#This is of course a rough estimate but

[brambletakato]

for those that say "oh descole fell like 100 feet from the detragiganto" you might've surprisingly underestimated it ...

... because he actually fell at around 345 feet / 105 meters . and survived! i guess this man doesn't know what fall damage is considering his previously established jump height

[smilesrobotlover]

I will gladly ask questions about love at twilight :D

in particular I’ve been thinking about Colin a lot lately, is he a swordsman in his own right now (when Kori is 10)? He didn’t seem as enthusiastic as in the whump from a few days ago, but is he more so when he’s older?

also how old are all the Ordon kids? now and during twilight Princess?

So, Rusl taught all the kids how to sword fight, and I wouldn’t say that Colin is strictly a swordsman, he knows how to fight with a sword. He def doesn’t take it as seriously as Rusl and Link, but he takes it seriously enough where if he needs to protect someone, he will do it. But let’s just say that he is more brave than half the soldiers in Hyrule ;)

The ages of the kids confuse me but here’s what I can try to say.

Colin was around 9-10 in tp, Talo was a little older than Colin, Malo was like, 2-3, Beth was around 12, and Luda was around 13 (in her concept art it says she was 15 but I decided to keep her closer to the kids, especially since she and Beth seemed more like friends rather than one being an older friend if that makes sense).

So it’s been ten years since tp so Colin is 20, Talo is closer to 21, Malo is 12, Beth is 22, and Luda is 23.

[qsmpzine]

how many hours are the translator expected to work/be avaliable per week?

Translators are asked to be available for short translation requests for Authors/Artists during our creation period, no more than about 3 hours a week. At the end of the creation phase, the translators will be assigned 2-3 fics (depending on the length of the works and the number of translators available) to translate over the course of 3 months at their own pace! Thank you for asking!

[crooked-wasteland]

You Can't Trust The Media

No, this terrible rendition of Lilo & Stitch is not a success (yet). While $341.7 Million dollars seems like a lot, what if I were to tell you the movie cost $200 million just to make and advertise? That means that the movie has only actually made Disney a measly $141 Million dollars. And since Disney is a massive company, those earnings are barely profits.

The press is trying to play on people's FOMO (Fear Of Missing Out) with dark money from Disney. These articles are PR in the guise of news. It is actual propaganda.

To put it in context, the original Lilo & Stitch from 2002 cost $80 Million to make, and the movie earned $270Million in the global box office. This was considered a financial underperformer and "modest" return. That's over three times the budget for the film.

Of course we are unsure of the money spent on marketing as studios typically do not share that information, but we are aware that even the original film had an inflated marketing budget compared to other movies coming out at the same time as well. But a marketing campaign being the same price as the film itself is pretty unheard of and partly why Disney is boasting about the amount of money they are spending on this film.

But the fact that advertising costs are typically hidden should also raise some eyebrows. Why would Disney give a firm number for their advertising budget? It's reasonable to take that 1 Million as a rough estimate. It probably is a higher number.

I also want to mention it seems odd how quickly we are getting Global boxoffice numbers. It feels like they may be trying to beat the bad press coming out.

But at the end, this still isn't a runaway success. Even by Disney's own reported numbers, this isn't that impressive. But the media will try and tell you it is.

This is how propaganda works.

[stevishabitat]

Sharing the Crusty Old Man on his birthday.

Happy Ninth Birthday, Franklin!

[peachesofteal]

Raspberry Girl Previous + masterlist + AO3 Simon Riley/female reader CW: 18+ daddy kink, size kink, forced orgasm.

“Ghost.” 

He looks over the rim of his glasses before sliding them off completely and tossing them onto the stack of papers spread out in front of him. "Gaz." 

“You out of here soon?” Kyle’s in the doorway with his arms crossed, slight smirk twisting his lips. 

“Tryin’ to be.” The administrative side of this job will be the death of him one day, leaving him buried beneath mountains of paperwork. “Guys get their gear done?” He nods. “Shoot test?” 

“All complete. Evals loaded in the portal.” He’s frighteningly efficient, something Simon’s come to rely on.

Kyle has no idea there’s a recommendation for promotion in this stack of nonsense on his desk. 

He’s going to miss him when he makes captain. 

“Good work as always then.” His phone buzzes. Three times. 

>I think I should be another hour, or maybe less. 

>But of course don’t feel like you have to rush over here, I’m fine to wait. I don’t mind. I know I gave you a time estimate this morning so of course I don’t expect you to work around me. 

>I just meant to say I’m ready whenever. That’s all. But no rush, again. 

Kyle sighs with a chuckle. "That your girl?" Simon waves him away.

“Have a good weekend, Lieutenant.” 

“You too, Captain.” 

“Hi.” Something in him settles at the sight of you. Tired, but excited. Half ready for bed, half ready for him, you’re standing in the shop next to one of the little tables, your work bag and jacket slung on a chair. 

“Hi sweetheart.” You’ve shed some layers in the last week, become a little less inhibited with him, a little more confident, slowly adjusting, and he’s proud of you. 

You’ve been good. 

“How was your day?” 

“Oh, fine. I’m tired.” Your eyes go wide with panic. “Not too tired though, not like t-tired I want to go home. Like, to mine uh, I still-” It doesn’t take much to knock you off balance, still exploring this new world, the one he’s building for you, his sweet fresh fawn. 

“It’s alright.” He reaches, cupping your cheek. Physical contact seems to soothe you. He thinks it’s because there’s a live, tangible tether connecting you to the now, to him, instead of whatever is going on in your head. “You were up really early sweetheart, it’s understandable you’re tired.” You were awake before him this morning. Sent your usual wake up text well before the sun rose with a hurried explanation about a last minute catering order and a panicking bride. 

I said I’d do it. I felt bad. 

It wouldn’t be so rough if you hadn’t been at work late the night before for something else. 

It’s clearly wiped you out, and he’ll need to shift gears. “Are you ready to go?” You take a half step back and hold up your pointer finger, inclining your head towards to the back of the bakery. 

“Uh, wait. I forgot something, one sec.” 

You return with a big white box cradled in your hands. 

“What’s in there?” 

“Oh I made you something. Us. I made us something. For after dinner, if you want. Obviously if you don’t want it that’s fine you don’t have to eat it, it might not even be your thing, which is fine, I just-” He steps into your space and you trail off, eyes going to his without prompting. He blocks the world out, closes in, palms the back of your neck.  

“It’s me baby. Just you and me, and there's nothing to worry about. You’ll never make a single thing I won’t like, right?” 

“R-right. I know that.” You’re bobbing in a continuous nod, looking away to study something on his shirt. 

“What is it?” 

“Pie. Boston cream pie.” Cream pie. Blood flows to his cock and he momentarily gets lost in his own head. 

