#I end up deep-diving for like three hours. I can tell you SO MUCH about obscure Jedi Masters from the Old Republic era

[hurricanek8art]

I'm really excited for Ahsoka Ep5 tonight, but my brain keeps drifting back to those ruins from the premiere and I gotta get it out in a post before the new episode probably takes over my every thought.

I love the ancient tech in this show. I mean, yes, the map is like straight out of Treasure Planet so I will always love it for that, but the tech just looks so Zeffo! I wonder if it was intentional. Like I think a lot of the design for Force-related stuff we see now is influenced by Rebels and TCW and stuff like the compass from The Last Jedi (which Filoni designed, so it basically all goes back to him) but the potential in-universe explanation for why this ancient Dathomirian site and technology seems so reminiscent of the Zeffo (to me at least) fascinates me.

We know there's a Zeffo sage tomb on Dathomir, so the cultures had contact at one point. Did Dathomir intentionally take design influence from Zeffo culture, like how ancient Roman architecture took heavy design inspiration from Greek architecture for their building facades and then it evolved into its own thing? Or was there like a whole cultural exchange there? Were there Dathomirians that studied the Life Wind and Zeffo that dabbled with magick?! I feel like Eno Cordova. I WANNA KNOW MORE ABOUT THE ZEFFO DANGIT. WERE THEY LIKE RAKATA/KWA CONTEMPORARIES OR DID THEY COME BEFORE? AFTER? DID ONE'S STUDY OF THE FORCE INFLUENCE THE OTHER? I WANNA KNOOOOOOOW.

(I could write an entirely different essay post about how much I love Fallen Order/Survivor, but the hyperfixation gremlin is focusing on Ahsoka right now so I can't articulate at this moment beyond I LOVE JEDI FALLEN ORDER/JEDI SURVIVOR)

[agusrkive]

SugarDaddy!Reiner | 🗯️🔞

cw: 18+ MDNI! (yall seen the title, dont play dumb)

summary: reiner as your sugar daddy, detailed nsfw routines

— forehead kisses

— butterfly and wet open-mouthed kisses on your neck

— nibbles on your ear

— plays with your hair

✦ asks you how’s your day while you are sat on his lap

✦ always let’s you pick the tie he’s gonna wear before going to work in the morning. it’s basically your job to do his tie and he never fails to get a hard-on every single time you do it.

✦ calls you in the middle of the day just to tell you how much he misses you and the way you feel around his cock while he’s at work.

✦ wraps his arms around you and drowns you with his kisses the moment he gets home.

"Did my little doll miss her daddy?”

loves it when you massage his temples while he grinds you up and down the tent of his bulging boxers to the point that the head of his cock slips out and meets your clothed needy cunt, your soaking panties being the only barrier between you two.

doesn’t cuddle, he prefers you seated on his lap with his cock buried deep inside you while watching your favorite tv shows or him just doing work-at-home paperworks as you try your best not to move around and squirm too much+

"behave unless you don’t plan on cumming tonight.”

★ is a menace in the sheets, but could go soft and slow when you ask him to.

★ his favorite position is you under him, but you both know that he cums faster when you ride him.

★ could go on for hours and hours, but it’s you who needs rest and sometimes passes out from overstimulation and pleasure.

🪞

˗ˏˋmirrors.. did I mention that man loves to watch himself fuck you on his bed in the big ass mirror of his room that he bought just for that reason? he needs to see your face when he’s giving you the best backshots of your life.´ˎ˗

★ missionary so you two can continue arguing about the guy from your class who keeps on lingering around you+

"he doesn’t like me! he just needed some notes and lectures that he missed because of his injuries.”

…

“oh I bet, doll. and the only injury that little shit’s gonna get is my fist in his punchable face.”

“he’s a twink!!”

“Jaëger’s lil brother is not gay.

tell him gone or I will.”

❥ loves to tease you with how needy you are+

"beg for it, doll.”

“tell me how bad you need it.”

"what was that? you want my cock?—where? c’mon use your mouth, slut.”

🎀

takes off your panties with his teeth before diving into your soaking cunt, his big arms caging around your thighs. handprints that will definitely leave marks you love to send him pictures of when he’s away.

★ loves it when you give him head as if his dick is the only left thing in the world and his cum is water in the desert (his words).

★ fucks you senselessly until you gush over and over, bed is soaked and his goal is to make you squirt; which you did three times.

★ rolls his hip into you faster when he sees your legs shaking from pleasure.

🛌

ends the night with you screaming his name and his cum painting your insides white. he fills you up soo good that seeing it leak out of your hole makes your heart ache+

fucks it back into you slowly until he cums again and doesn’t pull out for awhile, you are both crazy with the feeling of him inside you.

🛁

showers with you and you both clean each other, whispering sweet nothings in your ear as he dries your hair with a towel.

loves to rail you in his bathroom, your back against the wall as he pummels his cock in and out of your cunt. your legs hanging in the air with his arms hooked under them for support.

🌃

sleeps only with his boxers so he can easily slip his cock inside your wet cunt in the middle of the night.

🌤️

loves to wake you up in the morning with his head locked between your thighs as he eats you out for breakfast.

grabs a handful of your ass before rubbing his half-hard dick between them while you’re making breakfast.

🧺

makes out with you while doing laundry.

bends you over and pulls down your underwear only to have his fingers fuck you instead of his cock. his big fingers alone are godly enough, but you’re desperate for his cock+

“you know how it goes—“

“words, doll. need’a hear’em.”

🥘

loves to rub his hard-on behind you while you do the dishes.

🧸

makes you beg for his cock until you cry when you’re being a brat.

secretly loves it when you’re being naughty by not wearing any underwear, your naked figure being the only thing underneath his sky blue lacoste that is three times bigger than you.

📲

makes you ride his cock while you try to explain the previous lecture to Eren on the phone (that guy doesn’t just get the message)

"aah— umm yes! I sent it to Armin, ca\~l#*?¥—"

“sorry? I didn’t get that last part. Are you okay?”

“Eren! I need to g-go.. bad cramps! and phone’s uu-hh dying aa—“

**line cuts off**

“ohmygod yes! fuck me daddy!!”

[vernons-girl]

hi! yeah um i.. read ur newest fic 'not her' with kmg and i kind of wanted to add a continuation to that...? (only if u want to ofc!)

so basically reader got her heart broken by mingyu and her sister, soooo she goes on and vents her feelings and how heart broken she is to another one of her pals, seungcheol (without knowing seungcheol likes reader) so he comforts her and u can probably add the ending (fluff or angst or anything!)

im sorry this is too long.. i rlly tried to make it shorter lmao (btw i LUV ur fics so much)

not her | kim mingyu - choi seungcheol pt.2

PART 1 ; PART 2 ; PART 3 (final)

angst, fluff,wc:2.5k

taglist: @gaslysainz ; @graybaeismytae ; @mansaaay

a/n: did i completely put mingyu aside in this part? yes. will i make a part three where we really dive into the drama with everyone kdrama love triangle way? you guys tell me hehe

You couldn't bear looking at the scene that was unfolding in front of your eyes so you gathered your stuff in a hurry and left, completely forgetting the idea of shopping for a new outfit.

You made it home in record time. Rushing to lock yourself in your room once you made it through the door.

Mingyu choosing someone else than you was one thing, but your sister going behind your back to betray you, after you had confided in her? That was a whole other thing.

You couldn't help but cry as soon as you found yourself alone in the comfort of your room. You were feeling too many things at the same time and couldn't quite pinpoint why you were crying. Was it the pain? The anger? The disappointment? The heartbreak? Maybe it was all of it at once.

You couldn't bare the idea of having to face any of them about the issue right now, let alone having to see your sister when she would get back home, so you did the first thing that came to mind : you packed an overnight bag, texted your most trustful friend and headed over to his place.

You reached Seungcheol's place about an hour after you had texted him. You hadn't told him much over text, actually you hadn't told him anything besides 'can i come spend the night?' to which he agreed, of course, he didn't need to know why you needed to spend the night over at his place when you had a perfectly decent bed of your own, he just agreed without any further questions.

He greeted you at the door with a worried look on his face that he couldn't conceal no matter how hard he tried. You've confided in him before, but never did it feel so worrying. Without a second thought, he pulled you inside with a hug. The action broke down all the walls you had tried to build on your way there instantly. You felt as if you were falling apart in his arms, melting in his embrace perhaps, and you let the tears stream down your face, not caring about the embarrassing whines coming out of your mouth as you did so. He didn't seem to care either. Because all he did was hold you, closely, firmly but carefully, rubbing soothing circles on your back, shushing you like one would do with a baby. But it all felt so right amongst all the chaos around you that you let yourself be in the moment, until he pulled you straight on your feet to lead you to the living room, "Come on, let's talk about this around a warm drink, yeah?" he said, trying his best to show off a reassuring smile.

You obliged and sat down on the couch as Seungcheol got some snacks ready along with something to drink. In the meantime you allowed yourself to relax, sunking down onto the couch wishing it could somehow swallow you whole.

Thankfully, Seungcheol joined you pretty quickly so you didn't have the time to get lost in your thoughts once again. You straightened up to grab the cup he was handing out to you from the tray he had placed on the coffee table in front of you.

"Sooooo..." Seungcheol started, he didn't want to push you into it but he still needed to at least have an idea of what was going on.

You took a sip of your drink followed by a deep breath.

"So... I had a crush on this guy, and I genuinely thought that he could like me, you know?" you tried to hold back the tears that threatened to spill from your eyes once again.

"And I wasn't the only one thinking this.. my sister thought so too." Seungcheol now had a curious look and urged you to keep going.

"I was supposed to meet up with him in a few days and I really wanted to confess, I really did." this time, the tears fell from your eyes, you couldn't help it, it was so fresh, so hard, your body needed to express this unbearable inner pain it was feeling.

Seungcheol offered some comfort with his free hand coming to rub up and down your arm, "We don't have to talk about it any more if you don't feel like it," he reassured you.

"No, it's okay, you affirmed, so, you started again, I wanted to make things right, I wanted to impress him, to make him like me any more than he might already do, so I went to the mall to do some shopping, a sob escaped from your dry lips, but then I saw them, him, her" you sniffled, letting out shaky breaths in an attempt to calm yourself down.

"Them ? Him? Her?" Seungcheol asked.

"My crush and my sister" you finally said, your heart breaking a little more. The look on your friend's face changed to... confusion?

"Wait so you saw your sister with your crush at the mall? What about it?

- They were kissing, Seungcheol. Kissing."

Upon hearing this last word, his expression morphed to anger in a matter of seconds.

"What the fuck?!" he suddenly exclaimed, almost slamming his mug down onto the table.

"She kissed him knowing you liked him? This is so twisted. I can't believe it." He let out in disbelief, rubbing a hand down his face.

"And he didn't tell me either. He never told me he was seeing someone. What if she told him about my crush on him and they both fucked me over? you put your face in both on your hands, crying softly, What am I supposed to do now Seungcheol?" you questioned desperately, almost pleading him for an answer.

He leaned back in his seat, looking up in thought.

"Who is he?" he finally asked.

"Who's who?" okay maybe it wasn't the best idea to play dumb, but how could you tell him that Mingyu, your friend who also happens to be one of Seungcheol's, broke your heart ?

"The guy, he said firmly, who's the guy?" ok so now he wasn't playing. You've never seen him look this serious before, the concern and anger still obvious on his face.

You took a deep breath, preparing yourself for the worst when you breathed out : "Mingyu."

He clenched his fists upon hearing the name leave your shaky lips. As a matter of fact, his whole body tensed.

"So you saw Mingyu kissing your sister who knew you liked Mingyu ?" he summarized.

"Yeah.." you confirmed, your gaze lingering on the floor, the carpet curiously looking much more interesting than you friend who was sitting across from you.

"Does she know ? he asked

-Mh?

-Your sister. Does she know you saw them ?

-No, they didn't see me and I came over before she got home, so we didn't talk about it.

-And do you think he knew?

-Knew what ?

-That you liked him ?

-I don't know.. I don't think so, you reasoned, he would never be so cruel. you affirmed

-Yeah, you're probably right.." Seungcheol agreed, even though he wanted nothing but to punch his dear friend in the face for hurting you, he also knew it wasn't his style to hurt people's feelings. I mean this guy literally apologized to his last girlfriend for breaking up with her so of course he wasn't going to hurt one of his closest friends.

Seungcheol sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "This is a messed up situation, no doubt about it," he muttered, his expression reflecting a mixture of concern and anger.

You nodded, feeling a bit of relief knowing Seungcheol was there to listen, even if he couldn't magically fix everything. It was nice knowing there was at least one person you could trust in this whole mess.

After a moment of silence, Seungcheol leaned forward, taking both of your hands in his, his eyes fixed on you. "Listen, I know it hurts like hell right now, but you're stronger than this. I'm not going to tell you to not think about it because I know it feels impossible right now but you need to focus on yourself, okay ?

- Yeah.. you replied.

- What do you need right now?"

You thought for a moment, wiping away the tears that still lingered. "I just... I need some time to figure things out. Away from all of this," you said, gesturing vaguely around you.

Seungcheol nodded in understanding. "Alright. I get it. You can stay here as long as you need. I'll be here for you, okay?"

You managed a weak smile, feeling a sliver of hope, "Thank you, Seungcheol. I don't know what I'd do without you."

He smiled back, a reassuring presence in the middle of all of this turmoil. "You don't have to figure it all out right now. Just take it one step at a time. And remember, you're not alone in this." he finally said, giving your hands a reassuring squeeze.

And as you glanced over at Seungcheol, you couldn't help but feel a flutter in your chest, realizing just how much he truly cared for you. Perhaps, in the midst of all this chaos, there was a silver lining after all—a silver lining named Seungcheol.

"Come on, let's get you settled in bed, yeah?" he said, standing up and offering his hand out for you to take. You did so and followed him down the hallway.

As Seungcheol led you to the spare bedroom where you would be spending the night, he couldn't help but feel a mix of emotions swirling inside him. On one hand, he was glad to be able to offer you a comfortable place to rest after everything you'd been through. But on the other hand, he couldn't shake the pang of jealousy he felt at the thought of you sleeping under the same roof in a bed that wasn't his.

As he pulled back the covers and fluffed the pillows, he tried to push aside those selfish thoughts. After all, what mattered most was that you were safe and comfortable. But as he glanced over at you, he couldn't help but notice how beautiful you looked in the soft light of the bedside lamp, your eyes heavy with exhaustion yet still so full of resilience.

"Here you go," he said, gesturing to the bed. "I hope you'll be comfortable here."

You offered him a grateful smile as you sank down onto the mattress, letting out a contented sigh. "Thank you, Seungcheol. I really appreciate it."

