#HE DOES NOT PICK AND CHOOSE HIS DECENCIES. FUCK.

[automatonwithautonomy]

girl help i accidentally made myself emotional about the eighth house---

fuckkkkk. i mean.

imagine you are born and raised to die. prepared for slaughter in every way, designed to be used and used until there is nothing left. you are nothing but your sword and your honour and a battery. the only thing you have is your word and you cling to it will all the twisted want of someone raised to be no one.

and you meet your necromancer, and he's a scared little kid thats going to kill you. he will murder you, suck you dry and burn all the things that make you a person. the weight of a house rests on his shoulders and his life haunts yours.

he looks at you like your every word is gospel, the writ of the Emperor Himself, and it is the worst thing he could do. he loves you. he loves you in the way an uncle loves a nephew and the way a child-cult-leader loves a scion of his house and the way a necromancer loves a cavalier and he is going to eat you, lyctor or not.

but he gets older and wiser and he pulls the life out of you and he forgets when you seemed the cleverest person he knew. there is something worse. this is worse. you were born and raised to be a battery. but you are no longer a beloved one.

the

only

thing

you

have

left

is

honour.

[mothwingwritings]

C and D for hekuta doyler!! >:3

Aye aye! (￣^￣)ゞAfter months of working on these I am in the home stretch. Sorry they have been coming so late, thank you all for your boundless patience and for just being all around lovely. <3

Warnings: Doyle is a huge asshole, mentions of sex (non and dubcon) and emotional, mental, and physical abuse. Kidnapping and being held against your will, too. Please be mindful!

Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?

Being with Doyle is a state of constant whiplash-you never know what you are going to get with him at any given moment. One minute he’s cold and calculating, watching your every move as he picks you apart and lashes out at the smallest indiscretion. Everything you do is wrong, you are a useless idiot, how were you even able to survive so long on your own with how brainless you are? You should count his intervention as a blessing really, if he hadn’t scooped you up on the street who knows how long your dumbass would have survived out there.

Then the next minute he couldn’t care less about you. It’s like you don’t have a presence, as if you’re just a phantom haunting his walls. You can actively seek him out, speak to him, touch him even, and he’ll ignore it all. He’ll give you the cold shoulder, shoot you a warning glare, or if you get annoying enough, slap you away-but he won’t talk to you. In these instances there is no acknowledgment of your existence at all, which is more dehumanizing than any of the other abuse he throws your way. When he wants you, you exist. When he doesn’t, you are nothing. Everything is based on his whims.

To Doyle your whole life is a mockery, your existence something to sneer at and lord over. You are his pretty piece of property, making your sole purpose on this planet to bring him entertainment in whatever form he deems fit.

It’s maddening. If he is so detached from you, why did he kidnap you? If he can’t stand you, why keep you forced in his company? You live in a constant state of dread, unsure if you will wake up to an abusive tyrant who will assault you the moment you open your eyes, or a flippant jerk who doesn’t have the decency to acknowledge you are even alive, let alone feed you or take care of your basic needs.

But the absolute WORST is the rare instance he tries to show ‘affection’. His hands trailing down your sides leave goosebumps in their wake, his mouth teasing and biting as feverish lips latch painfully to your neck. Sex with him is just as much of a whirlwind as the rest of your ‘relationship’. He could be jackhammering away at your poor abused body, littering your skin with bruises and cuts while he’s consumed in his lust, only to moments later be handling you so gently it was as if you were made of porcelain. Each moment of intimacy is a venture into unknown territory, bliss and despair, pleasure and pain mingling in a dangerous dance for dominance with each encounter.

You don’t know what disgusts you more, that he forces himself upon you without a second thought, hurting and violating you in every way imaginable until he has had his fill, or that he knows all the right things to do to your body to coax pleasure from you while he’s doing so.

Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?

Doyle has very little regard for your opinions and feelings-everything he does is for his pleasure and satisfaction alone. If he wants to kiss you, he’ll do it. If he wants to fuck you, he’ll do it. If he’s in a mood and needs to take out his anger and frustration on something, you are the perfect outlet. His attention is never something you take pleasure in, he knows this and chooses to disregard it. You belong to him now and he can do whatever he wants with you, to hell with anyone else’s opinion (yours included).  It would be more out of character for him to actually take your desires into consideration then for him to not just do with you as he pleases. Should you try to impose your will on him in anyway he’ll give you a merciless reminder, quickly and efficiently nipping any thoughts of defiance in the bud.

You have very little say in just about every aspect of your life with him. From what you wear to how and when you sleep, none of it is truly in your control. If you get too cold you have to beg for a sweater or a blanket. Not satisfied with the amount of food he gives you? He’ll only accept ‘favors’ for anything extra (if he even follows through after you perform them). Any choice you have while in his possession is an illusion, every option always boiling down to ‘give him what he wants or face the consequences’.

So you can cry and protest all you want, beg and plead and even try to negotiate with your unflappable captor, he simply doesn’t care. All of the wallowing and supplicating is part of his amusement, and you do it so well! He doubts you understand just how hot your tear stained cheeks and quivering bottom lip makes him, you don’t realize the rush of excitement he gets when you get on your knees and cling to his leg, staring up at him with big watery eyes. Sniveling beneath him is the ideal place for you, and if you have any ounce of self-preservation you’ll be a good little pet and continue to do as he says and accept his authority. Otherwise, you better get used to pain darling~

[mwebber]

sebmark the mummy au 💖

helloo thank u for the prompt! i haven't watched this movie since i was a wee child and i've been on the revenge of the mummy ride too many times to count so it was fun to see actual clips again and reacquaint myself w canon... here we go!

-- CAIRO, EGYPT : 1926 - A GALLOWS COURTYARD

"You fucking liar," Mark seethes under his breath, though to little effect; his intended audience is remorseless, and anyone else who'd care is on the other side of the world. Ahead of him, the prison warden takes his sweet time to lead them onward towards their target. "Dig down in Thebes, my ass."

To his side, Jenson shrugs. "So I made a mistake, big deal."

"You lied to me." It bears repeating. "Christ."

"Just Jenson."

Mark shoots his supposed best friend a glare drier than the air scratching their lungs. "Don't get cute—you stole an artifact from some stranger."

"And if it worries you," says Jenson, slow-like, "I actually picked his pocket."

"That's the same damn thing—!"

"We're here," the warden cuts in, stopping to open the large, imposing door before them. "Visitors."

With another hasty glare sent Jenson's way, Mark nods sharply at the warden, and steps into the visitor's pen. If he needs to take charge here, so be it. "What is he in prison for?"

The warden snorts. "What isn't he in prison for?"

... which doesn't help in the slightest. But before Mark can press, the interior cell door flings open, banging noisily against the wall as their target is dragged into the room, heavily chained.

"Ah," he remarks flatly. Everything makes sense with stunning clarity, now: their target is a dishevelled kid, some street nobody and common criminal. Jenson probably did him a favour, taking a priceless artifact off his shoulders.

Then, the kid looks up—and Mark reassess. Still a street nobody, still a common criminal, and young, but definitely not a child. There's a haunted arrogance to the harsh set of his brows, the sneer curling his bitten lips. He'd be handsome, if not for the filth and the bruises: electric blue eyes, a mop of curly blonde hair, and though the rest of him looks hungry, he's soft at his cheeks.

"Ah," he imitates. His tone is disgustingly saccharine. Mark decides that he does not like this stranger. "What's a pretty man like you doing in a place like this?"

Mark promptly corrects himself: he really doesn't like this stranger.

"Pretty man?"

Jenson lets out a guffaw, the unhelpful bastard.

"Smile more," the target drawls. "You're less pretty when you talk."

Behind them, the warden clears his throat. "I'll be back soon."

"Please," calls the target. "Oh, I long for your retu—!"

It's over before Mark can process it, the swift way one of the guards slams the stranger headlong into the bars. There's only a flash of pain across his face; then the sneer returns, more pronounced than before.

Beside him, Jenson looks completely stupefied. Mark forces his feet forwards, and crouches by the bars until he's eye-level with the stranger.

"We found your puzzle box," he explains. "Can we ask you some questions about it?"

The target blinks slowly, a picture perfect look of innocence. "Who's asking?"

Mark glances up at the guards, who have stepped back a pace, but their expressions are inscrutable. "I'm Mark. My research is on Ancient Egypt, and I'm on loan at the Egyptian Museum. My partner there," he jerks his head up in Jenson's general direction, "is Jenson."

"Well," sniffs the target. "If we're doing pleasantries."

Jenson chooses this moment to finally speak. "We know who you are, Doctor Vettel."

Whipping around, Mark fixes the other man with the millionth glare of the day. He didn't know that. What's some street scum doing with a doctorate degree?

"Please," Vettel scoffs. "Don't Doctor Vettel me. You're the man who stole my map, aren't you?"

At the very least, Jenson has the decency to look away. "I might have let my hand slip."

Vettel turns his gaze on Mark. Up close, his eyes are really quite unnerving—calculating, like he's constantly sizing them up. "You don't know where it leads," he starts. "I do. It's not a place for tourists."

"We do too," Mark snaps quietly, eyes flitting towards the guards again. "We need to go; we just don't know how to get there."

"Need," repeats Vettel. "That's a funny word, for something as desolate as sand and death."

The creak of the visitor pen door opening has Mark leaning against the bars, his voice hushed and hurried.

"Will you tell us how to get there? The exact location?"

Vettel leans closer too, pulling on his chains. "You want to know."

"Yes," Mark snips, all too aware of the warden entering the room.

"You really want to know?" There's metallic clinks as Vettel tenses against his restraints.

His face is so close to Mark's. His breath is vile.

"I think we're out of time," Jenson pipes up nervously.

"Yes," Mark repeats emphatically, hissing as he leans impossibly closer so that he can hear even the quietest of whispers—

and Vettel kisses him.

Square on the mouth.

It's not a nice kiss by any means. There's no finesse, nothing except the lick of Vettel's tongue against his bottom lip and the dry press of their lips. It's complete and utter shock that drives Mark to kiss him back automatically, to let his mouth slip open—

"Gorgeous," Vettel rasps, pulling away as the guards behind forcefully reel him backwards, and Mark isn't sure if it's a nickname or a sarcastic observation of the state of things. "Then get me the fuck out of here."

"Wait." Dumbfounded, Mark licks his lips, before scrambling up into action, turning towards the warden. "Wait. Where is he being taken?"

The warden simply smiles. "To be hanged."

[sugarcherriess]

You won't be able to push off master, little bunny hehe.

Also since you said we can request anything can I request sadistic incel hyunjae meets anime girl hehe - 🥛

I’m going to ignore that this. Sentence. Has been festering in my askbox for three months.

And now that I got to it I kind of forgot whether the mc was supposed to be an anime enthusiast or an actual come-to-life anime person so I just went with the latter because that’s more interesting. But this is definitely not even close to what I had told you guys about my extreme Hyunjae anime fucker idea 🗿🗿

(Also it’s they/them bc milk later edited the request not me tampering with the request 😭)

Sadistic Incel!Hyunjae x Anime!They/Them:

cw - smut, mc has a pussy and tits, dubcon? I mean mc is from an anime drawn in a plot where they get fucked constantly so they don’t rlly know the difference of being used or otherwise, bimbo-ish behaviour, mentions of pet play, throat fucking, perverted behaviour from strangers, owner/pet relationship, dystopian au

Let’s talk about a dystopian society where technology has evolved so far that you can buy or rent anime people online

Of course, the program started for people to be able to hang out with there favourite characters or take help from them

But there are some sick headed people out there as well

People like Hyunjae who pick out the sluttiest anime characters to buy

So they can satisfy their sick brains by using them for sexual purposes

Because nobody seems to be willing to date him irl, Hyunjae’s constantly horny brain decides to invest in this program

He chooses the character with the most pornographic plot and dressing

And the bimbo-est personality

Just like the mc of this story

He’s not even ashamed when he makes y/n walk with him all the way back to his home from the delivery portal downtown

People ogle y/n’s huge breasts jiggling as they walk by

Some even trying to sneak in and fondle their ass as Hyunjae has to stop at different places

But then they finally come home! Inside the safety of Hyunjae’s room!