“Tell me.” Fat tears roll down your cheeks, hands following him desperately as he rears back and folds your knees to your chest, staring at where his cock is moving in and out of your body, everything about him too big, nearly too big to fit inside you. “Where do you want daddy to put his cum?” 

“I-inside. I want your cum inside me daddy, pl- oh- please.” His balls tighten as he grinds his hips, licking an errant tear running down your face. His girl. His. In his arms, his bed, crying on his cock. 

“Only good little girls get daddy’s cum, baby. Have you been good?” 

“I’ve been good, I’ve b-been so- ah- f-fuck-” The wand buzzes to life, hovering just over your clit as you shake your head frantically. “No nonono, I can’t anymore, I c-can’t.” 

“Yes you can,” he thrusts deep and you gasp. You’ve already come four times, but he wants more, needs more, wants to wring every single one he can get out of you before he empties his balls inside your pussy. 

When he finally slides it across your swollen little nub, you howl. 

“Oh- no-” you whine, nails digging into his forearms, muscles already bearing down on him, breaths turning into short rasps.  

“I know. Breathe baby,” he glides it back and forth, kisses your cheek, your mouth. “Breathe through it- that’s my girl. You can take it.” You’re oversensitive, battling a war between pleasure and pain, and your legs instinctively try to close, prevent the impending explosion you know is coming. “Keep your knees open.” He gives the head of the wand firmer pressure, and you cry, shaking your head no again. 

“It’s too- too much.” Your feet are on his sides, partially bent in half, and he forces one of your thighs wide, giving him a better view of your puffy, tortured clit. 

“Knees open baby girl. One more and daddy will fill you up nice and deep.” You nod, already so close he can feel it, scorching heat pulsing around him, legs trembling as they go lax. “There you go…” he pets your hip, mouth at your ear, soothing and comforting as it rips through you. It pushes him over the edge and he tosses the wand, pins you. Traps you beneath him. All his. 

“Oh my god,” you slur, still riding the wave of your own orgasm, eyes rolling back in your head. It pushes him over the edge.

“Good girl, good fucking girl, so proud of you, takin’ my cum- fuck-” his own voice is choked off as he floods you, ruts like an animal, instinctively forcing as much of his seed into your belly as he can. 

When it’s over, he drinks in the sight of the milky white cream dripping out of your hole before scooping it up with two fingers and pushing it back inside. You’re limp the whole time, and when he slips the plug in, you barely notice. You’ll be pumped full of him until later, and he’ll take it out to give you more. 

“Daddy?” You mumble, half asleep, and he brushes his lips across yours, tucking you into his chest. 

“Right here, baby. I’m right here.” 

“- it’s not really. I mean, the best part about it is the cream, you know? That’s what makes the cake but the layers have to be moist on their own. You can’t just rely on the…” He swallows your words, licks them out of your mouth, cups your face and presses his thumb into your bottom lip afterwards, edging it across your top teeth. “Oh.” You blink, blindsided, and he runs a hand down the back of your head, strokes the back of your neck. 

“Ready then?” You lean into him, a little dazed, off kilter. 

“Y-yeah.” 

 Your toes scrunch at the threshold of the living room, afraid to cross until he flattens his palm on the small of your back.

“Go get comfortable sweetheart.” Battling nerves with a need for sleep, you were unsettled at dinner, sitting at the table, swallowing over and over again long after your food was chewed. There’s something more at play, something larger weighing on you. You left your plate half empty, fork resting at three oclock, twirl of spaghetti and red sauce waiting, and he should have told you to finish, or take one more bite. 

But it's a slow game right now. A careful one. 

“Alright.” You scamper towards the couch, settling into the far side, toes tucked between the cushions. It’s a balancing act, not too much, too too little, and when he sits down next to you with a giant slice of the cake on a plate, you watching him anxiously. Curiously. 

He forks a piece free, and holds it in front of your mouth. “Open.” You do. Immediately. You trust him to feed you, and it calls to the thirst thrumming in his blood, the power of control. “Good girl.” He waits, patiently, ignores the flex of your throat, the butterfly flutter of your lashes. There’s plenty of time for it all. There will be a lifetime (if he’s alive to live it) with you. "What do you say?" 

“Thank you.” 

“Thank you…” He leads, and you follow. His good fucking girl. 

“Daddy,” your whisper is shy, cautious and brave at the same time. “Thank you daddy.” A kiss finds its place on the corner of your mouth, then the full furl of your lips, and you burn alive, flames flickering in your eyes. He takes a bite himself and groans 

“Christ baby.” 

“Do you like it?” When he nods, you grin. 

“Not everyone likes them because they expect a cream pie and that’s not what they get, it’s a cake with vanilla cream between the layers, see?” You point to the thick custard. “It’s not like coconut cream pie, or a banana cream pie, you know?” Cream pie. If you say cream pie one more time. 

“It’s really good sweetheart. Too good.” He helps himself to another bite, offers you one, and then has a third before finally setting the plate down. Silence hovers in the air and he lets it languish, giving you time, all the space you need to give him the worry, the doubt, the weight that's holding you back. 

“Simon.” He smothers his surprise. It’s not the first time you’ve used his name, but your voice wavers on it. Wide doe eyes stare back at him, and then they find the floor. That won’t do. “I don’t know what to do with…”

“With what sweetheart?”

“You. This. U-us? If that’s… if that’s what-” 

“That’s what it is.” He closes what little gap there was between the two of you and pulls your knotted together fingers free, dwarfing your hand with his. “That’s what this is, baby.” The hope, the happiness, blooms across your cheeks and lasts for all of two seconds before worry overtakes it, and you begin tracing the lines in his palm, head down, focusing on the task, slightly shaking. Giving you a chance to walk away would be the right thing to do. 

But he won’t. 

He can’t. 

He’d never give you up now. 

“I’m not… I’ve never… done something like this, I don’t know how.” 

“That’s okay sweet girl, you don’t have to.” The nervous tracing turns to a light scratch. He lets it continue for a beat before folding your hand between his, stopping the movement. 

“I don’t?” 

“No. I’m here, and I’m going to take care of you, make sure you have everything you need. I’m going to keep you happy and healthy and safe, and you don’t need to worry.” A shaky exhale rattles free from your chest, weight of a thousand questions evaporating into thin air, decisions and deliberations rapidly falling away as you settle into a new reality, a new life. One where you’re cared for, supported, and loved. “All you need to do is listen, okay?” 

“Okay daddy.” 

