave me alone. Days made long and cold, smothered with silence. Sirius sleeps and sleeps and sleeps. Everything is dark grey, a monochromatic wasteland. Numbness, nothingness, negative space in the brain.

Untouched plates of food. Sirius withers down to hollowed cheeks, xylophone ribs, paper skin. Waning and wasting away. He’s drinking to drown the quiet with something gentler than his thoughts. Talks a lot about dying: disappearing or drowning, or maybe just fading into the dark.

Porcelain cracks in his voice: saying I’m sorry.

Saying I love you.

Saying you deserve so much more than me.

James wraps his arms around him like he’s something delicate, and Sirius starts to cry again.

iv.

Eventually he comes back to himself, the way he always does. Slowly, hesitantly at first. Tasting the warmth of daylight one careful breath at a time.

This isn’t history repeating itself. It’s history clearing the dust and asking for a fresh start. Wounds closing up; soft and pink, like ribbons of scar tissue.

He begins to eat again. James hides a smile when Sirius reaches across the table to refill his plate, hungrier than he’s been all month. They talk for hours; there’s so much to say. James is telling stories, weaving dreams with his tongue. Sirius wraps their fingers together and kisses James' knuckles while he listens. Attentive and interested, for the first time in weeks.

James sits outside with him all night, backs against mossy grass. They count constellations that rotate across the tapestry of night - inventing planets, collecting stars like coins. Sirius says James’ hands can turn metal to gold, stitches to silk.

When the conversation lapses for a moment, he catches James' eye with a small, fond smile flickering across a skylit face. Thank you.

And he means it. From this sinking ship, this convulsive sea – James brings the tender promise of safety.

[wanderingfaee]

My Favorite Part Of You.

{ ❀ NSFW, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! ❀ }

characters: Arataki Itto x Female! Reader { modern au }

content warnings: female! reader, female body organs/parts, thigh fucking, clit fucking/teasing/play, light choking(??), praising, slight degradation(??), biting/nipping, size difference/kink.

❀ Please excuse any sort of grammar errors! I haven't written a semi full fic in ages! ❀ ┐(‘～`;)┌

But please, enjoy! (˵ ͡~ ͜ʖ ͡°˵)ﾉ ♡

Itto who was so enthralled by the feel of your plush, soft thighs firmly stroking his pulsing, voluminous cock, made such lewd, wanton noises. His bulging, leaking tip consistently prodding against your aching clit. Dragging out stammering mewls and soft moans from your pressed lips, trying so desperately not to simmer out anything more audible.

His long onyx, dark nails that skimmed along your hips, submerging deeper into the lush of your heated flesh. Forcing more drawn out moans to wither from your puttering agape, pink lips.

"s-so good for me" he muttered almost strainfully, dipping his head into the crook of your neck, hot breaths and struggled groans fanning over along your tender flesh "so soft and p-pretty- my favorite part of you" he continued to praise you, bantering desperately low, yet profoundly, his hands tightening onto your curved, jittering hips.

You can all but wither out faltering whimpers and pants, the feeling of his hot tip consistently grinding against your sensitive bud. Waves of elated pleasure clashing over you, a clutter of butterflies swarming within the pit of your bubbling stomach. Feeling ever so warm and ethereal.

You chewed onto your quivering bottom lip, tilting your head back against the large Oni's expanded chest. Heeps of unsteady breaths seeping past your sealed lips, as he continued to rut himself in between your legs. Aiming so shamelessly and hungrily, against your drooling folds and pulsating bundle of nerves.

Your glossy, obscured eyes slowly gazing up at the sputtering Oni, watching his larger frame twitch so vigorously after each thorough thrust he would construct against your rippling rear. His ragged hips dipping into the center of your bottom, as he tried desperately to gain more friction between your luscious, addictive thighs, that he loved, oh so much.

Just listening to his guttural, labored grunts and hisses, was all that you needed to push you further into a mind melting orgasm, that was starting to climb tremendously.

The stinging sensation of his darken nails digging into the sumptuous, thick flesh of your hips, guiding your shuddering figure amongst his ravaging length, only added on to your inevitable approaching orgasm.

"I-Itto wait- I--" you could feel every passing, intense second of his puffy tip, budge against your beading clit, sending you closer and closer to your euphoric high. Struggling to wrap your hands around his wrists, you could feel him putter against you further, harder-- faster with each passing, flurrying moment.

Steeper, feral like growls smearing against the heat of your flesh, almost warning like.

Which only forced your body to reverberate beneath him.

Your overflowing folds throbbing against his pacing cock from the sounds he spewed. Your salivating clear substance, coating along his thick, palpitating shaft.

"just a l-little more- beautiful" he practically growled, grabbing onto your tiny wrists with his left hand and cupping them just around the rest of his extended, thick shaft. Making you clasp your smaller hands to grasp around the bulging, warm flesh.

Earning a sharp hiss, you could feel his lips press deep into your neck, his fangs barely fogging over the delightful feeling of your skin. Grunting ever so gravely, the new enticing feeling of your delicate, soft hands draped around his hectic dick, drowned him into his own deep carnal desires.

Simply fucking himself in between your soft thighs, moisten folds and your gentle hands, made his entire brain to render into a puddle of thoughtless mess.

Nothing but absolute lust and animosity filled his mind. The thought of having his thick load coat every inch of you, encouraged his rapid pace in between your luscious thighs. Engorging himself immensely, into this wonderous, elevated delight.