Not that y/n is safe there anyway

Hyunjae is a bigger monster than those strangers

As y/n will soon find out.

Hyunjae doesn’t wait for anything

He’s impatient and restless

Although he does have the decency to tell y/n a few important things:

“My name is Jaehyun but you can call me Hyunjae. I am your owner from now on and you will do as I ask. Got it?”

“Mhm!”

The answer is more cheerful than the occasion requires

Since y/n doesn’t yet realise they are a slaughter lamb that walked all the way to the lion’s cave

“Don’t mumble in front of me, I hate it,”

“Yes, Hyunjae!”

And just like that, y/n gets their first task

“I have a very important gaming session in a few minutes and I need you to sit between my legs and warm my cock with your mouth while I play,”

“Okay, Hyunjae,”

“You’re not supposed to make any sound or any protests. Don’t move until I tell you to move,”

“Yes, Hyunjae,”

He nods towards his desk, ushering y/n under there

Surprisingly, it’s not that cramped of a space but it still isn’t the most comfortable

Y/n does their best to not hurt themselves but how careful can they be on their knees with their mouth wide open for, essentially, a stranger?

Hyunjae, not giving a single fuck about them, slides his pants down and pulls y/n in by the hair to his cock

He uses the other hand to tap his tip on y/n’s mouth, making poor, dumb y/n smile

He fists their hair to slide them down their cock experimentally for a few moments, checking the temperature and whether y/n’s mouth can get him wet enough for an easy slide

Once he’s satisfied that their mouth has soaked him enough, he gives y/n no warning before pulling them all the way down

Hyunjae’s tip shoves uncomfortably at the back of y/n’s throat

For extra convenience, his motion has no specific pattern!

So yk, y/n is really thrown for a loop!!

Which is perfect because if not now then when?

(Sarcasm)

He’s unbothered by how harsh he’s holding y/n’s hair or jostling them around

All he knows is that he wants to cum and use y/n so they’re his money’s worth

Sometime amidst this, his game begins

And he ignores y/n for the most of it unless it’s to push them from the back of their head until their nose is pressed to his pelvis

He harshly shushes y/n when they gag a little too loud for his liking

Not that he cares if his friends hear

Which ofc they do

He definitely uses the opportunity to boast about how much pussy he’s about to get from now on

Since his dumb pet is gonna be at his disposal constantly

Only good for being fucked and used as a cumdump

Y/n whines a little bit at the indirect degradation solely because they would like attention on themselves now!

The bad words don’t bother them

Because their owner thinks they’re useful <3

Y/n’s eyes might be tearing up and they might be struggling to breathe but that does not bother Hyunjae in the slightest!

With every short break in the game, his hand is back on y/n’s hair and pulling them down while simultaneously snapping his hips up

His desperately pussy-starving ass doesn’t even realise that he could be using, well, y/n’s pussy for the same reasons he is using their mouth

And he’s cum like. Four times in the small timeframe he’s had them on his cock

Somewhere amidst this mess he had hastily ordered y/n to pull down their top

He just wanted the tits to pop out but

The top was so snug that their tits squished together as well.

And lo and behold

His team finally won the game after two hours of stressful gameplay

And what did Hyunjae do?

He celebrated by pulling y/n up on his lap to use their pussy

Like he had initially planned

A plan he so gracefully forgot.

He nipped and bit at y/n’s tits as they bounced on top of him

Face smushed in their chest, Hyunjae grabbed their ass to force them down harshly on their cock

In true pussy-deprived-loser fashion, his thrusts were uncoordinated due to lack of proper practice

“Fuck! Tell me how good I’m fucking you, you slut”

God knows how his virgin ass was even able to say the entire sentence without his voice breaking is astonishing

But y/n, being the perfect little pet used to being talked down to, obliges

In true Hentai fashion, y/n whines and cries, narrating everything they’re feeling inside them

All the ways Hyunjae’s cock has them fucked up

Their mouth is drooling exactly like their pussy

Face dripping with all sorts of fluids

Hyunjae can’t resist but to fuck them harder

In pursuit of a ahegao face from y/n

Which he gets

Drooly tongue out, teary eyes crossed, blushed cheeks heating up more by the second– the nines

He cums for the last time for the night, hopefully, Hyunjae shushes his moans by fixing his teeth around y/n’s neck

And biting hard

Trying to engrave his mark on them Like a rabid dog

Y/n screams loudly– Well. As loud as their hoarse and overused throat could let them

Eyes twitching, y/n squirts all over Hyunjae

Because they were encoded to be an anime character and what kind of anime character would they be if they didn’t squirt easily hello?

Not that Hyunjae minds it

But he still reprimands them for it

And makes them lick it off him because “a good pet cleans up their mess otherwise they are useless. Do you wanna be useless? Do you want me to throw you on the streets for anyone to use?”

“No, Hyunjae!”

(Said with wet puppy eyes and a pout deeper than the pacific ocean)

[gogtopia]

Its so fucking clear that u only want to avoid speculation about gnfs sexuality because u want to fuck him

believe it or not i’m a grown ass adult who knows that i’m not gonna fuck my celebrity crush. honestly i just think that george (and any other cc for that matter) is a real fucking person who shouldn’t be cyberstalked and have his every move picked apart to “prove” that he’s one sexuality or another. none of us fucking know him. we never fucking will. all we do know is that he’s clearly expressed a desire to keep his personal life private. the only thing he has ever said about his sexuality publicly is that he was straight, no matter how you want to choose to pick apart his tone. that was a long time ago maybe something changed but the fact is if he’s not bringing it up in any capacity, it probably either hasn’t changed or he just doesn’t fucking want us to know something so personal about him. george has actively expressed that he would keep his dating life private if he had a partner and i really think it’s not hard to guess why that might be given how ppl in this fandom act 💀 give him the basic decency of some privacy in the personal aspects of his life instead of picking apart everything he does. i promise you it’s not hard to mind your own business

[curltee]

(my bros commentary while watching THC1 )

"Are those his dogs? Hes crying cuz its badly photoshopped"

"Crying while carrying a whole ass gun"

"Bitch thats the point of a present"

"Whats this suspicious nightclub theyre going to."

"Does she know how phones work?

"Shes the dumb bitch in this group"

"Straight up, the drama team needs to learn how to take phone calls like he does. Fake phone calls"

"Um whys he looking like that when he injects her?"

"The sexual tension of this scene right now...wild. Pls tell me rn that this is secretly a torture porn???"

"Ofcourse hes gonna take it personally you twig"

"He can be a gardener"

"What a gentlemen, he even carries him"

"Dang he got a screamer here. And i thought those two girls were bad enough"

"Im sorry i just cant get over the shape of his fucking head"

"Hes like attractive, but in a creepy way"

"jenny gives me the mom come pick me up im scared deal"

"Can we appreciate that he has the decency to not hit the women. Yeah straight up he just awakens them so calmly. with the girls its like "hi besutiful goodmorning!" Then just fucking smack the guy on the face

"Id rather let him wake me up by smacking me than creepily stroke my hair like that"

"Why not hit that glass with your butt?"

"Why is he apologizing for not shooting her?"

"Oh my god shes really is the dumbest bitch alive. I thought jenny was but no"

"Fuck both jenny and the asian dude bitch runnn"

I could watch somebodys head cut off but not a butt removal"

"Okay but why the guy who screams alot placed at the front ???"

"Dang should have put jenny at the front to get a head action. unless hes into dudes"

"Do you think he has sex with it? If so which end would he prefer more? Or do you think he sees it as innocent but creepy way? Like this is my centipede child i love you"

"If he gives them painkillers does he only have the choose one but triple the amount of painkillers?"

Poor girls, one is literally eating her friends ass...forever"

"Okay so..nazi european madman. kamikaze shithole..What racial slur would be next"

"His chicken noise reminds me of squilliam"

"Is he dying? Oh shitting my bad."

"Did he atleast take their tongues out? or do they taste everything? Thats jsut nasty "

"OHH NIPPLE HELL YEAH"

"These dudes are definitly not trained to be cops. They just claimed they are on a random day "

"Why do they dressed like our uncles?"

"MAKE HIM FALL MAKE HIM FALL WHY WOULD YOU LEAVE HIM LIKE THAT YOU IDIOT".

"Out of all stairs why the spiral ones"

"A wild human centipede 🎶 got chased by a doctor 🎶 will the centipede make it🎶 or get eaten alive 🎶 find out in our next episode of planet earth"

"Oh yeah hes licking it. thats gross"

"He really just crawled themselves into a room with no plan. its going good so far"

"So did she just assume the glass was still broken. Does she have no concept of time. Probably not "

"The amount of grunts they had to record for this"

"Thats a deep cut"

*Heiter got shot* "Thats satisfying"

"Annnnd shes dead. or passed out atleast. Oh no shes really dead"

"I swear they hold eachothers hands very much"

"Oh they shot this scene really well. Like the angle and everything. Props to her can translate dread into her eyes. This is makes me sad."

"Imagine being in the middle and your counterparts are fucking dead. Thats gonna be her motto is she survives this"

[pigeonwit]

well well well if isn’t me in your inbox.

enchanted forest au

star wars setting au

go mf crazy boy -@jack-kellys

*shaking crying nashing my teeth foaming at the mouth chewing my walls* haha yeah ok cool i guess-

ok so if people couldnt tell from the latest snippet i posted i do have a star wars au that's,,, not necessarily 'in the works' but it's just something i like to chew on every so often. i don't know enough about star wars to do it RIGHT but it does make for some fun scenes. like for example 'now there's one.' that was kinda. i kinda popped off there lowkey.

SO. what i'm getting at is that this would probably be a chapter in that au where i to ever post it. so the gist would be that davey is force-sensitive but doesn't know it, and has just sort of assumed that he was good at convincing people to leave him alone, or that he just had 'big brother senses' that kept les from getting hurt or whatever. but jack, a smuggler working with the resistance, picks up on him IMMEDIATELY and decides he has to convince davey to come with him to resistance headquarters - however, he doesn't totally trust davey yet, so when they have to flee the planet together after some stormtrooper bullshit happens (causing the empire to assume davey and jack are connected), he promises to take davey home once they get the empire of their tail, when in actuality, he's taking him to the resistance. this chapter would probably occur soon after jack brought davey to the resistance and davey was told he was force-sensitive and potentially the key to taking down the empire, and that jack never had any intention of bringing him home. davey's pissed, jack's feeling guilty, katherine is sympathetic but also she's a general trying to kill her own dad so she's got some other shit to deal with right now and she wants to get this kid in training stat, so she intends for jack to bring davey to dagobah so that he can be trained somewhere pure in the force (it may not be canon-compliant to star wars but it's literally the only enchanted forest i could think of in this world). somehow jack's shitty spaceship malfunctions and they crash a little further away from where they were meant to land, so they have to make their way on foot.

and now snippet time:

“Davey.”

The ryyk blade slices through the thicket easily enough. The depths of this planet – Dagobah, Katherine called it, though David had found no recorded mention of it in any database, so perhaps that was yet another lie courtesy of the valiant Resistance – were thick with bracken and fog, while the canopy so encompassed the sky that hardly a trace of sunlight filtered through.

“Davey.”

Any wrong step could send someone waist-deep into a mud-pit – it would’ve been cleverer, probably, to give Jack the ryyk blade (it was his, after all) and allow him to lead the way through the vast expanse of roots and vine. Unfortunately, that would mean David would have to choose between being angry and being clever-

“Davey!”

-and being angry was just so much more appealing.

“My name,” he sneers as he severs a vine with a particularly vicious few hacks, “is David.”

The vine collapses with an underwhelming squelch into the mud.