[mossy-paws]

You bet your life it is HEHEHEHEEHEHEH

PHIGHTING! x The Magnus Archives au teaser,,,

so I’ve been neglecting my tumblr followers recently so here’s a Wip of the big thing I’ve been working on,,,, I thought it would be fun to combine two of my biggest hyperfixations together into one so here we are! this au is a MAJORRRRR Wip- I have like 20 more designs to get the line work done on and then afterwards I’m going to be coloring all of them- most likely I’ll finish this completely around the end of summer.

so I may as well show some teasers of the ones I have done >:3

feel free to guess who’s who or ask any questions! I’ll try my best to answer them without giving out too many spoilers and such!

[heathermason6060]

Daryl Dixon x F!Reader Smut: Teasing will get you Somewhere

Gif found on Pinterest unknown credit

Warnings/Mentions: Blue balls, Dark/Rough!Daryl, sexual teasing (Daryl receiving) rough sex, spitting, choking, manhandling, biting, blood blisters, spanking, bruising, it might smell like dubcon but it's not

Summary: Reader wants to see Daryl at his breaking point, teasing and depriving him of release until he gets there. 

Notes: I loved writing this so much. While trying to think of a plot for dark!Daryl I remembered this idea/prompt someone had like 5 years ago where the reader teases a guy until he cracks and just goes crazy. I think it was a fanfiction, but I looked through my bookmarks and ao3 history and couldn't find anything like this so if you know what I'm talking about please let me know!!

All you wanted from the start was to see Daryl snap. He was such an aggressive loudmouthed man, but not in the way you wanted him to be. 

He'd started flirting with you to appease Merle, the man who'd instantly noticed how you swooned around Daryl. The younger Dixon didn't believe him, of course, but he approached you to avoid the harsh blows of Merle calling him a ‘belly-up pussy’ along with more distasteful slurs. 

His way of “flirting” was a lot like Merles at first. Offensive, inappropriate, you know the rest. You'd been patient enough to politely explain that you weren't like the type of women that would fuck Merle after he called them a 'sweet piece of Georgian ass', and he took the hint. 

Daryl was shockingly sweet after that. He was less verbal after learning vulgar compliments weren't the way to go, but it turned out alright for you in the end. He began looking after you like you were his full responsibility. Making sure you were fed first, bringing home clothes specifically for you, along with any other treats he thought you might like. 

It was great, aside from him never making a move on you. He gawked like you were an alien when you started dressing for his gaze, Bobby Brooks shorts, pretty tank tops, even shaving your legs once in a while. But he never made a move. 

That simply wouldn't do. 

It was late one night and you'd slipped into his tent. 

“The hell you doin'?” He cursed, wiping the sleep from his eyes as you zipped up the flap behind you. 

“Can't sleep, Carl won't stop coughing.” 

You'd been sharing a tent with Lori and Carl ever since you arrived with T-Dog. It wasn't a complete lie, Carl was coughing up a storm, sick with some chest cold, but that wasn't the reason for your lack of sleep.

“I got some earplugs.” He sat up and began shifting through his bags. 

“No, it's okay. Can I crash here tonight?” You asked innocently, kicking off your casual flip flops that you saved for night time piss breaks or trips to get water. 

Daryl tried hiding his surprise . The stutter in his voice gave him away. “Uh, sure, I guess. S’long as ya dun snore.”

You behaved for an impressive amount of time. Lying in silence, not moving an inch, waiting for him to loosen up before quietly shifting backwards until your back was pressed up against his chest. 

His heart felt seconds away from collapsing in on itself when he felt you. He'd popped a semi when you'd taken off that big T-shirt he'd given you, and now it was bordering on a full on erection.

You waited until you felt his body relax, which took longer than you originally estimated, and then wiggled your hips. 

The reaction was immediate. He sucked in a breath through his nose and made this choking sound. He grabbed your hips, only for a split second before yanking his hands away like he'd been burned. 

You wiggled again, pushing back until the feeling of the outline of his dick against your ass was ingrained into your memory. 

It didn't take long to wear him down, not at all. He let out a strangled groan and rocked into you, his self restraint long since thrown out the window.

And then you stopped.

He nearly gasped at the loss of friction. The feeling was so devastating that it sobered him, and his cheeks burned with embarrassment. 

“Wha-” he panted. His fingers loosened their hold on your hips and twitched against the fabric of your pajama shorts. “Why'd ya stah- stop?”

“I'm sleepy.” You said plainly, pulling the thin sheet up to your shoulders in emphasis. 

Daryl caught his breath behind you, struggling to make sense of it all through his confusion and disappointment. He grumbled something that sounded like it held an attitude, though sadly that was the extent of his protests. 

You needed more. You needed him to tear your clothes off and ravish you like the animal you knew he was. The Daryl that feverishly humped you like his life depended on it was cute, but you needed the Daryl that he was in his daily life. 

The only way you could think of was to force it out of him, even if it did torture the poor man in the process. 

You kept up the innocent teasing for a while. You took a break after Merle went missing, you knew your limits and his. You weren't a total selfish piece of shit. Only when you arrived at the farm and he began talking to you again did you resume your game of “teasing Daryl until he cracks”.

“How's it look?” You gave a cheeky smile as you turned in a circle with your hands on your hips. 

You'd put on the pair of green cargo shorts he'd found you. They weren't very practical, holding only four pockets, which was less than normal cargo shorts, but they were scandalous. The fabric hugged your ass tight enough to look damn near pornographic. 

“Didn't realize they were that tiny. Christ.” Daryl muttered with pink cheeks. “Jus’ give ‘em ta Beth. 

“Oh god. Can you imagine her face? That girl is still wearing pants in late summer. Her daddy would kill me.” You snorted and turned back to face him. “I'm keeping these bad boys. The fabric is soft. Wanna feel?” 

“Already felt em when I took em.” Despite his words, he set down his knife to free up his hands. 

“Give me your hand.” 

The poor boy was so eager to feel you that he practically threw his hands in yours. When you placed his palms on the sides of your shorts he seemed to snap to life, dropping the nonchalant attitude to rub his thumbs over the fabric covering your hips and thighs. 

You tried to keep the smug smirk off your face, and failed miserably. He was turning himself on just by touching the clothing that covered your pelvis. 

Suddenly, you pulled away, feeling your heart lurch in your chest at the way his face dropped.

“Thanks again. I've been needing new shorts.” 

“Yeah. Uh-huh. S'nothin.”

It went on like that for a while. 

One night you climbed into his tent again with the ruse of being cold, and he didn't mention the fact it was a warm seventy degrees that night. You were wearing nothing but an oversized T-shirt and panties, and made sure to make Daryl aware of this when you slid your knee over his thigh. 

Nothing happened that night either, nothing other than pretending to sleep while he palmed himself through his jeans. 

Another time you put on those green cargo shorts and offered to tidy up his camp, an offer he was quick to accept just so he could watch you needlessly bend over to grab random objects to place somewhere else. 