Your breath hitched tightly, as you felt him twitch against your warm palms abrasively, your pulsing bud beginning to swell, as your orgasm ceased in on you.

Sealing your eyes tightly and leaning further back into his firm chest, you could feel those tingling, erratic shocks meld your entire state of what little clear consciousness, you had left.

Almost sensing you closing in on to your sweet, rapturous release, Itto adjusted his self a bit. Tearing away from your neck, he pulled his left hand up along the front of your jugular, guiding your head to face upward, as his other trailed over along to your palpitating, swelling bud. Using his index and middle finger, he firmly circled around the tender, swollen organ. Gracefully pinching around the throbbing bud, he watched your body jolt forward so hectically, lips spluttering open, and your back arching so profusely, with such intensity.

Your eyes dilating wider and glossier, sharpen electrical vibrations colliding all through your frantic, heaving body, as your lips parted with lapsing, sharp struggled breaths.

"is that the spot baby? a-are you g'nna make a mess for me? hmm?" he encouraged with such sweet, depraving words, his hips sloppily faltering in between your thighs, grunting ever much more heavier "go ahead- c-cum for me sweet girl, let me see how pretty y-you can be while making such a beautiful, dirty face" and that was all you needed, a few simple yet vivid encouraging affirmations and the firm pinches he was giving your overstimulated clit.

Nothing but absolute, elevated bliss shattered all over you. With your head thrown back against his firm, heaving chest and your back arched so delectably, you could feel your sopping cunt expel out a messy wave of your essence, splatter all over his leaking dick.

Earning you a deep, grating groan, Itto couldn't help but suit follow after your squirting mess. Feeling his pulsating cock throb so feverishly, thick white liquid began spewing out from his red, hot tip. Decorating along your spasming thighs and the washing machine that supported the both of you, in front of you.

Breathing so frantically, Itto tugged against your jugular and pulled you closer to his heaving frame. His plump, soft lips overlapping yours with such gratification and satisfaction.

A wave of heavy blush lingered on your cheeks, still feeling that intense, power driven orgasm, still linger all through your spastic body, you couldn't help but close your eyes and fall into Itto's desperate, sloppy kiss.

His hand on your scratchy throat slowly released it's firm grip, allowing you to inhale well needed oxygen.

Gradually catching up on the both of your breaths, you both gazed at each other for a long, prolonged moment. Little fits of snickers began to resound amongst the steamy room "I-I hate you so much Itto" you breathed, feeling his heavy body adjust a bit from yours, but still kept close enough to pull you into a tight embrace, waving his large, voluminous arms around your waist "ahhh no ya' don't! you love me and ya' know it!" he grinned ever so childishly, snickering as he pecked multiple rapid chaste kisses along your heated cheeks. Forcing little fits of bantering giggles to fall from your lips. Lazily drifting your eyes back onto the washing machine, you noticed some of his thick substance seeping through the once cleaned clothes that you had just washed "Itto! you bonehead! I just washed those!" you twirled around and shoved at him, still listening to his boyish chortle echo through your ears. His vermilion, glimmering eyes glimpsing over into the machine, seeing his load permeate into the dampening clothes "whoops" he shrugged, still snickering as you groaned frustratingly, still bashing against him.

❀ ♡ ❀

[noteguk]

hiii, I'm not sure if you have any rules for requests, but could you do a Yoongi pwp with choking kink? Thank you in advance💗

— contents and warnings; pwp, boyfriend!yoongi x reader, established relationship, unprotected sex, choking, dirty talk, kind of rough sex, slight praise, overstimulation, mention of a terrible attempt at christmas seduction that obviously worked out, yoongi being lowkey whipped 

— words; 1.6k

I powered through this during the last minutes of Christmas just because I wanted to have a themed fic... and nothing says ‘happy holidays’ like choking an elf. 

~

Yoongi took it as a personal offense when he saw you waltzing out of his living room bathroom dressed in that skimpy Santa’s Elf costume, like you were an actual demon daring to step inside a church. As much as you swore, batting your eyelashes and smirking innocently, that you were just trying to get into the Christmas spirit, it was very obvious that you were just trying to get into something else. You knew very well what you were doing — and he knew it too — so it wasn’t a surprise when you two ended up where you did, with Yoongi on top of you, fucking the shit out of you on his pristine white couch. 

“Look at me.”

His voice was so serious that you instantly complied, your eyes fluttering open as you met his own, hooded ones. Yoongi looked like a gorgeous mess above you, his hair sweaty and disheveled, cheeks painted by faint crimson hue. A beautiful frown of concentration decorated his features, his eyebrows coming down as he continued to thrust inside you — slowly, because he was feeling particularly wicked that night. 

Yoongi allowed himself to smirk in satisfaction when you met his gaze, your eyes so disoriented and unfocused beneath him. If his gaze trailed further down, he would see the beautiful curvature of your breasts beneath your tight green crop top, bouncing up and down as he continued to piston his hips against yours. He was a man of clear, objective needs: he wanted to fuck you, and he wouldn’t waste any time with some bothersome removal of your clothes when he could just pull your panties to the side and go to town. 

Besides, that hot little top and skirt you were wearing — combined with the red and white stripped thigh high socks that were making him lose his mind — were the instigators of that Fucking Session in the first place. He wouldn’t be stupid enough to take them off. Yet. 

