#I wish they could just have their own little flat and live there without any worries (except for domestic ones)

[sovamurka]

Happiness That Never Was

Still thinking about the fact that Sasha and Inga never really got a chance to live a peaceful, simple and happy life.

They were born into abusive households. Sasha was impoverished to the point when he couldn’t afford any food, starving for days, with Inga being the only one feeding and caring for him. Inga was constantly beaten up by her stepdad, and her mother did not stop him. The only one who stopped Inga from accepting so much abuse was Sasha, telling her ‘If your mother really loved you, then she wouldn’t let him hurt you’.

Inga: Wanna finish?

Sasha: But what about you?

Inga: Unlike you, I’m fed at home.

Sasha: Unlike you, I’m not beaten up at home.

Inga: Is this some kind of competition?

At one point things got so bad that Inga wanted to run away and Sasha had to stop her from doing it on her own because she’s underaged and had no place to escape. But he had a suggestion. He suggested they call Child Services, so they could send them to an orphanage. His plan was simple: they could live there until they reached 18 and then live how they wanted, without the abuse. 

Sasha: Let’s call the Child Services so they could take us.

Inga: To an orphanage?

Sasha: Just for a few years. Till we come of age. We need to get as far away from them (their abusive households) as we can...

On top of that, Inga is dyslexic and was continually mocked for it by everyone, except Sasha. He wanted to help her. He wanted to find a book so interesting that it would keep her so engaged she would try to go through and be proud of it. He did find it. Too bad that this book had a trap that caused them to get poisoned with white ink (which is one of the most important plot points in recent chapters and Exlibrium as a whole, this part of their story has been kept a secret for years, we only learned about this, like, half a year ago). 

Sasha: I thought if you like the book, then you would try to go through it to learn what happens next. That’s why I found a good one for you. I liked it, so I wanted to share it with you because that’s what friends do.   

After they were caught by the Bookwizard Circle, they were subjected to one of the most horrifying experiences in their lives - the ink trial. Nor Inga neither Sasha got the white ink as their main source of power, but both of them were stopped by the Circle. Why? Well... First, because Sasha’s colour was not a part of the spectre (his ink is grey, which is a big no no, because it’s close to monochrome ink). Second, even though Inga got azure ink she still had a huge amount of white ink in her body, to the point that her hair (including brows and eyelashes) turned white entirely and one of her eyes started looking like this:

Third, Leska family wanted to experiment on them in the first place because of how they got poisoned. Leskas wanted to see what would happen if both of them got white ink power. To their disappointment, none of them did. But they still proceeded to torture and experiment on them for a year, to see what could happen and to learn why Sasha got grey colour and why Inga still had white ink in her body. All while condemning them for it and telling them that they don’t belong here and that their every mistake is a fatal one (which backfires badly in Sasha’s case because that’s exactly why he did what he did in the future, costing the Library many lives and reputation).

After some time at the library (and the constant pressure from the Circle) Sasha (who was on the verge of suicide with Inga being his sole reason to live, because he was still blaming himself for putting her in danger) goes against the rules and tries to free a character named Agata from being killed over and over again by her best friend. As I mentioned, nothing goes according to plan, people die, all the students turn against him and start blaming him for everything... 

Except for Inga. She never blamed him and never turned her back on him. She understood him like no one else, accepting him with all his flaws. She defended him, when no one else did. And everyone hated her for it. Her mates still talked to her, but none of them were allowed to bring this issue up in her presence because they would immediately get into an argument with her. Sasha, however, started blaming himself even more, constantly apologizing for what he did. Also, he started to become even more self-critical and deemed himself unworthy of any love (especially from Inga, which he later confesses to her). 

Sasha: You always supported me. Even when I didn’t deserve it.

Inga: Nonsense! You always deserved it!

This internalized self-hatred results in him being ready to throw his life away, because, in his opinion, there is no other way for him to redeem himself. What he doesn’t realize, however, is that a lot of things that he did after this incident already redeemed him in the eyes of others. Even in Rita’s, whose almost-boyfriend Vladya died because of Sasha. And yet, even after this, after he finally started to stabilize and heal his mental state (despite losing his mentor and dear friend Nightingale, btw), after swearing not to die, he still had this gnawing feeling that the only way he can truly redeem himself is to sacrifice his life, so Inga could live. She was having none of it, so he tricked her into being saved, and it’s so heartbreaking because she was the first one to swear not to die, she didn’t want Sasha to see another loved one perish. And now she’s the one who has to see her beloved die. 

(Bonus: Lilya, who just had Kira back, also loses her in this process, wtf, why this series always punishes those, who dare to love somebody, like this)

It’s made even worse by the fact that Sasha is technically both dead and alive. So he kept his promise, but he also didn’t. Now we have to wait and see Inga’s (probably unhinged and very heart-wrenching) reaction to it.  

I have a very, very small hope for a happy ending. Mostly because this series is known for it’s glass-choking content and everyone has to suffer there. But I still have this hope, I always do.

Inga and Sasha’s story is still unfinished, but, for now, it can only be described as “Happiness That Never Was”. 

[themotherofhorses]

you can pretend it's not meant to be (but you can't stay away from me)

summary: to you, he is fictional. but to him, you are everything and more. he can't live without you. and, really, there is no use in trying to run away, he'll always find you.

pairing: (somewhat) dark!aemond targaryen x fem!reader

warnings: explicit language. noncon to dubcon. abduction. massive obsessive tendencies on aemond's part. breeding kink. slight spitting kink. pregnancy.

note: hey this is me practicing writing smut because ive never ever done it before and i don't know jackshit like wtf is a dick hahaha im dreading posting this hahahasendhelpplshaha

masterlist | series masterlist

part two | part three | part four | part five

How did you end up here?

That was all you could ask yourself, over and over again.

It had only been hours ago, maybe, that you were sitting at home, rewatching the first season of House of the Dragon for what seemed to be the thousandth time. Perhaps you dozed off on the couch too, but that was it. You have heard of shifting techniques before- ways to visit your favorite fictional worlds- but you never sought to try them out yourself.

College left you too busy with assignments and textbook readings, as well as the constant and unwavering pressure to maintain both your scholarships and high GPA.

Ever the dutiful and driven daughter, hungry for academic validation and success.

Oh, fuck, your scholarships!

Your GPA!

All those assignments and discussions and exams!

And what about your family? Your mother and father? And your best friend?

Aemond Targaryen seems not to understand your words, and why you tell, beg, and plead for him to let you go. “Please, I need to go home,” you cry loudly, while yanking at the thick knots that bound you to his bedframe, “please! My family, my friends. They will be worrying when they don’t hear from me, and all my hard work and accomplishments, it will be for nothing! Please, I beg you, let me go home.”

But he just chuckles and kisses your forehead and says, “Oh, my sweet girl, I’m your family now. Or what is of it.” His lips feel so soft and wonderful, and how desperately you wish to enjoy the feeling. But not like this. You cannot think properly nor muster any sort of response, too distracted and stressed and focused on calming your breathing.

“Although,” he then adds with a smirk, “it truly is not considered a family until you have a babe of your own…or two.”

At his words, you tremble and whimper and try your best to break free, though it is all in stupid and foolish vain. There is no going anywhere, the knots are too tight and Aemond can easily overpower you. All you can do is stare up at the man you once considered your favorite character in the series, ever since the eighth episode aired and he stole your heart and soul and burrowed himself deep within your most inner thoughts and fixation.

“Do not worry,” he says, and you can see a twinkle in the violet of his eye. He rests a hand on your collarbone, gently drawing little shapes across the skin. “Good things will come out of this night, my love, I promise you that.”

Look on the bright side, you tell yourself, in some dumb attempt to steel your nerves, better Aemond Targaryen to lose your virginity to.

“You need to be quieter, my darling-” Aemond murmurs close to your ear “-we do not need curious ears listening in, do we?” He has you riding him, both hands clutching your hips as you do your best to bounce on his cock and match his thrusts. You’re sloppy and inexperienced, and a bit confused on what exactly to do, but it is so endearing that his lips curl into a grin.

Oh, you were made for me, he thinks, watching the way your glazed-over eyes try to hold his gaze. He will have you believe that by the end of the night, dawning if necessary.

There is much rush now that he found you, now that he has the chance to claim you.

You still moan, loud and high-pitched, and he slaps a hand flat over your mouth to shut you up. It makes your pretty and teary eyes widen more as you grab at his wrist, holding onto it while he tuts. “I’ll move my hand when you learn to listen to your husband and stay quiet. No one is allowed to hear my wife in her pleasure. No one but I.” At that, you bat your eyelashes at him, breasts heaving as he leans you down, so close your lips nearly touch, and Aemond can feel your heavy pants against his mouth.

“They will take you away from me, and ship you far across the world where I can’t find you,” he hisses, pinching your swollen nipple between his fingers, “I can’t have that. No, no, do you hear me? I will not survive being torn from you.”

The mere thought of losing you, either at the hands of his mother and grandsire or you returning to your homeland, fills him with sheer dread.

He does not know how to tell you that you are the girl of his dreams, everything he has desired and more. He has seen you in his nighttime slumbers and in the gleam of the summer sunlight and up among the black midnight stars.

But the words fall apart on his tongue, and all he can do is lay beneath you and marvel at your beauty: cheekbones and pretty puffy lips and the curve of your nose, the way your eyebrows furrow in pure pleasure, and how you look utterly delicious and ruined.

“You were made for me,” he breathes in awe, palming at both your breasts. You have to believe him, this sweet and pretty girl of his, how could you not? The gods above created you for him, he will make you see it. “You are taking me so fucking well,” and Aemond flattens a palm against your belly, where he can feel the slight bulge of his cock. “Look at you, you’re my dream come true.” He thrusts his hips up, fucking into you harder and deeper. It makes you squeal and go cross-eyed.

“Is this too much? I know you can handle it, my darling. My love, my sweet girl,” he purrs.

Aemond swipes at the drool pooling at your lips before stuffing two fingers in. “Fuck,” he whines, breathing hard, slipping his other hand in between your thighs, and with his thumb, rubbing at your clit. Your face twists in a gasp as you tremble, your entire body tightening until you cream over his cock, your loud moan muffled by the fingers in your mouth.

“Good girl,” he hums, slowing his thrusts, “Such a good fucking girl. Look at that, did that feel good, my love?” he asks you.

You nod, rocking your hips back and forth. Your thighs shaking and your face scrunching in complete bliss as you start again, taking his cock deep in your stomach with tiny bounces. “Please- please- please-” you babble against his palm. “I-I want- I need-”

“Want what, my sweet girl? Need what, my darling wife?”

You don’t answer, too overtaken by the pleasure. Aemond chuckles and leans upwards, to bury his face between your breasts. You are absolutely stunning, gorgeous, a living goddess; how he went this long without you is baffling. “You wish for my seed. Is that what you want?” he mutters against your nipple, “of course you do, this belly is too empty, isn’t it? My son should be sleeping inside.” His fingers pinch your clit, and you gasp again. “You’ll be the prettiest mother. You were made to carry my children. You were made for me,” and he pulls your face back to his, with a rough grip on your chin.

“Tell me,” he demands through a pant, “tell me how fucking badly you need my seed. Tell me…tell me right now.”

“I- I need it-“ you choke out, but then you shake your head. “No- No I can’t! I- I need to go- go home!”