Once you even made out with him. Late at night in his tent, things got hot and heavy and you straddled him, wearing the same oversized T-shirt and panties, washed since then, of course. 

He was nervous at first, you could tell by the way his hands trembled on their way up your sides. You kissed him slow and sweet, nothing too extreme, not until he pushed his hot tongue against your lips. 

You let him in and groaned at the enthusiasm he showed. He kissed you like you were still teenagers, up in the loft of some barn hiding away from Daddy. 

“Shit.” He panted against your lips. He moved his hands down to your waist and pulled you down hard, groaning when he got that first taste of friction he so desperately craved.

“Slow down.” You breathed. Your body betrayed your words, your hips rolling down gentle and slow, just enough to feel the outline of his aching cock through your clothing. 

“Why?” He muttered before pressing another kiss against your lips. “Wha's stoppin’ ya? I got condoms. Glenn's got the pill. S'fine.” 

You pulled up and away from his lips. He looked so pretty beneath you all desperate like that. It still wasn't what you wanted. 

“I don't know, Daryl-” Your voice choked into a whine when he moved under you, the friction momentarily rendering you speechless. 

“Can't ya feel what yer doin’ to me? Huh?” He snapped his hips again, forcing out another whine. “S’all for you. C'mon now.”

“Not here Daryl.” You tried to keep your voice level and firm. “Not in some tent where we have to be quick and quiet.” 

“Le’s go somewhere then. Anywhere ya want, don't care. Tell me. I'll take ya.” 

Truthfully, that almost made you give in. But it still wasn't the Daryl you wanted to experience. He was desperate, but not desperate enough. 

“Not tonight, Daryl. It's too late and Shane's on watch. He'll have my ass if he catches us sneaking out.” 

Daryl growled in frustration, wiping the back of his hand across his forehead. “Won't get caught.”

“Yeah, sure. Let's just wait another night.” You pressed a kiss against his cheek, innocent enough, contrasting painfully with the way you ground down against him one last time before sliding off.

Part of you started doubting your plan. Daryl was too reluctant, too full of self doubt, too terrified at the aspect of losing whatever fun thing you had going on by pushing your limits. Even though you had no problem pushing his. 

His patience amazed you. Any other man would've thrown you to the side after the first few times, or ignored your “wishes” and dove right in. He didn't know that's what you wanted. You couldn't blame him. 

How could you tell someone like Daryl “I want you to fuck me with enough desire and aggression to give a nun a heart attack”? He'd been too gentle during foreplay, too submissive, you were beginning to think he was a virgin. 

Maggie gave you a dress. You didn't know who it once belonged to, her or her sister, but it was one of the cutest things you'd ever laid eyes on. A pretty moss green that went right below your knees, laces up your stomach the same color as the dress, and thankfully, no sleeves. 

The domestic look had Daryl in shambles. You looked like a farm wife from a damn magazine, it took everything he had in him not to fuck you behind the barn like he wanted. 

He took you out that day. On a ‘food supply run’, as he called it. You weren't anyone's first pick for runs, which you understood, you were easily distracted. It was your biggest fault.

So when he asked you specifically, and you alone, you were barely able to contain your excitement. 

The first place you stopped by was an old farmers corner store to pick up enough food so you didn't come back empty handed. A few canned goods, stale snacks and three cans of soda. 

He left that in the back of the truck when the two of you stopped by a house. A very nice house, to your surprise. 

“Can't believe this place hasn't been trashed.” You commented while rummaging through the kitchen. “No more food, but there's some lighter fluid.”

“Hm.” Daryl grunted. After securing the front door he found you still in the kitchen, chewing on a mouthful of gum. 

You'd shoved about three long sticks in your mouth. “Want some?”

He eyed the gum wrapped in silver paper before taking it from your outstretched hand with a gruff thanks. 

It was hard to focus on, his heart felt like it was in his throat, it was hard to swallow, and his jaw ached from his aggressive chewing. He'd done everything you wanted, got birth control; condoms and plan B. He found this nice house that same morning, almost immediately after seeing you walk outside in that dress. He even cleaned up the master bedroom for you, dusting off the sheets and beating the pillows, opening the windows to air out the room. 

There was no way you could wave him off now.

Oh, but you found a way. It was a talent that needed to be fucking studied. 

You were digging through the dresser in the upstairs bedroom when he approached you. You ignored the sound of the door shutting and locking behind him, pretending to be very interested in the contents of the bottom drawer. 

His hands found your sides. Your skin tingled as he pulled you to your feet and pressed you against the dresser with his palm on your lower back.

He went to kissing the back of your neck. His lips were light and soft, contrasting the anxiety bubbling in his gut. 

“Hmm.” You hummed. He brushed your hair over your right shoulder and went back to kissing your neck, peppering them all the way to the point of your left shoulder. 

“Missed ya'.” He muttered, pushing his hips forward to drive home his point. 

You tried not to laugh with pity at the feeling. He was already hard? Poor thing. 

“We're supposed to be looking for food.” You chided playfully. You shifted your ass and earned a low grunt of appreciation for the friction. 

“Then why’re ya in the bedroom?” He challenged. When you didn't respond he smirked against the skin on your neck. 

His hands didn't wait for permission. He bent his knees so he could grab the bottom of your dress, gathering it in his fists and pulling it up and over your ass. He sighed at the sight, you were wearing the type of panties he'd only ever seen on a clothing rack or behind a screen. Black soft fabric, tight and with lace around the hem, hugging your curves just right. 

“Daryl, come on.” You chuckled, but made no attempt to move. “They're gonna wonder where we went.”

He laughed, the sound dry and humorless. “Don't give a shit. They'll survive.” 

“And what is it you wanna do so bad that's more important than feeding our people, huh?” You mused, placing your palms on the dresser he was pushing you harder up against. 

“Ain't my people.” He quipped and ground into you, dying to make you feel how desperate he was for you. 

You choked back a moan. “You didn't answer my question.” 

“Want ya. Right here.”

“Want me to what?” 

Daryl sighed and released his hold on your dress to grip your waist. “Wanna fuck ya nice an’ good. Make y’feel what y’been missin’.”

You groaned. Your grip on the dresser turned white-knuckled as he pushed against you again. 

“Yeah?” Your breath trembled past your open lips. “What else?”

Daryl pressed himself closer, until his mouth was right at your ear. “Wanna feel what ya’ been keepin’ from me. Taste ya'. Shove my dick in that pretty lil’ mouth n’make ya sorry.” 

His words had an obvious effect on you. Your knees trembled and your breathing was louder, more shallow. 

But he still hadn't cracked. 

The curiosity was eating you alive. You couldn't give in now, not when he was so fucking close. You turned to face him and gave a ghost of a smile, trying your best to look sympathetic.