He returned your smile, trying to ignore the way his heart skipped a beat at the sound of your voice. "Of course. Anything for you."

As he turned to leave the room, he couldn't help but linger for a moment, his gaze lingering on your sleeping form. In that moment, he realized just how much he cared about you—more than just a friend, more than just a crush. And as he quietly closed the door behind him, he made a silent promise to himself to always be there for you, no matter what.

As you settled into the comfortable bed Seungcheol had prepared for you, your mind started to buzz with thoughts of the events that had unfolded earlier. Despite your exhaustion, sleep eluded you as you thought about your sister's and Mingyu's betrayal. A notification from your phone interrupted your thoughts, a message from your sister asking where I was, seemingly worried as to what you were up to. Against you better judgment, you decided to ignore it for the moment as you let out a heavy sigh and turned your attention to Seungcheol.

He had been so kind and supportive throughout the evening, offering you a safe haven and a shoulder to lean on. His actions spoke volumes, and somehow you couldn't help but wonder if there was something more behind his gestures. The way he looked at you, the tenderness in his voice—it all hinted at a deeper connection between you. And as you drifted off into a restless sleep, you couldn't shake the feeling that perhaps Seungcheol's feelings for you ran deeper than mere friendship.

After ensuring that the spare bedroom was tidy and comfortable for you, Seungcheol made my way to the living room to clean up the mess from earlier. As he picked up discarded snack wrappers and empty mugs, his mind also ended up wandering to the events of the evening.

He couldn't shake the anger and frustration he felt towards Mingyu for hurting you, someone he cared deeply about. And yet, amidst the chaos, he couldn't deny the flutter of hope that sparked within him at the thought of being there for you, of being the one you turned to in her time of need.

As he finished cleaning up, he reached for his phone and sent a quick text to Mingyu, his fingers hesitating over the keys. Despite his anger towards him, a part of him couldn't help but wonder if this was his chance to finally confess his feelings to you. But as he stared at the blank screen, he couldn't bring myself to send the message. Instead, he pocketed his phone and made his way back to the spare bedroom, his heart heavy with uncertainty and longing.

As Seungcheol lay in bed, the weight of the evening's events heavy on his mind, he couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to the situation than met the eye.

As he mulled over the possibilities, a nagging thought tugged at the corners of his mind. What if Mingyu wasn't entirely clueless about your feelings? What if, somehow, he had sensed your affection for him, even if you hadn't explicitly confessed it?

The idea seemed far-fetched at first, but the more Seungcheol thought about it, the more it made sense. Mingyu was perceptive, after all, and he had always been attentive to the people around him. Perhaps he had noticed the subtle glances, the lingering touches, the way your face lit up whenever you were near him.

But if Mingyu was aware of your feelings, why would he pursue a relationship with your sister? Was it out of genuine interest, or was there something more sinister at play? Seungcheol couldn't shake the feeling that there was a piece of the puzzle missing, something lurking beneath the surface that he couldn't quite grasp.

As he drifted off to sleep, his mind buzzing with unanswered questions, Seungcheol's thoughts inevitably turned to you. Despite the troubles of the evening, one thing remained clear: his feelings for you ran deep. With each passing moment, his love for you only seemed to grow stronger, anchoring him amidst the storm of uncertainty.

As he vowed to uncover the truth about Mingyu's intentions, Seungcheol's resolve was fueled not only by a sense of justice for you but also by a burning desire to protect you from further harm. For he knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that he would do anything to ensure your happiness, even if it meant confronting his own heartache in the process.

With that thought in mind, Seungcheol closed his eyes, feeling a sense of determination wash over him. Whatever challenges lay ahead, he would face them head-on, armed with nothing but his unwavering love for you. And as sleep finally claimed him, he couldn't help but cling to the hope that, somehow, everything would turn out alright in the end.

[howdoyousleep3]

Rating: Explicit (E) Word Count: 4.7K Notable Tags: Dom/Sub AU, Heavy Power Imbalance, Non-Con (from characters other than Steve and in the past, no major detail), Daddy Kink, Age Difference, Sex Trafficking, Human Trafficking, Submissive Auction, Angst With a Happy Ending, Depressive Thoughts, Depressed Bucky Barnes, Slight Stockholm Syndrome, Crying, Subspace, Blowjob, Face Fucking, Orgasm Denial, Cock Cage, Size Kink, Size Difference A/N: This was originally supposed to be published in the last Kinktober I participated in under my Age Difference day. I've only read one story that was in the Dom/Sub AU and I was so taken with it, it's all I thought about as I wrote this. It's a universe where, kind of like Omegaverse, everyone has a designation of Dominant or Submissive. I didn't dive into it too heavily, but I left it totally up for my interpretation so...don't mind me lol. Compared to what I usually write, this one is kind of twisted and dark. Please read the tags and don't continue reading if it makes you uncomfy. ❤️

Read here on Ao3.

The lights in this room are much more dim than the ones in the showcase room they’ve just performed in. He feels the line of his shoulders relax at the sight, be it merely a smidgen, heart still hammering against his rib cage. His limbs continue to tremble unpleasantly, his head pounding, his hole wet and aching to the point of pain. 

He is used to this happening when he’s used without completion, climax other than his own being robbed from him, when he isn’t used for his purpose. He does as they’ve trained him though— he ignores his tender emotions and his body’s biological signs of unfulfilled submission. 

Bucky barely has half the mind to take in his surroundings, to lift his chin and glance around the room he’s quickly being shuffled into. It almost looks like a study, someone’s personal office or library. It’s deceivingly cozy with its maroon walls and moody lighting, a fireplace lit and in use on one end of the room, bookshelves lining the opposite wall. He’s slow to take in the bed in the center of the room, one that seems entirely out of place yet perfect in this setting, large and cloud-like and luxurious. 

The exhaustive ache that Bucky feels deep down to the center of his being yearns to curl up in the center of that bed like a kitten, to not be roused for hours on end. Instead he’s ordered to his knees on the rug next to it, the command settling unpleasantly on the nape of his neck like they always do. 

He looks down at himself, his nude and flushed form, eyes locking onto his hands bound and curled together in his lap, and he wonders how this is where he ended up in life. 

“Listen to me,” the handler tells him, voice unharsh yet still grating, the command one he’s forced to listen to. Bucky’s never enjoyed his designation, has rarely ever been comfortable being a Sub, but these moments are the ones he hates the most. He despises not having a choice, has a special kind of hatred for being commanded against his will, his body listening before his mind can fight against it. But he’s quick to respond, quick to mumble, “Yes, Sir,” because that’s what they’ve spent the last three months training Bucky to do. 

“You no longer belong to us,” the Dominant handler states without emotion, and even given the circumstances, relief kicks up into Bucky’s chest. “Your personal possessions are in this bag, your Dom will handle everything else once your bond is initiated. If it is initiated.” Bucky flinches. “You understand the reputation we hold here and the standards we’ve instilled in you, yes?” 

Bucky bites out another, “Yes, Sir,” before the handler is done moving purposefully around the room, coming to stand in front of Bucky. He doesn’t raise his head, just as he’s been taught.

“Good. I advise you to keep those in mind once you leave this place. You haven’t been the easiest Sub to deal with, James. I’d hate for your Dom to send you back here because you did not meet expectations. He won you fair and square with the highest bid; don’t make him regret that.” 

The severity of the situation Bucky’s been put in, the past few months, hits him in the solar plexus when he hears these words. He isn’t sure why his brain decides to catch up in this moment, why he decides to feel the weight of the past weeks here at the feet of his handler in the very last moment they’ll see each other, but he feels his chest constrict painfully. His hole aches in waves, mouth watering in preparation for what it thinks is coming, desperate, and Bucky bites back his whimper when he feels his dick wish to fill out. 

He never gets what he wants, what he needs, is always left feeling unfulfilled and purposeless. They’ve had to increase his dosage of meds they give him each day as a result of how affected he has become from touch after touch leaving him emptier and emptier. A Sub shouldn’t live like this yet here he is, having been picked up off the streets and trained to be the best of the best on such evil touches. 

He’s going to be so fucked up because of this place. 

Having been put on display in every possible way in the performance room during his shining moment, he wonders if this is the last time he’ll feel so used and hollow. Will his new Dom continue to leave him feeling so empty? Will he make Bucky do things he doesn’t want to do, use him against his will, take advantage of him and his designation? He feels so low in this moment he can’t see anything but that happening, of being owned and living this life of misery. Surely Bucky won’t survive. 

His handler doesn’t even say goodbye, doesn’t acknowledge Bucky as he leaves, and Bucky hates how much that hurts. He’s once again betrayed by his biological needs, betrayed by the intrinsic need to please and to obey, and even given the piss poor treatment they’ve put him through here, Bucky wishes his handler would leave him with more positive words, with the praise he so desperately craves. 

When he hears the door close behind the Dom, he can’t help the whimper that bubbles up and out of his mouth. 

His eyes don’t leave the floor because no one has told him he can raise his head, and even though he no longer belongs to this establishment, he can’t will his inner submissive to look up. Instead, his eyes lock onto the cage around his dick. He despises this thing. Before he was lured in with promises of a warm meal and an even warmer bed he had only heard of cock cages being utilized in either the most severe of relationships or for fun, no in between. He had never worn one until his training. 

He hates it, has tried taking it off on his own multiple times before his harshest of training had set in. He hasn’t come once during his time here, can barely remember what his own climax feels like. 

“Your pleasure no longer belongs to you, James. Your orgasms are not your own; they belong to your Dom.”

It’s ironic yet devastating to Bucky that all of this training, all of this pain, was pointless. Bucky could be a good Sub for someone, he knows it. He could give the right someone all of the things his training had brought out without the misery he’s gone through for these people. He could give his mind, body, and soul easily over to the right person. This line of thinking shifts into the only thing that brought him comfort each night; the only thing that helped him get the little sleep that he did— 

His Daddy. 

Well, hopefully his Daddy. 

If he’s the perfect man for Bucky, he’ll be his Daddy. 

And his knight in shining armor, this perfect Dom, his Daddy, would come one day to take him away from this hell. That’s what he dreamt about each night, that his Dom, strong enough for the both of them, big enough to easily cradle Bucky’s not entirely petite form close to his chest, would whisk him away from this place and give him everything he could ever need. His Dom that can teach him how to cook his favorite meals for him, his Dom that is patient, his Dom that is proud of Bucky. Every night when he needed comfort to sleep, this man would be the comfort Bucky needed to finally rest. 

Bucky wonders what his Dom is going to be like, what he’s going to look like, but most of all Bucky wonders if he is going to like Bucky. Surely he is attracted to Bucky if he got into a bidding war with someone else for Bucky, if he paid damn near a million dollars for Bucky’s bond, for his life. There is a sliver of hope that the highest bidder’s intentions are pure.

Bucky is so exhausted, right down to the bone, that he doesn’t even startle when he hears the door to the room open once more. He doesn’t lift his head, as he’s been taught, but this time he does it because of the onslaught of nerves that wrack his body. This is it, this is his new Dom, the one he’ll have for life, the one whose bond will be initiated tonight. With one last unmated deep breath, Bucky sends a wish out into the universe for his Dom to be kind, for him to show Bucky the love he’s never been given in life, to love Bucky. 

The sound of steady footsteps reach his ears at almost the same moment a sense of calm washes over Bucky’s being. It hits him in waves, drips down his spine like warm honey, a sensation so pleasurable his chest shakes with his caged sob. His nostrils fill with the scents of cinnamon and vanilla and a bonfire deep in the forest. His eyes well up with tears as he continues to look down at his hands, mind racing in disbelief at his body’s immediate reaction to his new Dom, a reaction he’s not experienced before.

Hope begins to seep into Bucky’s limbs as a pair of sleek, black boots come into view.

“James?”

Oh. 

He doesn’t realize he’s holding his breath until his next exhale comes out as a choked sob. Upon hearing that voice the hope in his body bursts, shatters, into something more fierce, something that has him responding with a quiet and thoughtless— 

“Daddy?” 

He doesn’t look up, doesn’t let his eyes leave the floor, those expensive boots. He feels his hands tremble in his lap, can almost hear them do so. He isn’t given enough time to panic about addressing his new Dom by a title that wasn’t approved by him, wasn’t given permission to use, because his Dom is responding confidently. 

“Look at me, please.”

Bucky’s eyelids flutter upon hearing the gentle command in such a soothing, rich voice, and he takes a deep and shaky breath before listening like a good boy…

And immediately begins sobbing in full.

It’s the faceless man from Bucky’s dreams, he’s sure of it. He has kind ocean eyes, an otherworldly physical presence. There’s experience etched into every part of his being, from his graying hair to the wrinkles around his eyes to the calmness that sweeps off of him in waves. He smiles down at Bucky and it makes him feel like he’s the most precious creature on the planet. 

“Oh, my angel…”

This is the man that is going to save his life.

This is his Daddy. 

With his eyesight now blurry because of his tears, he doesn’t see the hand coming down before it cups his chin. There’s a strength in this grip that Bucky knows will soothe him, hold him, love him for the rest of his life. A thumb swipes at his tears, wiping them from his cheek. He can’t remember the last time he felt such comfort from another human being. Even before he was forced into this facility, through all his sexual encounters, gentleness and softness were not things he experienced. He’s almost forgotten what it’s like, to feel a reassuring touch. 

“James,” his Daddy reverently murmurs, stroking his thumb over Bucky’s trembling bottom lip. “Why are you crying, sweetheart?” 

He swallows thickly, his eyes roving over his Daddy’s face, taking a few seconds to selfishly drink the older man in. His body reacts to its Dom’s presence like it knows its Daddy is finally here, its biological needs taking over all other needs, roaring to life within him. Bucky’s eyes fight to cross when he takes in the size of his Dom’s denim-clad thighs, how he fills out his cozy sweater. His Daddy’s so big. He wiggles his hips where he sits, chin in his Daddy’s big hand. 

“I’ve just…I’ve…I’ve been waiting for you for so long,” is what Bucky ends up saying quietly, sniffling, and his Dom’s smile is slow and sweet, like he enjoys Bucky’s answer. 

“I’ve been waiting for you forever, James.” 

Those words feel like pure sunlight.

But Bucky shakes his head without thought, stops himself abruptly after two shakes. He’s reminded then of his handler’s words, that he was a difficult Sub. He can’t take the risk of being anything but the best Sub. He’s already afraid to lose his Daddy; he has to be good. 

But his Dom has caught his defiance. 

“What is it, James?” 

“Nothing, Sir.” 

His Dom doesn’t miss a beat. 

“No, sweetheart— no lies, no holding back, no unspoken feelings. I always want to know what you are thinking, what your feelings are. So tell me, James. What is it?” 

Christ. Bucky can’t help but sniffle again, unable to get his tears under control. His Dom is perfect. 