“I wish you could see how pretty you look when I fuck you… such pretty lips,” he told you in a breathless whisper, lowering his body so he could place a messy kiss against your mouth. You gasped his name when he pulled away, but Yoongi remained unfazed by your reaction. “Pretty hair.” His hand pulled on it slightly, making a needy whimper leave your throat. He smirked a bit at that, but quickly grew serious once more. He didn’t know if he wanted to make love to you, or if he wanted to fuck you so hard that you wouldn’t walk for the rest of the holidays. Probably both. “Pretty neck…”

Yoongi leaned in and attacked your neck for the second time that night, loving the way that your skin was already marked by his previous actions. His tongue came out between his lips, licking the bruises and tracing patterns on your skin, making you moan out as your nails scratched down his back. You two hadn’t opened presents yet, but, if that was his, he was beyond satisfied. 

“Y-Yoongi, you feel so good in me,” you cried out. The sensation of his cock pumping inside you was intoxicating, your eyes rolling back as he placed his hands beneath your thighs and angled your hips upwards, mouth never leaving your neck. The new position got the tip of his cock ramming against your sweet spot, legs starting to tremble as your pleasure increased exponentially. “God, right there, Yoongi, don’t stop—” 

“You’re getting so fucking tight around my cock,” he breathed out, nails digging against your skin. Finally, Yoongi found the force within him to move away from your neck, staring at the beautiful art he had imprinted on your flesh — shades of purple and red blooming on your skin — and then meeting your gaze once more. There, he saw the sparkles of desperation and desire that he loved so much; a small tear at the corner of one of them. 

You were the most stunning thing he had ever seen. 

All of you signaled him that you were close: the blush on your cheeks, the loudness of your whimpers, the vague roll of your eyes and perking of your hips every time he slammed back against your throbbing core. Yoongi wished that he could have this image forever, the perfection of your features making his heart melt inside his chest. He loved you so much that it was almost painful. 

One of his hands left your thighs, brushing up your exposed midriff and grabbing your breast before, at last, finding its way around your beautiful neck. Your eyes widened at the hidden meaning of his action, your tongue coming out to lick your lips in anticipation. “Do you want your present, baby?” 

You couldn’t nod fast enough, your orgasm loudly creeping up on your spine. The sounds of your wetness were filling the living room air, almost winning against the stupid, off-tune karaoke version of “Last Christmas” that you convinced your boyfriend to play. “Please,” you gasped. 

If Yoongi felt the way you clenched around him, he didn’t show it. “Please what, baby?” He teased, just slightly pressing on the sides of your neck before letting it go. “Use your words so I know what you want.” 

“Please, Yoongi, choke me.” You bit your lip, fighting against the guttural moan that almost escaped you. You were so, so on edge. It felt like your entire body was in overdrive; sweat accumulating between your breasts, on your nape; your heartbeat echoing inside your ears and lungs unable to expand fast enough. You just needed a bit more to tilt you over. “Please, please, I’m so close.” 

Because it was Christmas and Yoongi wasn’t feeling like a grinch, he didn’t push you any more than that. Delicately, his fingers started pressing down on the sides of your neck, slowly cutting your circulation; his stare glued to the beautiful pleasure that melted on your face. He knew the signs very well — in fact, he knew your entire body very well, especially after years of being by your side — and so he took the front seat to watch as ecstasy was building up inside you. Yoongi followed it as it grew larger, more overbearing, until you were gasping out his name like a prayer and your cunt was pulsating around him; timid gasps of air leaving your lips. 

Then, he let go. 

Your orgasm overtook you at the same time that the circulation returned to your brain, the sensation becoming one of sheer, unabashed euphoria. With a muffled sob, you came hard around Yoongi, trembling in his hold as he continued to move in and out of you, whispering how good you were for him, how well you took him. It wasn’t long before the pleasure was morphing into discomfort, but you swallowed your complaints. Yoongi had already given your gift, and now you had to give him his.  

Regardless of how your mind saw the situation, your body still betrayed you and your legs flinched at the new wave of sensitivity, making your skirt move upwards. With a foggy vision, you watched as Yoongi’s eyes fell in the space between your thighs, widening slightly as he followed the way his cock pounded inside your wet pussy. That seemed to be the last push he needed to fucking lose it, because, within a second, he was fucking you harder than ever before. 

“Y-Yoongi!” You yelped, head rolling back against the cushions as he pistoned inside you. You didn’t want him to stop, as much as it was starting to hurt, you wanted him to cum inside you. 

“Almost there, baby, fuck,” he cursed, his voice a cloud of heat against your ear. Yoongi was moaning and groaning, his thrusts becoming more and more sloppy, and you knew he was serious. You could get lost in that moment, just following his desperation as he lost himself inside you, worshipping you like you were made of gold. “God, you feel like heaven, baby. I’m— I’m gonna cum.”

With a few more thrusts and sweet words directed at you, Yoongi spilled himself inside your pussy, grunting through his orgasm before, at last, he crashed against your chest with a deep, satisfied sigh. 

A tender smirk curled up on your lips, one hand on his shoulder and the other one playing with his dark hair. “Thanks for that,” you said playfully. 

“You’re such a little demon,” he mumbled against your breasts, but his voice was devoid of any actual roughness. “You knew exactly what you were doing. Changing into this stupid sexy elf costume. Making me say the words ‘sexy elf’ as if that’s not a sin on itself.” 