“You can trick me on plenty of things, Mister Kelly,” David mutters, kicking the limp plant to the side, “but my name isn’t one of them.”

A silence falls for a few seconds – it seems Jack has at least enough decency to show some remorse.

“For kriffsake, Davey,” he sighs helplessly, “what would you’ve done, if you were me?”

“Told the truth!” David snaps, rounding on him with a ferocity that’s long laid dormant, kicked down by David’s own heel. “If you had just told me-!”

“That I was Resistance?!” Jack retorts. “That you had the Force, that you could mean the end for this whole damn war?! How was I supposed to trust you with that, I barely knew you then-!”

“I don’t care about the greater fucking good right now, Jack, you took me from my family!” David yells, his voice echoing through the fog. “You lied to me! You lied about everything, and-!” His voice falters, cracking in his throat. Jack blinks, his eyes misty in the dim haze.

“Davey…” He murmurs, so soft it makes David hate him all the more. His hand shifts forward, almost subconsciously, but it still sends David skittering backwards.

“I told you,” David says helplessly, barely able to fight how tired he feels. “So many times, I told you how much they needed me. How much I needed them, how much it killed me to just – just run around the galaxy when I knew they needed me. And you told me,” he growls, his voice turning brittle, “you told me you understood. That you were sorry. And all the while, you could’ve taken me back, could’ve just told me the truth – for kriffsake, Jack, I thought we were-!”

Something splits through the air with a thick snap. The sound is wet and reverberating, and Davey feels it in his chest like a broken bone, strangling his words in his throat.

“Oh, shit.” Jack mutters as the trees shake and crack around them. “Shit.”

“What’s happening?”

“It’s tree-fall.” Jack says frantically. “The forest grow here's thick, the trees all envelope each other. One dies, but the others keep going, pushing them up with 'em-"

Old leaves and flakes of bark begin to shower the forest floor.

“And when enough of ‘em die, when there’s nothin’ holdin’ ‘em up anymore, they-”

A crack like a blaster-cannon splits through the forest.

“We need to find cover!” Jack says urgently, shoving Davey towards the shelter of the thick roots – and something rockets through Davey’s nerves, a distinct feeling of wrongness, like striking your funny-bone or jolting your knee.

“No.” He says, scrabbling backwards. “No, not here.”

“What are you talking about?!” Jack snaps, his hold firm on Davey’s wrist. “For kriffsake, Davey, we’ll die out here-!”

Davey’s whole being screams in protest, the wires of his muscles pulling taught in reflexive refusal.

“Jack, we can’t go this way-!”

The trees quake – like a TIE fighter cutting through fog, a jagged log spears through the canopy. Davey gasps, his stomach lurching as the air’s knocked out of him by a sharp elbow – and Jack lands in a heap beside him, the two of them shunted to the floor.

“Get up!” Jack yells, yanking Davey upright as the forest collapses around them. “Head for shelter, now-!”

Three thick cracks reverberate through the canopy-

“Jack-!”

The world is dark. His eyes are closed, Davey registers too late, screwed shut against the oncoming impact of the falling tree. But then there’s a brightness – a light. It’s not one he can see, his eyes still shut tight, but he can feel it. Everywhere. Everything. Threads of gentle light that burst from the soles of his feet into the soft earth below, that travel among the rivulets of minerals in the soil, to the roots of the trees, to the leaves reaching ever upwards towards the sky. Tiny strings tying him to their existence.

Slowly, he opens his eyes. He has one arm flung behind him, a futile shield for Jack’s limp body – but the other is stretched outright, just barely brushing the fibres of moss that hang suspended above him. He can still feel it, those bright threads stretched between them, him and the moss, the moss and the tree, the tree and its brothers who held it so tight, who hadn’t meant to let it fall. Davey breathes, and the tree, suspended in nothing but cool air and the strings of existence, breathes with him. Tentatively, he flexes his hand, wraps his fingers around those invisible threads of light. He pulls the moss, and the moss pulls the tree, and the branches circling them all bend with them, watching as Davey carefully, gently, coaxes the tree through the air. He twists his fingers, encouraging it to tilt, and nestles it between the roots of its brothers, laying it to rest – and finally, he lets those threads drop.

Like a weight had been wrenched out of his chest, Davey sucks in a breath. He turns, haggard, to where Jack was flung. He’s sitting now, as if pulled forward by a string, staring at Davey like he’s something he’s never seen. Gingerly, he smiles.

“Aw,” he murmurs, tilting his head into a sheepish grin. “You do care."

Davey’s whole being yanks tight, and a sharp rock embeds itself in the trunk behind Jack’s head.

“Don’t,” Davey seethes, his body held taught, snapping at the sinew, “think that this changes anything.”

Jack stares at him, wanting and pained – Davey has to force himself to look away. He breathes. The stone clatters to the forest floor.

“C’mon.” He mumbles, picking up Jack’s blaster and tossing it to him. Jack catches it with one-handed ease. Davey adds that to his list of reasons to be furious with him. “Let’s find the stupid ship.”

[blorbologist]

aaaaaaaand vex, 14? to finish off the blorbo thoughts

14. Detect Thoughts

"For the duration, you can read the thoughts of certain creatures. When you cast the spell and as your action on each turn until the spell ends, you can focus your mind on any one creature that you can see within 30 feet of you. If the creature you choose has an Intelligence of 3 or lower or doesn't speak any language, the creature is unaffected.

You initially learn the surface thoughts of the creature - what is most on its mind in that moment. As an action, you can either shift your attention to another creature's thoughts or attempt to probe deeper into the same creature's mind. If you probe deeper, the target must make a Wisdom saving throw. If it fails, you gain insight into its reasoning (if any), its emotional state, and something that looms large in its mind (such as something it worries over, loves, or hates). If it succeeds, the spell ends. Either way, the target knows that you are probing into its mind, and unless you shift your attention to another creature's thoughts, the creature can use its action on its turn to make an Intelligence check contested by your Intelligence check if it succeeds, the spell ends."

[No one asked for Ruidusborn!Percy but I am telling you: you want Ruidusborn!Percy.]

Catha squints, white and sightless, high in the sky. Sightless, he knows, because he can feel Ruidus behind the clouds. Closer, still, in the pulse deep in his belly.

It feels, as always, like judgment.

“You don’t trust me,” says Percival plainly. Picks up on the unsettled echo only because his walls are so shaky as-is, between these walls. 

He endeavors to focus on his own mind before continuing: “I know. In fact, I agree. I shouldn’t be trusted.”

“The fact you know is half the problem,” Vax snaps. “What the fuck was that, back there? Burning out his tongue? The fucking crest? You didn’t need to torture the bastard, Freddy.”

Percy tips his head. “Torture is detrimental to extracting information in most contexts,” he agrees. “But it makes my skillset a little… easier.”

It felt a lot like prying apart his gun for repairs - a little leverage, a little twist here, to unveil the inner workings beneath his critical eye. Too much and the pain overwhelms conscious thought. He had to use a light touch. Learned, too well, what a light touch felt like. 

(The worst part was how cold her mind had been, when he had no choice but to listen and listen and hear every other thought - his siblings’, his brothers’, his sister’s - go out, listen to the diagrams and debate on efficiency and see himself through her eyes as meat.)

There’s a temptation, as he faces Vax’s furious stare, to drop the pretense and listen. To know, truly, what they think of him. He was considered cursed, unlucky, moonspawn before. What is he, now, vomiting smoke and red lightning from his cruel hands? Worse than the unlucky birthday that made him what he is.

“Enough,” Vex says. “We don’t have time for this right now.” Her gaze flicks his way. “Percy - are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” he replies.

It isn’t just the moon that judges him - Vax’ildan, Vox Machina do, too.

--

The lesser vampire is dead. His goons are dead. Percival tastes ozone and smoke and the combination is disgusting and digs into the crevices between his teeth - he can’t spit it out. 

He knows this manor. A few times he and his siblings visited family friends, here. Percival was usually permitted to excuse himself upstairs. Ostensibly to read. He did read - but he could feel the relief radiating off everyone when he left the room.

He’s gotten better, at keeping thoughts out of his head. First it was politeness, propriety - then something like a lifeline, that he was still himself, alone in his own head, a person, if unwhole. 

(So why did he hear someone else, then?)

Such decency is a luxury Vox Machina cannot afford, here, in a Whitestone actively hunting for their heads.

So Percival feels Vex’ahlia storm up the steps after him. She does not bother to go quietly, to try and sneak up on him, so he supposes she must know this. 

Vex is… an enigma. One he would rather not solve, ever, because he doubts she wants to be known. The discrepancy between how she presents herself and how she thinks, how she feels, is so jagged he fears it will bleed into his own head sometimes. 

For how ordered and careful she is in the day to day, how she measures out coin like a miser, she’s… messy. A tangle - bramble thicket throughout the seasons, the best he can describe. Impossible to follow, with leaves, blooms and berries in turn. And always bearing claws. 

He’s thankful for that - it keeps him from stumbling into them - into her - when his focus wanes. 

She’s sharp here, too, an arrow whizzing right up the stairs. Percy hastens to steel himself, blot out her thoughts - so focused on this goal, he’s completely caught off guard when she wheels him back into the wall. The wallpaper has been neglected - it creases against his back, beneath his hands. 

The last scrap he catches, before he tunes her out, is ‘Is he alright?’

“I’m fine,” he says, without meaning, and regrets it so painfully when her eyes widen. “I’m - I’m sorry.”

“Look me in the eye, Percy,” Vex’ahlia snaps, and he obeys. It’s easier, when he has a target. Shooting is almost soothing for him, even if lately it feels as though his lightning is more effective. Here he zeroes in on the bullseye of her pupil, darting back and forth as she judges him. 

“I’m sorry,” he repeats. 

Vex blinks, and he is robbed for only a moment. “Do you trust us?”

Percy sputters. Made difficult by her forearm on his throat and - oh. He swallows, mind hot static. “Of course -”

“I trust you,” she says, more quietly, more pressure than words. “Please, Percy. Honest - are you alright?”

“You shouldn’t,” he replies. “Trust me, that is. We have been over this.”

Vex’s jaw works. 

Here is a secret, among the many Percival keeps close to his chest: he has never been good at reading people. 

Would you, if you could slip into the minds of others? If you could find the truth of their words behind their marks, even when you did not want it? How often the mouth has disagreed with the mind - Percy has learned not to trust the theater that plays out on the face. Had tried to find the skill, again, as he finally found control of his abilities, but - well. 

Without the contact of his curious mind, he has no idea what Vex is thinking, what she is feeling. He strives to keep it that way.

“I do.” Vex sighs, and Percy can’t tell if she regrets this or confesses it to him, quietly, so her brother will not here. “Actually - why not take a look, darling?”

He balks. “I - what?”

She has both arms braced against him, and strains on her tiptoes - otherwise, he knows, she would tap her temple with a finger. “Yep. You don’t believe me - so. Read my mind, Percy.”

“Are you sure,” he strains to say, “that’s alltogether safe?” 

He’s not stupid, nor blind - he knows he has been a rolling thunderstorm, dark clouds billowing off him, ribbed with red lightning. Can feel it, still, under his gloves - sparks jumping from skin to leather to skin and curling around the cuticles of his fingers.

“No,” she admits with a huff. “But I am worried, Percy. We all are - and if you can’t trust us to have your back, can’t feel safe enough to be honest…” Vex trails off, biting her lip, and he can’t help but follow the movement. She catches his eyes as they return to hers, and he thinks there might be something a bit smug. “I trust you. And I’d like to make that clear, before we face more of your demons.”

“Your brother does not trust me.”

“And I’m Vex, not Vax,” she snips back. Smiles. “Besides - I have nothing to hide, darling.”

Percy can’t read people - hasn’t needed to - but he knows a blatant lie when he sees one. 

[Send me a spell and I'll write a ficlet/snippet to go with it!]

[thefirstpaleontologist]

The Boys s3e8 spoilers

okay on the one hand

I’m very proud of Hughie for reconciling with Annie.