Aemond laughs, so hard he flings his head back. The sight takes you by surprise before he shoves you off, causing you to land next to him on the bed. You stare up at him, wide eyed and puzzled and swollen and covered in countless bites and bruises. In one swing, he forces your face into the pillow as he mounts you from behind, fucking you hard. His fingers return to your clit, squeezing and tweaking and not caring one bit about your muffled yelps and whines

“You’ll learn, my sweet girl, but perhaps not tonight. I am your home now, do you understand? I’m your family, your husband, and the father to your children.”

He grabs a fistful of damp hair and yanks your face back, never once slowing his thrusts. Your mouth is open with many moans spilling out, eyes clouded with tears, and cheeks flushed. With his lips next to your ear, he whispers, “You are going nowhere.” Then propping himself on one arm, he trails small kisses up your back to your shoulder blade until his mouth slams down on yours in a heavy and wet kiss.

And when he pulls away, his fingertips squeeze your cheeks together as he demands for you to open your mouth. "You are mine," he grunts, "you belong to me," before spitting into it. "Good, now swallow."

And when you do, he smiles.

"There, see?" he coos, leaning to kiss your forehead as he feels you tighten around his cock. He was going to seed you again, deep inside your womb. Come the morning, he knows his son will be in there, and he can hardly wait.

"My wife, my darling girl, the only woman deserving of me and all of me. Only me." He watches you sob at that, pink lips pressing in a tight line as fat tears streak down both cheeks. "Oh, do not worry, my love. You're too lovely to be crying," and he uses his thumb to brush away the tears, "I'm here to give you the life you deserve," he vows, so lovingly, "you will want for nothing."

With a loud huff, you plop yourself on the couch.

The saying “home sweet home” never felt more sincere until now. It took much time and planning and effort and sneaking around on your part, but you managed to find a way to escape from Aemond Targaryen, though not without consequences. Your belly was growing only larger with every new moon, and your babe was starting to shift around more. At most times, you could feel the fluttering sensation across the bottom of your tummy, and every now and then, the tiniest kick.

It was adorable, you admitted, and you tried your best to find enjoyment throughout the pregnancy, sometimes wondering at night about who your child would resemble.

Would their looks favor yours? Or would they favor their father, with his Valyrian features- that iconic silver hair and violet eyes. The latter worried you the most. How could you even begin to explain why your child looked as if they belonged in the Game of Thrones series, specifically in House Targaryen?

Speaking of such, you had not touched House of the Dragon since you arrived back home all those months ago, too unwilling to turn on the tv and see the man whose child you were mysteriously carrying in your womb. It just did not make any sense, it felt more like a weird dream than reality.

But you were dying of boredom. The dragonling (you had taken to nicknaming the baby that, it sounded both cute and appropriate) was stealing away most of your time and energy, and your mother refused to allow you to do anything that could cause harm or add more unnecessary stress.

So you bit your tongue and swallowed down your grumbles and settled comfortably on the couch before opening Fire and Blood.

“Fucking crazy to think that this is a book of your family’s history,” you mumbled to your baby bump, “fictional my ass.”

So you read, to yourself and to your babe. Read about Aegon’s Conquest and the Year of the Three Brides and King Jaehaerys and his Alysanne and their triumphs and tragedies and legacy, and you read until you reached The Dying of the Dragons, the Blacks and the Greens, where you just sighed.

“And when Alicent sent for her second son to fly to Storm’s End, with the purpose of securing Borros Baratheon’s loyalty to Aegon II by winning the hand of one of his daughters, the Four Storms, the truth was finally known. One-eyed Prince Aemond, twenty and one, had taken a wife of his own in secret, a young maiden not of Westeros (according to Mushroom). Yet Prince Aemond lost her a month into their marriage, although by that time he had become so besotted with his bride, to such an extent that he could not bear the thought of living without her or taking another woman as his new wife.

With Prince Aemond refusing his mother’s orders, Queen Alicent had little choice but to send her youngest, Prince Daeron, in his place to Storm’s End. And by the seventh month, Prince Daeron wedded Floris Baratheon, and Prince Aemond One-Eye had reunited with his wife, who was heavy with child by the time he found her.”

You suddenly glance up from the book pages, feeling your heart hammering so hard in your chest that it seems at the end of your throat. On the wall, to your right, hung the calendar which you had taken to use as a means of tracking your pregnancy.

In two weeks, you’ll be at your seventh-month mark.

[toxophilitis]

Horny Peeping Sister cont

Chapter 5

When Becky arrived home, she found her father in the kitchen wearing an apron and putting dinner on the table. There were only three places set, and Becky guiltily slid into hers.

“Where’s mom?” she asked as her dad set the casserole down in front of her.

“She had a big meeting with a client,” Jim Moon replied, noticing his daughter looked especially radiant. “Do you know where Tom is?”

“Nope,” Becky said quickly, helping herself to the food.

“I guess we’ll start without him, then,” Jim sighed, sitting down himself.

“Yeah, guess so,” Becky mumbled.

As she began to eat, Becky tried to stay calm, but it wasn’t easy. She was relieved that her mother wasn’t there. Somehow her mom always knew when she was lying or trying to hide something. Still, it made her nervous to have to lie right to her father’s face. She wished that Tom would hurry up and get his ass home!

Jim watched his daughter move her food around on her plate, arranging it into little piles and then smashing them flat. Obviously something was on the girl’s mind, and he wondered what it could be. All the time she and Tom had been spending together lately had not gone unnoticed by their usually quiet father. Still, Jim didn’t know exactly how to approach the subject with his daughter, so he just let them finish their meal in silence.

When they were about done, Tom burst in through the back door, school books in hand.

“Sorry dad, I got hung up.” He glanced briefly at Becky. “Where’s mom?”

“She had to work late,” Jim said, noticing the odd way his son looked at Becky.

“We didn’t know how late you’d be so we’ve already finished.”

“No sweat, dad,” Tom said, heaping a mound of food on his plate and then heading for the living room. “I wanted to catch the end of the game anyway.”

Jim didn’t say anything as Tom carried his meal to the couch and turn on the television. Such behavior was strictly prohibited when Julie was home, but since she wasn’t there, Jim saw no reason the boy couldn’t eat wherever he wanted to. Again alone with Becky, Jim pushed back his chair and sighed.

“So, how’s school?” he asked.

“What?” Becky snapped, her mind so far away, reliving the events of the evening, that she didn’t hear her father’s question.

“I just asked how things were going at school.”

“Oh, okay I guess,” Becky said, getting up and carrying their dirty dishes to the sink.

As she swept past Jim, he caught the unmistakable scent of sex wafting from her. Had his little girl just been fucked? he asked himself.

Becky had her back to her father as she scraped the plates off and filled the sink with hot water. Her pussy hurt a little bit from the vigorous finger-fucking Tom had given it, and she shifted her thighs, trying to ease her discomfort. Jim noticed her sexy gyrations and cleared his throat loudly.

“Honey, ah, you’re getting to be quite a young woman, and ah, if there’s every anything you want to talk about, any questions you might have, you know you can come to me and I’ll help you all I can.”

“Thanks, dad,” Becky murmured, her back still to him.

“I know your mother isn’t the kind of person who seems like she’d be easy to talk to about uh, sex, so I want you to know that I’m available to you.”

Becky nodded, her thighs still rubbing together.

As Jim spoke, he got the crazy idea that his daughter was turned on for some reason. He watched her ass rock from side to side ever so slightly and found himself wanting Becky, wanting her very much. Sex with his wife was poor at best and, although he didn’t want to, he began to imagine what it would be like to fuck his own daughter.

“Do you think you know enough about sex?” he asked, his own blunt question turning him on. “I mean, is there anything you don’t understand?”

“I don’t know,” Becky shrugged, pressing herself tighter against the counter.

Was her father coming on to her? Becky wondered. Again her thoughts returned to the people she had watched fucking earlier that evening.  She imagined them to have been father and daughter and the idea of actually getting the chance to have that kind of sexual experience herself began to appeal to her. But could she do it? Could her father do it? she wondered.

At that point Jim wasn’t sure himself either. But his daughter drew him like a magnet and he got up and walked over to her. He stood right behind her as she soaped the dishes, his body close enough to her so she could feel his body heat, but not close enough to touch.

“I know it’s none of my business honey,” he said softly, pushing her hair to one side and caressing her bare neck, “but I don’t think you were at your piano lesson tonight. Were you with a boy?”

Becky shrugged.

“Well, it really doesn’t matter,” Jim said, hugging her to him. At first Becky was stiff in his embrace, but when she felt his hard cock against the crack of her ass, she relaxed. Now she knew that he wanted her just as she wanted him.

“You’re right Daddy, I was with a boy tonight,” she whispered, rubbing back against him.

“I hope you didn’t do anything foolish,” Jim panted, his arms holding her tight against him and caressing her curvy sides.

“I didn’t let him fuck me, if that’s what you mean,” Becky said boldly, writhing her ass against his hard-on.

“Have you ever fucked a boy?” Jim asked, his hands moving down the front of her body and to the crotch of her jeans. When she didn’t stop him, he rubbed the crux of her thighs.

“Only one,” she replied, her cunt fucking under her father’s touch.

The top of Becky’s blonde head came to just beneath his chin as he pressed himself against her harder than ever. His hands were between her upper thighs, and he could feel the heat of her hot cunt through the fabric of her jeans. Jim didn’t believe what he was doing, but kept doing it anyway, his hard-on growing stiffer against Becky’s ass.

Becky looked down at her body, and saw her dad’s hands disappearing between her legs. She rolled her head back against him and sighed. This was the best thing that had ever happened to her, and she knew that soon she would be taking her father’s cock, just like the little brunette had. To speed things along, Becky reached down and unzipped the front of her pants.

“You can stop me any time you want to,” her father panted as he accepted her invitation and moved his hands inside her jeans and panties.

Becky sighed and wiggled a bit, easing her pants down around her thighs. Her father’s touch made her tingle, and that surprised her. She would not have thought that anything could make her feel better than the things she had done with her brother.

But her father was very much like her brother only bigger and more experienced. He too, was tall and dark, and Becky relaxed against him, opening herself up to his magical touch.

Jim touched the soft, wet folds of her cunt and sighed with lust. God, what was he doing? Was he out of his mind? But he couldn’t stop, he didn’t want to stop, so he probed the juicy tightness of Becky’s young pussy.

Becky’s hands were limp in the dishwater and her head rolled back against his chest. His cock was throbbing behind her, and she wanted it more than anything she had ever wanted before.

“You gonna fuck me, Dad?” she asked, her voice thick and odd.

“Do you want me to?”

“Yesss, oh yesss!” she sighed.

Jim kept one finger probing at the open flower of her pussy and brought the other back between their bodies and carefully undid his zipper. His cock bobbed up, automatically nudging in between his daughter’s legs.

Becky whimpered when her father fisted his cock and guided it to the opening of her pussy. Becky lifted herself up on the counter slightly to make it easier for him to penetrate her.

Jim gave her a series of short, quick fuck-strokes, feeding his little girl his cock a bit at a time. He could hear the drone of the television, and he remembered that Tom might wander back into the kitchen at any moment. It worried him, but at the moment he was too horny to let anything stop him from finishing the fuck he had just begun.

When the tip of his cock was securely inside Becky, he again took her in his arms and held her up off the floor. Then, with another few lunges, he had her filled with his prick-meat.

“Daddyyyy,” Becky sighed.

Jim braced her against the counter and pumped into her with a vigor he hadn’t felt in years. His wife used to be a good fuck, but lately she’d been too bitchy to even turn him on. He chose just to leave her to her own devices and went his own way. Fucking his own daughter was turning out to be the very best way he’d found to scratch his itch in a very long time.