You giggled at that, and Yoongi thought that was the most beautiful sound that had ever graced his ears. He almost forgave you for the Christmas karaoke playlist that you had chosen for the night. “Perhaps,” you told him. He wasn’t looking at you, but he could hear the smile in your voice. “And you fell right into my trap.” 

Yoongi grunted. “I hate this outfit, by the way.” He tugged at the hem of your skirt. “You should wear it more often.” 

[lilevixen]

heyyy, idk if u write bertholdt or are even taking requests, but if u are can i request giving bertholdt an orgasm denial from a f!reader and it’s been like 3 hours that he’s had to hold it? thanks if u can :)

sweet boy

Characters: sub!Bertholdt Hoover x dom!female bodied reader

Genre: smut

Word Count: 1.9k

Description: Reader teaches Bertholdt a lesson after he gets a bit too touchy with them in front of their friends

•WARNING- 18+ CONTENT: orgasm denial, no-contact orgasm, descriptions of oral sex (male receiving), dacryphilia(ish?)•

“Baby, please, I said I was s-sorry!” Bertholdt whined from across the room for what felt like the millionth time that evening. You casted a look of faux boredom over your shoulder from your small wooden desk, trying your best to remain blasé at the mouth-watering sight of your boyfriend still sat criss-cross applesauce completely bare on the bed. He was so good for you, so obedient; his arms never once left from behind his back for entirety of the time you had him there. How long did you have him there? After you two got back from the dining hall, minutes easily spilled into hours in the smudgy haze of repressed lust you had established. The only indicator of how long Berthodlt had been sitting there for, cock upright and twitching for attention, was how absolutely worn out he looked. Every inch of his deep, tan skin was glittering with sweat, cords of muscle in his thighs and abdomen strained beneath his flesh so severely they looked like they could snap any second, his chest heaved erratically as if he had just run a marathon- this was absolute torture for him, you could tell. You would’ve felt bad, if he hadn’t disobeyed you in the first place.

“Huh? I was reading, sweetie. I didn’t hear you,” a bald-faced lie on your part. Your eyes kept tracking over the same paragraph over and over again without absorbing any of the information in your brain, the sweet pleas of your boyfriend claiming all the space in your mind instead. His lip quivered at your persistence in feigning ignorance of his situation and tears quickly filled his dark eyes.

“P-Please! Can you please t-touch me? I need you so bad I think I might e-explode,” he stammered out, his voice meek but desperate, shameless, so needy and you felt it throb between your legs, adding to the arousal already collecting along your inner thighs. Despite how incredibly turned on you were, you let out a slow sigh hiss past your lips as if you were getting irritated.

“Well, you got to touch me plenty, sweets. In front of everyone, just like I asked you not to,” excitement overtook your annoyance some time ago, but what you brought up was a genuine point of contention. From the very beginning you made it clear you wanted your relationship to be private. It wasn’t that you were ashamed of him or anything, you just hated all the unnecessary attention couples garnered, all the mindless gossip and speculation of who plays what role, the whispers, the stares. And once Bertholdt had gotten comfortable with you, always seeking your touch like a love sick little puppy, you knew this was something that needed to be discussed. He agreed at the time, ‘if it means I get to be with you, I guess it’s okay,’ he said, but as things progressed he would give away your relationship in little ways. At first it was just the way he would look at you (which was only natural given your feeling for each other, you supposed), staring at your lips for a little too long when you spoke, a little twinkle of fondness in his warm eyes. You let this slide, because it was minimal and no one seemed to notice. But slowly, he started doing more and more things that you had to call him out on, resting his head on your shoulder, using his thumb to tenderly swipe crumbs of food off your face, nearly calling you baby- until finally, tonight in the dining hall while having supper with your friends, he practically announced you two were together by kissing your hand when you burnt it on a scalding bowl of soup. Porco was too involved with his food to notice, but you could feel Reiner and Annie’s eyes hovering over you as if you were an alien. Too embarrassed to handle their reactions, you excused yourself to your room and quickly left before they even had a chance to say anything, Bertholdt obviously right on your heels. He tried to embrace you and kiss you and apologize to make it all better, but his penchant for physical affection was what got you in this situation in the first place. So that’s when you decided to give him a little time-out. Even though, your edge was starting to wear down after hearing him whine out for you for so long.

“I know! I-I just don’t like seeing you get hurt! I didn’t think they were looking at us, I’m sorry Y/N!” he choked out, squirming against the air as if that would provide some sort of relief. “I’m s-so hard for you it feels like ‘m gonna pass out.”

“Oh really? And what do you want me to do about that?” You asked in a snarky tone to mask the unadulterated lust pulsing through you, going back to fake-reading your text book.

“I want you to touch me! I want to feel you, any part of you, until I cum over and over…” you could hear the thought in his voice as he got lost in what he was describing, and you didn’t need to turn around to know he was biting his lip with his head tilted back, eyes squeezed shut and brows knitted. Another hot rush of arousal swirled in deep in your stomach.

“You know I can’t do that, baby,” you said against your own body’s command.

“Y-Yes you can! I promise I’ll be good from now on, I w-won’t hold your hand or kiss you or hug you in front of anyone again! Just please, I need you Y/N,” maybe it was your own excitement, or how fucking good he sounded begging for you like a pitiful little boy, but this finally broke your resolve. It would be cruel to let him stay there like that all night, anyway. You pushed yourself out of your seat and made your way to Berthdolt’s trembling form on the bed. Even you just getting closer to him caused his heavy breathing to pick up pace.