He finally realised his true strength doesn’t come from tempV and having superpowers.

This episode reiterated that Annie doesn’t need saving, but she did need help. That she doesn’t need Hughie to save her, she just needs him. And finally we see Hughie realise that and deliver in the scene where instead of taking tempV and giving himself brain damage, he chooses to up the lights and supply Annie with more power.

It calls back to every moment Hughie has used his intelligence and tech skills to assist The Boys as he has been doing since the start.

Beyond this we the audience also know that Hughies real power in The Boys is his empathy. His people skills. His commitment to treating supes like people and everyone with decency. The fact he was delegated to evacuate the tower and therefore in charge of minimising civilian casualties is definitely tied into this.

but on the other hand

I was really enjoying angry fucked up Hughie 😭

low key wanted him to have a bit of a villain arc

Hughie deserved another chance to fight homelander. I know that that’s Butchers fight but still. Guess I’ll just have to go rewatch herogasm

does this mean we’ll never get to see Hughie teleport with Homelander or Soldier Boy or Butcher? 💀 I know it would have contributed nothing to the plot but it would have been so funny

but fr Hughie deserves to be angry with everything that’s happened. If s4 decides to have a plot line dedicated to Victoria Neuman then I really think Hughie will be front and centre to it. He worked with her for a year. He thought they were friends. So he’s definitely gonna have a bone to pick with her

Okay other than that

in season 4 I have some predictions of stuff we’ll get to see or that I would just like to see:

Hughies apologised to Annie for going low-key insane with power but he’ll prob need to repair his relationships with Kimiko, Frenchie and MM. there wasn’t really any time for in ep8 but I think it’s important to show these bonds being mended

we need to see Hughie and Kimiko have some kind of reconciliation. I know kimiko really doesn’t seemed fussed over nearly dying etc but Hughie definitely needs to realise that being on a power trip and ignoring her bleeding out in the back of the van was fucked up.

butcher and Hughie definitely need to sit down and talk. so many issues. butcher seeing Hughie as being like Lenny is sweet but kinda unhealthy. Hughie isn’t Lenny and that kind of expectation for him to live up to will create problems whenever he falls short of it

Hughie talked more about his mum this season and I really want to know why she left and get some more back story

I think I’m s4 we will end up with A-Train finally defecting from vaught and homelander. Like officially. All the dominoes are already there in place (his brother giving him a wake up call, the way homelander treats him etc)

Fully expecting the Deep to full on loose it. He’s on his own except for homelander now who obviously doesn’t care about him at all. would be surprised if he ends up dead next season either through his own self destructive behaviour or at homelanders hand

Homelander now knows he can get away with murdering an innocent civilian in broad day light in front of a crowd of people and not only face no repercussions but literally be cheered on so I just know he’s going to be completely unbearable now

It’ll be interesting to see Victoria Neuman juggle her reputation and VP claim to protect everyone regardless of political opinions alongside her deal with Homelander who has shown himself to have zero guilt over killing his political opposition

[valentineforlemonandcherry]

Tag Yourself - Things You Can’t Help But Do When Your Lover Makes Love To You - Part 5 – Cyrille Lestrange

You just can’t help yourself when he’s touching you like that, can you?

[Warning: Dominant-Submissive Dynamics.] [Warning: BDSM Dynamics - Spanking, Bondage.] [Warning: Use of Derogatory Phrases.] [Warning: Nonconsent.]

*Cyrille Lestrange is an OC.

*Please do not repost or copy my work without my permission. Thank You!   

When Cyrille Lestrange makes love to you, you can’t help but be a brat.

It’s never intentional.

No, no, you shake your head with utmost genuineness. I would never, Cy. Only good girl for you.

You can’t help it. It’s instinct to lean over and stick out your ass for Cyrille to spank you, and then, when Cyrille lifts his hand - to quickly jolt your hips forward, making Cyrille miss your little rump.

“Angel,” he growls.

“Sorry, sorry.” You center yourself again. You grit your teeth and – whoosh – Cyrille’s hand flies by you again as you just turn your hips to the side.

“That’s it.” Cyrille gets up and ties another ribbon around your thighs, looping it around you so that his fingers just barely graze against your pussy as he passes the rope between your legs.

“Ah…” you breathe out. You wiggle your hips a little, indicating that you want Cyrille to forget about this silly tying-you-up thing and just touch you already.

But he growls at you, “Be still” in a voice that not only makes your pussy wet, but also makes you obey him.

Finally, tied to your proper place by silk ribbons, Cyrille spanks you – smack! – “OW!”

It’s only when your ass is blushing a bright pink and you have tears in your eyes that Cyrille finally touches you between your legs. But when he does – it’s heavenly, and the ribbons wrapped around your throat and body and the tingling all over your ass heightens the feeling of his touching you. Your entire body is singing aloud, alive and stinging and humming with the knowledge that you’re his.

And when Cyrille means to punish you by making you sit on his lap and warm his cock without moving for over an hour, it’s only natural for you to start to squirm – isn’t it?

“Angel,” Cyrille warns you. “Cock sleeves don’t squirm.” He arches his eyebrow at you as he whispers darkly in your ear, “You want to be a cock sleeve or a cumslut?”

What’s the difference? You wonder to yourself as you put your hands in your lap and try to stay still.

Only, you swear Cyrille is growing bigger inside of you and you simply can’t resist it anymore. Abandoning all pretense, you put your hands on the desk in front of you and you start bouncing away on him.

“Princess, what do you think you’re doing?”

“Um, you said to s-stay in your lap, ‘member? And uh, I just – ah – am thinking of ways to entertain m-myself…”

Cyrille sighs. He reaches over you and grasps your chin and makes you look over your shoulder at him. With his other hand, he gently pushes your hair away from your face so he can look up at you and see your cute expression, the way your eyes have already gone all dreamy as you make use of Cyrille, make good use of his cock inside of you…

“I believe I told you to be still,” Cyrille reminds you.

“I – I am. I’m not walking away or anything,” you mumble back. Then, closing your eyes, you moan out rather lewdly, without holding back at all.

“Don’t even have the decency to try to hide your pleasure,” Cyrille mutters. “I guess you’re choosing cumslut then.”

You’re not really hearing him anymore, but you nod pleasantly, agreeing with him out of instinct.

It shocks you, then, when Cyrille suddenly picks you up and drops you onto the table.

“W-What?” you breath out, heart thundering as you look up at him.

Cyrille smirks at you. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m going to fucking ruin you.” He quickly coaxes your legs apart. He asks you, ”What’s your safe word?”

“Um. Raven – but why - ? Ah!” you gasp out, as Cyrille proceeds to push your panties to the side, and then slam his cock inside your tight pussy.

When you cry out loudly, Cyrille reminds you, “You asked to be my cumslut.”

“I – I did? When?” you bleat out, grasping desperately at the edge of the table as Cyrille makes you take his cock in your pretty little pussy.

“Just now.” Cyrille pauses, letting you adjust to him and giving you a quick kiss on the cheek to remind you that his priority is still to keep you safe and happy. “Am I hurting you?”

“No!”

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No, Cy, p-please keep going!”

“Then tell me you’re my cumslut.”

You blink furiously. “I’m a – a what?”

“A cumslut, Angel. Is it hard for you to learn new words when my cock is inside you?”

You can only whimper. But you have enough sense in you to reach down and grab Cyrille’s hips, and you try to tug him back-and-forth, needing him to move inside you.

Cyrille laughs lightly. “What are you doing, Angel?” Reaching down, he grasps both of your wrists in his hands and then, leaning over you, he pins your hands hard against the tabletop. “Tell me you’re my cumslut, and I’ll give you what you want.”

Your eyes get all misty, and your pussy’s all aching and wet, and so you bleat out pitifully, “I – I’m your, um… cumslut.”

“Good girl,” Cyrille praises you. Then, standing up straight again, he proceeds to pound your little pussy to your heart’s desire, making you cry out all night and limp tomorrow morning.    

And oh yes, when Cyrille tries to choke you lightly when he kisses you, you do him the favor of biting his lip back. It’s just a favor.

“Fuck,” Cyrille growls lowly when he feels your little teeth sinking into his lower lip. “What’s gotten into you?”

“Huh?” You pull away, startled by the mere thought that you might have done anything wrong.

“You’re biting me.”

You snort at this. “You do all sorts of stuff to me. Why shouldn’t I bite you? I’m still the tame one, between the two of us.”

Cyrille sighs. “You’re not supposed to be the tame one. You’re supposed to be the tamed one. Do I have to teach you the difference?”

You eye him suspiciously. “Are you going to bring me a dictionary?”

Cyrille reaches up and grasps your face in his hand. “What a smart mouth you have, princess.”

Stubbornly, you reply, “It comes from a smart brain.”

“Then,” Cyrille responds silkily, “you should be able to learn without a dictionary.”

Five minutes later, Cyrille has tied you all up in ribbons – at your request, mind you – only, you somehow end up remarking (providing a kind-of social commentary, if you will) on the quirkiness of the kink.

“So you like this, Cyrille? You like seeing me all wrapped up in ribbons?”

Cyrille nods once.

You muse, “Oh… So what is it about it? Is it because I look like a present now? Or… is it because the ribbons are all shiny, in contrast to my body? What does that mean, d’you think, if you like seeing me all tied up in something shiny?”

At this, Cyrille remarks wryly, “I didn’t realize you were so interested in psychology.”

“Oh.” You frown. But then, you cheer yourself up by saying, “Well, my strong point has always been my curiosity. It makes me smart.”

Cyrille’s eyes narrow. “It makes you a brat.”

When you look offended, Cyrille sighs. “I’m supposed to be enjoying you in those ribbons, and we’re simply sitting here talking about it.”

“Well, then, why aren’t you enjoying me?” you fire back. “Aren’t you the dominant? Seems like that’s your shortcoming, not mine.”

And with that, Cyrille proceeds to prove to you exactly how he is the dominant: yanking at the ribbons and making them tighter the closer you get to cumming, until your toes are curled up so tight because of the electricity running all over your body, but you can’t even feel your toes anymore; gripping at your hair and tugging your head back while he bites your neck and chest all over, making you moan and squirm, and then, when he has you looking up far enough that you can’t see what he’s doing, he slaps your pussy hard, and you cry out loudly, as your little cunt turns all pink and wet from his harsh touch; and then, you finally cum for him, he stuffs the silky ribbon into your mouth and then kisses you and chokes you so that you can’t breathe – you can’t – you can’t - !

“There you go,” you hear Cyrille whisper softly amidst your intense daze. “Now you’ve found your proper place.”

Your entire body is drooping, kept up only by the silk ribbons crisscrossing your entire body, and cum is streaming down your thighs – both his and yours.

“You make it very difficult to tame you, but once I do, you’re a perfect submissive,” Cyrille tells you in his lovely, silvery voice. “And I know, deep inside, you want to be tamed. You want to be made into a good girl, an angel, my Angel, don’t you?”

You nodded tearily. His words make both your heart and your pussy ache, but in such a good way. Because you love being his, you love being taken like this. And the reciprocal side is that he’s yours, too. You know he is.

“That’s right,” Cyrille continues. His voice becomes softer, falling from a dominant praising his submissive to just him praising you. “That’s why I forgive you for being such a brat. Because I know you’re my angel inside.”

“Yes,” you whisper. “A-Always, Cy.”

With that, Cyrille’s mouth captures yours in the softest, gentlest kiss imaginable, as he begins the slow, loving process of bringing you back down to earth.

And when you softly bite him back – biting down on his lower lip, Cyrille realizes that you have learned absolutely nothing about being a submissive from this encounter, and he sighs and smiles to himself, giving into and actually quite pleased with the fact that you will never actually be tamed – by him or by anyone else.

She’s the real dominant, he thinks, and I’m completely in love with her. Bite my lip all you want, Angel. I reckon that’s what it’s there for.