As he fucked her, Becky felt her pants slipping farther and farther down her legs until they were tangled around her shoes. She felt light and very feminine with her father holding her up in the air while he fucked her. Briefly she wondered if she looked as wanton taking her daddy’s prick as the brunette girl had earlier that evening.

Cunt-juice flowed from Becky’s open pussy and made it easier for her dad to fuck her hard and fast. His pants too rolled down his hips, freeing him for wilder and more wanton fucking. He gripped Becky tightly, holding her up and using her like some kind of fuck-off doll.

Becky sighed and moaned, her father’s cock going deeper inside of her than her brother’s prick ever had. She felt like her father’s prick was touching special places within her, places that had never been touched before. She wiggled around as much as she could, wanting to let him know that she loved what he was doing to her and to beg him not to stop.

But Jim had no intention of stopping, at least not until he came. He nuzzled his face into his daughter’s fragrant hair and nibbled on her white neck as he continued to feed her the many inches of his man-sized prick shaft.

“Am I hurting you?” he panted.

“N-n-n-noooo,” Becky replied, her answer coming out shaky because of his vigorous fucking. “I-I-I love it!”

“Good,” Jim grunted, slamming his cock into her all the way, “because so do I!”

His hard fuck-strokes jammed Becky against the counter, her hips grinding against the tiles. Jim leaned over her and forced her to bend at the waist, bringing her long hair into the soapy water in front of her.

More than ever Becky felt like the fucking couple she had watched. Now, like that girl, she was bent way over with her dad giving her his cock from behind! Becky leaned forward even farther, watching the ends of her hair floating on the greasy, sudsy surface of the dishwater.

When her father fucked into her hard, her clit was ground against the counter with especially pleasant results. Becky rocked forward and back as much as she could, increasing the violence of their fucking motions, and also increasing the contact her sizzling clit recieved.

Jim caught on to what she was doing and began to help her. He lifted her up and leaned against her back, bouncing her clit against the edge of the counter.

Little flutters began to run down her spine and Jim felt them on the inside as well as the outside of her body. His cock was jolted by them and it thrilled him to know that his little girl was so close to coming. He plowed her cunt that much faster, anxious to bring her off.

Becky grabbed the far side of the sink and used it for leverage to fuck back at her dad. His cock continued to trench her out, filling and stretching her pussy-channel like Tom’s young prick never had. She writhed and swooned, her body taking over her mind and fucking of its own volition.

The more extreme the quaking inside of Becky’s cunt became, the more frenzied her father’s fucking became. Jim rolled his eyes and thundered his cock forward, jabbing it between the gripping walls of Becky’s pussy. He could feel from the way his nuts had begun to tingle that it wouldn’t be long before he was coming, too.

“Daddy, I’m gonna come,” Becky panted, as if asking his permission.

“Do it, baby, do it,” Jim grunted, filling her with his prick. “Just let it go!”

Becky’s mouth was open, and she breathed loudly. She gasped and sputtered, her orgasm wracking her body with tremendous shudders. Jim held her tight and continued to fuck her, the tremors in her cunt vibrating his whole body from the cock on up. Together they panted and sighed, the father savoring his daughter’s orgasm almost as much as he would savor one of his own.

Becky pressed her clit tightly against the counter edge and felt the mouth of her pussy opening and closing as if gulping in air. Her eyes were squeezed shut, and she was bent cruelly over the counter, her face very near to the cooling water.

As her orgasm subsided, Jim took it easy on her, fucking her with tender, stirring strokes that made her coo and sigh. But it cost him dearly, and he could only hold himself back for so long before his body tensed and he let her have it with both barrels again.

“Get ready baby,” he panted, ramming into her with renewed vigor.

“Yes Daddy, I’m ready,” Becky gasped, his weight nearly crushing her.

Like a dog fucking its mate, Jim leaned into his little girl and fed her the last of his exquisite fucking. His cock thundered through the ultra-tight of her freshly climaxed cunt, loving the way the walls of her pussy continued to shudder with soft, stray ripples of ecstasy.  Each one thrilled Jim right down to the roots of his hair and spurred him on to fuck Becky that much harder.

The silky interior of her pussy caressed his sizzling prick, and Jim grunted and gasped in frustration and pleasure. The come in his nuts gathered together and then, despite his effort to delay it, came rushing up along the tube of his prick like the tide on the beach and crashed forth, shooting from the tiny hole in the end of his prick with incredible force and volume.

“Ahhh, gahhhh, fuck!” he gurgled, burying his sobs of release in her long, silky hair.

Becky felt like she might explode from the strength of his climax. She felt the cream decorate her insides with its whiteness and warmth. Even coming with her own brother had never been like this!

For several seconds her father shuddered against her back, his cock bucking around inside her. Then, gradually, she felt him relax and his cock begin to slip from her, greased with a thick stream of his escaping jizz. An inch at a time Jim lowered her to the floor and her toes had just touched when she heard her brother’s voice.

“Jesus mother-fucking Christ!” Tom exclaimed, his milk glass crashing to the floor. “Damn!”

[dark-and-kawaii]

I love soft Haarlep and I do love your parent!Haarlep stuff but I can't help but wonder about the angst that would come from Soft!Haarlep realizing that Tav is pregnant with their child, ie a cambion (DND lore states cambion births that stem from a human mother x devil/incubus/etc always results in the mother's death).

₊˚⊹♡ ɪ ᴄᴀɴ’ᴛ ᴛᴇʟʟ ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴏᴡ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ɪ ʟᴏᴠᴇᴅ ᴛʜɪꜱ. ɪ ᴛʜɪɴᴋ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜱᴄᴇɴᴀʀɪᴏ ꜱᴏ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴏʀʀɪꜰɪᴄ ᴏᴜᴛᴄᴏᴍᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴘᴏᴛᴇɴᴛɪᴀʟʟʏ ʜᴀᴘᴘᴇɴ. ᴏʀ ᴇᴠᴇɴ ᴀ ɢᴏᴏᴅ ᴏᴜᴛᴄᴏᴍᴇ ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ʜᴀᴀʀʟᴇᴘ ɪꜱ ʀᴇʟɪᴇᴠᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ᴅᴏᴠᴇ ɪꜱ ᴏᴋᴀʏ.

⋆˙⟡♡ Angst | Pregnancy | Soft Haarlep ♡

Haarlep’s usual guise of cruelty softened into something almost human as they watched you sleep, your chest rising and falling with the innocent rhythm of peaceful slumber. Oblivious to Haarlep’s unexpected worry. The incubus was always known for their merciless nature, feasting upon souls and taking whatever it is they wished without a care for the other’s wellbeing… But you… You were different.

Haarlep’s gaze drifted, lingering on the delicate features of your face before trailing down to your still flat abdomen. Inside you, unbeknownst to you, a new life was taking root. A life that Haarlep could sense with a clarity that cursed their very being...

Haarlep had always threatened to breed you, to knock you up with their demon spawn to show all of hell and Faerun that you belonged to them, once enslaved incubus, a lowly creature…

Closing their eyes, Haarlep realizes their very nature had gotten the best of them. That their very threat had come to fruition and with each beat of your heart, a silent countdown to your demise had begun…

The knowledge was a blade to Haarlep’s darkened heart. Incubi, like them, were no strangers to the fatal toll their offspring could exact on mortal lovers. History whispered of rare survivals, like Tasha the witch queen, who bore the children of Grazzt and lived to tell the tale. But you were not her. You were just some adventurer, who had gotten tangled with Raphael, which led you inadvertently into Haarlep’s embrace.

If this spawn was anything like a full blooded incubus, your mortal body would have trouble handling such a pregnancy. You could very well die trying to bring it into this world… If you even carried the spawn long enough for that to become an issue. The youngling may take you by surprise in the night and tear through you, feasting upon your very soul as it left your body.

With a heavy breath, Haarlep’s lashes fluttered back open as they placed their large hand gently on your stomach. They could only stare at it as memories flooded their mind of when you whispered dreams of carrying their offspring, begging for their threats of breeding to come true, wishing to feel your own belly swollen with a little mini Haarlep... You had smiled so brightly then… A smile they wished to keep to themselves… Haarlep wondered if that would be the last time they would ever see such a sight… Their favorite treat, always eager for a taste of the them… Always so loyal to them…

The incubus’s eyes began to harden…

A deep growl rumbled from within Haarlep, the sound echoing around the room as they thought of all the ways this could go horribly wrong. All the ways your precious mortal life could end.

The growing soul within you had to go. It must.

You were theirs. You were not supposed to be taken away from them…

They couldn't lose you.

Not you.

As they leaned down and pressed their lips against your stomach. It was a kiss, tender and loving, so out of place from their usual rough manner. Haarlep lingered there, lips brushing against the warm skin, feeling the flutter of your heartbeat underneath the softness of your flesh.

You were theirs.

Not Raphael's, not any other fiend or demon who thought they could get a claim on you.

Just Haarlep's.

Kelemvor, death itself, wouldn’t have you... Haarlep would seize the offspring, tearing it from your flesh with merciless hands if necessary…

[catscidr]

hiiiii omg your childe fic was SO. CUTE. 😭😭🩷🩷🩷 sooooo could I request a scenario where alhaitham and reader are roommates???? romantic tension is real 🤭 imagine the lingering stares at his body (muscles) and getting caught ??? you cooking for him?? falling asleep on his shoulder on the couch?? helping him fix his tie for work???? he's so cute i am absolutely deranged i am so sorry ☺️☺️☺️ dating but not dating fr

i made this into a drabble-y format because i wanted to write things inspired by ur ideas without the story dragging on or being repetitive ueagdhfgs i GET the al haitham brainrot he’s so. aa. if i ever say no to romanticizing mundane life call the fire dept because that is Not me. also never apologize for being feral over a fictional man...... no one is immune to hot 2d men ⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝ cw: fluff, domestic life shenanigans, reader ogles his muscles bc Yeah, lowkey crack a little bit includes: gn!reader, alhaitham, lowkey modern au sorta kindof maybe wc: 1,3k

Living with Alhaitham is easy. Living with your feelings for him, however, is not. At first you thought you would simply get flustered by him because he looked intimidating and because you didn’t know him all that well- you were just a little scared of him and the way your heart raced around him was because of your body panicking. Surely. But, the more time went on and you got to know him, slowly but surely, he came out of his shell and your schedules began to merge to allow yourselves to easily (metaphorically) dance around the other, a seamless waltz that you perfected to a tee. And, to no one's surprise, you weren't perpetually flustered because of how scary he could look.

-ˋˏ his and your chores

Cleaning up after yourself when you live with someone is imperative; when you live alone you can let yourself go a little, but when you share a living space with someone it’s only courteous to keep your shared space clean of any messes. 

You and Alhaitham had agreed that you’d share chores. Most of the time, when you were on picking-up-the-trash duty you wouldn’t need to do too much since he would have emptied out his own trashcan in the communal bin, and the same thing applied to him when it was his turn to maintain your shared bathroom clean since you’d do your best to keep it as clean as possible. However, one of the things you didn’t realize would affect you so much was when you had agreed to this “system” was when you’d see him do the dishes for the first time. 