“How do you want me, my sweet boy?” you purred, laying down flat on your stomach before his lanky body so that his dick towered above you like a skyscraper.

“A-Any way,” he looked down at you beneath his dark, fluttering lashes, swiveling his hips in anticipation of your touch. You let out a soft scoff.

“Be specific or I can’t help you~,” you said with a sweet lilt in your voice, harsh words laced with honey. His eyes blew open wide at your threat to leave him a writhing, unfulfilled mess for even longer than you already had.

“Can you take me in your mouth? Please?” A new wave of blush spread across his cheeks as he said this, and you couldn’t help but smile at how cute he was.

“There you go, baby,” you giggled. You guided your featherlight fingertips along the slick muscle of his thighs, causing him to tense up immediately, and you could actually see the thrum of his heartbeat racing beneath his skin in faint flits. He was so sensitive by now you didn’t doubt he would explode just like he said before. Your fingers playfully walked along the slope of his legs, working their way inwards, and you teased them to a gradual stop mere inches from where he needed you most. He was panting like a dog at this point, chest rising and falling violently as he looked down at you, jaw slack and eyes cloudy with frustrated tears.

“You’ve been waiting for this, huh?” You dragged your tongue along your lower lip and leaned in close to his pulsating cock so that your breath fanned across his shaft, digging your fingers into the tendons of his inner thigh. He gasped, the shock of you finally gracing him with some sort of stimulation overwhelming his worked-up body, and a throb of pleasure shot through his dick with such alarming intensity that you could see it expand in his veins and swell at the tip. You blinked up at him, a bit startled yourself. He was so close already and you barely even touched him… Maybe you didn’t even need to touch him.

“U-Uhuh!” He nodded frantically, tears now spilling down his flushed face and drool dribbling down his chin; the sight would’ve been sad if it wasn’t so fucking hot. You massaged your fingertips into the thin, sweat-slicked skin on either side of his balls and slowly moved your lips upwards so that they were ghosting the hot, leaking head of his penis. His whole body shuddered underneath you, hips eagerly twitching to meet your lips, but only mildly, timidly, making it clear he was still completely under your control.

“I bet you’ve been imagining this for so long, my lips around your cock, feeling me squeeze you in my throat,” you hummed, your lips just barely brushing his dickhead as you spoke, and to him the vibration of your voice and the warm flutters of your breath against him felt just as sensational as the euphoric grip of your walls after hours of waiting for any kind of attention. This was exactly what you suspected, what you were hoping. He was such a desperate mess that he could get off to just your words and proximity. “Can you feel it? My pretty little mouth drooling around you?”

“A-Ah! Yes!” He cried out, and his stiff cock slapped against his belly eagerly as if he was truly feeling every bit of what you were describing, hell, even you were starting to feel it from his reactions alone, the ache between your legs growing almost painful.

“Does my sweet boy want to cum down my throat?” You kept steady eye contact with him, savoring every bit of watching him crumble before you, intentionally letting your breath pour past your lips in heavy pants, and he bucked into the air with each puff, his abdomen flexed tight and his thighs shuddering.

“Ahaha y-yes please!” He whimpered, the rhythm of his hips gently rising to meet your breath becoming twitchy and unstable, a clear sign that he was on the brink of long-awaited release. A coy smile played at the ends of your lips as you batted your lashed up at him.

“Then cum for me,” and on command, his whole body convulsed under the weight of sweet, sweet climax, at long last, the hugest load you’d ever seen erupting out of him in thick, hot torrents that sprayed right in his face. You were so proud of him, your poor baby, putting up with your little act for hours on end despite yearning for you so immensely that you didn’t even need to touch his cock for him to bust. He just loved you that much and why exactly? You quite honestly didn’t know. You almost felt the need to apologize for treating him so cruelly, but at the end of the day you were trying to teach him a lesson, and based on how he was looking at you, right eye squeezed shut to prevent cum from getting in his eye, body rattling with exhaustion, it was safe to say he wouldn’t make the same mistake again. The least you could do was help him clean up. You got up on your knees and took his clammy face in your hands, gliding your tongue along his salty skin to get rid of all the cum, saliva, tears- whatever fluids were coating his face. When you were done, you pressed a kiss to his lips.

“I love you, my sweet boy.”

||

A/N:

HEYYY LOVELIESSS💓💓 here’s my first official completed request (woohoo)!!! Bertholdt is not usually a character I would accept writing but this request kinda had me GRRRR ya know (thank you for that anon, I truly hope you’ll enjoy this! This was my first time writing orgasm denial too so idk if i did it right NAKWKA)? BUTTT yeah here ya go, bloop ilyyyy

~Bunny

[ragingpancake]

I Got You

A/N: I watched Echoes the other night and frankly, I just needed to write this. Sort of an unofficial sequel to The Road to Nowhere Leads to Me.