“B-Bucky,” he mumbles. “I go by Bucky. I don’t…I don’t like James.” 

His Dom’s smile is warm, his fingers that squeeze around Bucky’s chin reassuring. He repeats Bucky’s name, practicing it a few times, each one sending Bucky melting further into his head and surely into the floor. 

“Of course, sweetheart— Bucky. My name is Steve,” he tells him, and Bucky’s insides warm with more of that sunlight Steve is bringing into his life. 

Steve. 

A strong name for a strong man, a name that belongs to a man that gently commands attention. It’s the perfect name, or so Bucky thinks.

“But you can call me Daddy, Bucky.’

That’s the best name, the perfect name. 

Hands still tied together in his lap, dick still in its cage, Bucky turns his head and nuzzles his cheek into his new Daddy’s palm, the warmth and sheer size of it making him lightheaded. It takes him a moment to recognize that this is the beginnings of him going under, of finding that sweet space within. He’d gotten so used to being forced there, his designation being used against him to put him under, that he’d almost forgotten what it was like to be sent there willingly. 

His whimpers seem endless even to his own ears. 

“Look at that,” Steve marvels from his place above Bucky, voice the most soothing of tones, a sensation in and of itself. He allows Bucky to nuzzle his cheek further into his palm, even as Bucky gives into the urge and desire to press kisses to his fingers. Such a forgiving Dom.

“I knew it the moment I laid eyes on you, that you’d be everything I’ve dreamt of having all to myself.”

Bucky sobs. The emotions that one sentence brings him is enough to beg Steve to not go any further. But Bucky is selfish, he is admittedly greedy. He’s been given nothing while being here, before this. He has continuously poured from a deserted and infinitely empty cup and has been given nothing when his heart, his mind, his body demands it, needs it, in order to survive. 

“Your tears,” Steve murmurs, interjecting his own shared line of thinking. “Are they good or bad, Bucky? Please tell me.” 

A request yet a command. A tender one. One Bucky must answer, is finally willing to answer. “Both,” is what he decides to admit. 

“Both?” 

He nods his head within Steve’s grip. “Yes, Daddy. Bad because…because I am sad for my past self. That I was never given a chance to be good and then said chance was forcefully taken away from me.” Before Steve can speak to those words, Bucky quickly continues. “But good because you’re here…you’re finally here. And I…I get to be so g-good for you.” 

Steve’s exhale is heavy, laced with a sound of pleasure that settles over Bucky’s own shoulders and neck. Bucky’s dick strains against its cage, his mind slipping from himself further. 

Steve sticks his thick thumb between Bucky’s lips and Bucky nearly sobs again, hiccuping around where he purses his mouth.

“You are extraordinary,” Steve tells him and Bucky truly believes it given his reverent tone. “The moment you stepped on stage, I knew it. I’ve been coming here for years. Did they tell you that? Years, Bucky.  I’m their hardest client to please, the one they couldn’t wait to be rid of. Money is of no importance, my preferences vague. Kept telling them I’d know when to bid, when the right Sub would be coming home with me.”  

Bucky sucks on Steve’s thumb harder, grateful to have something in his mouth as his Dom showers him with praise. 

“They even told me they’d go out of their way to find someone that fit what I was looking for, that we could forgo an auction altogether. I told them no.”

His Daddy is so powerful. 

Bucky slips further into his head. 

“Never once did I question myself; I knew you were out there. And when you stepped onto that stage with those legs and that mouth and those eyes…oh, kitten— you were made for me.” 

Bucky sways forward, head dizzy with need and relief curling together, tightly wound. Steve wraps his other fingers around Bucky’s chin, holding him steady. 

“And you’re going to be the sweetest, most affectionate boy for me, aren’t you? This is everything we’ve both been waiting for, isn’t it?”

Bucky nods his head frantically, laps at Steve’s thumb and sucks it into the back of his mouth. 

“You’re going to bring us so much joy through your submission, aren’t you? You’re going to bring us the purpose we’ve been craving. Together.” 

Bucky doesn’t know how to communicate that his feelings are terribly overwhelming, that he doesn’t know what to do with himself because of it. The force of his emotions leave his body trembling where he kneels. If Steve’s thumb weren’t in his mouth his teeth would surely be clacking against one another with the force of his tremors. His head spins in less of the dizzy way he’s been experiencing these past weeks and more in a euphoric way he’s always dreamt it could. 

His body already trusts its Daddy, leaning towards him and into his touch, loosening up further and further. The line in his shoulders softens, the tension in his thighs diminishes. Even with Steve’s thumb in his mouth, the tightness no longer residing in his jaw is obvious. 

Even as Bucky spent his nights dreaming of this moment, weeping for this moment, he never imagined it could be this perfect. 

But then Steve is reaching for his belt buckle with his other hand, the button on his black dress pants, and Bucky wonders if he is in fact dreaming. 

“Let Daddy give you something else to suck on, sugar. You look like you need it,” Steve purrs, reaching into his now open dress pants and pulling out his cock. Weeping nearly as much as Bucky has been, Steve’s cock is impossibly thick and deliciously heavy. It has Bucky’s hips wiggling once more, his vision going blurry as he’s presented with his Daddy’s cock for the very first time. He can’t stop the onslaught of sniffles and weepy eyes as he reminds himself once more that he’s so goddamn lucky Steve waited for him. 

He opens his mouth as soon as that cock is above him, letting Steve’s thumb pop from between his lips, whining as he does so. He can smell Steve from here, his warm scent with an added muskiness to it that has Bucky unabashedly groaning, tongue out. 

And then Steve pulls his balls out too, and Bucky nearly asks to be pinched. 

“Daddy…” 

“Gimme a kiss, sweetheart. Let Daddy feel that precious mouth.”

The moment the fat head of Steve’s cock lands on his tongue, Bucky feels the closest thing to submissive bliss he’s ever felt. It’s euphoric. The taste of him, this Dom, his Daddy, blooms on his tongue, bursts through his being. The taste of his excitement, his precome, forces another ragged noise from Bucky as he sucks Steve further into his mouth, savoring every inch of him. Steve’s thunderous and drawn out groan feels like a climax to Bucky.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Steve exclaims through an exhale, Bucky barely tethered to the earth. “That’s it. Show Daddy how much you’ve missed him, show him how perfect you are.”

In the three months he’s been here, servicing a Dom has not once felt like this. In his time before this, his time on the streets and beyond, he’s never felt solid within his submissiveness. The stretch of his jaw, the hot slide of velvet wrapped steel on his tongue and down his throat, the feel of Steve’s large fingers sliding through his hair; it all brings him a sense of purpose he’s failed to receive all these years. 

And he can’t help but sob around his mouthful. 

“I knew it, I…fuck, I knew you were made for me, Bucky” Steve tells him, voice full of awe and dripping with lust. “I can’t wait to see how far you drop, how far I can push you. You’re gonna let Daddy push you, aren’t you? You’re gonna let him learn all about you?” 

Bucky confirms Steve’s suspicions with another loud, garbled noise around his cock, one of obvious enthusiasm. He’s dropping hard now, wants to tell his Daddy he’s barely holding on, but then Steve’s hands are moving, holding Bucky’s head in place as he pulls his hips back. 

Using Bucky. 

What little headspace Bucky has left reserved for himself is used to marvel at how easily, how purposefully, it was for Steve to step into this role as his Daddy. 

He’d give Steve the world. 

He’ll give Steve whatever he wants, whenever he wants it, all the time. 

This is his life’s purpose now, being used for his Daddy’s pleasure, serving his Daddy. Being owned by his Daddy.

He’s left with no choice but to cry. 

Bucky opens up his throat as his eyes begin to close, leaning forward on his knees, letting Steve fuck his mouth. With an easy and sharp noise, Bucky immediately knows that Steve wants his eyes open and on him. He does just that, looking up at Steve as he sticks his tongue out obediently, moaning at the fullness of his mouth. 

“That’s it, that’s a good boy,” Steve murmurs, voice melting down Bucky’s spine as Steve’s fingers dig into his hair. “You’re so good, you’re already so good for your Daddy. Look at you, look how much you love sucking on your Daddy’s cock. You perfect baby Sub.”

Bucky’s head grows fuzzier, his dick aching, his core aching. He slurps around Steve’s cock but it does nothing to slow the trail of spit dripping down his chin and sliding towards his neck. Steve is a dream, an absolute dream. Bucky needs a communicator, needs someone who will listen and who will talk to him, especially when it’s filthy. Bucky wants to be talked dirty to, wants to experience that side of sex, especially when it’s praise. Especially when it’s from Steve. 

Without warning, Steve kicks his hips forward, a noise akin to a growl falling from his lips, his fingers tightening in Bucky’s hair. It’s a slip of his obvious control, his inner Dom breaking through, impatient. Bucky meets him full force with his own submission, moaning around his Daddy’s cock, showing him he can take it. 

“Yeah, you know what that is, don’t you? Your Sub knows a Dom when he feels one, doesn’t he?” 

Bucky’s whine is damn near desperate. 

“You know how hard it is for your Dom not to take you right here on this fucking floor, sweetheart? Makes me feel feral, the way I want to make you mine. Mhmm, your Daddy doesn’t want that though. Your Daddy wants to take you home, take you away from this place forever. He wants to treat you right.” 

Bucky swallows around his mouthful.

He can feel Steve’s groan all the way down here, down in his toes.

“Here’s what we’re going to do, sweetheart,” Steve tells him, his hands holding onto both sides of his face. He pulls his cock out of Bucky’s mouth just enough to where Bucky can only suckle on the tip of it given the restraint Steve has put him in. The connection of their eyes, the way Steve looks down at him, strikes a chord deep, deep within Bucky. 

He whimpers as he suckles on the big, swollen head of his Daddy’s cock as he listens. 

“I’m going to give you what you want. I’m going to give you my come, fill your pretty belly with it. I have a hunch that’s going to send you right under, which is perfect. You’re so perfect, angel.”

Bucky whimpers again. 

“And then Daddy’s going to take you home. And when we get home, I’m going to give you a bath and play with your little body until you’re nice and loose and ready to take my big cock.” 

Bucky whimpers again. 

“And then I’m going to fuck your little hole until it sends you right back under, until you come all over my cock, until our bond snaps into place and we finally and officially belong to one another.” 

Oh. 

Bucky sniffles as he lets Steve use his mouth, tears trailing down his cheeks and mixing with the spit smeared on his chin. He wasn’t sure if the person who bought him would want to bond so quickly, if they’d want to bond at all. It’s been implied to him since he got here that he was too difficult of a Sub to become bonded. To hear that Steve wants to take him away from this dreadful place, to their home, in order to bond with him is a dream come true. 

It’s what begins to send him under. 

“That’s it, kitten,” Steve pants, fucking himself impossibly deep into Bucky’s mouth. “That’s it, baby. Oh, I can almost feel you slipping from me. Have you stolen my heart already? Have you tempted my bond already, Bucky?” 

Bucky’s vision begins to grow fuzzy around the edges, his mind pulling in on itself, hypnotized by the drag of Steve’s cock in and out of his mouth. In and out, in and out, in and out. Blessedly not rough, but intense and all-consuming. His jaw nearly aches at the stretch of Steve’s girth and it’s— 

It’s bliss. 

Daddy’s hands in his hair, Daddy’s cock in his mouth, Daddy’s praise in his ear, Daddy’s eyes on his face, Daddy’s come on his tongue. 

“Daddy.” 

“You’re mine now, Bucky. No one is ever going to hurt you, never again. I’ll give you everything you could ever want as a Sub and as a boy. You’ll never wish for anything now that I’m your Daddy,” Steve tells him as he shoots off down Bucky’s throat, hands in Bucky’s hair, petting him as he pumps his hips.

His Daddy’s voice is steady and strong, full of promise and love. And as he kneels there at his Daddy’s feet with Steve’s warm come settling into his belly, his Daddy’s cock still in his slack mouth, Bucky finally, finally lets himself sink.

[ladylooch]

Omg it’s okay!!! My request was a smut with Nico and she has a breeding kink after playing with timo and Emma’s kid. And he sucks her tits a LOT. 🫠 and while they’re fucking he dirty talks about having a baby

-🌸 anon

A/N: Message me when you see what I did ☠️ Everyone say thank you 🌸 for smutty Nico and Lexi making our baby, Lucie.

Word Count: 2.0k

From this lil AU.

I am not sure how much longer I can take this. 

Our nephew, Lio, is in love with Nico today. He wants nothing to do with either of his parents. The result of Nico carting this baby everywhere is my fertile ovaries bouncing in my body. They ache for Nico until it spreads like consuming wildfire across my skin, burying deep into my bones. The only cure is getting railed.

I push out a heavy breath, catching Emma’s attention.

“You good? You seem like you’re anxious.”

“I- uh.. Yeah. Your brother with Lio is really cute.” Emma shields her eyes, looking to the pool where Nico and Timo supervise Lio’s swim time. He’s wearing little floaties and a floppy, fish bucket hat. Nico is holding him outwards, trolling him through the water as he laughs. 

“Yeah that is precious.” Emma whines. “If I didn’t remember labor so distinctly, I might pull the plug and beg for another.” She shrugs, going back to her magazine.

Pulling the birth control plug would be so easy for me right now. I just wouldn’t start my new pack. We could dive right into bed together and he could… My mind gets lost in the fantasy of him and I working together for something so special in our fancy hotel room. Nico has been talking about babies more and more the last few weeks. We have been spending so much time with Timo, Emma, and Lio. The endless baby snuggles and giggles have turned into a craving for us both. Our apartment feels too quiet. Our life has something missing. But babies are a big change. And neither of us has had the courage to spit it out loud yet.

Lio’s crying pulls me out of my daydream. The three boys walk towards us. The upset baby reaches out for his mom with big, crocodile tears, trying to wiggle from Nico’s grasp.

“Oh sweet boy. Come here. Are you tired?” Emma pulls her son into her chest, stroking at his cheek as she gets him ready to nurse. Timo tosses a thin blanket onto the two of them and sits beside Emma on her chaise.

“He’s really tired. He keeps getting water in his eyes from rubbing his fists into them.”

“Yeah, we should go back to the room for a bit.”

“Honestly, I could use a nap too. This kid tired me out being his chauffeur all day.” Nico tells us, yawning at the end.

“He loves you so much.” Emma smiles at her little brother. “You’re daddy material for sure.” Her distinct wink at me has my lips pursing with a giggle.

We all head towards the bank of elevators. Nico asks if I want to grab a drink at the bar, but I shake my head. I am also sleepy from laying in the sun doing absolutely nothing, and laying with him in bed sounds like pure perfection. He is relieved when I say no. Inside our room, I run to the bed, jumping under the covers as Nico puts our pool stuff to the side. I snuggle in deep on his pillow. He chuckles, pushing me over so he can climb in.