Something as banal as your roommate standing over the kitchen sink, sleeveless shirt exposing his muscles as he scrubbed the plates you had both used to eat dinner. Was it the water that would occasionally splash on him, making his black tank look even the slightest bit sheer and making you stare shamelessly, drinking in the sight? Was it his small scowl whenever he touched soggy bits of food in the sink? (making you wish he was scowling at you in a strange desire to have his attention even if it was as a result of a bad thing)

...it was probably because, when he was doing the dishes, you realized he always had his headphones in, and it allowed you to stare at him all you wanted when he wasn’t facing you because he was so focused on his task. 

He caught you staring once, but you managed to convince him that it wasn't what it looked like (it was) 

-ˋˏ coming back from the gym 

Alhaitham went to the gym often, that much you could guess from his build. No one had biceps that thick from genes alone- you got to confirm your guess when you (literally) ran into him when he was coming back from the gym in the middle of the night. He promptly apologized (with an expressionless face) and explained that the gym was much quieter at 3am when you asked him why in the Seven he was at the gym so late. Though the flat was dark, you could still see the faint outline of his body from the small bits of moonlight shining through... somewhere. Peeling your eyes away from him you make your way to the fridge to do what you had come out of your room for- that good cold, mid-night glass of water. 

His eyes followed your sluggish figure, scoffing amusedly. With only a few steps, he catches up to you and grabs the glass from your hands, chugging it. Some water dribbles down the side of his mouth down his chin and you do nothing but gawk at him, emotions a mess. 

Should you be mad he so rudely took your glass of water? Or should you be grateful you could see how body properly, illuminated by the fridge light? One thing you knew for sure, you were going to need to grab a new glass of water since he stole yours. 

-ˋˏ making food

With your chores separated, there was one thing you had agreed to do on your own- that being anything regarding lunch and dinner. Breakfast was easy enough; you’d eat a normal portion of a normal breakfast while Al Haitham would eat almost twice as much as you because of his workout routine (he had explained how he had to bulk and offered to pay for the extra groceries) so you often ate the same thing since it was more convenient. 

Lunch was different. Sometimes you had places to be (whether it be work or class) and you wouldn’t be there to eat lunch, vice versa. The same thing applied to dinner. So, when you both were at the apartment at the same time for a meal that wasn’t breakfast, you’d make food for the other- but only occasionally. Basically, only when you felt like it. 

The first time he cooked you dinner he made a hearty soup that, by taking one glance at it, made your mouth water. You insisted that he make more to keep as leftovers so you could bring some to eat when you had time between classes, but he refused, saying that it was best fresh. 

So, he made you dinner more often. Every time he did you felt your heart clench at the domestic sight; Alhaitham in a corny, pink and frilly apron with his sleeves rolled up, carefully chopping up vegetables and tossing spices in the pot. 

One time he accidentally cut his finger and you rushed to his side to help. You held his hand under the running water of the sink and had to force your brain to act normally- it was hard not to let it wander when you kept focusing on the feeling of his hand in yours. 

A different time, he made you taste the broth by holding the spoon up to your mouth. The proximity nearly killed you. 

-ˋˏ convincing him to play games together 

Your roommate spent most of his time being productive, unlike you. Most of the time. 

You offered to play games together every so often when you had first moved in. His answer was a polite no (but still equally gut-wrenching and embarrassing to be on the receiving end of) and you gave up for a while. It couldn’t be that bad to have a beefy, intimidating roommate you barely knew, right? It was fine if you stayed strangers and just... respected the other person’s space. Probably. 

But eventually, your relationship changed from strangers to roommates to acquainted roommates. It was then that, when he saw you on your laptop in the living room, playing the role of Player 1 and Player 2 to solve puzzles, that he thought maybe he should just... play something with you. He told himself that he just felt bad for you, but part of him was actually interested in what you were playing. 

He sat next to you, startling you from the sudden shift on the sofa. 

“Is your offer still on the table?” he asked with an amused smirk, watching the character on your screen fall into poison. With a bashful smile you nod, placing the laptop closer to him so it could rest on your right thigh and his left thigh. 

Explaining the rules of the game was easy enough; you’re fireboy and he’s watergirl, each of you have to go through your own door to clear the level and to get to those doors you have to solve puzzles with the other one’s help. Needless to say, you both learned a lot from each other.  

You didn’t know your silver haired, perpetually calm roommate could raise his voice and he didn’t know you had such a wide, extensive vocabulary. 

[somuchbetterthanthat]

Happy Birthday Fav! Here's a little somewhere else!JE for you <3

Jon is safe.

He knows he’s safe. Underneath his bare feet the carpet is soft and warm, and no matter where he looks, all he sees is painfully, achingly familiar — it’s home, his home, the home he’s so keen on building. On the couch Olivia has opened a lazy, curious eye, waiting to see what he might do, if she ought to follow him to the kitchen if he walked all the way there despite the fact it’s four in the morning, but she’s quiet as ever, and all Jon can truly hear is his own erratic breath, harsh against his ear. 

He is safe. 

He knows it, but his body doesn’t. He’s sweating, trembling, heart beating wild and furious against his chest and all his legs want to do is run. Run as far away as he can from his own flat, collapse somewhere where he can be unseen and unknown from anyone who has ever met him and be, if not happy, at least —safe. 

He wishes the nightmares would stop. Without them it would be easier to go back to bed, to go back to sleep, to wake up tomorrow morning refreshed and ready to live his life. But the knowledge they carry is heavy at the back of his head; it comes not only with fear —that much he could dismiss, with time— but with guilt that chokes him awake in the middle of the night, that robs him of the fragile peace he tries to keep during the day, and that poisons his very blood and bones with pain that lingers long, long after the nightmares are gone.

Penance, he thinks, sometimes. But he doesn’t know for whom, exactly.

“Jon,” murmurs his husband, behind him.

“I can’t—” look, sleep, speak, bear it… Jon doesn’t need to finish the sentence. Jon never needs to finish his sentences for Elias to understand him. It usually thrills him, on the good days. 

Elias wraps his arms around him and presses a long kiss on top of his head. Jon lets out a new, anxious, shuddering breath, and closes his eyes, leaning back against him. Elias’ skin is cooler than his, his stance firm and solid as ever, and he grabs Jon’s hands, intertwines their fingers together, and pulls them up until they’re resting at the centre of Jon’s belly. Elias doesn’t need to say much either for Jon to get what he’s doing. Jon lets his head fall back against Elias’ chin, and Elias starts to rock them both, left, right, right, left, a gentle movement to force Jon’s body back in their reality, in this world, their world, their home. 

“You’re safe,” he says against his ear. “We’re both safe and happy.”

“We’re safe,” Jon repeats. 

“They’re just nightmares,” Elias continues. “This is not us. This is not you.”

“This is not you,” Jon whispers.

Elias’ fingers tense around his for a brief second before his thumb starts to rub Jon’s, soothing like always. “I love you,” he tells him. “You’re all I ever wanted and now that I have you, there is nothing else I lack in the world.”

“Nothing else?” Jon asks, throat tight.

“Nothing else but you.” Elias’ nose is buried into Jon’s hair, now, his voice is muffled, but it’s slipping through the cracks of Jon’s paranoia, digging right where it needs to. Jon’s desperate desire for their happiness, for this to be true true true — “Only you. I love you. You are safe, my love. We’re home. You’re safe.”

And now Jon can feel himself start to believe it. It rings at the base of his skull, surer than any of his childish terrors, and he knows that if he turns around and tries to disappear into Elias Elias will welcome the embrace, will do as much as he can to grant Jon’s wish. Elias is his rock, his certainty, his anchor back to here, to know. 

“I don’t want to go back to sleep,” Jon says, after another minute of silent rocking.

“I’ll draw us a bath,” Elias answers. “We’ll wait for dawn together.”

Jon’s heart leaps; his racing mind is slowing; what would he do, without his husband? Where would he be, terrified and in so much pain, burdened with constant guilt? What would he do, without the truth of how much he is loved?

Jon is fine. 

Jon is happy. Jon is safe.

[4izawas]

You want Katboy Katsuki!? Here. Twist my arm why don't you? /j

IDK how you want your prompts. I found no prompt list so I made my own prompt.

Gimme Katboy Katsuki that was abandoned by a neighbor - like the neighbor moved without him - and you let the angry little bastard in and he just makes himself at home and bites anyone who has anything mean to say about or to you.

we ain’t talkin abt how this is 1.6k

the rain was cold and wet, and katsuki’s nose twitched from under the eaves of the roof as he watched little puddles flood the backyard. his tail, usually so thick and fluffy and beautiful, was soaked in rainwater and mud, and no amount of grooming could get it all out. his hair was matted flat to his head with the same stuff, and the burning behind his eyes was the telltale sign that he was about to cry again. it was so stupid to cry over this, though. katsuki didn’t need them! just like they apparently didn’t need katsuki — they wouldn’t have left him here if they had. that being said, and though he’d never admit it, katsuki had cried in the last week or so more than he cared to admit. 

his family had put him in the backyard and then left five whole days ago; they’d not left him with any food, and katsuki was hungry. he’d not had water either, which was why when the rain had started three days ago ( two days into their ‘vacation’ that he hoped was fucking worth it considering the chewing-out he was gonna give them when they got back ) he’d initially been excited, even if it had messed up his typically pristine hair and  fur. he’d drank so much that his stomach had ached for hours, and then he’d fallen asleep only to wake up to thunder and no family. afterwards he stayed on the back patio, staring at the endless rain while curled up into a shivering ball, tears pricking at his eyes. 

it hadn’t been until he fell into a tearful sleep last night that he actually realized they weren’t coming back. not for him, at least. 

katsuki didn’t understand what he’d done wrong; was it because he was loud? maybe because he’d gently smacked at the eight year old when she yanked his tail? maybe he was on the couch too much — or maybe he just… wasn’t good enough to keep. maybe all those things he’d told the green furred hybrid he’d grown up with had been more like him instead: unwanted, ugly, and all the even worse stuff. 

a soft hiccup forces itself up from his throat, and katsuki buries his face in his arms where he’d had them on his knees before his body begins to shake again. he didn’t understand. he’d tried — he’d tried so hard to be good. 

his best just wasn’t good enough. 

his ears flick up when he hears a car pull up in the driveway next to his house, but then they flick down again. someone must just be turning around, no one lived in that house; it had been empty for the six years he’d been with his family after they adopted him when he was fourteen. a car door slams, and he jumps; why were they getting out? they should be going home. 

he can hear someone humming when they open a car door, can hear bags rustling and keys jingling, and he scoffs ( though its more of a shaky whimper ); his family had been gone so long that someone had moved into the house next door. 

another couple hours pass, katsuki just sitting underneath the porch as always, and nothing changes — until the back door to the next door patio opens, and the new owner comes out. he braves a peek, and his pupils dilate in interest; they were handsome, he noticed, and they were setting up patio furniture; they were lucky that theirs was enclosed by glass. 

katsuki wished his was enclosed by glass. 

a surprised gasp falls from their lips as he realizes that the new owner has seen him, and katsuki’s ears fall flat and he scrambles back. this doesn’t stop the person from coming forward ( even ignoring the rain ) and reaching a hand out, softly whispering and pspsps-ing — were they talking to him?

“-suki…”

katsuki hesitantly moves their way, his body trembling from the cold. were they trustworthy? his last family had just left him here, even though he was a good boy. 

“-tsuki-?”

he was a good boy… wasn’t he?