They’re almost back to Atlantis from the mainland when Rodney realizes that maybe something’s a bit off with Sheppard – er… John (and he has to remind himself to start calling Shep—John by his first name because this whole… thing between this is still relatively new and it’s probably not social acceptable for one to refer to one’s boyfriend by last name only). No one would ever really call him chatty, but this level of quietness is almost unsettling, especially when Rodney tries to goad him into some gentle bantering and he’s just not having it. “What’s wrong with you?” He asks finally as the city is just coming into view. “Huh?” Rodney squints, mouth turning down in a frown. “I certainly didn’t stutter, Colonel.” Maybe that’ll get his attention.

He waits a moment, and then two. Nope. Nada. The lights are on but nobody’s home. “… John.”

At that, John lifts a hand and presses the heel of it against one of his eyes, wincing and Rodney notices for the first time how not well the other actually looks. “I’ve just… got this killer headache that won’t go away,” he says and it actually sounds pained in a way that Rodney isn’t quite used to from him. He watches as John squints at the city in the distance. “Maybe I should take over?” For a split second, he thinks John might be considering it before he shakes his head. “Nah, s’alright. I know how much you struggle to fly in a straight line.” There’s the smallest hint of teasing in his voice but Rodney doesn’t rise to the challenge because it’s such a weak attempt on John’s part that he knows he’d absolutely assassinate John with a comeback and where’s the fun in that? “Are you sure? Because, because I’ve been in one of these things when it’s crashed into the water, if you remember correctly, and I really have no intention of repeating that, so if you aren’t feeling well, I’d rather just--.” “Rodney,” John says and now, there’s a trace of a bite to his tone. Wow. Hostile. “Okay, I’m just saying--.” “I know,” John says. “But it’s fine. I’ve got it.” Rodney resigns himself to believing that for about a split second until he glances over again and notices the blood dripping from John’s nose. “John--.” “Dammit, Rodney! I said I’m--.” And whatever lie John was about to tell dies on his lips as he slumps over, head smacking the console. Immediately, Rodney leaps into action, grabbing John before he slips out of the pilot’s chair to ease him down onto the floor, his head lulling to the side sickeningly. “Jumper 1, this is Atlantis, come in. Your course has drastically shifted.” Radek’s voice comes through the comm system in the jumper and Rodney suddenly realizes that no one is, you know, actually piloting. “I need a medical team to the Jumper Bay. Sheppard is down, I repeat, Sheppard is down.” He scrambles into the pilot’s chair and manages to jerk it upwards approximately three point five seconds before the jumper crashes into the ocean. “Rodney?” It’s Elizabeth’s voice now, and she sounds about as worried as Rodney feels. “Carson’s here. What happened?” “Can’t talk now! Trying to fly and not, you know, crash and send us both to our deaths in the horrifically vast ocean. Been there, done that, got the t-shirt.” “Rodney!” “Just have them standing by!” He cuts off the comm system and glances down at John who has not yet regained consciousness. “Please be okay, please be okay, please be okay.” It becomes his mantra as he somehow manages to navigate the jumper back to the city and into the bay. He barely has time to lower the door before a med team is swarming in and before Rodney has a chance to so much as breathe, they’re gone, John with them. There’s a small bit of blood on the floor from where John was laying and Rodney has to work very hard not to throw up. ---- It’s dark in the hallway, save for the faint blue glow emanating from the center of the wall closest to him. He reaches out, hand pressing against it and he can feel the thrum of hurt intensifying, adding to what’s already there in his head. He staggers at the force of it, drops to his knees and presses the heels of his hands against his eyes in an attempt to stave off the pounding of his head. But this isn’t his hurt, he realizes after a moment. It’s hers, and that thought alone is enough to force him back to his feet, hand reaching out to touch that blue light again. This time, he feels an almost burning heat fanning out from the center of his hand as the blue expands and he watches as it begins to creep across the wall, almost as if it’s beckoning him to follow. He’s never been good at following orders and he has the record to prove it, but he finds his feet moving, seemingly of their own accord, allowing the glow to lead him down the darkened hallway for what seems like forever until it stops, finally, at a room he doesn’t quite recognize. “Why am I here?” Because I need your help, she answers