“Maybe some other time.” 

His eyes widened and his eyebrows scrunched tightly together. His nostrils flared as his pupils darted over your face, looking frantically for the slightest sign telling him it was a joke. He looked hurt, confused, like you just slapped him in the face and called him a slur.

There it is. 

“You-” he choked out, “Y’aint serious?” 

You forced a nod. 

“Why?” The way he raised his voice sent a bolt of pleasure through your core, and you had to fight back a whimper. “Got everythin’ ya needed. Went through the trouble’a findin’ this place, ain't gotta be quiet, ain't gotta worry ‘bout walkers or someone hearin’, the hell else you want from me woman?” 

You couldn't stop yourself from whimpering. You bit your bottom lip and tried to steady your breathing, but when you stole a glance at his face and saw the expression held there your lungs shifted into overdrive. 

He looked so fed up. 

“What are you gonna do about it?” You whispered. 

Daryl sneered in contempt. “The hell can I do ‘bout it? Not gonna beg.”

You swallowed hard. You slowly shook your head, your chest rising and falling dramatically, your body still trapped between his arms, his hands on the dresser behind you. 

“Don't want you to beg.” 

You pressed a hand between his legs and he let out a strangled groan, his elbows swaying as they threatened to give out. You flexed your fingers to massage his length, and pulled away. 

His eyes shot open and just as quick his hand wrapped around your wrist, yanking you back to his bulge and nearly breaking your fingers in the process of shoving them down the waistband of his jeans. 

After unbuckling his belt he was able to cram your hand down deeper, forcing you to feel him. 

You gasped when your fingertips made contact. You didn't know a dick could get that hard. It felt just as firm as any other extremity. 

“Daryl.” You let out a long sigh as you gave a half assed attempt to pull your hand out. His grip on your wrist tightened. 

“Hmm?” The teasing tone of his hum made your clit throb. 

“We can't-” You didn't get to finish your sentence before he scoffed and picked you up. Like actually picked you up in his arms, bridal style. He threw you on the plush bed where you bounced a few times, and dove into you.

“S’enough.” He muttered. He pulled your dress up over your waist and looped his fingers through the sides of your panties. You thought he'd hesitate, take a look at the expression on your face and back off, but he didn't. He tugged them down your legs and tossed them off the bed in a random location. 

“Ain't some pussy ya’ got on a leash.” His fingers snaked between your legs, beelining for your cunt. He groaned in surprise, his eyes rolling back at the feeling. You were beyond wet at this point, his aggression had your folds like a slip n slide with lube instead of water. 

You bit back a moan. His fingers spread your folds, smearing your wetness around, his thumb pressing down against your clit. 

“Fuck!” You gasped. Your hips instinctively shifted to the side from the overwhelming sensation, but a firm grip on your waist quickly snatched you back. 

“Think y'can do whatever the hell ya’ want, and I'll jus’ sit back an’ let ya’?” He didn't give you time to answer. He pushed a finger inside you, and both of you hissed at the feeling. “Ffuck. Shit ain't like that no more, princess.” 

Any other time you would've snapped at the insult, but his finger digging around inside you had your mind blank. 

“Wha’s wrong? Huh?” He twisted his finger and you cried out. His voice was sickly sweet, something that should've pissed you off but only fueled your arousal. “Got nothin' to say?” His finger curled, a movement that held no thought behind it, though the way you gasped and arched your back had him repeating the action. 

Then he started mocking you. “Oh no, not now, it's not right, I'm not ready!” He scoffed in disgust. “Like ya’ a lot better when ya’aint speakin’.” 

Oh, god. You should be fuming. You should be spitting venom right back at him, but this is everything you'd wanted from him. It was all going according to plan. 

Maybe he knew that, or maybe he didn't. Either way he was behaving just as you'd imagined countless times, rough, mean, cruel and demanding. 

“C'mon, try a little bit.” He growled after leaning down to bite at your open neck. “Go on. Tell me it ain't the time. Tell me.”

You were nothing but a puddle under him. Your hands became too restless and reached up to grab at him, balling your fists in the back of his shirt.

Never in your life had a man treated you like this. No matter how bad you teased and gave subliminal signals. They would either indulge in your teasing, respect your wishes and back off when told to, or kiss and plead until you relented. 

Finally someone was fucking you like you had always wanted. Or, they were about to. 

The knuckle of his thumb had been digging into your clit for a good minute now, and despite how uncomfortable it could feel at times, you came quickly. 

You sucked in a sharp gasp and locked your legs around his waist, trying to pull his finger in deeper, or make his knuckle grind harder. 

Daryl groaned into your neck as you came around his finger. His hips jerked forward and bumped against his hand between your thighs, knocking his digit in deeper. You yelped, not expecting such a sharp sensation during your warm and soft climax. 

He withdrew his finger and you whined. 

“Sh-sh-sh.” You didn't think a hush could sound so condescending. “Got somethin' better. Gonna make you regret not takin’ it sooner.”

You said it before you could stop yourself. “You don't have it in you.” 

His eyes flicked up to your face as he pulled his zipper down, a look on his face that sent chills across your bare legs.

There was slight amusement, slight relief, as if someone finally gave him permission to show off and prove himself. Lips parted into a breathy smirk, tongue peeking between his teeth, and one eyebrow raised. 

Your eyes dropped to his pants when he pulled his cock free. It looked just as you imagined when you'd touched it only minutes ago, standing at full attention against his lower stomach.

You let out a sigh when you saw it reached his navel. 

Daryl leaned down until he was level with your pussy. You heard it before you felt it, the sound of him spitting, and then warm drool dropping right on your sensitive clit.

You squealed in protest, trying to raise yourself on your elbows, but he stopped you with a hand on your chest. With his free hand he smeared his spit over your already soaking folds, even going as far as to push some inside you with his finger. 

“Ew!” You gasped. 

You felt a tingle. Subtle at first, you just assumed it was the salinity of his saliva, and then more prominent. You were close to panicking until you saw the wad of white gum shoot out of his mouth, landing with a smack against the hardwood floor. 

At least you knew the source of the tingling. You swallowed your own gum, the same way you'd completely forgotten about.

The skin around your cunt buzzed when he slapped the tip of his dick on your clit, and you squirmed beneath him. He steadied you with the same hand on your chest. 

“Wait.” You inhaled deeply. He didn't wait though, he just pushed into your clenched hole, ignoring your whines.

“Ssss-shut up.” His voice trembled. He used his free hand to wrap around the base of his dick, holding it straight as he slowly pushed in further. 

“Y-you said you had condoms.” 

Daryl let out a loud groan as he sank into you. His right hand on your chest increased in pressure as more and more of his upper body weight bore down on it, forcing the air from your lungs. 