“katsuki!” katsuki jolts awake, his heart racing. a warm hand is on his arm, and an equally warm, bare chest is pressed to his back. quick, deep inhales of the scents around him calm his panicked heart, and he relaxes into the couch. everything is okay; you were the one calling his name, he was at home and warm, he’d been with you for ten years since you’d coaxed him out of his old backyard, he spent everybday with you either at home or at the bakery, and he was loved.  “shhh, katsuki — it was just a bad dream, you’re okay,” you murmured, and a purr rumbles in the back of his throat as he curls back up against your thigh where the two of you were stretched out on the sectional. 

mmm… mine, he thinks happily, his hands fisting and unfisting around the hem of your shirt as eases back into the formerly peaceful nap he’d been having before the bad memory had set in. his purrs get louder as he feels you tucking his favorite fluffy blanket around him and as the tv plays one of his favorite naptime shows in the background. he hears you chuckle, and smiles. as always, life was perfect. 

at least until another set of keys jangled in the lock and your stupid boyfriend ( who had the only other set ) came home. 

a soft gasp of excitement falls from your lips, and katsuki can practically feel you smiling. “hey babe; good day at work?”

“could have been better,” the stupid blond bastard replies with a sigh, “but it’s good to be home — i’m gonna shower real quick, okay? then we can order in and watch a movie if you want.”

“i’d love that, now go wash your ass,” katsuki hears you tease, and the laugh and brief conversation it earns makes him frown. 

“only if you eat it later!” your boyfriend teases, and katsuki’s lips pull back from his teeth in a silent snarl. 

“don’t be fucking gross! wash your fucking asshole!” you shriek through a laugh, and you toss a pillow cushion at him. katsuki hears him dodge and laugh again. 

“i do! i’m not one of your tiktok boys!” he retorts playfully, disappearing into the bedroom but leaving the door open to hear your response. 

“i don’t have tiktok boys!” you say, and katsuki then hears keigo walk out — no doubt naked — and into the bathroom across the hall; he didn’t like getting ‘work crust’ as he called it in the bathroom attached to the master bedroom. 

he starts singing loudly and off-key, and katsuki can feel you holding back laughter. he was so annoying. 

you’d started dating keigo takami five years back, and keigo was, by all means, a good boyfriend. he was kind and gentle with you, responsive to your feelings and respectful to you to no end. he took you on thoughtful dates and kissed you gently and told you he loved you. he knew your favorite foods and music and colors, and occasionally he’d bring you little trinkets he found that made him think of you. he’d never yelled at you, not even once — whenever he was upset, he’d communicate how he felt and when you were upset he’d listen to whatever you had to say without interrupting. he has  a car and a steady, well-paying job and his hefty paycheck goes into a shared bank account so you both could pay the bills and live a cushy, comfortable life. his family wasn’t a problem ( he’d completely cut contact with them four years ago ) and his friends weren’t complete douchebags — honestly? he was a real catch, and a decent guy. 

katsuki hated him. 

he’d been sort-of okay at first, only hanging around sometimes, but then his visits got more and more frequent — and then he never fucking left. suddenly katsuki’s spot in the bed was taken up by this stupid blond man with pretty eyes and hair and katsuki had to sleep either in his napping spot or in the bedroom you’d set up for him, and it wasn’t fair. you were his, katsuki didn’t want to share, and katsuki made that very known. keigo knew katsuki didn’t like him, but he’d stuck around anyway, and it infuriated katsuki to no end. it was like keigo didn’t view him as competition at all — but katsuki would show him. one day he would be gone, and katsuki would still be here. 

keigo comes out later, toweling his hair dry as he walks back to the bedroom, his ass on display. katsuki hears you chuckle again, and then suddenly keigo is crawling onto the couch in nothing but a pair of pajama pants, pressing into your side and sighing at the feeling. katsuki grumbles lowly, and then jumps back when he feels a heavy hand on his head; keigo’s petting him, and that’s not allowed — only you can pet him. not keigo. 

katsuki claws at the man, making him yank his hand back and you sit up between them. “katsuki, no. we’ve talked about you being aggressive with keigo, and you know that’s not allowed. do it again tonight and you’ll be in big trouble — i mean it.”

katsuki pulls away from you, getting up and stalking off to his room even as you call him back in a significantly less-scolding tone. he closes the door hard, not quite a slam but still enough to get his point across, before locking it then flopping on the bed, curling up tightly. he hated keigo. and he missed when it was just the two of you. why did things have to change so much? he’d been good, so why had you chosen someone else?

his eyes sting, and he squeezes them shut. 

maybe things would be better in the morning when keigo had left for work. 

[ikanasocking]

Gaining new insight

Up ahead will be a stroy cotaining: weight gain and socks tf. Not a fan? Maybe nothing for you :) Now enjoy my new story:

The days went ahead without any new events. Kyle and Thomas just live their lives as roommates in their apartment. Nothing was out of the ordinary. From the outside you saw Kyle as a nerdy guy who spend his days in front of a computer screen. Rarely seen outside the flat. His blonde hair were always a little bit messy. But he paid no mind about his outer appearance. He loved food and that showed a lot around his middle section. He was not just a little bit chubby. You could say he was straight up fat. It took a lot of effort to get up from his gaming chair and go into the kitchen, for the next meal.

Thomas on the other hand kept his body in check. He was just an average guy who spent most of his time reading books or attending some football games from time to time. By all means he was no athlete at all. But at least he was doing something. His brown hair was long and always in good shape. He washed it nearly every day. Like that he was paying a lot of mind to what people were thinking of him. How he looked or how he behaved.

When both guys went to collage they met for the first time in this particular flat. At the beginning they tried to get to know each other better, but decided, that they had not so much in common. So they just lived side by side, without interacting a lot. At least that was what you could see from outside. If you would take a closer looks, Thomas was hiding a secret from his flatmate. And that was a love. A love for his socks. He had no idea why. If you would ask him, he would tell you that he could only love women. And this was correct to some extent. He had no hots for any men. But their socks, that was another thing. It was embarrassing for him to talk about it, so he did it in secret. From time to time, he would take socks from Kyle. Wearing them, using them for other things or just enjoying the smell. Kyle was oblivious to this fact. He would not even care, since he was not interested in anything else then his games.

Many more weeks went by and exams were due. After the last of them, Thomas was feeling relieved and happy that he got through it. The results were still to come but right now he could not do anything else then wait. Kyle was doing the same. He was lucky, he did not have to study. Hearing stuff was enough for him to memorize it and pass everything with flying colors. Back in the flat, both guys went to their rooms and minded their own business. Thomas was reading and Kyle was browsing the internet for nothing in particular. He just went from link to link. Until one ad caught his attention.

“If you could make one wish come true, what would it be? Try our new wish granting website. It will change your life!”

Curios and amused he clicked on the ad and expected to find a site full or commercials for all kind of different stuff. But nothing like this popped up. Instead a blank site with just the phrase: state your wish and an empty box below it. Kyle thought that it was all a joke and just went on with it.

“I wish for a roommate who understands me”, he typed in and waited.

After a short delay the site reloaded and another texted popped up.

“Wish granted.”

Kyle laughed and thought nothing of it. He closed the site and went to bed. Thomas was doing the same. The next day, Thomas woke up with an unusual headache. He got up and went into the bathroom. He washed his faced and looked at himself. Nothing out of the ordinary. He did not even look paler than usual. Strange. Maybe it was just the stress he had the last weeks. His stomach growled and he felt like he had not eaten in weeks.

“Time for breakfast”, he thought and went into the kitchen. The fridge was nearly empty. Only some sweet stuff that Kyle normally kept there.

“He will not be up for another three hours and I can go get something new for him, before he even notices.”

So Thomas began to stuff his face with the sweets. It tasted better than he expected. Usually he hated sweet stuff. But today it tasted different. He could understand why Kyle ate so much of this stuff. But sooner then he would have wanted to, it was all gone. But his hunger was still not sated. So he went shopping. Replaced the stuff he took from Kyle and bought a lot more things. And so his eating started again. After a few hours he was sated and looked around. He saw the amount he ate and was surprised. How could he eat so much all of the sudden? He was shocked and decided it was time to go jogging. He cleaned up, changed his cloths and went out.

Right when Kyle woke up. He just heard the door closing. He was too lazy to get up and so he stayed in bed. After exact an hour, Thomas came back. He was sweaty and out of breath. With all the food in his body it was harder than usual. But coming back, his hunger was awakened again.  But he knew there was not much left in the fridge. He took a shower and went to Kyle’s door. He knocked.

“Yeah?” was the answer.

“I am going to the grocery store. You want something?”

Kyle told his friend some stuff he could get him and Thomas left the house. This time he bought a lot more food and filled the fridge to the brim.  So he began eating again. The weeks went by and Thomas was discovering a lot of changes. His hunger was only the beginning. Next was his interests that shifted to video games. He noticed that he was chatting with Kyle about his games from time to time. Thomas was feeling lazier and lazier by the day. He stopped going out for jogs or anything else. And became more and more like Kyle. He understood why Kyle like his life so much. And another thing that he was noticing. His belly was gradually growing. First just a little bit. But with the time it became clearer and clearer. Every new pound was a new sensation for Thomas. He never imagined it would feel so good, having his body jiggling with every step. Another week went by and finally Kyle and Thomas were playing games together. And one more week later, Thomas came clear about his embarrassing secret. Kyle seemed to not care at all. He was just happy, that he had someone who understood him and was playing games with him. Until one day, a friend of Thomas visited them, since he had not heard anything of him. He was disgusted when he saw what had become of Thomas.

“Boy, what did you do to yourself? Did you eat someone? You look like a disgusting pig.”

Thomas was hit hard with these words. The opinion of his friends were important for him. But he wanted to feel good as he was. This was him. He just never admitted to it. The next day’s Kyle did neither see nor heard anything of Thomas. He was just in his room and was thinking about his life. Kyle was desperate to help his friend. He went through his browser history and found the wish granting site. He still thought that it was just a joke, but he wanted to make Thomas feel better. So he send him the link with a message.

“Maybe you will feel better, if you can wish for the pain to go away. It is worth a try.”

Thomas received the message and smiled. Kyle was such a sweet heart. He thanked him and opened the site.  He knew exactly what he wanted to wish for.

“I wish to be have more supportive friends.”

The site granted his wish. Thomas was already feeling better. He went over to Kyle and talked to him, while taking care of his beautiful socked feet.

A few weeks went by and suddenly Thomas friend was at their door again.

“What do you want? Want to make fun of me again?” he asked.

“I am sorry that I was such a jerk.”

Surprised Thomas asked him to come in and went to his room.

“You are sorry?”

“Yes. I was just, I don’t know. Shocked isn’t even the right word. Surprised and jealous. You can live your live like you want. While I am still stuck at thinking too much about the opinion of others. I am truly sorry. Can I make it up to you?”

Thomas was totally flashed by this. He never thought his friend would say something like this.

“I don’t know” he said, in total awe.

“Maybe I can give you a foot rub?”

With that his friend reached for his feet. Today, Thomas was wearing Kyle’s socks. Just like nearly every day. Since he told Kyle about it, they shared their socks. When his friend’s hands made contact with the socks, a strange sensation hit him. It was like he wanted to be these socks? Yeah that was right. He just did not want to, he needed to be Thomas socks. This was the only way he could make it up to him. Furiously he began to rub his hands up and down. Until he noticed something. His hands were fusing with the cotton. Yeah that was it. The beginning of being his friend’s most supportive friend. Slowly his body began to be engulfed by the cotton. The feeling was indescribable. Like he was not only turning to cotton. He was a living being inside it. Finally it was time to give up his human form and he was sucked in completely into the socks. With that Thomas looked around, not remembering what he was doing. He did not remember his friend who was now trapped as his socks for the rest of his live. The site granted his wish, just not in a way, that Thomas would have expected it. Now he had only supportive friends. Kyle, who was there for him. And the other one who were his socks or better their socks. Thomas wasted no time going over to Kyle for another sock playing session. His socks were eager to experience this and could not wait to be used by both boys, who now owned him.