back, the words cool and gentle within his mind. Find me, John Sheppard. Before it’s too late. “Before what’s too late? What are you trying to tell me?” But she’s already receding from his mind and all he’s left with is a light so bright that penetrates the darkness as John opens his eyes. --- Rodney’s there when John finally comes to under the bright lights of the infirmary. “Oh thank God,” he says as he slumps back into the chair, running a hand across his forehead. “Far be it from me to say I told you so, but--.” He doesn’t get a chance to finish before John is sitting up so quickly that it makes Rodney a bit dizzy, kicking the blankets off of his legs. “Whoa, whoa, whoa.” He stands up, pressing a hand to John’s shoulder to ease him back down onto the mattress and Ronon is on the other side of the bed, doing the same. “Where do you think you’re goin’?” The Satedan asks in his natural rumble. “I have to help her,” John says and Rodney suddenly finds himself a bit miffed at that. “Help who?” He asks and if he sounds a little pissy, he thinks he’s probably allowed because you know, he’s the one been sitting at John’s bedside for the last several hours, worried very much about the possibility of brain damage and now that he’s awake, the first thing he mentions is some second rate harlot and--. “The city,” he rasps and he grabs Ronon’s wrist, trying to force it off of him. “Something’s wrong with the city.” “What? The city is fine,” Rodney says, but he’s reaching for his tablet anyway, pulling up the city schematics to scan over quickly, searching for any indication that something was not right. “See?” He says, and he turns the tablet to face John so he can see for himself. “The back up teams cleaned everything up nicely, there’s absolutely nothing that would indicate--.” “Rodney,” he says and there’s an almost wild look in his eyes as he glances up at the scientist, seemingly pleading with him to just listen. “They missed something. There’s something wrong, we have to--.” “Aye,” Carson greets, a smile on his face. “There ya are. Ya had us quite worried there for a bit. I’d still like to run a few scans--.” Rodney tunes him out as he searches John’s face and he supposes that there is a possibility that something was missed. It’s a huge city, many parts that they’ve yet to explore and the Wraith attack had been devastating. He rationalizes that this could also possibly be attributed to some sort of brain injury, what with the bleeding and the passing out and everything but something in John’s eyes gives him pause. Whatever’s brought him to this conclusion, John seems to truly believe that there’s something wrong with their city, with their home and while Rodney isn’t apt to act without actual evidenced based data, he finds that he can’t quite let this go without investigating. “Stop,” he says, holding up a hand to Carson. “We need to go.” “Go? What are ye on about?” Carson asks, clearly annoyed at the interruption. “We still don’ know what caused the bleedin’ an’--.” “Something’s wrong with the city,” Rodney says, echoing John’s previous statement. “We have to go.” Ronon glances at Rodney from across John’s bed and when Rodney gives a barely there nod, Ronon crowds Carson, gently ushering him away. “Sorry, doc.” “Oh, ye can’t be serious! Rodney!” “Can you stand?” Rodney asks John, and he reaches for him, carefully like he’s not sure where it’s okay to touch, especially in public, but John’s hand grabs his wrists and he squeezes gently. “Thank you.” “If you really want to thank me,” Rodney says dryly, “you can do so by not passing out on me again during what is sure to be a long trip around the city. “I’ll do my best,” John answers solemnly and Rodney supposes that’s as good as it gets. --- It’s dark outside, the Lantean sun having set several hours ago. They’ve split up into groups, Ronon and Teyla, Lorne and McMasters, John and Rodney. They’ve had absolutely no luck in finding anything of consequence and Rodney is trying very hard not to lose his temper because he’s

tried to show John on the tablet several times now that everything still shows all is well, but John is insistent. Desperate even, only growing moreso the farther away they get from the heart of the city. “Teyla, Ronon, this is McKay. Anything?” “No, Rodney,” Teyla answers back almost immediately. “It seems as though everything is still working as it should over this way.” “Lorne?” “All good here, doc. I’m gonna suggest we call it, at least for the night. Some of these labs haven’t properly been cleared yet, I’d like to--.” “No,” John says and when Rodney glances over to give him an exasperated glare, he realizes that John’s nose is bleeding again. “John, what are you--!” “This is the hallway,” he tells Rodney, reaching up to wipe the blood away, smearing it to his cheek. “This is… she needs us…” He reaches out and touches the wall and Rodney watches as it pulsates under his hand, a blue glow flickering to life. He’s always known that Atlantis liked John better than she liked anyone else, has seen it in the way rooms light up for him, the effortless way in which John activates all her tech, but this… this is something else. She’s actually communicatingwith him, he knows it. “Three levels above the east pier,” Rodney says into his comm. “Teyla—” “We are already on our way,” and over the radio, Rodney can hear the heavy footfalls of their feet against the floor. Rodney doesn’t realize that John has walked away, not at first, until he turns to see the glow halfway down the hall, barely illuminating John’s figure as it guides him further into the darkness. Rodney follows, and suddenly, John stops outside of a door. “Is this it?” Rodney asks, but he already knows the answer to the question. He slides his hand over the crystal, but the door doesn’t budge, not that Rodney expected it to. “Okay,” he says, and his voice is gentle now, perhaps more gentle than it’s ever been, but there’s something about the pinched look on John’s face that honestly, truly worries him. It reminds him of how he looked on the jumper, right before he, you know, passed out. He checks his tablet, but he knows it’s a moot point because the city is off-line down here, which is why they never knew there was a problem. The sensors just don’t reach this far, but he thinks he should be able to still get the door open. “John,” Rodney says, and there’s no response. “John.” But John seems not to hear him as he reaches for the door, fingers gripping the edge as he tries, desperately, to pull it open. “Oh, oh. Yes.” Rodney puts the tablet down carefully and he moves to the other side, glancing at John to follow his lead and as John pulls again, the noise that escapes him sends a shiver down Rodney’s spine. He screams as the door finally slides open and now, Rodney notices the blood trickling out of John’s ear, just in time to grab John as he crumples, guiding him to the floor. “Rodney!” Teyla’s voice echoes down the hallway, and Rodney calls back, voice nearing on hystericalas he situates himself below John to pillow his head on his lap. “Here! We’re here!” Ronon comes into view first, gun aimed, followed quickly by Teyla. “We heard screaming, what—John?” “It’s Atlantis!” Rodney says, “She’s using John to communicate, there’s something--.” Ronon needs to hear no more as he slips through the opened door and a second later, there’s the sound of laser fire. Rodney’s petting over John gently, shaking him gently, pleading with him to wake up but it’s to no avail. Teyla has disappeared inside of the room that John brought them to and Rodney risks a fraction of a moment to lean down, letting his lips brush against John’s forehead. “Please, please, please wake up.” John resolutely does not. --- “Did we do it?” He’s somewhere quiet and he’s alone, but he can feel her around him, leaving him warm and comforted, reminding him very much of being wrapped up in his mother’s embrace when he was seven and had the flu. He remembers that because before coming to Atlantis, it was the last time he felt well and