Tagged User(s): @saltstacks

[despairandregretentertainment]

Contorno | Rafe | Trial 3.5 | Re: All of That / Attn: Willow, Capernica, Jun, Kei

The blaze he started quickly roared into an inferno as people reacted the way he expected them to. Well, almost. Inconveniently, Jun had apparently grown more of a spine since their last interaction. Gods damn him, why did he have to pick now of all times to drop the act? He rolled his eyes blatantly as Chris delivers his icy threat, but he at least had the decency or the temerity to look Jun right in the eyes. "I'd prefer we all vote for you, but given that your minder appears to take offense to that, allow me to repeat that I take no pleasure in making it a possibility. Despite our differences, I don't despise you nearly as much, and if you want to live then I'll respect your choice. However, I'm offended that you think I'm apparently more of a threat given that I've espoused from day one that my business here is entertainment. Not murder, not unless it's necessary and even then what would make it really necessary? Entertainment. I don't want to die either. A more noble man in my position would offer to do so for his friends, but my end goal is simply to go home a free man. Even if it seems like all of this madness has already thrown a fucking monkey wrench into things. Well, you know what they say about the best-laid plans."

Throughout it all, Rafe watched with a dispassionate, almost bored look on his face. It would be a worrying sign had it been anyone else, but the inverse was true when it came to expressing emotion for the Surgeon. Having to fake his anger, anguish, sadness, shame, disgust, regret, all of that needed energy wasted on people who didn't need to hear it. A question is posed, a lull in the discussion, and then he speaks once more. "Capernica is correct. I have never seen the blonde wig in question, though I admit to learning she wore a wig quite early on." He tilts his head. "I sincerely cannot provide an explanation for the hair in my locker. The most I can say is that I wore the butler outfit last when I was with Momo, who is blonde, but I suspect that's not quite the answer you would want. Seems a bit anti-climactic if all of this nonsense started simply because I hadn't taken the outfit to launder out."

Ah, he supposed Momo wasn't going to continue their little escapades after this trial, given what had happened and what could happen in it. Shame. This weekend really was the beginning of his 'no maidens' phase, wasn't it? "It is entirely possible to plant hairs on someone with the intention of making it look like they were clutched tightly. The body does not set in rigor mortis until two hours after death." He'll address Chloe next, given that he had the time to and needed the time to decide what he wants to say. It didn't look like they had much time left to come to a decision, and although he already knew what his was going to be, Rafe had also decided to make one last push for an alternative without rallying the others. While his votes were adequate enough, he remembers a certain someone spent most of his votes on the actor. Which all meant that the deciding strike would have to come from one Jun Akechi whether he liked it or not.

Deep breaths. Panic was a foreign concept up until very recently, when he had his emotions cranked up to the maximum level as he wallowed in his blood, drowning and dying in rebar even as the others watched on. "I have a natural proficiency for death. For seeing people die, and at times contributing to it, because the truth of the matter is that you can't save everyone in the operating theatre. I went into medicine because someone has to make those hard decisions, to face two patients in critical condition and already having the burden of knowledge that you have a minimum chance to save one. Here I am, faced with an impossible choice because I wasn't supposed to get this attached. If I don't open up a third option, or fourth since it appears some of you will vote for me over him circumstances be damned, you're essentially making me choose to try and save someone I implicitly trust to hold my life in her hands," Rafe gestures to Capernica. "And someone I implicitly trust to rest my soul in hers." To Willow.

"Whatever their flaws, whatever their sins, both mean something deeply to me. Willow is not a good person, she knows that, I know that. She reminds me of my mother, in wanting to survive against the circumstances despite the shit hand she was dealt, despite the monster of a son my mother brought into the world and yet raised to be the best person he could hope to be. I inherently believe she is trying to be a better person and I would like to see it, but I can't change what she's done or what she feels. That's not my responsibility, but it is my wish to see her be given that opportunity. I don't want Willow to die before she has that." He glances meaningfully at Willow. "I don't believe you killed Peach, but I don't absolve you from the things you have done, or if you ever try to use your backstory as a freudian excuse to justify things. People change. You can too, and that is something you need to do very quickly, in fact."

He turns to the other woman on his right. "Capernica also reminds me of my mother, but even more so because she also will do anything to strike back against this world that has rarely if ever been kind to her. From the very first day, I wanted to be kind, to show I was more than the sum of my parts, and at every opportunity she had, Capernica gave me that freedom to be kind. And for a very long moment at the start of this trial, I wanted to. It would have been so easy to spin a narrative where Kei had accidentally botched a murder and all of this was merely smoke and mirrors by her and Willow to throw attention onto me when it came out that the only other light-haired people all had the luck to have each other as an alibi. I could even justify it as revenge for her nearly killing me last week. Why didn't I? Was it kindness to remove Capernica from the guilt of doubling down on one of her best friends? Pragmatism because Kei has a slung bow she can use and thus my argument would be rather moot? Am I simply that much of a control freak that I want Capernica to be angry at me and me alone? Suppose it doesn't matter. Even if I think she's fully responsible for this, I don't want Capernica to die because I'm biased towards her as someone who has given my worst insecurities peace, of someone who deeply cares for her friends and family. This is entirely personal, just as how everyone else here seems to be taking their sides on who or what they stand to believe in, while the rest simply hang back to go with the flow. And going with the flow means that with almost unfortunate certainty, it will be one of them. And I refuse to believe those are the only outcomes left where I will be here tomorrow to see one or both of them in confidence."

Next, Rafe looks across the room to Jun. "Your life isn't worthless by any metric. I have never considered your life worth less than mine or any others, nor do I treat the importance of one so insipidly. I simply stated in pragmatic terms, that as you have admitted, you have less of it to live. Because I refuse to vote for either Capernica or Willow, I will choose to vote for you. It might not make a difference. It might. I won't play on your conscience nor will I call on the others to follow my judgement because I would prefer not having your seneschal come after me for having the freedom of speech. But I encourage you to listen to the way the trial is shifting."

And finally, over to his teammate and the woman standing in front of them. "Kei. Sephirot. Sorano. Whatever you prefer I call you assuming I'm still here to call you that later. Sit down and stop making fools of yourself. Why the fuck do the people I'm actually friends with all decide it's in their best interests to become mortal enemies with each other? Except Aurora, because she's somehow the most normal person here. Also, Kei. Don't ever fucking spontaneously throw me under the bus again like that, or the next time I put you in a chokehold, it will end with you unconscious in the pond and ass up in the air with "I LOVE TOMO" sharpied somewhere you can't reach. You have been warned."

[inkyblinders]

Dancing with the Devil: Part II

Part 1

Pairing: Luca Changretta x Reader

Author’s note: This was so embarrassing to write not because of smut...but because I’m crushing hard on Adrien Brody right now. And I can’t even share this obsession with anyone because… he’s kinda niche? Someone please reassure me that I’m just going through a phase because dear God why can’t I stop watching Darjeeling Limited just to see him ahhh.

The story picks up right after the end of Part 1, so I recommend reading that first. Comments, likes, and reblogs are always appreciated, let me know what you think!

Summary: Following your meeting with Luca Changretta, you face the Shelby family and Tommy's reaction. (2.6k words)

Warnings: Smut, angst, swearing

Tag: Let me know if you would like to be added or removed

@anythingwriter, @rrtxcmt, @shut-chan

_____________________________________________________________

You barely make it into your bedroom before he is all over you. The buttons of his crisp, tailored shirt fall like marbles. He moans when you nip the skin of his neck, right over his tattoo of the black cross, legs tangled together like a depraved waltz.

When he grinds into you, you shudder deliciously at the hardness that meets between your bare thighs.

How easy would it be for him to kill you after he fucks you, leaving your corpse twisted in the bedsheets. You know Tommy would find it when he eventually remembers that he has not seen you for days.

“Signorita, you know I come to you with the most honorable of intentions.” He murmurs, as if sensing your thoughts.

“You're not a very honorable man then.” A laugh that turns into a gasp as he trails his hand lower and strokes between your legs. No, not very honorable at all. And pretty soon all thoughts of honor are forgotten as he coaxes a moan from your throat.

His fingers are magic. The cold outline of his onyx rings scald your skin each time he crooks a finger inside you. Knowing exactly what you need, seeking your depths, swirling, rising to rub the clit, all the while exploring the flushed expanse of your body with his other hand.

Shoulder to breasts to hips and back again.

Without meaning to, you’ve let this stranger take control of your entire being. But God, do you crave this pure ecstasy.

It’s as if he wants to know precisely how much you can take before you're undone. So when you clench around his hand and feel the familiar ache he is right there, helping you ride the wave of pleasure, never breaking the rhythm of his thrusting fingers even as you curse, rake your nails down his back.

You almost cry out his name when you come. But you bite into his shoulder instead.

“Sweetheart, I’m gonna have to hear you next time.” He growls.

His words barely register as you come down from the high. Aftershocks spark like tiny flames. Now you are wearing his scent as much as he is wearing yours.

“Be inside me,” You whimper, tugging at his soft hair, urging him for more.

He rasps an empty warning, “What's my name, sweetheart?”

Of course. All this time you've never acknowledged you know of his identity. There was no use in trying to hide it now.

“Luca,” you breathe. And his eyes gleam with approval.

With a snap of his hips, he plunges into silky warmth. The fullness stretches you to your limit, head thrown back. It’s good, so good. Every withdrawal of his thrust is a blessing because you know what follows next. It’s him inside you again, wrapping you with his touch and the scent of tobacco and roses.

“Does your Tommy fuck you like this? Like the way I do?”

“He’s not mine.” You choke out, punishing Luca with a bite on the neck that elicits a chuckle rather than a yelp of pain.

He kisses you, your foreheads pressed together. “A damn shame for him.” Soon he starts to quicken his pace, going faster, more erratic, his breathing heavy upon your ears.

Yes, you urge him, come on, now.

And this is your chance. In a flash you roll on top of him, pinning down his shoulders with your hands. He tries to arch up but you stop him with a knee.

“How many men did you bring, Changretta?” You ask, making your voice rough to mask the lust, pressing your hands around his jugular.

It's a pleasure to see him like this. Shocked at your actions, maybe even scared. Naked with want but unable to do anything to relieve it. Unless he tells the truth.

“Fifteen. Why baby, am I not enough for you?” He laughs breathlessly, hands trailing goosebumps along your hips, tracing the contour of your breasts. The jib doesn't hurt you. After all, men have said worse. He tries to surge into you again, and his hot member pulses on your thighs.

“Do you swear on your honor? That you’re telling the truth?” You insist, squeezing him harder. The touch brands his skin as much as it brands yours.

In a voice full of self-mockery he says, “Yes I swear on my honor. Now let me in, clever Isabel.”

You take him in you, the sensations amplify a thousandfold. You try teasing him, going slowly in and out, but soon you are caught up in the sensation of him completely at your mercy and you ride him, faster, until you keen his name, until he too is undone.

****

Through the haze of dawn, he stumbles out of bed and gets dressed. Before he dons his hat once more, Luca leans down to whisper in your ear, as soft as sin.

“You tell Tommy Shelby he may expect a visitor in the night. I'm coming for him as the angel of death. The vendetta has begun…” He kisses your hair.

“I’ll see you soon, sweetheart.”

The door clicks shut. You rise from your pillow, and a small, hard lump rolls next to your hand.

It is a signet ring of onyx and gold.

****

“So we all get a death letter from the mafia, but Izzy gets jewelry?” Ada huffs as the family filters into the betting shop. As usual, Tommy holds court at the front of the table, brooding over a glass of whiskey. You roll your eyes as Arthur and John try to cover their snort of laughter with a cough.

“If you want it, you can have it, Ada. He’s probably planning on killing me too.”

“Doubt it. You’re not a Shelby, and we’re the ones who killed his father. Well, someone did, to be precise.” She shoots a bitter look at Tommy, who doesn’t even have the decency to look ashamed.