[fleshwerks]

Another stone in the lake of Daniil and Artemyi's relationship is the fact their endings are mutually exclusive in the original game, and the game pushes their own as the only one - you have to jump through a lot of hoops to make either even think about destroying Polyhedron for the city's sake or the city itself for its sake.

They're very interesting together, but, and that's another good detail, each and every healer needs to destroy something to even hope to save Gorhon. For Daniil it's the city, since his ending is siding with Blok, for Artemyi it's the Polyhedron because it curses the city, and Clara requires to sacrifice all of the people close to her to save both.

It's common trope in fanfics to assume Daniil chooses Artemyi's ending, but, to be honest, I don't know... It really doesn't feel like him, a man so destructive he'd rather glass the city for the shred of a dream.

It's why in the fanfic I've been picking on, Dankovsky actually fires on Burakh when he realises that there are two more copies of the orders, and promptly gets laid flat on the cobbles in retaliation because Burakh knows that even if that Judas revolver misfired, little man will beat him to death with the butt of the gun if that's what it takes. Dankovsky's entire deal is that he will not compromise, and with Thanatica in cinders, he cannot compromise without effectively erasing the last of himself from existence. The best you can hope for him is him realising that Burakh isn't wrong, but rejecting Burakh's bid on an incredibly mundane, ordinary future that even Burakh acknowledges is bound to result in cataclysmic repetition.

Ideology is a beautiful, mighty thing, and also reliant on the ideologue being uncompromising and destructive. You can't just snuff wildfire with love and shared trauma.

The only way I really see Dankovsky being swayed to choose Burakh's ending is... well tbh, I don't. Just like you can't put a house fire out by talking to it. You have to hose it the fuck down and tame the last spark of that flame on the docile wick of a candle (light, warmth and potable water, baby!), and I think that in most cases it's a serious wish fulfillment and misreading of his character to think that he'd ever stay his hand. Doesn't make him a villain, a good culling by wildfire is literally a terrifying part of a healthy ecosystem. He's not some secret sad boi who just wishes to be softened and understood, if anything between the two men he's by far the one more open to discourse, good collaborative science, and even making age-appropriate friends in a place that defies all common sense.

But he will not grow no fucking turnips on a vegetable patch. Ironically, assuming that he'd yield his dream for Burakh's ending is like him assuming that he can give Death the finger and get away with it. And Death's not evil, either, it's just a part of all life, and if you deny it, you get... well, you become comatose. Forever. And withering away in a comatose state is not living, it's rotting bedsores, degenerating muscles and neurons, and all of your family having to keep on suffering seeing you in this non-state while the hospital bill keeps growing while your comatose carcass takes up a hospital bed that could serve someone who can still be saved from becoming comatose in the first place.

So I always felt like any of the three healers choosing someone else's ending is not 'breaking the game's rules', but more like surrendering something necessary for a whole, living and awake entity to function to its fullest. And given that it's a game about Russia (and to a lesser extent the rest of Eastern Europe. We're a part of the story of this entity even against our will, so it's our story too, whether we like it or not), I'm not even going to dive into how complicated the narrative really gets there.

In the end I've always maintained that no healer is right or wrong, they are what they are, represent what they represent, and the player must choose a sacrifice they themselves can somewhat live with, because what is 'right now' simply cannot continue. Mind you, I like Burakh's ending the best, because the Polyhedron is too close to Lenin's glass coffin for my liking as a player, and I'm a fucking bleeding heart who can't bring herself to slaughter the old pixels and strings of text guard for the sake of the new, but I get why the options are there, I get what they symbolise, why all three are valid and even necessary, and fucking with that gets my Eastern European hackles up for reasons I could write a paper brick on. Itä's coooooooooomplicaaaaaateeeeeeeed!!!

To be honest if I'm going to be petty, I'd say 'Dankovsky for Burakh's ending' is a very... Western way of thinking. Because it isn't familiar with why and how things here are the way they are, and it's near impossible to comprehend unless you dedicate decades of study to it, or were born and raised here. Which, well, ironically, plays out with an enlightened stranger trying to fix a place whose history and customs and inner workings he doesn't understand. Not out of malice, but simply not being able to wrap their mind around the fuck's going on, or adapt to it, even with the presence of curiosity and goodwill.

I'll close this commiseration with the following: to me the three correspond to the following: a dream, a pair of capable hands, and a choice. A mind and heart without a choice is a slave, a heart and choice without a mind is an idiot, and a mind and choice without the heart is a psychopath. You cannot bend one of the three and expect to fully function as a capable, autonomous creature with a future. And good science, good discourse and good moving forward always happens when mind, heart and soul are in constant conflict. It's like a combustion engine. Take one component away from what makes a combustion engine go, and all you've got is either a dead engine, a mere dream of an engine, or a driver who never learned how to drive.

I've had my P-meta fix, I'm going to return to wiping Canada off the map in Civ 6 now.

[lamponellatempesta]

JWCT COUNTDOWN

DAY 5: Roadtrips

For this prompt, I've decided to write the first encounter and trip of Ben with his red Jeep (thanks @gingericywolf for putting this headcanon in my head) I hope you will enjoy it!

(Countdown gently created by @campbenji)

"Hey wait wait!" Ben said, late, as he ran towards the bus, "One more second please!" His pleadings were not heard, and the bus resumed its run to the school, with the boy staring at him as he vanished at the intersection, without him on board. Ben cursed, running for the next stop was useless and he couldn’t miss another day of school, he had already lost enough, the only option he had left was to continue on foot so, reluctantly, he started.

He decided to vent his frustration by hitting a rock along the way. "For once I do a late night, This is the result. On foot. Because some stupid driver doesn’t want to wait for someone who’s practically yelling at him. Of course. Pfft. If I only had a car I wouldn’t have these problems, am I late? No problem! I’d go with the car and I wouldn’t have to run after a stupid bus!" he said, hitting the rock harder while talking to himself on the way. He’d got his driving licence for a few months now, but his mom wouldn’t get him a car because she said he had to earn it, work it out with the money he was earning from his summer job at mantah corp island and the delivery job he did on the weekends during the school year; He didn’t make a lot of money, but he was saving it to get the car he wanted. He wasn’t too pretentious, it didn’t need to be new or luxury like Kenji’s, he just needed it to work.

He looked through the cars he saw parked along the street to see what he might like, even though he already knew it; a jeep had always been one of his dreams since he had driven one for work on mantah island, he had literally fallen in love with that kind of car and he would have really wanted to have one of his own so he could go around camping, be in nature on his own and facing roads not easily passable would have been a thousand times easier with a Jeep than with any other type vehicle. He’d been looking at car ads for months, hoping to find one in vain. Those who owned one apparently held tight on them and envied those he saw in the driveways and sighed.

He had almost arrived at school, when he noticed one in particular in a parking lot; it was not very well put, the red color had some rust and some scratches, the right mirror was broken and the front bumper almost seemed to come off, the wheels were a little flat. Ben scrunched his nose, "Who is owning such a beautiful car in this condition?! I understand that you may have lived it to the fullest, but at least some care!! If I had it it wouldn’t be in this condition-" the boy interrupted his complaining on the owner of the car when he noticed the most important detail, onw he had not noticed at the first glance; the jeep was for sale and at a price he could afford. It was a golden opportunity. He couldn’t miss it. He looked at the school on the horizon and the jeep again.

The choice was not difficult.

Not even an hour later Ben was in his "new" jeep and was taking her for a ride to see how she behaved on the road, "Please don’t explode, you’re doing well! Just a little bit more and we’re home and I’ll starting to give you a nice setup." Ben said as he squeezed the steering wheel all happy; finally he had a car! And it wasn’t an ordinary car, it was the car of his dreams, a jeep! And it was also red! He couldn’t wish for anything better! He had to find a name for it.

Luck was with him and he managed to bring the car to their garage, where it made a bad noise and died suddenly. Ben sighed; he would have a long morning ahead of him, but it would be worth it.

The boy did not even notice the hours spent in that garage replacing, cleaning and fixing the various pieces of the jeep, following old video tutorials made by Brooklynn on her channel, until his mother found him, "Benjamin!!!"

Ben was cleaning the interiors and slammed his head against the roof. "Owww! What?! Oh... mum! Hi! Eheh.. hellooo," Ben said while trying to look cool behind the wheel.

"What is this?! And You should be at school!"

"Uuumh, that’s..uh.. well.. my new car??"

"And you couldn’t pick it up after school?!" She retorted, with Ben getting out of the vehicle.

"I couldn’t miss this opportunity mom! Look how beautiful she is! It was a unique opportunity I couldn’t let go! Look!" And Ben started to go around the car dragging his mother with him to show her all the changes and improvements he had already made, while his mother was not so convinced of the result, but smiled anyway, proud of her son, "You’ve done a really good job, Benjamin, I guess you are skipping school today. Only for today, though!"

Ben smiled all excited and made jumped of joy, "Accompany me to try it out!! Come on!" He said jumping to the driver’s seat without leaving his mother time to respond. She sighed and then climbed into the passenger seat, "Are you sure... sure it's safe?"

"Of course! I checked everything Brooklynn said to check in the video! I’m 90, maybe 85%, sure!" Ben exclaimed all excited as he turned it on, with some difficulties, as the engine made some not so reassuring sounds and Mrs Pincus grabbed the handle for the passenger, which detached and remained in her hand; she turned to look at Ben who giggled nervously as he got out of the garage. He was ready for his first official ride in his jeep!

He decided to make her go around the neighboring blocks, honestly even he didn’t trust her to go long distances yet but heck it was so nice to feel independent, the feeling of the rough skin of the steering wheel under the fingers and the distorted radio sounds, he should have changed it but he didn’t care, he was happy. He already dreamed of future roadtrips.

"Everyone has to see my new ride! Mom, isn’t it great!? I love her!"

"Don’t get distracted!!" And he took a corner a little too wide because of the worn tires that had no grip on the asphalt "Need to change them yeah. Eheh." "Benjamin, you are a crazy child!" She said with a nervous laugh and smiled, "You want to go get some take away, you won’t even have had lunch focused how you were." Ben still had a smile on his face, "You’re right, I’m hungry... Take away! Let’s go Jolene!" And he turned steering wheel, which again made some uninviting noises, "Ooops. Sorry,"

Mrs Pincus held to her seat and then looked at him, "Jolene? You gave her a name?"

Ben blinked, he hadn’t even noticed, he unconsciously had already chosen the name, and it was great. "Of course! Every car must have a name!"

"It’s a nice name, but be more careful and don’t strain it too much!"

"I’ll treat her like a princess mom don’t worry!" And the two continued on their journey to fast food and continued to talk and laugh among themselves.

He felt happy, this was the first of many trips with Jolene, and he could only reward himself with some food.

Later he sent some photos to the campfam groupchat while eating his reward sitting on the hood of the jeep,

"We will make many trips together, Jolene. And you will be the best jeep of all. I assure you."

[pawnshopbleus]

Put Me in a Movie - Chapter Fourteen

Miguel O'Hara x Fem!Reader

Summary - You’re a famous actress and he’s one of the greatest directors of all time. What happens when you get cast in his new movie? 