“I wanna share this with you.” It’s a California King and fairly feasible. He settles on the other side, turned my way so we can look at each other. I think about telling him my desires from the pool, but his black lashes are battling sleep and it’s not the time.

Nico wakes me up an hour later with a gentle squeeze of my butt. Then, his lips begin to pepper kisses along my cheeks. 

“Hey, Emma just called. They are ready to head back down. Do you want to go or stay here?”

“Let’s go.” I nod, stretching out. I feel recharged from my nap and ready for another margarita. 

Nico heads to the bathroom then comes out, double checking the pool bags.

“Oh, Lio’s hat is with us.” He picks it up, showing me the floppy bucket hat that was responsible for the ovary bouncing. “I can’t wait to buy our kids cute stuff like this. I mean, come on.” He chuckles, tossing it to me. I catch it, tracing an orange fish with googly eyes. My eyes go back to his as he ruffles around in the bags some more, checking the sunscreen supply. He does a double take when he sees the look in my eyes.

“Lex?”

“Neeks, I want you to get me pregnant. I want your baby in me like now.” The words fly out of my mouth suddenly. I clasp my hand over my mouth in shock. Then force myself to continue because the words touched air and I have an ache that will not let me breathe if he doesn’t soothe it. “I want our babies to grow up with Em and Timo’s kids. Let’s just have a whole parade of them together.”

“Are you serious?”

“I’m so serious. Drop the bags and put a baby in me.” 

With no hesitation, Nico empties his hands. He rushes across the room to me, lifting me up into his arms as we aggressively grope at each other. Tongues lap at each other as Lio’s fish hat falls to the ground at our feet.

“Please. Please.” I beg him again. “Watching you with Lio. It’s… done something to me. My brain chemistry is fucked. I don’t know.”

“Damn, Lex.” He moans. “This is so hot.” He groans back as I rub against him, squeezing him over his swim suit. “Are you sure? I need you to be so sure.”

“I am, babe. Please.”

“God, say ‘please put a baby in me’.”

“Please.” I whine earnestly. “Put your baby in me. Wanna make you a daddy, Neeks.”

Nico grunts out in earnest, then puts me on the edge of the bed. He reaches for my bikini bottoms, pulling them off and tossing them behind him. They land on the corner of the TV. I laugh, then suck in a surprised gasp as Nico strokes a finger through my slick flesh.

“Soaked. Baby.” He moans. “Are you off the pill?”

“Um, well, I was supposed to start today but I haven’t taken it.” 

“So this is… no birth control at all?”

“Yeah.” 

“Fuck.” He moans, then pulls himself out of his blue swim trunks. He is rigid, veins protruding against the taut skin. His fingers stroke his hard length, oozing pre-cum out of his head. I untie the white cover up for him. He leans down, stroking himself still while sucking on my nipple through my bikini top. His fingers brush my clit, rubbing gracious circles while I press against his hand.

“Want you inside of me.” I moan, tangling my fingers through his locks as he sucks my other nipple. His mouth opens wider, sucking so much of my flesh into his mouth until his teeth tighten into a gentle bite. My ohmygod is lost in the air of the room, stifled out by the lack of oxygen in my lungs from Nico’s touch. I reach my hand down, encircling his throbbing cock with him and stroking in rhythm together. 

“Gonna cum on your stomach if we keep going.” He says, pulling away from my grasp to run his engorged head along my clit.

“We can’t have that. Need you to cum inside of me.”

“Lex, I did not think you had this in you.” He chuckles, poising at my entrance as he rests one hand on the bed by my head. 

“Look what made me into, Nico Hischier.”

“I’m so lucky.” He says against my lips as he beings to move inside of me. The intensity of his entrance is dulled by the sweetness of his lips on mine. He consumes my moans. “Gonna have the best mama for my baby.” I reach for the hem of his shirt, shoving it up his abdomen and trying to get it off his head. 

“Help.” I am desperate to touch his bare skin. He pauses inside of me, taking his shirt off and knocking his hat off too. I bite my lip as he comes down to kiss me again. His hand shoves my bikini top up my breasts to expose them. 

“I love your tits. I hope they get bigger.” 

“They will.” I moan. “And then you can’t have them.”

“Fuck. That’s gonna be tough.” He works himself deeper into me, watching my face for my head to do… that. It falls to the side as my face scrunches up in need. “Need your help to cum, sweets.”

“Don’t stop…” I whisper as my hand falls to my clit, rubbing in sync with his thrusting. “Nico.”

“I love you, baby. Come for me.”

His words make the ache explode into white hot heat in my core. My legs shake against his sides where he has my knees pressed back. His hands come up, shoving my thighs into my stomach as he fucks himself deep. I reach down, gripping his shaft and stroking forward as he releases cum inside of me. Nico squeeze my hand as we pull more out of him, bucking his hips with a wide open, gasping mouth. He exhales sharply, gently easing out, still dribbling a bit from his tip.

“I love you too.” I finally say, panting in unison with him as my hands grip both his forearms. His hands hold my hips in place as he works towards recover.

Nico crawls onto the bed with me, laying beside me as his right hand covers my belly. I hold his hand there, all three of them rising and falling with my fast breathing. We stare at the ceiling together. Nico’s thumb begins to trace over my skin. I feel emotional tears pinching at my eyes. Nico and I are trying. This is real. We are going to make a baby. Our baby.

“I want this with you so bad, Neeks. That wasn’t just talk.”

“I know. I do too.” He assures, rolling to his side and kissing my shoulder. I turn my face to him so he can kiss my lips. “We should do that a few more times.”

“Yeah. Like at least nine before we leave.” Nico grins.

“Let’s make it 12 for lucky 13 total.” I laugh as he strokes his fingers along my belly again. “I’m going to spoil you.” 

“You already do.”

“Get ready. It’s going to be even more.”

Nico’s phone begins to ring in the pool bag. He tucks himself back into his shorts, then goes to grab it.

“What the fuck are you two doing?” Timo’s voice comes through the speaker. Nico makes eye contact with me and we share a silent laugh. 

“Sorry, we fell back asleep.”

“Hurry up, Lio is crabby because he wants Uncle Ni snuggles.” 

“Okay. Five minutes. We’ll be back at the pool.”

He clicks the end button, stuffing his phone into his swim trunks.  

“Uncle Ni gonna be Daddy Ni.” I grin, grabbing my swimsuit bottoms from the TV corner and sliding them on. Nico closes his eyes, shoulders drawn down while his hands go to cover his lap. “Did daddy get you?”

“Yeah.”

“Nico Hischier, my baby daddy.” I sing-song as I dance across the room to him. He pulls me into his arms as I go on my tip toes to kiss him. He helps me retie my bathing suit top on and close my cover up. His fingers splay out on my ribs as he looks down at me when we are done re-dressing together. 

“Today is another moment in my life I couldn’t imagine not having you a part of.” I soften, melting into his body at his sweet words. “No one else I want to do this with but you.”

Life with Nico is an unbelievable dream. Nobody wake me.

[beezusvreeland]

dear reader - chapter 3

summary: Miguel took the reader’s love and friendship for granted. Something he learns reading her column, when it’s too late…Or is it?

ship: miguel o'hara x f!reader // matt murdock x reader

______________________________________________________________

Chapter 3

Two weeks passed, but it might as well be an entire lifetime. Edinburgh suited you very well. The cold early mornings that turned into very nice afternoons and ended with you making sure the heater was on for the night. You woke up at the dorms provided by the school, made yourself a nice Earl Grey tea, got ready and walked your way to class. 

You picked a different path every day, but there was no denying that walking by Victoria Street in the Grassmarket area was your favorite way to get to university. It was just so charming: bright colored walls, cobblestones and unique shops. You had even read somewhere that it was the inspiration for Diagon Alley in the Harry Potter books. There really was something magical about that city.

A couple of mornings a week, you had a writing workshop titled “The Self and Others: translating feelings into words”, which you couldn’t even believe was a real thing. There were a few familiar faces in the class, but you were drawn to Jessica Drew, the girl you met on your first day, and a younger kid who she took under her wings called Miles Morales. The three of you would always sit next to each other. It was kind of nice.

The workshop was led by professor Otto Octavious, whose passion for writing was infectious. So much so, that your peers affectionately called him “the last romantic” behind his back. 

“Today is a beautiful day to increase your word count”, the teacher joked, making the class erupt in laughter. “Usually we start the day with a discussion, but I’d like to do something a little different today.”

“Always keeping us in our toes, huh, professor?”, Miles teased.

“You know it, mr. Morales”, professor Octavious said, a smile on his face. “Most of you have been writing for a long time, so you probably have already learned about one of the biggest challenges a non fiction writer faces: most times, what happens in real life is so unbelievable, it doesn’t translate well to the page.”

The professor gets up from his chair and writes the name “Dani Shapiro” on the chalkboard. “That’s the name of one of the most prolific non fiction writers today. She has a quote about our craft that I always carry near my heart: ‘Writers are outsiders. Even when we seem like insiders, we’re outsiders. We have to be. Our noses pressed to the glass, we notice everything. We mull and interpret. We store away clues, details that may be useful to us later’.”

The room was quiet, except for professor Octavius’ voice. You could tell, even without looking to your classmates, that what he read had resonated with all of them. It was a perfect description of a sentiment you always had, but were never able to describe. You just thought there was something wrong with you. But there wasn’t. And you were not alone. 

“Let that sink in for a moment”, the teacher smiled. He knew exactly how the students felt the quote deeply. “Today I’d like for us to do something different. For the next hour, I want you to write about a detail you kept to yourself for a long time. The idea is to describe it and explore the reason you shelved it into your minds for so long. It can be about anything, as long as it is meaningful to you and that you allow yourselves to dive into your own vulnerabilities.” 

After the hour passed, you and your peers would share what you wrote with the rest and discuss it.

You opened a new document on your laptop, taking a deep breath. Obviously you had a whole storage of small details inside your head. But you felt uneasy, something you kept shoving to the side slowly creeping back to you. Or rather, someone. 

As if reading your mind, a notification appeared in the corner of your screen. A new email from no one other than Miguel O’Hara. 

Hey there, how are you? How is Scotland treating you? I hope you are drinking as many pints and visiting as many castles as you can. Congrats about the scholarship, by the way. It’s a big deal and you deserve it. I’m sorry about the whole dinner thing, I really fucked up and haven’t been a good friend to you. I’m sorry about that too. I don’t expect you to forgive me, but if you do, I promise I will do better. 

Anyways, enjoy your time there as much as possible — Hobie and Pav have been complaining that you haven’t sent them pictures so far, thought you should know. 

Miguel

PS: Do you remember my roommate from college I told you about? Peter B. He’s back in town and just the other day showed me an interview you did with Mary Jane Watson. It turned out really good. You always ask very thoughtful questions. 

And just like that, the Miguel area of your heart exploded again.

***

Dear reader,

Just the other day I was talking with my girlfriends about the romantic gestures in books, TV and movies that made us create insane expectations about love. The impromptu declarations, the running in the airport, the showing up unannounced — any decent human being knows you have to at least send the other person a text saying you are coming by. 

I have always been more drawn to the caring gestures and the acts of service. Maybe because that is my own love language. There is a scene in Say Anything… (1989) where Lloyd is walking Diane, the girl he has loved throughout high school, home after a party. They are talking and he is paying so much attention to what she has to say. All of the sudden, Lloyds stops her. There were pieces of glass in her way on the floor. He kicks them to the side and keeps walking, as if it was nothing, just the way things are supposed to be. It gets me everytime. 

I love to bring my friends coffee or even bake them food when they are having really intense weeks at work, helping them out with some errand or impossible shore. Sometimes I feel really silly about it. Especially when it comes to the guy . I know I shouldn’t, but when it comes to him, I feel insane. 

I feel insane because I always have his favorite ice cream in my freezer and the drinks he likes in the refrigerator. In my love drunk brain, these can be excuses to ask him to come up to my apartment, to have him stay more, even if it is just for a few minutes. This is not a tip, by the way. If anything, it is a warning: seeing the person you love enjoying their favorite dessert can make you lose your mind. Be aware.

Once I planned a Fast and Furious marathon. But only from the 5th movie on, when things get out of hand and the franchise becomes something else entirely. It was a way to spend a rainy sunday with snacks and drinking games. I spent saturday cleaning the apartment and buying everything the two of us would need. Imagine my face when some of our other friends showed up as well, because he had invited them. And I love all my friends, but only wanted to spend time with him.

There is also another fictional gesture that has been stuck in my head since I was a pre teen. Before the show, the Gossip Girl books were a huge deal, and I read almost all of them. Each chapter was told from a different character's perspective and Blair’s were my favorite. When she is mourning her relationship with Nate, who was in love with Serena, Blair remembers what they had gone through together. Once, wanting to impress him, she sewed a heart pin inside the sleeve of a sweater she gifted him for a special occasion. It was a way to show him that he literally had her heart under sleeve. It was such a simple and meaningful gesture. Except Nate never noticed. Not while they were together, at least. Isn’t that always the way?

Maybe we were supposed to focus some of that energy on ourselves. The hours of disappointment for the retribution that never happens won’t come back to us. 

I wish I had a more uplifting message today, but this is all I could manage. I hope you understand. 

Meet you here next week. And remember: never take advice from someone who’s falling apart.

Love, 

The writer

***

Miguel felt anxious about your lack of response to his email. He kept trying to reason it in his mind: you were probably really busy…or you were still mad at him. He was sure the fact it took him so long to write to you didn’t help. But the constant checking of his emails and all social media and waiting for a life sign from you was exhausting. Is that what addiction felt like?

Miguel tried to distract himself by taking more workloads and secretly reading your columns. It was fascinating getting to know that side of you, and he wondered why it was so new to him. You were more reserved, of course, but never failed to be there or show interest in his life. He couldn’t remember the last conversation you had that wasn’t about him and his work. It felt horrible knowing that maybe there was a lot you wanted to talk about and he never gave you space to or asked questions about you. Miguel asked himself when he had become that person, or if he had always been that way. And what he could do to make things better, because an apology didn’t seem like enough. 

He took a break from his spreadsheets to check his email inbox and social media. Nothing. So he went back to Bliss ’ archive and read another one of your older columns, the one where you wrote about romantic gestures. That last part had him so confused, he decided to ask for help. Miguel was that desperate.

“Lyla”, he called on his office phone.

“Yes, boss.”

“What is Gossip Girl?”

Lyla remained silent. Miguel was about to call the thing of, saying it was a joke, when she answered, her excited and teasing tone coming through:

“Why do you ask?”

“It’s classified.”

Lyla chuckled. She had noticed her boss had been acting weird lately, but couldn’t quite point her finger at why. 