Despite Ada’s matter-of-fact tone, the words cut to your heart. Not a Shelby.

It’s not her fault. No one knows you’ve been sleeping with Tommy, not even your dearest friend. It’s a lonely secret to keep, but at least you can look at the family square in the eye and not have to worry about the things they say behind your back. Or worse, pity you.

You can handle the violence and moral ambiguity of Tommy’s business. But to lose the love and respect of the Shelbys would break your heart.

“What was the mafia man like, Izzy?” Finn asks eagerly. It’s obvious the boy is thinking of the dashing, gun-wielding gangsters he’s seen in the pictures.

“He was a wrinkly old brute. Kind of like your arsehole brother Tommy.” A smile to take the edge off the insult. But Tommy only looks off into space. As if he hasn't paid attention to this entire conversation.

Arthur clears his throat. “Now, let’s get one thing straight. It was me who pulled the trigger on his dad, so the blame falls on me.” He pats Linda’s hand even as his voice is heavy with guilt.

“No one’s blaming you Arthur, you weren’t the brains behind the operation, no offense.” Ada says. He is about to say something when Polly cuts in.

“Stop squabbling like children. We’ve all voted for truce, despite everything Tommy’s done to us—” The words nearly having us hanged hover pointedly in the air. “—So let’s focus on the matter at hand." She fixes Tommy with a sharp look.

“What’s the news from Camden Town? Will Solomons help us?”

“No.” He says tiredly. And all of a sudden you feel sorry for teasing him. He look gaunt. There are shadows under his eyes, even more so than usual. Without you to remind him to eat, you can imagine his diet for the past few days consisted more of alcohol and cigarettes than anything substantial.

“Spent three hours on a fucking tour of his bakery and another pretending to drink his piss-poor rum. I think he was trying to get me sloshed so I’d forget what I came for.” Tommy rubs his head.

“He’s refusing to send his men to help. Said he’s not going to go after another oppressed people.”

“Did you tell him the Italians are rounding up Jews in their country as we speak?” Polly asks incredulously.

“Wouldn’t make a difference to Alfie. Besides, that’s just an excuse. He’s really just a fucking coward.”

Polly looks troubled at this, as does the rest of the family. Everyone had been counting on Alfie’s friendship with Tommy, however peculiar, to help them with the vendetta. What they hadn’t expected was his extreme sense of self-perseverance. How are they going to protect themselves now?

“Before everyone panics, I’d like to say something.” Tommy clears his throat, setting down the whisky.

“As you may all know, two nights ago our Izzy encountered Mr. Changretta in the Garrison. He bought her a drink and asked her to deliver an official beginning of the vendetta.” He chooses this time to finally look at you. You hold his gaze until he looks shiftily away.

“We can also assume that he has been scoping out Small Heath, looking for any weaknesses on our turf. Now, Izzy has something to share with you all.”

You stand up uncertainly. The last time a woman other than Polly tried to speak her mind at the table it had been Esme, who still refuses to come to the betting shop unless Tommy is not here.

“While Mr. Changretta was, er, indisposed at the Garrison, I found some items in his coat that I think could be useful.” You fish out a passport and a stack of papers from your skirt pockets.

“Good job, Izzy! Oh, I knew we could count on you more than my idiot brother.” Ada beams.

“Becoming a right little spy, eh?” John ruffles your hair good-naturedly. As everyone gathers around, Polly gives a low whistle.

“Goodness, if this is your definition of an ugly brute, I wonder who’ll really catch your fancy, darling.”

You flush. The documents were obtained shortly after Luca had fallen asleep. It was an exercise in agility, trying to extricate yourself from his tangle of limbs, especially when you wanted nothing more than to stay in bed, encased in his warmth.

To your own credit, the papers were highly useful indeed. Some were maps of Birmingham, circles drawn in places where the Shelbys are known to frequent. The Garrison. Charlie’s Yard. The Arrow House. There was also stationary from The Stanton, a hotel just outside of the city.

There had been another piece of paper in the stack, a letter. But you kept that for yourself.

“We all have Izzy to thank for bringing us this valuable information.” Tommy’s voice rises above the chatter. “I will be personally examining all the documents and think of a plan. In the meantime, everyone stay alert, stay armed, and stay together.”

“Now if no one has any further questions, I need to have a private word with her. Alone.”

*****

You twirl the onyx ring around your finger as everyone filters out. It’s much too big but you still wear it anyways. The thick band of gold is comforting in its own way. And despite what you told Ada earlier, you don’t want to give it to anyone else.

Tommy’s curt voice snaps you from your reverie.

“Was it good, then?”

A small muscle tics on the underside of his jaw. His previously blank expression is now cold. The coward in you compels you to feign ignorance.

“What do you mean, Tommy?” You ask lightly.

“Did it feel good to have that fucking wop inside you?”

You burst out laughing. “Christ, Tommy. Did you pick up that word from Alfie? You sound bloody ridiculous when you’re trying to be crass, you know.”

“Don’t fucking change the subject, Isabel.” Tommy snaps.

“Oh, so I’m Isabel, now? You only call me that when you’re trying to get me in bed. Is that what you want? A bit early in the evening if you ask me.”

“What I want for you is to tell me how it felt having that man inside you, inside---”

You blaze with anger. “My sex life is none of your business, even if you are an occasional participant. I did what you would have wanted, and now I’ve got intel on the Changrettas that could save your arse!”

“Do you know how dangerous it could have been? Fraternizing with the enemy is exactly what got us into trouble with the Changrettas!”

“And fraternizing with them again has given us an advantage. We know how many associates he’s brought with him, and where they are staying. Good God,” Your eyes widen as you see the mutinous look on Tommy’s face. “Are you jealous?”

The silence of the room presses in until it's almost palpable. Finally he rubs a hand over his eyes, looking utterly defeated.

“I have no right to.” He says, pained. “But I am, just the same.”

The admission of his feelings would have made your heart soar a few days ago, before you met a man who enchanted you in the Garrison. You only laugh bitterly.

“What makes this different from all those other times you made me seduce the men you wanted to spy on?”

He says nothing. But what else is there to say? The past is in the past, and so many hurts have been caused by the both of you, it would be impossible to untangle it all.

You soften your voice, laying a hand on Tommy's arm.

“Let me continue seeing him. He wants me, and we can use that. You know it will be help, you know it might save us all.”

A breath flutters in your chest as you wait for his decision. If Tommy allows it, you’ll do it in a heartbeat. The Shelbys are your family, whether you're one in name or not.

But if he refuses, then perhaps… Perhaps he might actually care for you, deeper than jealousy, deeper than he admits.

“Very well.” Tommy says finally, and something in your heart shatters. The corners of your mouth curve up in a wobbly smile.

“Thank you for trusting me, Tommy. I won’t let you down.”

“You would never let me down, no matter what you do. Just…Be careful, Izzy.”

He closes the distance between you and enfolds you in a hug. You enjoy this quiet warmth, as fragile as spider's silk. With a small laugh, you pull away, patting his arm before turning to the door.

You don't look back to see if he follows.

[ehhgg-art]

hey. asian person here to talk about behavior in the mcyttwt community.

the way you treat minorities’ problems is sickening. at this point, i don’t even want your “support”. the way you go about it makes all our efforts look like damn jokes. here’s only a few examples, but i know there are much, much more.

now before we go on, this excludes those who decide not to share about social issues and topics relating to such. that is an internet boundary that should be respected. on the other hand, the people who harass others about “being educated, the people this post is directed at, need to be talked to.

do you think i don’t remember what you guys did after the atlanta shooting? huh? what the fuck was that? my people were dying, and y’all trended an insensitive ass tag. and yet, the moment a cc says something dumb about asian people, its all “oh asians drop your cashapps and donation links” and “asian support thread”. our problems do not amount to an insensitive joke. do NOT diminish us to such. this applies to the techno situation too.

speaking of techno, i won’t forgive y’all for how you reacted. you jumped on him for insensitive jokes and claimed that he was endangering multiple communities. sure, hold him accountable, but your actions could have put his entire family in danger. at this point, don’t even ask for a damn apology. and just like the last point, when it came to actually supporting those groups that were “so hurt” by a tweet, there was close to nothing comapared to the effort y’all put into “educating” a minecraft youtuber. oh, and also don’t forget how you treated his adhd with so fucking little respect compared to dream’s. whenever dream does a fuck up and doesn’t talk about it for a while, you say “oh its his adhd”. you don’t get to pick and choose who’s conditions to respect. you respect all of them, with the same amount and effort as the other.

how about the recent dream situation then? yeah, that was also not cool. not because of how y’all reacted towards him, but towards the black community. i know damn well that if he wasn’t involved that black people’s voices wouldn’t have been uplifted nor listened to. i know because it happens to me too (although my experience as a south asian is different from a black person, but your treatment of us is very similar). 

now it all leads up to tommyinnit. i see people saying “don’t treat minorities like drama” and “minorities aren’t twitter posts” as a response to him leaving the app. and that is bullshit coming from y’all. the way that you treated my community and many others like trends. the way that you swept us under the rug when it didn’t pertain to your “streamer” anymore. a lot of y’all are throwing out criticism that you yourself should be heeding.

it’s gross to see how you all acted around this. after the way you’ve treated my people and many others, you have the gall to tear down this literal child, drag him through the mud for TWO DAMN DAYS. 

all this and i still haven’t mentioned how you treated palestine, jewish people, lgbt people, psychotics, latinos, and many other marginalized groups. 

my struggles do not amount to a social media post. my life is not twitter drama. my PEOPLE are not trends. your support for communities isn’t a trophy, it’s not a reward, it’s not some revolting “validation”. its basic human decency. and you are lacking it. you’re not a savior, you’re not a hero. you’re a goddamn insult.

do what you expect from others.

do better.

[dreamescapeswriting]

Fight For This Love ~ KNJ [Request]

WORD COUNT:2.1k

GENRE: Slice of life, angst with fluffy ending, family AU, father Namjoon

PAIRING: Namjoon x Fem!Reader

It had been a while since you and Namjoon had spent any alone time together but you put that down to him being busy all of the time, you knew what it was going to be like when you married him but it didn't mean you were happy about it. Namjoon still worked just as hard as he did when he first debuted and so did the rest of the boys only now since they had their only lives and marriages to maintain they worked from home.

"Where's dad?" Your daughter asked you as you laid her down in her bed for the night, she was dressed in her pyjamas ready to head to bed but it was Namjoon's night to read to her only he was locked up in his home studio and had been for most of the day. It had rained for most of the day so your plan to take Choo-Hee out to the park was ruined and you were forced into having a day in instead much to Namjoon's dismay.

"He's busy baby, what do you want me to read to you tonight?" You whispered as you tried to get her to go to sleep but you knew she wouldn't without her father, at five-years-old she wasn't stupid and she knew the routine that you and Namjoon had. It was her fathers night to read to her and she'd been looking forward to it all day.

"Daddy always does the voices, you can't do them." She pouted as she folded her arms across her chest, ready to go into a full meltdown but the door to Namjoon's studio opened across from her room. It was the first time you'd heard him move all day but you knew he had been since the food you'd left for him earlier had disappeared from outside the door.

"Babe?!" You called out just before he could walk away, you heard him let out a loud sigh before coming into the room with the fakest smile you'd ever seen plastered across his face. You resisted the urge to call him out on the fake smile knowing that he was probably just exhausted and you smiled over at him,

"Choo-Hee wants you to read to her...It's your night," Your voice calm out sweet and calm as you tried to gently remind him what the date was but he didn't look impressed. The boys were stressing him out about songs and he was even more behind than he usually was but he nodded his head and sat down beside your daughter. 

"Which book?" You heard him ask her happily as you got up from the floor and went to make you and Namjoon a hot drink so he could keep it in his studio with him for the night if he was going to keep working in there.

As you stood making the drink you heard the stairs creak as Namjoon made his way downstairs, grunting out as he collapsed onto the sofa. It felt as though he'd been awake for a week straight without a moment of rest, all he wanted to do was fall asleep on the sofa.