He was so thick, and it had been years for you. The burn was incredible, in such a pleasurable way that you should've felt ashamed to enjoy. You tried to moan, but nothing came out aside from a strained breath. 

“Ain't nothin' gonna make me feel rubber instead’a this.” He grunted. He rolled his hips forward and finally pulled his hand off your chest to roll the dress up and over your body. 

“F-Fuck.” His whimper was strangled in his throat. Being completely naked under someone who was fully dressed had you clenching around him, earning another whimper from said man. 

“Should feel ‘shamed, keepin' all this from me.” 

You didn't. Not one bit. 

“But I know ya'aint.” 

You furrowed your brows, momentarily stunned by his apparent mind reading abilities. He jerked his hips forward and your face fell slack, your jaw dropping and your eyelids falling shut. 

His thrusts were harsh, but far too slow for you to get anywhere. You grabbed his shirt and used it to pull him down, desperate for more stimulation. 

Daryl happily obliged. His breath was hot on your ear before he took the lobe between his lips, sucking and licking the flesh. You gasped as he bit down on it, and you could sense the smirk on his lips. 

“Daryl?” You breathed, the name breaking on your tongue with another thrust. 

“Jesus.” He groaned, thoroughly annoyed. He released your ear and pulled back to look at you, frustration evident on his face. “What?”

“Thought I was gonna regret it.”

Your words had his upper lip twitching and his eyes widening ever so slightly. 

“Yeah?” He huffed. “S'gonna be like that?”

He rose from your chest, shifting until he was sitting on his boots. His hands grabbed onto your hips and yanked you down on his dick, forcing a cry from your dry throat. It took him a few seconds to position himself, leaning back just a bit, his grip on your hips tight, and then he started fucking you in a ruthless pace. 

It wasn't what you were expecting. Your mouth dropped into a long gape and your eyes shot open as he pounded his pelvis against yours, driving his dick so deep it reached places your fingers never had. 

Each thrust had a gasp burning in your lungs, and those gasps quickly grew to embarrassing moans. Now that you were ashamed of. If you had the ability to stop it you could, but the way he was thrusting into you rendered you utterly unable to control yourself and the sounds you made. 

“Get up.” 

You weren't sure why he even spoke, because he was moving your body by himself before you could process his command. He pulled you to the side of the bed and turned you over on your stomach, bending you over and shoving his dick back inside you so fast you shrieked. 

Your feet flew up behind you, smacking against the back of his thighs. If you could've seen it you would've laughed. 

The new angle was paralyzing. His dick was no longer tilted against the spot under your stomach, the spot that had you a drooling mess seconds ago. Now it smashed against a deeper part of you, a part that had you groaning with each frustration fueled thrust. 

“Fuck.” Daryl groaned, his pace slowing to give momentary reprieve. He wasn't as young as you, and even though he was always out there doing a hundred times more labor intensive activity, he needed a second to catch his breath. 

There was still an itch yet to be scratched. While he regained his bearings you fought to think of a way to say it without actually saying ‘i want you to hurt me and fuck me till I cry’. You'd already humiliated yourself enough. 

When he began picking up the pace again, you reached for the hand beside your head and bit down on his knuckles. Not gently, either. You bit down so hard he could've ripped a tooth out with the way he yanked his hand away.

“The fuck?” His voice was barely below a shout. “Ya’ crazy bitch!” 

There was no retaliation besides a particularly forceful thrust, to your irritation. 

“You baby.” You managed to grunt out. “Barely bit you.” 

“Barley bi-” he scoffed, looking down at the hand he now had splayed across your lower back. There were deep pink imprints from your teeth over his index finger knuckle, and the skin around it turned a bright red. 

You felt his fingers wrap around your wrist, pulling your hand away from its grip on the bed sheets. Your heart hammered quicker than his thrusts when his breath tickled your skin, and then he bit you. In the same spot you bit him.

It wasn't nearly as hard as you bit him, but you still whimpered at the ache. 

“Point stands.” 

Daryl couldn't believe what he was hearing. His jaw set and he dropped your wrist. 

The smug smirk you'd been keeping to yourself fell when your hair was suddenly twisted in the fist of his right hand. With just that leverage alone he pulled your upper body up, and his left arm snaked around your torso to keep you flush against his chest. 

He yanked your head to the side. You gasped. 

“This what ya’ wanted, huh sweetheart?” He breathed against your ear and drew back until his dick nearly slipped out before slamming back in.  

“Mmm-oh god yes.” You blurted out between moans. 

“Jus' had to ask.” He managed a chuckle. 

“More.” 

He furrowed his brows, but kept up the slow and deep pace. He couldn't imagine what else he could give you. He was fucking you hard enough to bruise, he was pulling your hair, what, did you want him to start beating you? 

He dipped his head down to bite your shoulder, holding back just enough so that he wouldn't give you an actual wound. 

You have to consider that biting someone with enough force to actually break the skin takes a lot. Skin isn't like the flesh of a fruit. It's tough, and would require chewing to break through. So for him to stop right before that point meant he was biting you so hard you got blood blisters, and the pain was all you could focus on. 

Your wail of genuine pain had him pulling back like he'd been shocked. His thrusts slowed, and through ragged breaths he spoke, “Shit, m'sorry. M'so sorry.” 

“No.” You gasped. Your shoulder felt like it was on fire, and your walls cleaned around him in response. “So good. Feels so good.”

Daryl let out a huff in relief. “Ya’ weird as shit, yanno that?” 

“Mhmm.” You groaned, pressing your ass back tightly against him. “More.” 

He took a deep breath to steady himself and pushed you back down on your stomach. He had to work himself up to it, the idea intimidating. Once his thrusts were back to their former sharp pace he raised a hand in the air. 

You tilted your head to the side so your cheek was pressed against the blanket. When you saw his right hand held up, your heart leapt. You never nodded so quickly. 

Daryl ground his teeth together, glancing down at your ass, your face, and back to your ass again before smacking his hand against it. 

It was barely a love tap. 

You groaned, wiggling your hips and earning a moan from him in response to the feeling on his dick. 

He took the hint and gave another smack, harder, but still not giving that burn or satisfying ‘smack’ sound you wanted.

“Daryl, please.” You whimpered. “Hurt me. I'm not made of glass.” 

You barely got the last word out before he slapped you. Open handed, fingers spread and slightly curved to mold perfectly against your asscheek. You yelped and instinctively tried scooting up the bed, held back by his left hand on your hip. 

It clicked in his head then. No wonder people liked spanking so much. His palm tingled and he could see a faint handprint start to color your skin. And the way you reacted, that sound you made, your body trying to get away from him, it made his dick twitch. 

“Fuck!” You cried out after another hard slap. The pain fully distracted you from the ache in your shoulder, white hot pain spreading across your ass and up your spine. 