“Is it for an Alchemax project?”, the assistant tried to keep her language professional. 

“It’s for…a personal one”, Miguel regretted everything, his eyes closed in embarrassment, even though Lyla was in another room.

“Okay…What exactly do you want to know about Gossip Girl?”

“Who are these people, Blair, Nate and Serena? What’s the story?”

She laughed. He should’ve known his assistant would have too much fun with it.

“Lyla…”, Miguel complained.

“Okay okay, sorry, boss, it’s just these are names I never thought I’d hear you say.”

“Just tell me the story.”

“It’s a big one, actually. The show has six seasons.”

“Does Blair end up with Nate?”

“Hell no”, Lyla scoffed. “She marries Chuck.”

“Who the hell is Chuck?”

“Nate’s best friend who, in his own twisted way, actually gave a shit about her.”

______________________________________________________________

<< chapter 2

>> chapter 4

all chapters

______________________________________________________________

dear reader playlist

[a-strange-inkling]

If it were up to you ( one of the best hellcheer fanfiction writer) what would you fix or change about the fight of Icarus?

Aw shux, that’s high praise! I really don’t think I’m worthy of that, but thank you 🤍

Oh God… what a laundry list 😆 read at your own risk below (I think I’ve finally run out of things to say about this book and will be moving on now 😅)

I’m going to be honest, the best way fo fix it would be to not write a book. Point blank. If I was involved with the show at all I would have NEVER written a book about Eddie in any official capacity. I don’t know if the author was aware of just how unhinged certain parts of his fanbase are (I’m sure she is now) but you’re not going to make anyone happy with this. Eddie’s ridiculously popular yes, I get it, but part of his appeal for people was how untouched his background was.

Flight of Icarus is kind of a mess plot wise with pretty weak/poor characterizations. There’s some good elements and scenes in it. It’s not bad, but it’s not great either. It’s pretty mid. I mean books based on tv shows aren’t exactly known for their… luster. It’s obviously going to lack the passion of an unpaid fanfic writer who has spent endless hours watching season 4 and doing in-depth research and analysis for their work… but that’s what we’re all used to. That’s our standard. So it’s kind of already set up for failure.

But, if I was in charge of a book like this, here’s some of the things I would do differently:

I’d have picked ONE main plot to focus on because there is way too much going on in these 280 pages for me to have the time to be invested or care about anything. There’s like three plus storylines going on with Eddie all to push ONE narrative which is basically him choosing between risking everything for a fantasy/dream of fame and money or staying true to himself and what’s real which is the steadfast loyalty of his friends and family. This takes the form of Al vs Wayne, Paige vs Ronnie, LA vs Hawkins, solo career vs band/hellfire, dropping out to try to become a rockstar vs being the first Munson to graduate, who Eddie wants to be vs who he truly is deep down.

It’s just too much.

I’d have taken a little more time making Eddie three dimensional. I know he’s a side character, but a lot of heart and thought went into creating him (at least on Joe’s end). I’d have made more conscious choices for his character, especially if he’s narrating in first person (I would have not used first person). His outer dialog is great (the dialog throughout the whole thing is actually really great, you can tell the author’s a screen writer and it’s one of the stronger elements to the book) but his inner monologue is pretty ooc and at times really off. He lacks a lot of the things that drew people to him in the first place or it’s just not as strongly presented I guess. He doesn’t feel fully formed.

If I was going to give Eddie a love interest (I don’t know why you would do that to yourself at this point, his fanbase is volatile at best and either ships him with Steve, Chrissy, or themselves, no one is going to like it) I’d have given her WAY better writing than an immersive wattpad character with little to no character traits outside of her aesthetic and interests which is an alternative style and liking music. Wow. Groundbreaking. I would have her make decisions based on a fully formed personality verses the convenience of the plot. And if not, if she’s going to be a means to an end, I’d at least go all in and make her wild or evil or a total bitch or conniving or funny or grumpy or goofy or something. She’s not given enough focus or time to be well rounded so I’d just have fun and go batshit crazy with her (don’t worry Paige, you’re mine now and I will give you an actual character and vindication).

Eddie choosing between his dad and Wayne would have probably been the plot I picked to focus on and I would have really dived into that. The good, bad and the ugly of the Munson family. Because Al (that would not be his name btw 🤢) and Wayne reflect the two sides of Eddie’s character. A charming, self serving, cowardly asshole and a good, strong and kind person who protects and looks after others. I like Ronnie a lot and she’s probably the best written character in the book, but Wayne needed to have more spotlight for this.

I’d have definitely made the plot a lot less fantastical and way more of a simple character study. Just Eddie deciding between embracing the infamy of the Munson family or choosing to rise above it. Does he decide to scheme and cheat like his dad to get more out of life or does he do the right thing and stay the course to actually graduate and make something of himself. That’s it. All that’s needed. Eddie getting a shot at being a rockstar at eighteen in Hawkins is already kind of odd, especially when his in is a twenty year old “junior scout”??? Who just happens to be at his dive bar and have the hots for him and fucks him and pretty much offers him a life in LA on a silver platter with no issues other than having to bail on his band and high school club?? It’s… a bit much for our unlucky loser boy we see in the show. Book Eddie is as lucky as they come, but he’s a total dumbass and decides to trust and scheme with his deadbeat father??? Who has always failed him? Why? I get he needs money but his kinda girlfriend’s got a job and he’s pretty much got a record deal. What even is this? That whole storyline would be scrapped to hell. But hey, at least it’s more believable than an actual drug heist and a kingpin and a shoot out. Oh and arson. It’s giving… *shivers* Riverdale and not in a good way.

Lastly, I’d have taken the opportunity to develop characters from the show a little more. Not a ton, but like the author did with Higgins. I really like how he was written in the novel. He had a lot of fire and personality out of nowhere which was kind of hilarious. I probably would have expanded Jason the most actually, I’d have added more to that tense rivalry. And I’d have left Chrissy pretty much out of it. The talent show is best left to the imagination and we already have a delicate narrative between them because of the forest scene. I wouldn’t want to add too much there. But she’d have a cameo for sure. Like brief eye contact or a shared smile or something at the very end of the book. Just a little glimmer of what’s to come. I’m also a Eddie has always had a little bit of a thing for Chrissy truther, so in my bias I might have him quietly admire her from afar or something.

And there you go.

I mean you’re going to get my version of his backstory eventually anyway and bonus he and Chrissy live, get married and have kids. Yay!

[kittynomsdeplume]

Writer Tag Game

Thanks for the tag @morganlefaye79 and @thedastrash.

Do you write in order?

For one-shots, I usually do. Beyond quickly noting down one or two sentences that might have already formed as I was thinking about a concept/prompt.

I hate it though, this compulsion I have to write linearly and I've been working to try and break the habit. To allow myself to skip over parts i'm having trouble with and come back to them later.

For multi-chapters fics though, I might have random bits and pieces in each chapter written if there is a set piece that I know is going specifically into that chapter.

Do you start with something in particular?

The beginning!

Generally when I'm starting, I might only have a vague idea of what the overall piece is going to be. I might know the beats I want to hit, but not exactly how I'm going to depict them.

Sometimes I might have just a very vivid moment, something I want to show, or even some lines of dialogue that the whole piece evolves from, so they might get put down first, but then I need to go back and think, well, how did they get here? And that's usually the point where the seeds are lain for a very simple concept to blow out into a 10K word fic 😑

How fully formed does your writing come out on the first try?

I would say it's fairly well formed. Another bad habit I have, where I struggle to move on if each sentence doesn't sound quite right. Eventually I get frustrated enough to carry on, usually. I am getting better at just letting go and keeping the momentum going, but it's ridiculous how easily I fall into old habits.

I'm always annoyed at myself too when I realise I've been sitting agonising over something for thirty minutes, and every time I'm like, 'Oh, you should just move on!'. It always seems like this novel thought too, like I've never considered the possibility before.

I feel like all the sensible things I've learned over years of writing, just completely disappear from my head when I'm deep in the midst of writing.

How many drafts do you go through?

Pssh, I really have no idea. I have a tendency (and it's probably a bad one), to write a bunch of stuff and then come up for air. At that point, I sit back, go back to the start and read everything over, editing it as I go.

I also do this frequently when I'm really stumped and can't figure out how to move the story forward.

So depending on the length of the story, and how much trouble I had getting it all down, I might have been over it five times, or fifty times before its done.

The one benefit to this though is that, when I am finishing up the end, or the last tricky passage that I was struggling with, I know that the rest of the fic is probably pretty solid by that point. It's a nice relief to know that I can just publish the story and finally forget about it 😆

Tell me about your process?

Pretty simple to be honest. Have obsessive thought - furiously type obsessive thought into document. Then spend days, or a month in abject agony, trying to build a coherent narrative around that thought.

Sometimes I'll be reading shit posts from fandoms I don't even know anything about, and I'll have a thought like, 'Oh that's such a blorbo vibe.'

Truly though, so many of my fics begin with a thought like, 'Wouldn't it be funny...' and I imagine some truly bonkers, crack nonsense. So then I start writing it, cackling with glee, and somewhere along the way I think, 'Wouldn't this be better if they were suffering?'.

I also spend an absurd and probably unnecessary amount of time researching all manner of things. Again, I'm always annoyed with myself at the end of this process too, because its hours and hours of deep-diving on some topic, which ends up being like three words in the final fic 😅 Or even worse, all that time spent and then I go, 'Ahhh, ya know, I changed my mind, I'm not even gonna mention this particular thing in any event.'

No-one really needs to know the type of flora that grows at a specific altitude, in mountainous regions, during a certain period of the year and in a particular hemisphere/geographic location - IN THE MIDDLE OF YOUR SMUT FIC KITTY! 🫣

Researching other people OC's however, is never a waste of time. I need to absorb their essence before I can even contemplate writing them. Otherwise I just get extreme anxiety and can't write anything at all.

As to the nitty gritty, I am 100% a pantser. I don't really do outlines or anything. I have the concept in my head and I just sit down and start writing it. The only notes I would make are if there is very specific plot points, or details I need to remember. Say like the age of a character, or the time of year its set, or something significant about a location etc. Sometimes, dialogue for a later scene has formed perfectly in my head and I don't want to risk forgetting exactly how it went, so that gets noted down.

Beyond that, I don't always know exactly how a story is going to play out, I just feel it out as I go.

I actually sat down and outlined a whole long-fic once, and by the time I was done, I no longer had any compulsion to write it. Knowing what was going to happen sort of robbed me of the excitement of discovery so... I try to avoid over-planning fics now because I don't want that to happen again 😅

Tagging: @sidhelives | @charlatron | @noire-pandora | @rosella-writes | @dreadfutures | @isk4649 | @queenaeducan | @cleverblackcat | @pikapeppa | @charmcity-jess

[barrelcat]

Holiday Pickups 2022

Happy New Year!

A little late, but thought I’d share some pickups from right before Christmas to now. 

I’m very lucky to be a mod of a great writing community on discord and this is the second year that we’ve engaged in Secret Santa across the server. @grimbims, who was my Secret Santa, sent me Hades on the Switch! I was also delighted to discover that the physical copy of the game comes with a code for the soundtrack, as well as a small artbook featuring all of the game’s characters. It’s also my first roguelike (again, recalling that whole “broadening your gaming horizon” thing), and while Hades is difficult for my novice skills, it’s a terrible amount of fun. I’m not too bad at it, either. I favor the spear coupled with blessings from Artemis and have made it just past Asterius on Elysium, but that battle of attrition always leaves me struggling to survive afterward. 

Xenoblade Chronicles Definitive Edition is the other game I’m shuffling between right now. I had asked for XC3, but there was a mixup during my gifter’s order and I ended up with this one instead, which may secretly have been what I actually wanted. I know that XC3 is supposed to be amazing, but I like to get the whole story, even if the internet tells me that I don’t need to play 1 and 2 before diving in. I’m about twenty hours deep so far and can confidently say that I’m going to play it to the end. The world and premise are interesting, the characters and story are compelling, even if the dialogue is a bit painful at times (my writer's brain can be overly critical even at the best of times), and the gameplay loop is satisfying. It feels very MMO to me. As an avid FFXIV player, that’s only a good thing. 

I was excited for Harvestella the moment it debuted on the Nintendo Direct back in June of ‘22 (oh my gosh, is that really “back in” already???). Even though I’ve only dabbled in a handful of farming/life simulators, I’ve obsessed over the ones that I have played (minus Stardew Valley - I know, I’m awful, but it just never grabbed me like it did others. Conan Exiles, though? I lost days to that game.) The anime aesthetic coupled with farming and crafting in Harvestella spoke to me like a game hasn’t in a long, long time, and I knew I needed it as soon as it launched. This was later confirmed when I blasted through the Switch demo shortly after. As excited as I was, though, I’ve decided to set this one aside until I finish the first Xenoblade. Then I’ll discover what was really going on with those Seaslights. 

I played Fire Emblem: Three Houses for the first time just a couple months ago. The two weeks I poured into it were gone all too quickly, and while I told myself and friends that I wanted to do a replay for the other endings and storylines, I just couldn’t bring myself to betray Edelgard. After 70+ hours together, her character meant too much to me. Color me excited when I realized that Fire Emblem: Three Hopes was another story featuring those characters, but in the style of the Dynasty Warriors games. (Note: to be honest, I’m not sure what the deal is with the story, but I’m excited to find out!) So once I get to this one, I’m sure it’s going to be another non-stop ride. 

Not gifts per se, but I did pick up a Byleth amiibo with some Christmas Cash, as well as a copy of Fire Emblem Fates: Birthright for the 3DS from the local used game shop. I wanted to get a copy of an FE Fates game so I could download the third not-so-secret storyline to that series, Fire Emblem Fates: Revelations. If you didn’t know, the online shop for the 3DS (and the Wii U, I believe) are being shut down in March of 2023. Apart from purchases made before that date, nothing will be available on those marketplaces to buy or download. Part of a string of odd choices made by Nintendo, recently. 

I’ve been eyeing these books since the newest printing was announced sometime last year. Both volumes of the Encyclopaedia Eorzea are gazetteers of the world of FFXIV, and feature stunning art taken from the game. They’re filled to the brim with world lore, and remind me more of a D&D campaign guide than anything else. I have half a mind to use them to run a game set in Eorzea using these books as source material. Maybe then I can get my group to join me in the MMO. 

This mug is from Etsy and brings me immeasurable joy. It features a memed version of Gaius van Baelsar’s famous line from the end of FFXIV: A Realm Reborn and makes me cackle every time I read it. I actually received two of these in duplicate, a 16oz and a 12 oz. The larger has worked its way into my mug rotation (because we all have a thousand mugs at this point, right?), and the smaller has earned its place among my small-yet-growing FFXIV collection next to my handcrafted moogle (a birthday present from my sister). From his perch, Gaius will always be there to remind me to drink more coffee. 