"Tea?" You asked as you poked your head in the doorway to see that he was drifting off to sleep on the sofa, his eyes fighting to stay open as he grumbled something to himself. The sight of him working himself like this broke your heart so you walked over to him and gently shook his arm. You hadn't seen him this way in years and it was starting to hurt you, 

"Baby...Come up to bed. I can-" You stopped speaking when Namjoon rolled over and mumbled something under his breath that you couldn't hear him.

"You're being so grumpy, move over so I can cuddle you," You giggled playfully, if he wasn't going to go up to the bedroom you could at least spend time with him right now but he didn't move an inch. He just grumbled into the pillow with his back to you, 

"I don't wanna cuddle right now," You frowned as you looked at the back of him, poking his back gently as you thought he was just joking. 

"Babe come on...I've missed you," You tried to plead with him but he didn't move only mumbling into the sofa cushions once again instead of making eye contact with you. 

"Stop, alright just leave me alone for five minutes," His yell was muffled by the pillows but you didn't want to leave it like this. There was clearly something that was bothering him and you wanted to be the good wife and find out what it was. 

"Do you want a hot drink? We can sit and talk about it...Maybe some food..." You suggested to him, the more you thought about it the more you couldn't remember if he'd eaten dinner and just lunch that day. 

"I don't want food or a hot drink. I want to be left alone," He was facing you now, red in the face with anger as he was getting more annoyed at you for persisting him. Sighing to himself he rubbed his face with his hands, sitting up and trying to calm himself down.

"I'm just having a bad day and I just want to be alone." He looked at you hoping that you would take the hint and leave but your hand reached out for his once again, 

"We can cuddle and talk-" You didn't even have time to finish what you were going to say when he snapped at you, moving away from you and going towards the stairs/

"Fuck you're so clingy! You're bugging me so much! What part of leaving me alone don't you fucking understand?!" The front door slammed shut you sat there for a couple of seconds waiting for it to open again and for him to walk back in and say sorry but it never happened. All you heard was the faint sound of the car starting and pulling out onto the road before you got up from the table trying not to cry. 

The next morning in the house it was completely silent, you'd woken up Choo-Hee and taken her out for breakfast not asking Namjoon if he wanted anything. He'd snuck back into the house later in the night last night thinking you were asleep but you weren't, you hadn't been able to sleep the whole night but Nmajoon locked himself in his studio. Sleeping on the sofa that was inside of there instead of having the human decency to come and apologise to you. Deciding it would be for the best you gave him the space he wanted yesterday, choosing to leave him be and let him get on with without it was that was getting him so stressed out.

"You and dad have been quiet all day," Choo said as she poured you a fake cup of imaginary tea. The day had been long and quiet, the two of you playing dress up, going for a walk before watching a movie together but now she was having a tea party with you and her imaginary friends. 

"Well, your dad is busy...Isn't that right, Holo?" You asked her imaginary friend as you passed him a plate of fake biscuits trying to do your best to play into the role your daughter was giving you. 

"Holo said daddy was yelling last night," You bit down on your lip at the thought of Choo hearing Namjoon the night before. When the two of you found out you were expecting you made a deal never to fight in front of the child but clearly that had failed. 

"He was just upset at work," You lied as you cupped her face in your hands and smiled weakly as you heard the door to Namjoon's studio open and shut. 

"I'm going to take a shower...Will you be a good girl and watch something with Holo?" You questioned as you got up from the small make-believe table and she nodded. The door to the living room slowly opened but you didn't look in Namjoon's direction, you just headed up the stairs for the bathroom without a word leaving him and his daughter alone. 

"Hey, daddy?" Choo called out as she began packing up all of her toys into her toy-chest, Namjoon smiled at her and knelt down. 

"Yes pumpkin, what can I do for you?" He began placing things into the toy-chest with her when she smiled at him, 

"Can we make the best fort ever? With pillows and lights and a movie?" She called out excitedly to him, wrapping her arms around his waist as she stared up at him with puppy dog eyes. Namjoon could never resist them as he stared back at her, 

"Fine, fine, fine. Go and get all the blankets from your room." He chuckled watching as she began sprinting up the staircase to her bedroom while he went to get string and push pins to help build the fort for her.

By the time you were out of the shower and dressed there was an envelope sitting on your bed with your daughter's handwriting on the front. Giggling to yourself you opened it to see an invitation inside,

Hi Mum,

Fort in the living room, dress fancy, movie night with snacks! I'm inside with our favs

From, Choo-Hee

Though there were some minor spelling mistakes she'd written it all perfectly so you smiled to yourself, changing into a Lucuna, Balloon-sleeve Floral Chiffon Dress that came down to your thighs and headed down the stairs to meet your daughter. The living room was dark but you could see some fairy lights poking out through the gaps in the fort you assumed Namjoon had helped Choo build. You got down onto your hands and knees and crawled into the fort,

"What movie did you pick baby-" You stopped speaking when Namjoon turned to look at you with a surprised look on his face. 

"Choo?" You called out when you heard some music beginning to play in the background, it was one of the boy's earlier CD's and you and Namjoon stared at Choo as she walked into the fort with a small tray in her hands.

"Dinner for two." She announced, placing the tray onto the floor in front of you before leaving without answering any of your questions that you and Namjoon had for her.

"Young lady!" You called out but you turned around and poked her tongue out at you before heading up the stairs to bed, you turned back to Namjoon and smiled weakly.

"I guess she trapped us," He laughed awkwardly while looking at you and then down at the tray that was in front of you both. 

The two of you stayed silent for a couple of moments before you couldn't take it anymore and shook your head, 

"I wonder what she made," You looked at him and then to the tray as you lifted the lid from a small plate. Sitting there was a pile of smarties, a slice of bread with a slab of butter on and a small mint for afterwards.

"Joonie I think she gets her cooking skills from you," You teased as you began to giggle to yourself at the sight of the plate. Namjoon joining in as he laughed along with you. 

"Hey...work has just been stressing me out and I shouldn't have taken it out on you..." He said once you both stopped laughing, you smiled weakly as you reached forward to take the smarties off the plate and placed one on his tongue,

"I'm sorry," He whispered as he took your hands in his and made you look at him, he had a pained look on his face as he thought about what he had said to you the night before. He'd never meant for it to be like that and he never meant it,

"In the words of our beautiful daughter...I was being a big grumpy bear and I shouldn't have been so naughty." You giggled at him and shook your head, leaning forward to place a small and gentle kiss on his lips. 

"It's fine baby...I should have left you alone when you said it the first time," He shifted in place so that his back was leaning against the sofa and he could pull you into a tight embrace, kissing your shoulder as he apologised over and over again for what he had said. You both stayed inside the fort until you eventually fell asleep in one another's arm's, deciding not to move for the night since the fort was so comfortable already.

Tagline: @lyoongx @sw33tnight @mitzwinchester @fan-ati--c @rjsmochii @taestannie @kneel-begyourpardon @innersooya @sweeneyblue1​ @jin-from-the-block​ @acciocriativity​ @that-anxious-bisexual​

[crawsley]

PLEASE talk to me about Jamie NOTICING Trevor in his girlie little ankle baring leggings. They're a light colour, too, I bet you can see when his pussy gets all wet and Jamie is all 😍😛

It's not like Jamie's trying to stare at Trevor like a pervert, but it's kind of hard to avoid when he's wearing the cute little leggings he bought recently. Jamie's not sure where he gets them, like it can't be from the same omega section Jamie buys his from, right? Like, they look similar to his, superficially. But there's no way that Jamie's leggings cling quite so tightly to his hips, or outline both his cock and his pussy in semi-sheer fabric the way Trevor's always seem to.

Jamie has various cock-related woes that make at least two layers of coverage necessary for public decency, which might be the norm for alphas but very much isn't for omegas, so he has to pay attention to this stuff. He's always been a tomboy, too, even before he figured out he was a lesbian. Never super interested in dressing girly, even though he likes it when other omegas do.

Trevor doesn't even wear shorts over top of his leggings, like any proper omega would. Trevor isn't proper in literally any sense of the word but he does have weird bursts of prudery, that generally manifest themselves via him stringing some poor alpha along for a couple months, pretending at courtship.

Jamie doesn't know for sure, but he's almost positive that Trevor's way too much of a slut for that to work, in the short or long term. And he's continually proven right when Trevor breaks it off with whoever he's with about three months in, when questions about spending heats together start to get more pressing.

But, Jamie thinks, eyes on Trevor's ass in his little leggings, recently it's almost seemed like Trevor's been, hm. Jamie can't articulate it to himself even in his own mind but Trevor's been acting differently towards him.

Flirtier, for one thing.

Jamie wouldn't have thought it was possible before the past couple weeks, but Trevor's been hanging all over him, climbing into his lap and cuddling down into him like a complete tart. Wearing fewer and fewer clothes when they're sharing a hotel room, and staying naked and in Jamie's face basically the entire time they're in the locker room together.

And it's not like Trevor doesn't know Jamie's only interested in other omegas, like Jamie'd come out to him a couple months into the last season, when covid restrictions finally loosened up enough for Jamie to bring someone home to the little apartment they shared with two other rookies. The situation had been getting kind of dire, and Jamie'd found himself eyeing Trevor speculatively, which, when you're considering fucking your straight teammate, it's a sign it's time to get laid.

They're the only two left in the game of knockout, most of the other guys having either gotten bored and left, or been knocked out, but Trevor's sneaky good and extremely competitive. He has his tongue poking out between his teeth, fully concentrating on the game, but at the same time. He's bending over way further than he technically needs to to pick up the ball, and every time he does, he flashes Jamie just a hint of pussy, outlined perfectly through his leggings. It's hot as hell and Jamie's having a hard time making his shots, because all he can think about is how much he wants to put his face in that.

Jamie's a pussyhound, he'll admit it. No shame in the game.

By some miracle Jamie beats Trevor, knocks him out, and Trevor's pouting and complaining like hell but he's also coming in close, and looping his arms around Jamie's neck.

The move probably works better on alphas who are taller than Trevor, but it's still nice being this close to him.

Trevor's tits feel pretty nice pressed up against Jamie's, too.

"Well you won, huh," Trevor says, voice breathier than usual, even though he still looks kind of annoyed at having lost. "Does that mean you get to choose your prize?"

"I don't know about a prize," Jamie says, slowly, but Trevor just laughs and snuggles his face in close to Jamie's neck. He'd be scenting him for sure if he were actually interested in Jamie, but this is just like. Probably some fucked up NTDP-style bonding honestly.

"You won me Jim," Trevor says, mouth moving against Jamie's skin in a way that makes his cock twitch. He really needs to get laid. "You get to do what you want to me now, right?"

If Jamie didn't know better, he'd swear that he could smell Trevor getting wet. But that isn't possible, is it? As far as Jamie knows, as far as Trevor has told him, Trevor isn't even interested in omegas. Like, he'd said those words to Jamie, explicitly.

Jamie's annoyed all of a sudden. He's a lot of things, but one thing he isn't is down to be a straight girl's experiment, especially when that straight girl is the goddamn future face of his franchise.

So can you really blame him if he grabs Trevor's ass, rough enough that he squeaks and rocks forward on his toes? It just presses his tits tighter against Jamie, so he isn't complaining.

"Whatever I want," Jamie says, not a question, and gropes Trevor again just to hear him make that noise again. This time he gets some pussy when he grabs his ass, and Trevor straight up moans, loud and surprised.

"What I want," Jamie says, tucking his mouth in close to Trevor's temple, and feels him shiver in Jamie's arms. "Is to go get ready for our game tonight."

Jamie can feel Trevor opening his mouth to argue, say something annoying, Jamie just knows, so he does the only thing he can think of and smacks his ass. Hard.

Trevor moans again, even more shocked than before, and his eyes are wide when Jamie gently shoves him away.