truly loved because she’d died less than three weeks later. You did, and he closes his eyes, letting her warmth wash over him. The pain is gone, both his and hers, he realizes and there’s a feeling of contriteness that settles inside of him, like she’s saying she’s sorry and he guesses she means for basically hijacking his mind. But, as unsettling as it should be, he finds that he’s always known she was there, really. The gentle thrumming, the quiet humming of her power he feels tucked away somewhere in the back of his mind. She wasn’t trying to hurt him, he knows. It’s not just his found family that cares for him, not just Rodney… but her too. There will be no lasting damage, she promises him and the warmth begins to recede, just a bit. To either you or me. But please tell Doctor McKay not to be too angry with me. The darkness is fading now with her and he’s not really sure why she thinks Rodney would be upset with her. He tries to ask, but the feeling of a gentle hand in his hair, a quiet murmuring of voices, breaks through and John closes his eyes, letting it guide him out of the dark. Thank you once again, John Sheppard. You saved us all. --- “—still don’t understand how we didn’t know it was here,” Elizabeth says and Rodney has to fight not to roll his eyes because they’ve been over this, he’s explained it ad nauseum. “The life signs detector is tied in directly with the city’s power grid,” he says exasperatedly and he thinks about reaching for his tablet as a nice visual aide but somewhere along the way, his hand had settled into John’s hair and it’s so soft that he kind of doesn’t want to pull it away. He doesn’t know if it brings John any comfort, but it brings him some, feeling the warmth of the other under his hand and damn if he’ll let anyone take that away from him. Even at the sake of his own sanity for having to go through this again. “That part of the city still doesn’t get any power. No power means it can’t communicate with us. We never would’ve known.” “… never would’ve known what?” The raspy voice from the bed asks and Rodney very nearly topples out of his chair as he yanks his hand back, gaping down at John, and “oh, thank god!” “Wraith,” Ronon says by way of explanation, like it’s the most natural thing in the world and Rodney supposes maybe it is. After all, at least for right now, it’s the Wraith that’s proved to be their biggest pain in the ass. “Technically, a Wraith transmitter,” Rodney corrects and he can’t quite tear his eyes away. “The Wraith was.. well, indisposed, as it was. How are you feeling?” “What d’y’mean ‘indisposed’?” “It blew itself up when it realized that the room was heavily shielded and that the beacon couldn’t get through,” Ronon says and Rodney glares at him, because he’sthe one who likes to do all the explaining, thank you very much. “Blew a hole in the wall almost the size of a jumper.” “Yes, well,” Rodney says, steering the conversation back, “somehow, there was some sort of a fail safe built into the city’s infrastructure. There was a kind of a force field where the wall used to be, not unlike that of the cells, but with no power, it wouldn’t have held much longer. When it failed, that thing would’ve sent our coordinates to every Wraith hive ship in the galaxy and well, the ruse would’ve been up. But enough about that, how are you feeling?” “Kinda like I got hit by a truck,” John says and he shifts on the bed to sit up a bit more. “The transmitter’s been taken care of?” “Blasted into almost as many pieces as the Wraith,” Ronon says proudly and Teyla squeezes his arm gently. “We are very glad that you are awake, John,” she says diplomatically, “but perhaps it would be best if we let you rest?” “Whaddya mean? That’s all he’s been doing,” Ronon scoffs, but Teyla tugs at his arm anyway, bless her. “Come,” she says. “Elizabeth, perhaps I could help you in your office, go over the schedule for the teams set to search the rest of the city?” And whatever look she shares with Elizabeth has her nodding, turning to give them both a

smile. “Of course, thank you Teyla,” she says and she reaches out for John, squeezing his arm gently. “Good to have you back with us, John.” John lifts a hand in response as everyone filters out, leaving him and Rodney alone. “You’re an idiot,” Rodney says, just because it’s expected of him, has become part of their standard routine whenever John lands himself in the infirmary. “For what?” “Oh, I don’t know, for letting a sentient city scramble your brains.” “She said she’s sorry, you know,” John says and Rodney rolls his eyes. “Of course she did. And when did we decide that she was a sheafter all? I suppose it makes sense, what with the way women across twogalaxies fawn over you, the famous Colonel Kirk.” “It’s okay to be jealous, Rodney.” “Excuse me? I am not jealous! I just think it’s a little funny that--.” “She even said she hopes you’re not too mad at her,” John interrupts. “What? Why would she care about that?” “I dunno,” he shrugs and he lays back against the pillow, closing his eyes. “Guess she knows how important you are to me. Probably wouldn’t wanna get in your bad graces…” He still can’t get used to this, this… thing. Where they care about each other, but have finally matured enough emotionally to say it out loud. “Yes well,” Rodney sniffs, and settles his hand back against John’s hair, “I’ll forgive her this time. But you tell that harlot--!” “Rodney,” John groans, “she said she’s sorry.” “Alright, alright,” he says and he leans forward, maybe a bit hesitantly, before he presses his lips against John’s. “I’m just… glad you’re okay.” “Yeah,” John agrees. “Me too, buddy. Now how about less talking and more hair petting?” Frankly, there’s nowhere else Rodney would rather be. “Go back to sleep, dummy.” “With pleasure.”