Probably the coolest gift I received this year was an ocarina from the Nintendo 64 classic, The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of time. I’m not sure if the picture does it justice, but the craftsmanship is stunning. The blue gloss is deep and shines wonderfully under light. It fits perfectly on the shelf with my other Zelda mementos. The box came with sheet music for several melodies from the game, so I’m definitely going to try and learn a couple tunes. Physical items from games like this are the best. I’ll admit, I have a soft spot for action figures, but having something tangible from a game world you’ve invested hours into is so, so cool. 

The final, and arguably largest, pickup for this update is a Nintendo Wii that I was able to find locally on CraigsList for a fantastic price! I didn’t have a Wii when I was younger (well, I did briefly… but that story might be for another time) and I’ve had one on my list for a while. Everything works, minus some battery acid damage on one of the Wii remotes, but I’m going to invest some time into repairing that soon. 

The seller lived about an hour away, so we met halfway at another used game shop that I hadn’t been to before. After the transaction, I popped inside to grab a couple games as well, including Nights: Journey of Dreams and SSX Blur. I read the Nights comics when I was kid, which were Sega and Archie Comics attempting to see if the series could survive the market. They didn’t, unfortunately, but they were a major influencer in my perhaps misguided desire to become a writer, so I’ve always wanted to try the games. As for SSX, Blur is the only one I haven’t played in the series. SSX Tricky on the GameCube was a gaming staple when I was a kid, so I couldn’t pass this one up when I found it. 

All in all, exciting additions to the collection with a lot of games to enjoy. 

[whispers-ln-shadows]

addressing what went down on nye…im really sorry for how things went, and i want to own up to my actions.

i was genuinely excited to spend nye with you, and everything was going great until midnight. i want to emphasize that im truly not hung up on my ex in any way. it's just that it triggered some deep-seated emotions, particularly about my dad, and it completely consumed my thoughts and overwhelmed me.

what happened next was a mess. i not only got upset but also ended up lying about what was said, and i know that it only made things worse. i can't imagine how frustrating it must have been for you to go around and around in circles with me for three hours, and i'm truly sorry for putting you through that.

without avoiding responsibility, because this is still completely on me, i realized that alcohol played a significant role in what happened, and i'm determined to be more responsible in the future. i want you to know that i have no intention of letting an ex, or anything else, affect our relationship like it has.

i regret telling you we were done...its not what i want or feel, i didnt mean it. i was just overwhelmed by the situation.

ive taken a deep dive into self-reflection, trying to pinpoint my triggers and confront my tendencies to lie or avoid the truth. it's led me to some conclusions.

above all, trust is of utmost importance. i realize the need for you to trust me completely, to believe in the honesty of my words. equally, i must trust you, especially when it comes to being honest without fearing rejection. we need to foster open, constructive conversations, which you excel at with your clear boundaries and support.

on the flip side, i often find myself anticipating conflicts and worst-case scenarios, causing me to shy away from honesty out of fear. i create these mental scenarios and apply them to situations that haven't even happened yet, and i really regret how it has affected our relationship.

for our relationship to work, trust is an absolute must. i recognize that i haven't provided many good examples of being honest in the past, and i'm genuinely sorry for that.

thinking about why ive sometimes resorted to lying... it's been a self-preservation mechanism for me, a way to shield myself from facing difficult truths that i might find uncomfortable or challenging to talk about. i've been afraid of potential conflicts and the emotional toll that honesty could bring. but I understand that this approach has only caused more harm than good, and i need to break this pattern and confront the truth, no matter how hard it may be, because you deserve that honesty and openness.

ive unintentionally taken my frustrations out on you, which is unfair and hurtful. i've leaned on you to fix things for me when it's my responsibility to address my own issues. i know that this isn't healthy for either of us, and i really need to work on managing my emotions better and not burdening you with problems that aren't yours to solve. it's essential that we both have the space to be ourselves and support each other without the added pressure of fixing everything.

i appreciate the valuable advice you've given me in the past, and i want to acknowledge that sometimes i haven't followed it as i should. i understand that, to some extent, offering guidance and support is all you can do, and im grateful for it.

i know i let you down, and i'm committed to making amends and ensuring this doesn't happen again. i value our relationship so much, and i'm ready to work on myself to handle triggers better and be completely honest with you.

i value what we have with all my heart. we share so many great moments, and i genuinely enjoy our time together. you make me incredibly happy, and i cherish what we have. the thought of losing you terrifies me, and i miss you while you're taking time to think about everything.

i want to end this apology by pleading with you not to give up on me. im truly sorry for the mistakes ive made and the hurt i've caused. im willing to do anything it takes to make things right and to be better for you and myself. our relationship means the world to me, and i hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me and give us another chance...

i hope we can put this behind us and keep building a stronger, trusting bond together...

[denimbex1986]

'The talk of the summer and the inspiration for countless memes have all centered around two drastically different films that premiered on the same day: “Barbie” and “Oppenheimer.” Which one reigns supreme — Greta Gerwig’s daydream in neon pink or Christopher Nolan’s gritty biopic?

According to Corpus Christi senior Eric Jaramillo, life in plastic really is fantastic. Katy junior Michael Okonkwo, however, is a fan of Nolan’s three-hour dive into the father of the atomic bomb.

Did you see both “Barbie” and “Oppenheimer”?

Jaramillo: I did not. I just saw “Barbie.” I really liked it … I can’t speak for my friends who are women, but I saw the effect it had on them. If it had kind of an impact on me, I can only imagine what it did for them. So I think it was a really great movie.

Okonkwo: I saw both back-to-back.

What drew you to the films?

Jaramillo: I’m a pop culture buff. I knew the movie was coming out ever since the poster came out with Margot Robbie in the Barbie car, so I was like, “Oh, I’m going to watch it.” … It wasn’t that I didn’t want to see [“Oppenheimer”], but it just didn’t catch my eye. … If I had the choice, I probably wouldn’t [see “Oppenheimer”].

Okonkwo: If you go online, there were a bunch of memes about “Barbie” and “Oppenheimer” and stuff like that everywhere. I’m not the type of person who goes to the theater like that; I’m usually the type to wait until it’s out on DVD so I can watch it, but there was just so much hype around it. … With movies, what you usually see is superheroes and Marvel — stuff like that. So “Oppenheimer” being a historical thing was new.

How did your expectation of the film measure up to the film in reality?

Jaramillo: I remember I heard from a TikTok that it was sad, so I was like, “Oh, I’m going to be sad at the end.” So it was pretty different, and it was not what I was expecting when I went into it. So when I got out, I was like, “Oh, that kind of hit me and made me really sad.” It was way different from what I expected.

Okonkwo: For “Barbie,” it was a lot more meaningful than I expected it to be. For the most part, I expected it to be just about Barbie, but there were some more mature jokes. It was that, but it got into more about how girls are treated in real life. … It’s nice that they incorporated that into something like “Barbie.”

Christopher Nolan made all the scenes [of “Oppenheimer”] so dramatic and everything, and usually historical people talking is not the most exciting thing to watch, but he made it seem so much cooler than it is.

What did you like most about the films?

Jaramillo: I really liked the message it had, especially at the end. At the end, I think people were expecting [Barbie] and Ken to kiss, and they didn’t. That made me really happy because I think a lot of men wanted them to kiss. … I liked that it didn’t give them that. I think that it’s a testament to feminism.

Okonkwo: I liked both for different reasons. I loved “Oppenheimer” because it was three hours long, but I was locked in for the entire thing. … I feel like “Barbie” was a lot of fun and had a deep message to it. … From just enjoying the cool visuals and everything, obviously “Oppenheimer,” but story-wise, I feel like I enjoyed “Barbie” more in that sense.

Say you got to make your own director’s cut of the film. What changes would you make?

Jaramillo: I would probably include more scenes in the Barbie world, because the set was so pretty but they didn’t include much of it. … They did it so good; I don’t know what else I would add. I guess more dancing scenes; those were nice.

Okonkwo: For “Barbie,” I feel like the mom should have her speech, and the way to dehypnotize the Barbies was to tell them what made them special. Like, “You’re the president. You did this. You don’t need to worry about [Ken].”

I don’t know how [Nolan] would incorporate [stories of the effects of nuclear testing in New Mexico], but I feel like if I was director, I would put that in to show, “Yeah, he’s remorseful, and there were a lot of people who were affected.”'

[books-i-finished-reading]

(22)

Chain of Thorns - Cassandra Clare

( The last hours - book 3/3 )

3rd March 2023

She would dress in fire if she liked.

... not caring at all what others thought, simply being himself, and it was astonishing how it allowed him to move easily through the world.

"I shall amuse you with a tale, then," said Will. "The tale of my hellride with Balios from London to Cadair Idris, in Wales. Your mother, James, was missing-kidnapped by the miscreant Mortmain. I leaped into Balios's saddle. 'If ever you loved me, Balios,' I cried, 'let your feet now be swift, and carry me to my dear Tessa before harm befalls her'. It was a stormy night, though the storm that raged inside my breast was fiercer still-" " I can't believe you haven't heard this story before, James," said Magnus mildly. The two of them were sharing one side of the carriage, as it had become quickly apparent on the first day of their journey that Will needed the entire other side for dramatic gesturing. ... "I haven't," said James. "Not since last Thursday."

Thomas heard the front door open. ... Christopher's voice drifted down to him,... "... Alastair, you must be here to see Charles. I think he's upstairs in his study," he felt his stomach swoop inside him like a bird diving for a fish. ... Thomas wondered if Christopher would mention that Thomas was there. But he did not; he only said, "Matthew's still in Paris, as far as we know. Yes, I'm sure Charles wouldn't mind a visit..." The bird in Thomas's stomach flopped over dead.

One gossips about one's acquaintance, not one's friends,..

Dear Alastair, why are you so stupid and so frustrating, and why do I think about you all the time? Why do I have to think about you when I get up and when I go to sleep and when I brush my teeth and right now? ... It's very annoying. -Thomas ........................................................ "I asked you here because I wanted to know why you sent me a note calling me stupid." ... Most of the paper had been charred beyond legibility. What was left read: Dear Alastair, why are you so stupid I brush my teeth don't tell anyone -Thomas. "I don't know why you don't want anyone to know you brush your teeth," Alastair added, "but I will, of course, keep this news in strictest confidence."

What was she afraid of, when there was nothing left for her to lose?

"We are sick in our souls from old wounds."

"I am somewhat insulted," Magnus said, "that you went to Malcolm Fade ... and did not come to me. Usually I am the warlock you annoy first, and I consider that a proud tradition."

... calmly, innocently eating toast-...

Pity and kindness were not love. Only free choice was love;...

Strength lay in keeping tight hold of reality,...

... here she was, so close to someone she loved, and yet she felt a million miles away.

... all my hate is reserved for myself. I have none left over for anyone else.

... a sheet of paper, folded like a letter, but on fire and rapidly being consumed. It landed gently atop the piano, where the lace doily under it immediately caught fire as well. ... "... you owe me one lace doily," James said. Christopher nodded solemnly and withdrew a small notebook and pencil from his jacket. He began to make a note. "It will be added to the list of friends' possessions that I must replace, due to the exigencies of-" "Science. I know," James said.

"And I shall send a bevy of my new fire-messages to everyone coming to the meeting," Christopher said, excited. "No!" James protested,... "We can just send runners." "And fire-messages," said Christopher. James sighed. "All right. I shall notify the runners. And the fire brigade."

"How much love people have denied themselves through the ages because they believed they did not deserve it. As if the waste of love is not the greater tragedy."

"There is no shame in caring about someone,..."

"... Belial cannot be killed, but Cortana can end Belial with three mortal blows." ... "Perhaps a third blow from the sword will put him into a deep and permanent sleep?" suggested Thomas. "From which he will be awakened by a kiss from Leviathan's sticky tentacles?" suggested Matthew, and there was a chorus of groans.

"We are all flawed creatures. As diamonds are flawed, each distinct imperfection makes us unique."

"... You are a peacock, not a duck."

"... inherited the Herondale hatred of ducks..."

"You were a ghost," Jessamine said,... "People change," said Jesse mildly.

"... it's the people who we love the most who can hurt us the most."

"... She was looking for loyalty from a demon."

"Lightwood," Alastair said, nodding to Christopher, and then to Thomas, "Other Lightwood."

... all the more beautiful for being so broken.

Thomas said... "If you don't go, I won't go either. I will stay home, and mice will nibble on me in my despair." Alastair blinked. "There's no reason for that," he said. "You've got every reason to go-" "But I won't," Thomas said. "I will remain at home, despairing, being nibbled upon by mice. It's your choice."

"Try not to collect any painful memories..." "Do not get too attached to anything, or anyone. For if you lose them, the memory will burn in your mind like a poison for which there will never be any cure."

"I feel as if there's a gnome inside my head, banging away at my skull with an axe. I ought to give him a name. Something nice and gnomish. Snorgoth the Skullcrusher."

She liked nothing better than to observe the peculiarities of people's behavior: the ways they made small talk, their gestures, the way they stood and laughed and smiled.

"I like to break rules," Anna said. "Even ones I have set myself."

"Am I so hard to love?"

"... secrets give others power over you."

"I was too proud to tell you I loved you, when I thought you had given your heart to someone else."

"... in love, until the stars burn out of the sky."

... ordinary, affable, lemon-tarts Christopher way...

"Your heart is too soft."

"... hatred poisons the person who hates, not the person who is hated."

Only pride could armor him now...

... mystery of human behavior.

Still. Her heart hurt.

"I have a problem," Lucie said. Cordelia spoke... "A . . . necromancy problem?" "No! Honestly. I haven't done any necromancy. It's more of a-well, a kissing problem." "And you want to talk about it now?" Cordelia inquired. "I do, because-well, I suppose it's sort of a necromantic kissing problem." "Kissing Jesse isn't necromancy," Cordelia said, frowning. "He's alive now. Unless you're kissing someone else." "I'm not," said Lucie,...

"Sometimes 'in plain sight' is the best place to hide something."

Belial's bird-demon...spoke up... "It's true. Your bloke there looks like he just fell from a great height." Belial rolled his eyes. "Do shut up, Stymphalia. I'll do the talking. You're not here because you're the brains of the operation." " 'Course not," said Stymphalia. "It's my bloody great wings, innit?" ... "The bird-demon sounds like a Londoner," Matthew observed. "Spent some time in London," acknowledged the bird-demon. "Back in the day. Ate a few Romans. Delicious, they were." "Yes, yes," said Belial. "Everyone loves London. Tea, crumpets, Buckingham Palace..." ... said Belial, ... "... I don't want to have to resort to violence." "Of course you do," James said. "You love resorting to violence." "That seems true," said Matthew. "I only agreed to come," put in Stymphalia, "because I thought there might be violence." "The birdie and the drunk are right," Belial allowed.