Chapter Thirteen

“Miguel O’Hara and the leading lady in his new film have been spotted entering a new restaurant earlier this week.” The news reporter said your name with a hint of jealousy. Everyone wanted Miguel and was disappointed that he was taken away from them so soon. You scoffed like any of them actually had a chance. 

Pictures of you and Miguel flashed onto the screen of your fifty-inch flat-screen television. You were sitting crisscross applesauce on your couch while Fern sat next to you. Today was supposed to be a lazy day until you received a call from Stella. 

“You’re needed at the TCL Chinese Theater in the next two hours. Wear that Chanel dress that I bought you for your birthday,” Stella said without elaborating further. 

“The hell? Why am I needed at the TCL Chinese Theater?” 

“Well, you may or may not have been invited to an A24 premier that I forgot to tell you about. You’re allowed to bring a guest so if you want, you can bring that fine ass boyfriend of yours.” “Stella!” Your head hit the back of your couch. “If you keep doing this then I don’t know if I can trust you. Did you not grasp onto anything during our conversation?” Stella’s sigh was heard on your end of the phone, “I know and I’m sorry. I’ve just been having a hard time with Jack and all.” Jack is Stella’s new deadbeat boyfriend. He has no job and zero ambition. You don’t approve of him and wish that Stella would break up with him. 

“Stella, you need to break up with him. He’s not good for you. 

“This isn’t about me!” Stella huffed and then composed herself. “Look, honey, you need to call Miguel and tell him to get ready, pick you up, and head over. I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you sooner, but maybe this could be good for you and Miguel. Practice before the premiere of your own movie. I need to go.” Stella hung up and you sat there for a second before you dialed Miguel’s phone number. 

Miguel picked up the phone after two rings, “Hello?” “Miguel, I’m sorry for the short notice, but Stella just told me that I need to go to an A24 movie premiere. She said I could bring a plus one and I was wondering if you want to go.” It was silent for a moment before he spoke, “To be honest, I don’t think I can go. Jessica isn’t available to take care of Gabby and her usual babysitter is on vacation.” 

Your heart sank. Of course, he couldn’t come. He was a father first before your boyfriend. He had a daughter to love and take care of. You would always come second and you needed to get used to that. 

You were about to respond before a light bulb appeared in your head. “Well, I can tell Stella that something came up. Then, if you’re up for it, you and Gabby can come over for a pool day. It’s the perfect weather.”

“Mi amor, that sounds perfect, but I can’t let you skip a premiere for us.” “I don’t want to go to premier in the first place. Please, Fern misses Gabby and I miss you.” Fern tilted her head at the mention of Gabriella’s name. If you and Miguel ever broke up, it would hurt Fern and Gabby more than it would hurt you.

“Fine. When do you want us to come over,” Miguel chuckled at the sound of you celebrating. 

You told Miguel to come over in about an hour or two. Then, you texted Stella that something came up and that you couldn’t attend the premier. She was disappointed but ultimately understood how last minute this was. 

You uncovered your pool and made sure that there were no bugs or stray leaves inside of it. Your pool overlooked the beautiful city that you lived in. Every day you thanked the Universe and your own hard work for letting you live this life that you’ve dreamed of since you were little. Words cannot describe how blessed you felt every time you woke up to this incredible view. 

You sent a text to Peter asking him if he, MJ, and May would like to join the party. He accepted the invite and expressed his utmost excitement. You missed the banter between you and Peter. He was quirky and funny in the best way possible and you were glad he was your friend.  

You were wearing a red one-piece bathing suit that cinched at the waist. You looked like Pamela Anderson in Baywatch. Fern was wearing a pink doggy life jacket and you nearly cried at the fact that just a few months ago she was living on the streets of LA. Luckily, Fern was roaming around in the right place at the right time. 

A knock at your door took you out of your head. Miguel and Gabriella were the first ones to arrive at your home. Fern happily jumped around when she saw Miguel's daughter in a matching pink swimsuit. 

Miguel greeted you with a hug and a kiss on the cheek. It looked friendly enough to the untrained eye, but if they looked a bit closer, they would see his hand rest on the globe of your ass for a quick second before returning to a modest place on your body. 

Gabriella doesn’t know that you and her father are dating. He doesn’t want her to get too attached just in case it doesn’t work out, but as he watched his daughter smile while playing with Fern, he knew there was no going back. 

“What are we eating for lunch? I’m hungry and my dad wouldn’t take me to McDonalds,” Gabriella looked at Miguel and then at you. 

You let out a little laugh at her comment. Then, you got another idea. “You know, McDonalds does sound good. I’ll order some when Peter and his family get here.” 

“Peter’s coming?” Miguel asked. He wasn’t mad, just surprised. 

“Oh, yeah, I forgot to tell you. I invited him over because I miss him and his wife and his sweet little baby.” 

Speak of the devil and he shall appear. There was a knock at your front door and when you opened it, Peter and his small family were revealed all in their swim attire. 

Everyone made their way over to the pool. MJ and May were sitting on the stairs of the pool while Peter and Gabriella had a competition to see who did the better underwater handstands. Gabriella won every time and Peter took the losses like a champ. You and Miguel were sitting on the edge of the pool while your feet were submerged in the water. Miguel watched as his daughter interacted with the leading man of his latest film. 

“I think we should tell her.” 

You gave Miguel a questioning look, “Tell who what?” “Gabriella. We should tell her that we’re together,” Miguel threaded his hands through his perfectly styled hair. “I didn’t want her to get too attached just in case the worst happened, but she really liked you and your dog and to be honest, I think she already knows.” 

“When do you want to tell her?” This was a very serious moment in your relationship with Miguel. He was so secure in this that he was about to tell his daughter about your relationship.

Miguel called Gabriella over with a simple motion of his hand. She doggy paddled her way over to where you and her father were sitting. Miguel was nervous. You could tell by the way he shifted uncomfortably in his spot. 

“Gabriella, you know I love you and I’ll never keep a secret from you.” Gabriella nodded her head as she floated in the water. Miguel continued, “Well, I have been keeping a secret from you. We’re dating.” Miguel took your hand in his and braced himself for whatever his daughter would say next. 

“I know,” Gabriella shrugged.

“You know? How long have you known? Who told you?” Miguel’s brows furrowed in confusion. 

“If I tell you, will I get in trouble?” Gabriella was weary. She knew that there was a fifty percent chance that she would be grounded if her father knew the truth. Miguel shook his head, eager to know how his daughter knew such a big secret. “Well, when she came over for dinner I was kind of listening to the two of you from the stairs. Also, when I use your phone to play Minecraft I’m not actually playing Minecraft.” 

Miguel huffed and shook his head. Of course, his daughter was sneaky like his ex-wife. Like mother like daughter. The rest of the day was spent lounging and playing in the pool.

Well, the cat’s out of the bag. With Gabriella in the know, you felt better about your relationship. You felt secure and ready for whatever the future held.

Chapter Fifteen - Comming Soon

[kannagms]

As someone who has been a fan of the boys since the beginning of Buzzfeed Unsolved when Ryan was doing his little PowerPoint presentations and reading from a single sheet of printer paper, this entire Watcher fiasco is insane and was definitely not on my 2024 bingo card.

Back when Ryan and Shane announced that they were leaving Buzzfeed to start their own entertainment company with Steven, I was excited! I wanted to see what new, fun, interesting, and creative content they would put out without Buzzfeed holding them back. I'm a huge fan of Mystery and Ghost Files, Puppet History, Are You Scared?, Too Many Spirits, Top 5 Beatdown. Loved Spooky Small Talk before it was scrapped. I watched every new ep that came out, even the ones I didn't like that much like Steven's food ones, and liked and commented because I wanted to support them as much as possible. I rewatch all my favorite episodes. I have a dedicated playlist of Ryan and Shane content because it helps me fall asleep at night. When I didn't have much I at least had Watcher to keep my smile on my face and continuous laughter going when I didn't feel much like going on.

I got the notification 3 days ago about a new Watcher video and was stunned at what I saw. Sure I can watch episode 1 of new shows and watch some trailers, but I'm gonna have to sub to yet another streaming service to watch anything more. A streaming service that doesn't even have an app, so if I want to add anything to my sleep playlist, I'm gonna have to leave my phone on all night.

Anyways, I immediately went and checked the boys' socials and see what they posted for any additional info. Thousands upon thousands of negative comments all saying basically the same thing:

I can't afford $6/month/not everyone has $6 laying around, and it can really make or break someone financially.

Been a fan since Unsolved, guess I'm not a watcher anymore.

This is a bad move.

From what I've seen across reddit, Twitter, tiktok, Instagram, and Tumblr, the negative far outweigh the positive. The only "positive" comments I've seen haven't really been "oh this is a great idea! I'm gonna go sub right now!!" It's really been more, "well it's their business, they can do what they want with it." Or simply bashing other people because they cannot afford $6 a month or $60 a year, which really comes off as boomer ideology. You know, the old "if millennials would stop eating avocado toast or buying Starbucks maybe they can afford a house!" While completely ignoring the global economic crisis we are all facing. It's completely out of check with the fact that there's so many of us not just in America, but in the world who are barely living paycheck to paycheck. That there are so many people who WISH they could get a Starbucks coffee in the morning but often times have to skip meals because they cannot afford food if they want to keep a roof over their heads, you know the ridiculous amount of money that we spend to rent a small space. Never gonna forget the one apartment I looked at that was $800 a month, no utilities included, no parking, no pets allowed, and I could lay flat on the ground and have my 5'4" length reach comfortably in every single room. Wasn't even a kitchen or room for a single size bed (mild tangent rant, I now pay $1300 for a 2 bedroom apartment, most utilities included, but bad parking)

And for Steven to say that anyone can afford $6 is just so factually wrong. Has anyone checked the foreign exchange rate for $6? Some threads I've seen on Reddit are insane. For some people 6 USD translates to someone's entire rent or a week's worth of food. If I recall the comment correctly, one person said that in their country, Netflix comes out to $2 USD, and is considered a luxury item that only the upper class/wealthy have.

Maybe I'm just being bitter. Maybe I'm just overreacting to a piece of content I loved and cherished being pushed behind a paywall. It just feels like a slap in the face to fans who have spent countless hours soaking in their content, recommending them to friends, making new friends over a shared interest, and now feeling like they didn't matter at all. That we were just dollar signs. To hear them going from thanking dedicated fans for helping them get to where they are to but now you gotta give us more money if you want to keep being fans and now we are going to ignore your backlash just feels disingenuous and heartbreaking.

[nolita-fairytale]

spending a week over the summer with young!sirius headcanon (remote island au)

au headcanon where you and young!sirius black flee the country to live on a remote island and raise baby harry instead of going to azkaban

pairing: sirius black x fem!ravenclaw reader

warnings: swearing, light smut (18+ minors dni)

a/n: this is a four part series. i hope you enjoy reading!

read part one here 

“show me your love. why don’t you grow up and see?”

after bothering your parents all summer long about it, you manage to get the approval for a one week visit before school starts with sirius. you do, of course, have to lie and say that you're going to stay with the potters for the week, because what parents would allow their seventeen year old daughter to stay with her boyfriend in his brand new flat, unsupervised?

sirius is more than proud to show off his new flat. you can tell that the only reason it's furnished and looks somewhat like a home is because euphemia helped him put it together.

the pent up sexual tension is palpable and you're practically tearing off each others' clothes within minutes of seeing each other.