“Such a baby.” He meant it to sound patronizing, but he was still too amazed by the new turn on he'd discovered, and the words came out breathless. 

Your whimper bled into another cry as he spanked you again. 

And again. 

Again, again, until you were on the verge of tears, sobs bubbling from your wet lips as you tried to squirm away from him. 

As if you actually wanted to. Which you clearly didn't. You were practically gushing around his dick. 

He rubbed his palm over the deep red skin, barely soothing the blinding burn he'd left behind. “Goddamn.” 

“M'gonna cum.” You were literally drooling. 

He snapped his attention away from your ass and back to you. “Whaddya want, huh?” He quickened his pace once again, jolting forward to press his body against your back. You whimpered at the way he moved, his dick pushing deeper inside you. 

“More, please,” you stuttered, trying desperately to work your hand under your body, which proved to be difficult due to his weight on top of you. 

Daryl noticed and lifted your hips with his hands. He shoved your eager arm out of the way and rubbed your clit with his own fingers, fast and deep in a way he assumed you'd like. 

You moaned under him, arching your back, feeling him slip in further. It was as if he grew another inch every five minutes. Or you grew another inch deeper, and he was staying the same. Either way he was deeper, and it felt immaculate. 

The rise to your climax was slow, but powerful. You were fully prepared to gently tip over the edge and slide down in bliss. 

That was before he slapped your pussy. Then you fell down gasping. 

Daryl held onto your body like you were a wild mustang, trashing and twisting under him in ecstasy. He withdrew his hand and grabbed your hips again, resuming his brutal pace, clamping his teeth down on the back of your neck to keep your bodies anchored together. 

It took a while for you to come down from your high. When you did it was violent, the pure bliss smashed away by burning overstimulation. 

“Fu-uck!” You heaved in deep breaths. “Daryl s’too much, can't, wait!”

“Ever since that night ya’ came in my tent, blue ballin’ me like that,” he growled against your neck, “-been dreamin’ ‘bout havin ya’ like this. Fallin’ apart. Face full’a tears. Ain't stoppin now.” 

He wasn't bluffing. He didn't stop. He grabbed your wrists and pinned them above your head, ramming into your abused cunt, only slowing to shift in positions so you were on your back. 

The air felt amazing against your chest. Daryl ripped that feeling away with gnashing teeth, biting your hard nipples and alternating between sucking and pinching.

The house had to be surrounded by walkers by now. There was no way it wasn't, you were crying and moaning like you were getting paid for it. 

“Oh, god.” You wailed as another orgasm built up quicker than ever inside you. “Oh please, fuck, god!”

A jolt of pleasure shot through your core when Daryl's hands wrapped around your throat. 

Now, Daryl was no stranger to strangling someone. He'd choked plenty of people out before.

In fights.

He was unaware there was a different type of choking for pleasure. Instead of squeezing the sides of your throat with his thumb and fingers, he wrapped both hands around your neck and fucking strangled you. 

You squeezed your eyes shut so tight they ached as you came. Your orgasm had started off blinding, overwhelming every inch of your body, but Daryl's crushing grip soon muted the tail end of your climax and filled your ears with a deafening ringing. 

Daryl pulled his teeth off your nipple and panted against your ear. “Lemme cum inside ya’, sweetheart.”

You could barely process what he'd said. You forced your eyes open against the pressure induced burn, trying to find his face, only to see the side of his head. 

“Can't pull out.” He growled and released some of the pressure around your throat. Oxygen and blood flooded your head, leaving you dizzy and with black around the edges of your vision. 

“Can't, m'sorry. Oh, huh-  fuck!” His voice was strained as every muscle in his body tensed up. His hips surged forward, stuffing his dick balls deep to coat the end of your walls in his cum. “Mmm-fuck s’good. So good. Ohhh, Hah-” 

He choked on his moan. He moved his head, replacing his hands around your neck with his mouth, kissing and biting at the tender skin as he spurted ropes of hot cum inside you. 

Your body broiled under his crushing form. Your thighs relaxed from their clamped position, falling off his waist and dropping to the bed beneath you. Your lungs ached and your throat was raw, but your pussy buzzed so intently it felt like you had a vibrator pressed against it. 

“Oh, god.” The tone was full of dread and you forced yourself to focus on Daryl. 

“What?” You croaked. There was a stabbing pain in your neck from Daryl choking you out like you were a man his size. 

“Yer all fucked up.” He whined. He traced his fingers across your throat. “S’bad. Oh fuck.”

“Calm down.” You sat upright after he pulled back enough for you to do so, his dick dragging out against your trembling walls in the process and making you hiss.

“It's okay. I'll just tell em a walker got the jump on me. We've all seen them grab throats. It's fine.” You pressed a kiss to his worried lips. 

“Gonna tell em a walker did that too?” He pointed an exhausted finger at the bite mark on your shoulder, which was now in the early stages of a deep bruise, not to mention the blood blister in the shape of his teeth.

You laughed softly. “Fuck no. I'll just skip the tank tops for a week or two.”

That seemed to settle him enough and he nodded, moving to lay on his back. 

“That was amazing.” You broke the long silence. “Seriously. You're the first man to ever… you know.”

Daryl furrowed his eyebrows and looked up at you. “Huh? Y’never…?”

“No! I mean…” you sighed. “Never had a man make me come.”

Now he was at full attention, sitting upright and leaning back on his palms. “Nah, no shit.”

“I'm serious.”

He let out a light scoff, shaking his head in disbelief. “Jesus.” He chewed on the inside of his cheek as he watched you climb off the bed to grab your thrown panties. “Me too.”

You glanced over your shoulder as you stepped into them. “Really? You never…?”

He nodded, going back to biting his cheek. 

“How'd you last so fucking long?”

A cocky grin crept across his lips at the compliment behind your words. He was worried he didn't last long enough. And you just asked him how he held on so long.

“Jerked off like, ten fuckin’ times today.” 

That meant he knew he was going to fuck you today. Heat spread through your core again, despite how worn out you were. You smiled and climbed back on the bed to smother him with kisses. 

“You're so fucking hot.” You mumbled against his lips, which were moving weakly against your own. 

“Says the bitch that wouldn't fuck me.” He chuckled. 

“Just wanted you to make the decision for me. It's a lot hotter that way.” You hummed, pulling your swollen lips away from his. “It worked.” 

“Psh.” He rolled his eyes and began stuffing his soft cock back in his jeans. “Put yer clothes on. Place is probably crawlin' with walkers. Le’s get the hell outta dodge before anymore show up.”

Now that Daryl was in on your little game, you couldn't wait to play again. 