"... We so desperately want to be with those who know the truth of us. Our secrets."

Thomas was glowering. "You cannot make me stay here." "I can," Alastair said with feeling. "I will. I shall sit on you if necessary."

"... '... A secret kept too long can kill a soul by inches.' ..."

... the International Council of Sword Experts,...

"I desire you with an ardor that frightens me."

... cries of the lost, desperate to be found. Of the unknown, desperate to be recognized.

He thought suddenly of Oscar. They had left Oscar at the Institute, safely locked in, though his howls of disappointment at being left behind had followed them to the gates. If they all died here, Jesse thought, who would take care of Oscar? Who would set him free?

... Bridget, wearing a flowered dress and an apron, her red curls flying, her face blazing with fury. "I knew it!" Jesse yelled, "I knew you were still in London! But how? How did you escape Belial's enchantment?" "No one tells me what to do!" Bridget shouted back.

"... dwelling on the past will poison his future."

... it was rather nice to be in Jesse's arms without her parents watching them like hawks. Though they lived together in the Institute, they were strictly forbidden from visiting each other's rooms unless the doors were left open; no amount of complaining on Lucie's part would budge Will. "I'm sure you and Mother got up to all sorts of scandalous things when you lived together in the Institute," Lucie had said. "Exactly," Will replied darkly.

... their friendship was both very silly and terribly serious all at once.

[magicshopaholic]

I just read your reply, just so you know these interactions always make me giddy. 

I thought I should inform you of something that just happened that you might find funny…….. This is a bit long so I am sorry.... Basically a drabble at this point.....😫

I daydream a lot these days, so my current storyline is producer Dalia dating childhood bestie mingyu from seventeen. Random name, but I call all Y/Ns in my mind or fics that atm because I don’t want it to be me lol. In a month or two I’ll find a different name. But the story always has a life of its own and Dalia ends up on side quests. 

So since she’s friends with Namjoon and Yoongi (because of course she is, met them during producer events cause she’s a fucking G), she’s met Kaya when she was on a trip to SK and they’ve bonded over her research and Dalia’s work to improve gender issues in her country (lol I dream big, Dalia would apparently be top 5 richest producers there if she didn’t spend so much money on social causes hahah imagine. I have extensive storylines of all the social work she does like what?! This is supposed to be relaxing). 

Anyway, her and Miso are industry friends and go way back to the beginning of their careers. Miso is soft with Dalia because Dalia is of course irrationally amazing and everyone loves her because I am Projecting my desires ok?! And they both have a dark sense of humour and are sarcastic but they protect and defend each other against anyone. 

And yoongi is like huh this is unlike her, I’ve not seen this side of her, maybe there’s more to her than I thought since she’s friends with my friend Dalia (I’m laughing to myself, this is ridiculous). And then Dalia introduces them two (Kaya & Miso) at her house for an evening of takeaway and beer. Kaya is introduced as her friend from her time in London since it’s not her secret to tell about Kaya x NJ lol. 

THEN Dalia and Mingyu (he’s back finally I forgot this was a romance) go for a dinner party at namjoons with kaya and jk and Lia because why not. And all the ladies get along amazingly because they’re all bad bitches, confident and intelligent and just fucking amazing of course. 

I just found this so funny. I wasn’t planning on adding them in, my brain just kinda took over and next thing you know I’ve just spent half and hour dreaming about a girls night bonding over how fucking amazing all three of them are in their own ways. 

I just thought I’d share since I’m creating a fan fic of your universe lol. 

This is making me laugh, not me making fics on platonic female friendships and the work against patriarchy and capitalism…… in YOUR universe. This is like 5% of the detail my brain created at 3am this past week.

Okay firstly fuckkkkkkk. you really daydream about my characters? *Ross's sandwich voiceover* MY CHARACTERS?? I'm so fucking honoured, you have no idea.

And btw, hard relate on the extensive-universe-scenarios-with-named-characters because how do you think the idolverse started out? If you ever decide to write this stuff, I'll be your biggest cheerleader <3

Deep-diving into the characters: of course she bonds with Kaya because everyone bonds with Kaya - Kaya is one hundred percent that girl. Given the shit she's been through, she would be so on board with this project.

Miso will surprise Yoongi in many ways so why shouldn't this be one of them? Dalia also keeping NamjoonxKaya a secret - my heart

I have to be honest - I listen to SVT's music sometimes but I'm not into them enough to know the different members and their personalities so I did have to Google Mingyu. Bro seems solid.

Not Namjoon hosting a dinner party in his beautiful apartment :') Kaya would send him to fetch the liquor and leave her alone in the house because she loves cooking and he's a disaster. The girls would get along (I don't want to spoil anything regarding what will happen in my universe but in yours, I see it.)

I looooove this sm; it's so wonderful that you can picture the different girls so vividly and imagine them outside of my fics. Absolutely loved this <3

[erodasfishtacos]

omg we know how YN is about mlbrry’s short shorts but I want to know if there’s something she wears out that makes H absolutely feral

Hot As They Come

prompt: this mini blurb turned into something else completely

warnings: body issues, smut

if you liked please reblog, recommended, like, and come talk to me about it! (this is what motivates me to continue writing)!

i write for FREE - I am also trying to steer away from paetron so everyone can have access my stories - so if you would like to support my work, you can donate here.

——

He’s a narcissist, so anytime she has his jersey on.

They all were staying at Anne’s lake house (that Harry had purchased her) in Rhode Island for the long weekend - Easton, Cash, and Ezra were in the pool being vigilantly watched by Anne and her friend, Martha when Harry arrives.

He had to fly home from a stretch of games in San Diego, then get in the car, and drive three hours to get to his family.

YN had been inside, laying down with Briar for a nap, having the all fours kids had been exhausting these past two days - plus Briar was freshly one and still had some painful teeth coming in.

When he opens the back gate, he’s automatically met with squeals and whines when his kids realizes he’s finally there.

They’re all floating in the pool with their float vests on, except for Easton who was old enough not to have one.

Chants of ‘daddy’ echo through the backyard as they wave him closer.

Harry being a big child at heart, drops his suitcase, and kicks off his trainers and socks, then his shirt before he’s running towards the pool and cannonballing into the deep end, away from the kids.

When he pops up, hair matted to his head, all of them are giggling wildly - including Anne and Martha as Harry dives back under to pop up near his kids to make them scream in surprise and joy.

The two boys are automatically climbing all over him and he waste no time in tossing them high into the air before they’re sinking into the water.

A whimper comes from his right, near the steps, “Daddy, daddy.”

Harry takes a break from the boys to pout out his bottom lip and swim over to his little boy, scooping him up and wading back into the water.

“Hi bubba, missed you so much,” Harry tells him as he lays his head on his shoulder, sleepy and most likely ready for his own nap.

“Miss you,” He lisps back before his hand is coming up to play with the gold cross on his necklace and tucking his thumb between his lips.

“Mum, where’s YN?” He asks as he drifts towards the edge near where Anne is sat with her feet in the water.

“Inside, she’s taking a nap with Briar,” Anne replies before taking a sip of her own homemade lemonade and swishing her toes.

“Was she tired?” Harry frowns, guilt sinking into his stomach - he knew she had been stressed having to tote all four kids in the car for multiple hours.

She would also lie and tell Harry everything went fine because she didn’t want him to feel bad that he wasn’t there.

“Very. She said that Briar and Ezra were giving her a hard time on the way up. She said Briar’s teeth are coming in and she kept her up all last night,” Anne reports before adding on, “They’ve been asleep for a good three hours so hopefully they feel refreshed when they wake up.”

Harry tries to not internalize it and has to remind himself he’s not a terrible husband or father but he hates when he’s away.

The boys grab his attention again, demanding their father watch them do handstands and swim to the bottom to retrieve dive batons.

All the while, Ezra makes himself comfortable in his dad’s arms and he had removed his life vest so he was more comfortable when he naps against his warm skin.

Harry’s turning quickly when he hears the back door open and his heart jumps like a schoolboy when he sees his wife step onto the patio with his newest little baby just in a swim diaper on her plush hip.

He has to swallow hard when he scans her body, a simple black bikini on with one of his unbuttoned jerseys that’s down to her mid thigh.

She doesn’t even realize how sexy she looks is the thing, he knows she put it on to cover her body a bit more because she’s still a bit self-conscious of some baby weight.

However, he’s basically drooling, the extra weight around her hips, thighs, tummy - decorated with light stretch marks.

Harry hasn’t seen a more beautiful woman in his life.

He wants to bite that soft skin, licks those marks from where her body stretch to accommodate their chunky bubs.

Briar, who’s just learning basic words, squeaks out an excited, “Dadadada.”

Harry wades towards the shallow end where Anne’s waiting to carefully wrap Ezra in a towel while he sleeps, his mother then takes the little boy for a snuggle in the shade.

“Dadada,” Briar continues to whine with a pitiful pout on her face as she makes grabby hands towards her father.

“Oh, hi there, lil’ mama. I missed you so much, little love,” Harry hums as soon as YN shifts the baby into his arms and Briar’s pulling at her dad’s wet locks.

“Dada,” She coos back as Harry winces at the tugs to his hair and his eyes twinkling as he looks at his wife who’s smiling back.

“Hi mama,” Harry murmurs softly as he rocks Briar on his hip, his other hand reaching out to cup her jaw and bring her in for a long kiss.

“Missed you,” YN replies quietly, a bit of sadness and stress in her voice as she runs her hand down his side and squeezes his hip.

“I’m sorry, darling,” He replies back, just as quietly, and moves to kiss her forehead, “You’re such an amazing wife and mama. I appreciate everything you do for this family.”

A crease forms between her eyebrows, lips turned down a bit, “You’re the one who provides for us.”

Harry makes sure they’re making eye contact when he tells her, “What I do for this family is nothing compared to what you provide us.”

“I love you,” YN sighs, leaning over for another quick kiss and adds, “I know you feel guilty but please don’t. I knew what I was agreeing to when we had four kids.”

“Not the first time,” He chuckles, looking fondly back at Easton, who was now seven which was crazy, and thriving.

“Mm, he was just our favorite surprise. Wouldn’t change it for anything,” She replies with a warm smile, leaning over to kiss Briar’s cheek and she lets out the bubbliest giggle.

Martha steps over to them, arms outstretched, “Okay parents, time to share this little muffin with the rest of us.”

Harry slips Briar into the crook of her arm and she goes easily, lounging back and tucking her pacifier that was in her small fist this whole time back into her mouth.

“You look so fuckin’ hot,” Harry hums lowly now that all the babies were out of earshot, his hands coming to her hips.

YN scowls at him, stiff and frustrated when she grits out, “You don’t have to lie to me just because you’re my husband.”

Harry gets defensive instantly, “What would I be lyin’ about?”

“I know I don’t look hot. It’s my first time in a bikini since I had Briar. My stomach is still puffy, my love handles, not to mention my boobs from breastfeeding four kids,” She huffs like it’s obvious as she pinches at skin in her hip.

“Come on, now,” Harry says firmly to her, authority and demand in his voice which wasn’t common for him to take that tone with her, “Mum, you guys okay with watching them for a few?”

Anne waves them off and tells them to enjoy a few minutes alone, they have everything handled.

“Wha-“ YN begins to ask as Harry wraps his hand around her wrist and guides her back into the house, back into their room, and clicks the lock shut.

“Don’t you dare ever insult the body that gave us our four perfect, healthy babies. The body that I fell in love with and am still madly gone for,” Harry nearly hisses as he’s tugging the jersey off of her shoulders until it pools on the ground.

“Harry, I-“

“Just listen to me, would you?” He cuts her off as he kneels in front of her, lips moving over the silky smooth skin of her stomach.

“Love this belly,” Harry praises, kissing, licking, biting at the sensitive skin that has fully went back to normal, “Obsessed with it even. Everything about you gets me hard. I love how you look, I love that you have this, reminds me of what a strong woman you are.”

YN feels embarrassed that she’s getting emotional at his kind words, they were so sincere and reverent that there was no question he meant them.

“These love handles?” Harry scoffs as his large hands grip the extra plush of her hips, “Do you know how sexy it is? Love holding onto them when you ride me.”

His voice had gotten noticeably deeper and gravely with his arousal, standing up and moving to untie her top - letting her breasts falls from where they were held up to appear more perky.

“Don’t get me started on your tits,” He groans as he thumbs at her nipples, being carefully because they were sore from feeding Briar, “Fuckin’ beauties. I remember the first time I got to see ‘em. Swear that was more memorable than when I got drafted. You think I’m gonna complain that they got bigger? You’re crazy.”

YN giggles at that, especially when he gives her a cheeky smile and presses himself against her so he can kiss her again.

His hands go to the ties of her bottoms on each hip, playing with the string as he whispers, “Please let me take these off and ‘ave you. I’ve been starving for it, mama.”

“It’s been a week,” YN chuckles as she bumps there noses - already feeling better about herself, feel more empowered and sexy, “If you’re so hard up, maybe I should help you out.”

“It’s about you. You don’t have to if you don’t- fuckin’ hell, doll,” Harry moans when his damp athletic shorts and briefs are pulled down and YN is kneeling to lick at the bottom side of his hard length.

A thrill shoots about her spine for her husband’s reaction to her mouth, his hands weaving into her locks, and whimpering, “C’mon baby, take me. Can’t be teased right now or I’m gonna come so fast for you.”

“For me?” YN parrots with a mischievous smirk as she pumps him, he’s almost too big for her palm and she loved that.

“F’course, you’re the only thing that makes me come. Whether you’re right in front of me or if m’in my hotel room thinking about you,” Harry pants sweetly, still letting her make the calls when she doesn’t listen and continues to just lap at his dripping tip.

“Best husband,” YN praises him as her hands come up to roll his balls with her thumb, making his cock twitch in her hand.

“Fuckin’ Christ,” Harry grunts after another minute or so, he’s leaning down and pulling her up before he’s picking her up and throwing her own the bed as she yelps in surprise, “Give me tha’ cunt.”

YN spreads her legs immediately and Harry is nearly ripping the bottoms off of her lower half before his face is buried between her thick thighs, sucking harshly at her clit as payback.

“Ba-baby,” YN whines in a kittenish tone, pushing her hips up into his mouth to ride his tone to chase her pleasure, “Wha-no!”

YN complains when he pulls back, crudely wiping his mouth on her belly before leaning down and cleaning up her slickness with his tongue.

“Shush up, we don’t have much time. We got four little buggers out there, s’only a matter of time before one of them causes trouble,” Harry quips as he wriggles her bum up off the bed and wrapping her legs around his waist so he can fuck in.