"did you get my last letter?" "yes, in fact i had to hide that one in the floorboards so my parents couldn't find it." "didn't want them finding out absolutely naughty you are, eh?"

sirius whispering in your ear things like: "taking me so well, love." "thought about this all summer long, darling." "gods, your tits are perfect."

the way sirius moans followed by a deep, mischievous, and naughty laugh in disbelief that you're his.

sex is new to you, but not new to him. every time feels like an exploration and you're more than happy to let him turn you inside out.

leaving soft kisses on sirius' shoulders in the mornings, while you wait for him to wake up, whispering ''i love you's" into his skin.

that night you take the floo network to the potters' for dinner like you hadn't just done the most salacious things to each other.

james acts as the ultimate wingman by intercepting every single owl sent by your parents and pretending to be his own mum to cover for the two of you.

staying up way too late. cigarettes after sex. having a cuppa tea before bed, even if it is 3 am.

staying up way too late making a case to sirius about why he actually has to study for his apparation tests. "don't want to end up without a left arm now." and of course he'd reply with something cheeky like, "dunno. a three legged dog would be quite cute, don't you think?"

now that you're both of age and can use magic outside of school, sirius is conjuring up little tricks to impress you or make you laugh.

strolling the streets of london arm in arm, like there's no one else in the world but the two of you.

sirius lending you his leather jacket when it gets a little too chilly at night.

wearing either sirius over-sized clothes around his flat, or something absolutely tiny, just to drive him mad.

sirius failing miserably at cooking dinner, and you having to take over after he's burned his latest attempt once again. neither of you really cook so takeaway it is.

daydreaming together what life after hogwarts would look like. in true restless bohemian spirit, sirius has no idea what he wants to do and would rather explore the world before committing to any kind of profession.

you, on the other hand, have a job waiting for you at the ministry in the department of magical artifacts, working with your father. he's even lined up an archaeological dig after graduation to persuade you further. sirius pretends to be bored as you tell him, but he can't deny the light in your eyes as you talk about it. your curiosity is one of the things he loves most about you.

neither of you are ready for school to start and wish that you could stay in this bubble forever.

taglist: @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy

[arcielee]

28 and Billy x (my) girlfriend reader? 👉👈

Lyrics // "Scars are fading every day You seem a little more like yourself"

This drabble exists in the same universe as Lazy Sunday, just delving into how they first met. I hope you like it! 💜

It could be said that fate waited to weave Billy into your life, but you have never believed in that sort of thing. 

You would say it was purely happenstance that the coffeehouse was hiring after your quarter-life crisis that pushed you to withdraw from your university and live damn-near a nomad for half a year. You had sold most of your belongings to weightlessly flit across Europe, creating a constellation of cities visited until your fundings ran dry. 

At first your parents had been empathetic, thrilled even that their prodigal daughter returned to London, and even offered you to stay with them with your promise to enroll and finish your degree. You balked at their proposition, transitioning to flat-out refuse, and instead found your independence at this antique coffeehouse and a newfound passion for creating artwork in microfoam, with a natural skill that you quickly became renowned for. 

This was how you met Billy.

He moved as if he did not wish to draw any attention to himself, but your eyes noticed him, his long and lithe frame, and how he needed to dip to pass through the door to enter. There was an awkward grace with his gate as he moved towards the till, a flush staining his skin and the glisten of perspiration from a long day that was coppering his disheveled sandy locks, curling onto his brow and the back of his neck; there was a matching mess of stubble across his angular jaw. 

Despite the shop’s display to showcase your niche talent, he still quietly asked for a flat black. 

You watched him, your skepticism tucked away behind your now mastered customer-service-smile, as his slender fingers rummaged to pull out three £1 and one 50p coins that clanged onto the wood countertop. 

He then sat at the end of the bar, solemn and quiet, stirring in seven sugar packets and sipping gingerly. Your eyes would return to him and his morose air; there was something heavy on his wiry shoulders and it seemed to hunch him over his mug. 

In truth, he was kind of pitiful, and it tugged at your heart in such a way that when he finished his cup, you were quick to refill it without him even asking. It was then that he properly met with your gaze and that was the first time you saw his brilliant blue eyes that almost glittered under the fluorescent lighting. His lips curled with his soft smile when he thanked you.

You could not help your smile in return. 

He came back until it was habitual, always near the end of the day, the end of your shift, to a point that you found yourself making a fresh pot so the coffee would be warm and ready for his arrival. Billy–as you learned his name–showed himself to be an open book with any question you dared, and you enjoyed his low cadence as he shared about his life decisions that inevitably brought him here. 

The shame burned bright from him and your hand seemed so small when you reached across to lay it on top of his own, a light touch, your thumb drawing small circles. Billy was flustered with the gesture, his rose coloring bringing a new tensity so his eyes were now the same cerulean that stretched over a cloudless summer sky. 

“Why are you so nice to me still?” The conflict played across his sharp features, his obvious want for a connection but his own skepticism of your genuineness. 

You offered a small smile. “I like you, Billy,” you admitted, squeezing his hand for a moment. You then understood he would never make a move. “Let me finish closing up and I am going to take you to dinner.”

His flush darkened. “I’m still in my work clothes–” 

“And I’ll be in mine.” You interrupted with your laugh and his lips quirked in the corners slightly. “It won’t take me very long, wait for me?” 

And Billy did, finishing his coffee before pushing away from the bar so you could finish wiping it down. You could feel his eyes on you, brighter now, flitting along with your every movement until you finally stopped to stare back at him, arching an eyebrow to dare him, relishing in the lines that dimplied his cheeks with his shy smile.

You could not help but smile back; in part it was because you did actually like this pitiful boy, but also your quiet realization that the weight Billy had been carrying since he first came in had seemingly lifted from his shoulders on this night.

Spotify Wrapped 2023

[jiminsass-istant]

Umm not really. Not many tattoo their own initials but he literally tattooed his birth time as a big ass clock so this is possible lol. Also his tattoos are all about him. His birth flower, his Fandom (tattooed right on his knuckles, on a prominent place), his birth time, his motto etc etc so isn't it normal him tattooing his initial ?

Also for me, i see a significant gap between J and M for it to be JM aka JiMin. It looks like 2 different tattoos tbh Jungkook and Army more than cross word Ji Min 🤷‍♀️

Trust me, he knows how his tattoo looks. He is an artist for god sake. Visually more intelligent than most. And he didn't have second thoughts before getting it done.

(birth time, birth flower, dates are all symbolic things, but names aren't symbolic. Names are just names)

Why else did the fandom come up with the all member names theory? Because JM was so IN THEIR FACE that there had to be an explanation for it, right? If the J wasn't there, who would go ahead and think RM and MY and inverted V and clubbing the J for all J initial members. And that theory was so widely accepted that people took it as facts. Because there had to be an explanation for the crossword, right? (Honestly, I was also kinda rolling with that theory too, because I didn't want to be delusional and consider only JM. But then he comes live and says it's just ARMY and J. Which made it more sus, because why tf put J there, near M, making a crossword? We all know you are 'Jungkook'.)

It doesn't need to have romantic connotations because if i have a bff i enlisted together with, maybe i would tattoo their initials too. If there's one thing 2023 has showed us (and the earlier years too), jimin and jungkook are THE best friend duo of the group. The best friends among a group of best friends. Their bond is stronger than anything I've seen.

Somebody on here mentioned the rainy day fight recently. Jungkook not only cried when he fought with Jimin, but he went outside without a destination. Have you experienced that type of distress? He could have just gone home or stayed in the studio, could have just avoided Jimin and waited till they made up. But he walks aimlessly and whom does he call? Jimin. When Jimin said he wouldn't take care of him anymore, it's like he lost his anchor. The one person he was closest to, someone who gave him a safe space in a group of older friends,had refused to take care of him anymore. It removed the ground beneath him. If that doesn't tell you who he's closest to, idk what will. Anyway...back to the topic.

The other explanation (which might be far fetched and just my personal little theory) is J stands for Jeon, his brother's name, family names etc. But idk, that's far fetched.

It still doesn't change the fact about how it looks. Just because it's farther than ARMY doesn't mean it's not a crossword. A very visible one too. And when his fists are curled, it can look far, but when his palm is flat, they are equidistant. Like a crossword. He definitely had his palm straight while getting it tattooed.

All my opinions are personal, anon. Not facts. If i think JM is for Jimin, it's still a personal opinion formed by my own logic. As already stated in my pinned, I don't claim any of the 875 members to be dating. I'm just here to enjoy their dynamics. And I understand, I might be going against JK's own words, but it's just me and few people who agree with me. For the rest of the world, J is Jungkook only.

If you want to see more of my thoughts about it, you can check -

And this-

Also, idk if you are a solo, tkker, or jkker, or lurker, enjoy this little canon compliant ficlet i wrote long back. (Which describes the fandom's reaction and Jungkook's explanation in a fun way)

Scene {members notice army and jm tattoo for the first time}

Jimin: "Jungkook...is that tattoo for me?"

Jungkook:" NO!! J is for ..umm..Jungkook."

RM: *sigh* *starts calling their PR manager*

Jimin: "Where's the K then? You always call yourself JK"

Jungkook:'"........."

Jimin: "It's okay bro, I'll one day write a song for you and call it Letter. To return the gesture of course."

Jungkook:"Would you feature me in it? Like you did with V hyung in Friends?"

Jimin:"So you do admit JM is for me?" 😏

Jungkook: "NOOOO!"

-----------------

Have a nice day!

[xamassed]

⟬ @gamenu ⟭

It's the way her face fell into confusion first, before becoming rather crestfallen as Mammon snapped at her. For all his complaints of wishing his brothers would lighten up when it came to picking on him, or that at least one person would speak against it...when she actually did, he snapped at her. Even Satan, who was just previously bullying Mammon seemed a little surprised. After a moment, she just turns and leaves instead. Mumbling a quick 'I have to go study, I have an alchemy test' before briskly making her way back to her room.

It slipped. He didn't mean to snap.

Deep down, he knew it was bound to happen. For a long while, he appreciated that she bravely stood between him and his scornful brothers. She put them in their places and eased the ache that sat low in his heart despite never being asked to. She did it on her own, and it was because she loved him.

She really, truly cared and he had told her with less than kind words to go away.

It wasn't her fault. For once, he wouldn't make himself out to be the victim. He was in the wrong, but there was some blame to be placed on his brothers shoulders.

' You can't get through an argument without her coming to save you. ' ' Why is she always defending you? ' ' You're such a dumbass, you need your girlfriend to talk you out of trouble. '

They weren't wrong, but the fact that Nicole came to his aid had never bothered him. He anticipated it now, her kind words and gentle treatment afterwards was what he craved. He liked knowing there was one living person that didn't see him the way his brothers did.

Except that it began to eat at him. Guilt and shame collided, creating an ugly monster that demanded independence and pride. He could take care of his own problems. If he didn't hide behind her, his brothers couldn't use it as another excuse to ridicule him.

So he told her to stop. Fuck off, I don't need ya protectin' me all the time!

That wasn't true, not in the slightest.

They had spent months together, and he had never once lashed out at her. It was only with words, but Mammon knew as well as anyone else that words could leave deeper wounds than any physical blow.

He did need her. He always would.

She was the greatest thing to have happened to him, and he had sent her away to protect his fragile ego.

Now he stood there at her door, forehead pressed against it and hands flat to the wood. Most tiffs ended in him busting through and demanding she forgive him, but this was different. He didn't shout her name or tell her that he was the one that needed apologizing to.

He whined and pleaded like a helpless pup.

"Nic, can I come in? Please? Pretty please?"