Jamie grabs him by the shoulder and turns him around, so he's pointing in the direction of the locker rooms, and smacks his ass again. Both to get Trevor moving and because he kind of can't help it.

"Go on, get," Jamie says, and Trevor does what he's told for once in his life, floating towards the locker room like he's in a haze.

Jamie lets himself wallow in his own smugness for like half a second before he follows, tugging at his shorts a little. Trevor isn't the only one who was affected by whatever the hell just happened.

[amidstsaltandsmoke]

Hey! How about 113&90 or 133&68? Of course you can pick one or all or none, lol! I hope you're doing great!! 🤗🤗

Hiii!!! Thank you so much for sending these!! I've gone ahead with 113 ("I prefer blondes") & 90 ("Trust me") and I have zero idea where this idea came from, but some of it made me laugh, so I hope you enjoy my attempt at humor!! 🤣 I had to make a special moodboard for this one, too. I hope you're doing well!!! 💛

__________________________________

It was an ordinary day at the shop. Another day of people reminding her that she was stupidly alone and would probably never be the customer coming in to choose a nice, sexy piece for her (non-existent) partner or the girlfriend on the receiving end.

At least she had her work friends to complain to, although half of them were off the market, too. Dany never could figure out what it was about her that seemed to deflect men rather than attract them to her. Doreah had promised that, objectively speaking, Dany didn’t suffer from resting bitch face. Missandei proclaimed that she was just so beautiful, it was intimidating. Val added onto that, saying that most probably assumed she was already spoken for.

She was in the back room double checking inventory when Doreah all but broke the swinging door down, hissing her name. “Dany! He’s back!”

“Who?” Frowning, it took Dany a second to understand who she meant. Then, she rolled her eyes. “Oh. It doesn’t matter, Doreah, he very clearly had a girlfriend the last couple of times he was in.”

The least she could do was not drool atop their merchandise over a man who was probably trying to help his girlfriend spice things up in the bedroom. While it was a little unusual that there had been so frequent of visits within a short span of time - four times in two weeks, not that she was paying that close attention - there was no point in making it extra awkward for everyone.

He was extremely pleasing to look at, and yes, behind the scenes she had suggested to the girls some explicit things she might like to do with him if ever she had the chance, but a fifth return said something was either working or very much...not. The last thing she wanted to do was verbalize one of those thoughts she may or may not had fantasized about once or twice or...more. She would fire herself on the spot.

“In the last three years in this hell, how many times have you seen the girlfriend hang around outside of the store while her boyfriend does all the perusing?”

Dany shrugged, checking off a few boxes on her clipboard while she hooked several pairs of silky lace panties through her arm to help her keep count. “I don’t know, maybe that’s their thing? Maybe he surprises her and they have perfect, steamy sex.”

The first time he came in, the brunette woman joined him. He looked completely lost and overwhelmed by it all, and on at least two occasions he had locked eyes with Dany when she was trying to discreetly check him out. Mortified at how red his face had turned, she had busied herself rearranging their fragrances that hadn’t needed arranging. There had been some giggling and the woman had squeezed his arm, and Dany tried to avoid having to help them as much as possible, and that included each subsequent appearance after that, even when the brunette kept to herself outside the store. To the point where Dany put Val on the floor so that she could sit back and just ogle him guiltlessly.

Dany saw the way his girlfriend peeked in, beaming at him, probably trying to get a feel for what he would bring home that evening.

“Right, well plot twist: he has asked for you,” Doreah jabbed her finger into Dany’s back.

Spinning around on her heel, her braid whipping around her shoulders, Dany fumbled over her words. “No-no he did not! He doesn’t even know my name.”

“Obviously not!” Doreah chortled, then took hold of Dany’s shoulder with a shake. “He asked for a blonde, and when I pointed to Val, he said - and I quote - ‘the one with the blue eyes’.”

Dany blinked, her inhale suddenly hostage in her chest, shaking her head vehemently. “No, he’s definitely confused - it can’t be the same guy-”

“Get your cute little arse out there and find out for yourself, then!”

Just as pugnacious as she was when she came in to deliver the news, Doreah spun Dany around and forced her back into the main floor. She yiped and instantly wished a sink hole would appear under her feet and take her under, what with the obnoxious entrance she’d just made, the door smacking against the wall and every set of eyes boring into her.

Including his.

Doreah would not live to see another day after today.

Quietly, she cleared her throat, while everyone else went back to their browsing, but for the man who was the subject of her favorite dreams as of late. He turned to face her fully, still at the other end of the store across from her, and he fit his hands into his overly-tight jean pockets. A smile spread across his face, and stupidly, she looked over her shoulder, just to confirm that Doreah hadn’t been behind her. And finally, the cherry on top of the cake was when his eyes then drifted down to her arm, where she still had a whole armful of panties still attached.

Bleeding hells!

Hastily she yanked the door open behind her, Doreah right there and proud of herself, Dany stuffed her clipboard and the pile of undergarments into the woman’s arms. “I hope you enjoy your last few hours alive!” Dany whispered harshly, but that only made her friend splutter with joy.

Going back out, she squared her shoulders and folded her hands in front of her before approaching the obscenely attractive man. She couldn’t help but quickly sweep the area with her eyes just to be sure he wasn’t in other company. There didn’t appear to be anyone outside the open doors, either.

She stopped in front of him, and was horrified to discover, at the most inconvenient moment, that she didn’t know what words were. Her private dreams and distant stalking did not do him justice.

“Hello,” he supplied first.

For a beat, her mouth hung open without a sound until she finally managed, “Hi.”

“So-”

“I heard-”

She grit her teeth together and her cheeks lit on fire, the pair of them laughing awkwardly and immediately averting their eyes to anything but each other.

At the very least, it broke some of the tension. Dany gestured with her hand at the wall behind him, where various colorful, matching sets of lingerie were displayed. “Did you need help finding something?”

“Ah,” he sucked in a breath, briefly following the motion to see what she was referring to, but quickly looked back at her, hand scratching his head, “well, yeah, sort of...I, uh,” he cleared his throat gently. She was glad to know she wasn’t the only one who was nervous, but it was making her anxious, so she took matters into her own hands.

“Might I suggest the purple?” She crossed the floor to one of their mannequins donning one of their more flimsy pieces, silky and shiny bra and the thong to match. With one hand palm up, she tried to gauge his reaction as she pointed it out to him. “It compliments brown hair and fair skin quite nicely.”

His dark brow wrinkled a little, but he followed her, stopping a few feet away and not paying the fiberglass model any mind. Maybe they were fighting...so she had a better idea.

She thrust her finger up in the air to stop him from needing to explain any further, beckoning for him to follow her. They stopped, now, at something a bit more complicated, a red number where the lace bra barely covered the breasts and had a strap that wound around the neck and connected to the middle between the breasts. The panties were attached to a garter and stockings.

This time around, he flushed adorably, and she stored that away in her mind for later. If there was to be any joy found in this encounter, it might be so that she could torture his bashfulness.

“Actually...I’m...not here to shop for anyone else,” he explained, and slowly, she understood, nodding slowly, her mouth forming an ‘o’. Their bed play included some form of role reversal. She wasn’t here to judge anyone’s kinks, or preferences, not especially working for a lingerie shop. And, if it turned out that she was wrong, and perhaps he wasn’t into the ladies at all, at least she knew she never had a chance to begin with.

“Ooh, I see. Well, unfortunately we don’t have anything marketed towards men’s fashions right at this time-” an idea she needed to propose to their marketing and product team, “-but I’m sure we could find something that fits your fancy?”

Dany freely let herself measure him by way of a quick observation - he wore a fitted black tee, so it wasn’t difficult to see that he kept in great shape. Broad, muscled shoulders, biceps fighting to stay within the confines of the short sleeves, lean compact perfection. His thighs? Thick. Great for getting ones’ head trapped between. Uncaring as to what was left of her professional decency, she grabbed his arm to keep him still and rounded him, almost forgetting herself too much and just barely biting her tongue to not whistle. His ass? Perseus could never.

Just as she was moving to guide him toward another area with slightly larger sizes that could accompany his physique, a hand gently caught her wrist, and it was gone in the next breath, but she stopped, facing him once more. He’d stepped in closer, almost invading her space. “No, it’s not any of that,” he chuckled lightly. Then he word vomited, and she didn’t think he could possibly get any more chart-breaking attractive, but she was certain her eyes had shaped themselves into hearts. “Ah, fuck. I’m just gonna say it. I saw you in here a few weeks ago when I was here - I never come to the mall by the way, just...anyway, no offense. I stopped and I was with my sister-in-law and she told me I should try to chat you up...but I thought, who in their right bloody mind casually drops into a sexy lingerie store to hit on someone?”

He huffed dubiously, but she was half in love with him already.

“So, I bowed out like a coward, but obviously I kept coming back, and Margaery - that’s my sister-in-law, the brunette - tagged along for moral support, while I was pretending to be interested in…,” he looked about them by way of explaining, “I mean, not that I’m not - in fact, I am-”

Her toothy grin was so large by now that it actually hurt. Charmingly he rumpled up his face and scratched the back of his neck, then brought both of his hands in front of him and accentuated the space there as he made a go of it again. “What I’m desperately trying to say, and failing at, is...would it be super weird to ask you out? It’s so shallow, I know, and completely not like me; you’re just so beautiful and I know nothing about you-”

Dany couldn’t take it anymore. She kissed him, and he gasped through his nose, frozen in place for a beat until he finally relaxed and put a careful hand on her hip, leaning closer to her. She broke away, the taste of cinnamon lingering on her tongue, either from a mint or gum he must have just had. Peering up at him from beneath her eyelashes, she just needed to be sure…

“You’re sure that wasn’t your girlfriend with you?”

His head nodded once to punctuate his reply. “Positive. She’s my brother’s wife. And...I much prefer blondes, anyway. Trust me.”

“Okay,” she muttered, putting a little space between them, and going warm all over when she remembered where they were, and how about the entire store was putting their heads together and giggling and staring. “I have…,” she glimpsed at her watch, her heart sinking, “...three hours left.”

“I can wait,” he said, and when she was beginning to think he meant he would have the audacity to wait in here and distract her, he clarified, “I mean, I have some errands I can run, and then…?”

“I don’t even know your name,” she blurted with realization.

“Oh, right,” he chuckled, “it’s Jon.”

“Dany,” she returned, holding out her hand. He shook it with a gentle squeeze. After they took their hands back, she made sure nobody was within earshot when she closed in on him again. “Then it’s a date. Under one condition…”

His clear grey eyes narrowed down at her.

“Which one?” Her dark brows jumped and she clandestinely used her eyes to motion to the items on display.

“What? Wait…,” his voice lowered to a rumble, lips barely moving, “seriously?”

Gods, if he only knew the images that she had conjured up in her mind pre-meeting…

“Mhm,” she hummed.

“Uh…,” he was good, very good, as he pretended that he was carrying on a conversation with her while his hand scratched his bearded face, trying to make a hurried decision. She saw the glint in his eye when he had decided, never taking her attention off of him. His gaze dropped down to her lips before drifting back to her eyes. “Third rack by the front…,” she gave a secretive, sidelong look in that direction, “the fourth row down in the second column. Yellow.”

Her eyes widened a hair. “Oh,” she breathed, her chest going tight. It was one of those numbers that, when not on a hanger or mannequin, was difficult to figure out how to get on, but it was a good thing this was her expertise. She swallowed thickly. “May I ask...why yellow?”

Jon reddened exquisitely. “Well... the last time I was here, one of your colleagues was heavily suggesting the best colors that complimented blue eyes, so…,” to her surprise, he skimmed her thumb over the apple of her cheek, just under her blue eyes.

Doreah. That sneaky little shit. It was a script they sometimes followed when a guest first came in, a starting point to help guide them in the right direction and ease nerves, but this was deliberate.

Dany owed Doreah an extra life, now.

“Alright,” she conceded, beaming. “See you at five?”

Jon smirked. “See you at five.”