“There,” She moans quietly a few seconds in when he angles just so that his cock is hitting the spot that sets her afire and then he adds a thumb to her clit for extra stimulation.

“Yeah, I know,” He murmurs cockily, fingers dimpling the skin where he’s holding on to her upper thighs as he pushes his narrow hips into her center over and over again.

Harry nearly comes on the spot when YN redirects on of her hands to her throat, she doesn’t have to say anything before Harry’s gripping at the sides of her neck with his fingers.

“How could you think that you’re not perfect? You’re as hot as they come,” Harry tells her as her limbs loosen and she climaxes, he lets go of the pressure on her throat and follows suit.

“I love you,” YN hums when he collapses on top of her, “Welcome home. You played amazing in San Diego.”

“I love you more,” Harry replies as he smatters kisses along her cheeks, “Those guys were a buncha of ass-“

The both turn their heads when they hear echoing through the backyard a wail that was no doubt Cash because Easton wasn’t sharing a water toy.

“It was fun while it lasted,” YN snickers as they roll of the bed and begin to redress so that they can go back out and take over parenting duties.

-

[perpetual-stories]

22 Essential Literary Devices and How to Use Them In Your Writing

hello, happy Monday. Hope you’re all having a wonderful day!

I will skip the pre-info and dive right into it.

What Is a Literary Device?

is a tool used by writers to hint at larger themes, ideas, and meaning in a story or piece of writing

The List of Literary Devices:

Allegory. Allegory is a literary device used to express large, complex ideas in an approachable manner. Allegory allows writers to create some distance between themselves and the issues they are discussing, especially when those issues are strong critiques of political or societal realities.

Allusion. An allusion is a popular literary device used to develop characters, frame storylines, and help create associations to well-known works. Allusions can reference anything from Victorian fairy tales and popular culture to the Bible and the Bard. Take the popular expression “Bah humbug”—an allusion that references Charles Dickens’ novella A Christmas Carol. The phrase, which is often used to express dissatisfaction, is associated with the tale’s curmudgeonly character, Ebenezer Scrooge.

Anachronism. Imagine reading a story about a caveman who microwaves his dinner, or watching a film adaptation of a Jane Austen novel in which the characters text each other instead of writing letters. These circumstances are examples of anachronisms, or an error in chronology—the kind that makes audiences raise their eyebrows or do a double-take. Sometimes anachronisms are true blunders; other times, they’re used intentionally to add humor or to comment on a specific time period in history.

Cliffhanger. It’s a familiar feeling: You’re on minute 59 of an hour-long television episode, and the protagonist is about to face the villain—and then episode cuts to black. Known as a cliffhanger, this plot device marks the end of a section of a narrative with the express purpose of keeping audiences engaged in the story.

Dramatic Irony. Remember the first time you read or watched Romeo and Juliet? The tragic ending of this iconic story exemplifies dramatic irony: The audience knows that the lovers are each alive, but neither of the lovers knows that the other is still alive. Each drinks their poison without knowing what the audience knows. Dramatic irony is used to great effect in literature, film, and television.

Extended Metaphor. Extended metaphors build evocative images into a piece of writing and make prose more emotionally resonant. Examples of extended metaphor can be found across all forms of poetry and prose. Learning to use extended metaphors in your own work will help you engage your readers and improve your writing.

Foreshadowing. At its core, storytelling has one ambition: to capture and sustain your reader’s attention and keep them reading your story. Foreshadowing, or slyly indicating a future event, is one technique a writer can use to create and build suspense.

Humor. Humor brings people together and has the power to transform how we think about the world. Of course, not everyone is adept at being funny—particularly in their writing. Making people laugh takes some skill and finesse, and, because so much relies on instinct, is harder to teach than other techniques. However, all writers can benefit from learning more about how humor functions in writing.

Imagery. If you’ve practiced or studied creative writing, chances are you’ve encountered the expression “paint a picture with words.” In poetry and literature, this is known as imagery: the use of figurative language to evoke a sensory experience in the reader. When a poet uses descriptive language well, they play to the reader’s senses, providing them with sights, tastes, smells, sounds, internal and external feelings, and even deep emotion. The sensory details in imagery bring works to life.

Irony. Irony is an oft-misunderstood literary device that hinges on opposites: what things are on the surface, and what they end up actually being. Many learn about dramatic irony through works of theater like Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet or Sophocles’s Oedipus Rex. When deployed with skill, irony is a powerful tool that adds depth and substance to a piece of writing.

Metaphor, Simile, and Analogy. Metaphors, similes, and analogies are three techniques used in speech and writing to make comparisons. Each is used in a different way, and differentiating between the three can get a little tricky: For example, a simile is actually a subcategory of metaphor, which means all similes are metaphors, but not all metaphors are similes. Knowing the similarities and differences between metaphor, simile, and analogy can help you identify which is best to use in any scenario and help make your writing stronger.

Motif. A motif is a repeated element that has symbolic significance to a story. Sometimes a motif is a recurring image. Sometimes it’s a repeated word or phrase or topic. A motif can be a recurrent situation or action. It can be a sound or a smell or a temperature or a color. The defining aspect is that a motif repeats, and through this repetition, a motif helps to illuminate the central ideas, themes, and deeper meaning of the story in which it appears.

Motif vs. Symbol. Both motifs and symbols are used across artistic mediums: Painters, sculptors, playwrights, and musicians all use motifs and symbols in their respective art forms. And while they are similar literary terms, “motif” and “symbol” are not synonyms.

Oxymoron. An oxymoron is a figure of speech: a creative approach to language that plays with meaning and the use of words in a non-literal sense. This literary device combines words with contradictory definitions to coin a new word or phrase (think of the idiom “act naturally”—how can you be your natural self if you’re acting?). The incongruity of the resulting statement allows writers to play with language and meaning.

Paradox. “This sentence is a lie.” This self-referential statement is an example of a paradox—a contradiction that questions logic. In literature, paradoxes can elicit humor, illustrate themes, and provoke readers to think critically.

Personification. In writing, figurative language—using words to convey a different meaning outside the literal one—helps writers express themselves in more creative ways. One popular type of figurative language is personification: assigning human attributes to a non-human entity or inanimate object in an effort to express a point or idea in a more colorful, imaginative way.

Satire. Satire is so prevalent in pop culture that most of us are already very familiar with it, even if we don’t always realize it. Satire is an often-humorous way of poking fun at the powers that be. Sometimes, it is created with the goal to drive social change. Satire can be part of any work of culture, art, or entertainment—it has a long history, and it is as relevant today as it was in ancient Rome.

Situational Irony. Irony: it’s clear as mud. Theorists quibble about the margins of what constitutes irony, but situational irony is all around us—from humorous news headlines to the shock twists in a book or TV show. This type of irony is all about the gap between our expectations and reality, and it can make a memorable and powerful impression when we encounter it.

Suspense. No matter what type of story you’re telling, suspense is a valuable tool for keeping a reader’s attention and interest. Building suspense involves withholding information and raising key questions that pique readers’ curiosity. Character development plays a big role in generating suspense; for example, if a character’s desire is not fulfilled by the end of the book, the story will not feel complete for the reader.

Symbolism. An object, concept, or word does not have to be limited to a single meaning. When you see red roses growing in a garden, what comes to mind? Perhaps you think literally about the rose—about its petals, stem, and thorns, or even about its stamen and pistil as a botanist might. But perhaps your mind goes elsewhere and starts thinking about topics like romance, courtship, and Valentine’s Day. Why would you do this? The reason, of course, is that over the course of many generations, a rose’s symbolic meaning has evolved to include amorous concepts.

Verisimilitude. Verisimilitude (pronounced ve-ri-si-mi-li-tude) is a theoretical concept that determines the semblance of truth in an assertion or hypothesis. It is also an essential tenet of fiction writing. Verisimilitude helps to encourage a reader’s willing suspension of disbelief. When using verisimilitude in writing, the goal is to be credible and convincing.

Vignette. A writer’s job is to engage readers through words. Vignettes—poetic slices-of-life—are a literary device that brings us deeper into a story. Vignettes step away from the action momentarily to zoom in for a closer examination of a particular character, concept, or place. Writers use vignettes to shed light on something that wouldn’t be visible in the story’s main plot.

I’ll make a post going into each of them individually in more detail later on!

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[clouds-rambles]

Hi there! Can i request xiao, childe,zhongli where reader gets injured bad one time that they go into like a comatose or something? And at the end they wake up, thank you!! 🤗

Hi bestie! And ask and ye shall sufficiently be fed. I kept rambling on these so I hope you don’t mind <3

Pairings; (Separate) Xiao, Childe, Zhongli x reader

Warning(s); hurt/comfort, cursing, slight wound description

Keep reading under the cut!

Xiao

You didn’t actually plan to take on the Oceanid but you were in the area and you knew a friend needed a cleansing heart or two so why not?

The why not is the fact that the dumb water birds were ripping the shit out of you

Sufficiently happy that the Oceanid has given you a lesson enough, they disappear, leaving you pretty much in a heaped, shivering, bloody pile.

The yaksha hears his name being spoken with such a level of hurt, Xiao is moving before you’re able to mutter his name a second time

Despite his quick speeds and quicker panic, he hears your voice slowly lose breath. And as much as he doesn’t want to he has started preparing himself for the worst.

Maybe it’s his fault for loving a fleeting mortal?

When he reaches you, you’re unconscious. But breathing. Laboured, likely due to some broken ribs, but breathing none the less. A less panicked and worried Xiao would chastise him for holding onto something that could disappear.

Xiao isn’t going to let you die, not on his hands.

He takes your limp body back to the Wangshu Inn and within the hour there’s 3 doctors all bandaging your body and making sure your stable

Comatose isn’t a word that Xiao has much experience with. But to him it manifests into the worst weeks of his life

Where he isn’t sat beside you, he’s pacing in your room. And when he isn’t doing that he’s throwing himself so deep in slaying demons and once the supply of demons ran dry he started clearing out random hilichurl camps

He knows that things are starting to get better when you start muttering random things in your sleep, and reacting to whatever books Xiao reads to you

Nobody at the Inn says anything outwardly about how unusually soft Xiao is, but everyone’s notices. If you were awake Xiao could imagine you teasing him about it and giving him a kiss

Four weeks almost to the day you wake up. Xiao is sat in his normal place beside you, book in his hand reading to you

“I like that book, its my favourite” you tell the yaksha who hasn’t noticed your waking. Your voice struggles to make words, like when you talk first thing in the morning.

Xiao jumps a little at your voice, he was so engrossed in the book and barely noticed your gaze. 

Grinning is an understatement, Xiao smiles so wide and out of character that you almost jest about Xiao being a doppelganger 

But the moment he hugs you, careful of your bindings, the jest fizzles away

“I almost lost you” he tells you his face sufficiently buried in your neck to try and hide the growing tears that he’s been pushing back through the weeks 

“You can’t get rid of me that easily cutie” you reassure the yaksha as you embrace him as tight as your bandaged body can

-

Childe

The two of you love to expend your energy with random friendly fights be it wrestling around the house or finding the highest plains and having a great all out battle. You both find its a great way to release stress too

“I was thinking about eating out for dinner” you tell Childe as you parry his arrow

“That sounds like an idea. Loser pays” Childe responds with a grin

The fight is great, and dare you say it you’re winning

Until, by no joke, the biggest gust of wind pushes you off of the cliff and sends you flying

It would be funny if you couldn’t feel your bones breaking as you fall

Childe dives off the cliff the as soon as he can attempting to catch you

He does. But he’s a little too late to catch you conscious. You feel like a limp bag of potatoes. Your heartbeat being the only thing that’s currently grounding him and keeping him from committing various crimes

He doesn’t have the time to overthink until you’re safe and laying in your shared room

The three days that you’re unconscious Childe spends almost every waking moment sat on a chair beside your bed, laying on the bed beside you and actively avoiding as much work as he physically can. Even to the point a fatui agent comes to the house and lectures him about how he mustn’t keep avoiding his obligations.

He leaves for half a day on the third day and sits beside you the moment he gets back. He’s lazily telling you about his boring half day of work after he finishes he drops his head onto the bead

“I guess I’ll have to buy dinner though” you tell Childe your hand petting his hair 

You’ve never seen Childe sit up so fast and bury his head into your chest where you continue to pet his hair 

“Though you might have to go and get it, my bones hurt” you jest 

“You fell off a fucking cliff [name] I’m sure your bones do more than hurt” he smiles kissing your nose

You smile at the man and embrace him again “I’m sure you caught me though”

“Without hesitation” he grins, Childes worry's and the days before overthinking flutter away for the time being

-

Zhongli

Being the adventurer spirit that you are going to the reaches of Liyue and you’ve made it your personal goal of exploring every crevice of the country

On your way back to the Harbour after a month and a half being away. Though on the final stretch of your journey a mitachurl decided that you were a personal punching bag and threw you across the road

  Though in much pain from the fall you some how managed to make it back home and into the arms of your spouse

“I’ve got a present fo-” you pass out mid sentence, obviously your adrenaline from the mitachurl had finally ran out

Zhongli takes your sudden excess of deadweight and quickly lays you down onto your shared bed and checks you for any wounds

He quickly finds a large bruise from the mitachurl earlier. Zhongli changes you into some comfortable clothing while you’re already half undressed under his concerned gaze

Despite his quick thinking and generally unfazed expression the archon feels a unsettling pit at the bottom of his stomach

Baizhu is inside the house within the half hour and within the hour he has a diagnosis. A coma with no end date. 

Being acquainted with comas but thanks to his previous lifetimes Zhongli has never been so close to someone with such an ailment

Another month and a half Zhongli finds himself away from his spouse. Although trying to keep his schedule as consistent as possible his morning walks are changed to sitting at the bedside and dinner time was often spent sat to the table that was in the bedroom, but now moved closer to your bedside

Although very used to being alone for extended periods of time thanks for your love of exploration, he has never felt so far away from you despite you being so close to him

When you awoke it was actually close to midnight. Your brain takes a few moments to catch up with the world. You take into account that you’re in bed, and notably, your spouse was not

You feel the distinct pain of the hit you had taken, although you note that it doesn’t hurt nearly as much as it did when you came home

You sit on the edge of your bed and stand, a little wobbly at first, and you move about your home looking for your absent spouse

That’s until you find him asleep in the spare bedroom. Why is he there? You don’t remember having an explosive argument or kicking out of bed.

You enter the room and touch your spouses arm and you call his name. He wakes with a start almost surprised

“You’re awake” he informs you which causes you to chuckle at him

“You’re going to have to catch me up my love” you stroke his hair after he sits up in bed and urges you to sit atop his lap

“In the morning my dear, just for a moment let me be in your presence”

“Anything for you my love” you smile at him before pausing “Though I would love something to eat”