@ophelialaufey @carlgrimesgfofficial @theskinniestjackson-denny @dilfish-daydreams @my1fx @jinx-nanami

[axolotl4days]

Oh my god im so sorry it took so long I got so distracted

Yandere! Royal Family x Neglected Reader

The Reborn Royal Part 2

Summary: After being reborn once more y/n expects everything to be the same as always. However this time around, their family is going to be the ones changing things.

Tw: violence, abuse, neglect. Yandere behavior(all platonic), descriptions of death, mentions of suicide and self-harm.

Before anything continues, im gonna write down the names of the characters for reference.

Queen Charlotte and King Vincent somewhere in their 30s

Oldest and heir to the throne: Prince Edward, roughly 13

Next is: Prince James, roughly 11

Next is: Princess Eleanor, roughly 9

Then last, baby y/n who's... just been born.

The ages are just rough estimates, the numbers themselves, dont matter, just the older sibling dynamic and that they'd be adults while y/n would be a kid/teenager (yay angst)

Alright! On with the fic!!!

Part 2: No specific pov just yet

The youngest child in the Royal family has just been born, the King and Queen have ordered the staff to give them some alone time for the whole family.

"Its them... it's really them" Queen Charlotte says, holding the new baby y/n

"They're so small. Are babies always this small?" Eleanor asks

"That usually depends on the baby but... gods.. they really are small" King Vincent replies

The siblings watch as the little baby starts to fall asleep, Edward tries to reach out to hold little y/n but the poor thing flinches at the contact. Edward and James recoil in horror. All of the visions they've seen over the past few months of watching their future selves hurt future y/n so much. And now. Now that they're seeing, the real y/n in front of them for the first time. They have never been more horrified. How could they ever hurt them. Hurt you. No one should ever go through that sort of pain. They can't let it happen again.

Eleanor watches as the boys shake from witnessing the baby flinch, and she doesn't understand. Your only a baby.

"Mom? Is the baby okay?" She asks

The queen stays silent for a moment but even she cannot hold back her worried tears, so the king steps in

"Darling, the baby is going through quite a lot right now, they have just been born after all. Everything is new and fresh to them, so it'll take awhile for them to adjust. Don't worry, we'll make sure theyre okay." He says, that last bit is mostly for himself, while the visions he saw didnt involve as much physical violence as the boys did, he saw how, isolated the little one was. How bad it got. And how badly it ended. No. No. He can't think of that now. What matters now is they have you. And they'll make sure your treated right

Your mother holds you close. She can't fathom the idea that she would ever give you away for someone else to take care of.

"Your highness? Here, you need rest, we can take the baby and-" "No." The Queen glares at thr maid who dare suggest such a thing.

"But your highness, you need time to recover"

"I will be fine. All I need right now is my family. I suggest you leave now before I decide to make you." The queen threatens

"Of course ma'am, sorry ma'am."

The maid leaves the room but the king steps to his queen's side, "the maid is right about you needing rest dear, dont worry, I'm here. No one can take our baby from us, isn't that right kids?" Your father turns to your siblings who nod in agreement.

Vincent manages to get the baby into the crib and as Charlotte finally sleeps, the children joining her, he stands guard and thinks about everything hes seen in these past few months.

King Vincent POV:

Though the visions mostly focused on you, and your pain thats not all they saw. The king specifically saw the things that led him down the path of neglectfullmess and why he was absent so often. Plans. War. Betrayals. The things that kept him away from the castle. The things that allowed your mistreatment to slide by without repercussions.

He'll have to take care of those. That way, he can be there for you. Make sure you're raised properly, with love and care from your family. Nothing will come between him and his family.

He pulls out a journal, after the nightmares began and he noticed the patterns between them he would take notes about each event, each person's perspective, and the outcome of each action. He doesn't know where these visions came from or what caused him, but what he does know is that according to the recent intel on other kingdoms it seems that one of the wars is brewing, he searches through his notes to confirm, checking the interactions between other kingdoms, seeing how the other him would talk about the other kingdoms.

If he wants to keep his family out of harm, he'll have to take care of the threat before it can even happen.

He walks over to the baby's crib, looking down at his youngest child sleeping comfortably.

He knows what he has to do.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hi 👋 Author here, I am so sorry this took so long and that its so short, I like just finished finals so im just now getting around to working on this series again.

Now that its summer hopefully the next part will come out quicker, but I dont have a planned schedule cause I am horrible at planning things,

But!! I have notes and plot points for where I want this story to go/what I have planned

Please be patient with me, this is like, my 2nd time writing something like this on Tumblr and due to the, extreme, breaks in between parts the writing style may not be very consistent

But hopefully the next few parts will be written in a timely manner so they should be both more consistent, and longer!

Down below is my attempt at a taglist, there were a few people who wanted to know when the next part came out, feel free to let me know if you wanna be added, ive never made one of these before and its surprisingly hsrd

@randomlyappearingartist

@enchantingarcadecreation

@thatpersonnamedrook

@reni502 (idk why this one isn't doing the thing I tried)

[miabebe]

Anything and Always (YJH)

Was it really love if it didn't include just a little madness? What was love if it didn't cross the line? And how was it love if it wasn't regardless of anything and longer than always?

Pairing - Afab!reader x Yoon Jeonghan

Word count - 3.9K (this is a miracle)

Genre - Oof buckle up my friends. This is a halloween special so I tried not hold back - its a psycho-thriller, there's smut and then there's more pyscho-ness, it's a rideee! Warnings under the cut!

A/n - It's the week leading up to Halloween folks! Unfortunately I'm not the biggest fan of clowns and ghosts and vampires etc, but I do love me a good dose of psychos (who I think are scarier btw) so here you goooo! You can also check out Seungcheol's and Joshua's!

Big big big thanks to @tusswrites and @tomodachiii - you guys were really the hands behind this one ❤️

warnings - death, murder, blood, lots of toxic emotions like jealousy, possessiveness, extreme insensitivity, PDA, sex in a public place but no one sees them? unprotected sex, rough sex, filthy talk, marking, manhandling, mentions of blowjobs and sloppy seconds, mentions of exhibitionism, choking, creampie, fingering, stalking, obsession, disposing bodies mentioned?, honestly this whole fic is just a warning at this point, idk what to say

“.....Police say that this is possibly the most brutal act of violence they have come across in Seoul city in a long time. The forensics department is still trying to identify the body but estimate that the time of death might have been around 6 months ago. The motive of the crime is still unclear and….”  

Ignoring the sound of the tv you glanced at the two figures on the other side of the glass, standing close to each other, snickering away. Your hand tightened around the letter opener, the sharp edge slicing your skin open, blood trickling down your fist. The crimson felt cold but there was a strange fire coursing through your being.

How dare she? How dare she twirl her hair like a schoolgirl and put her hands on him? And what kind of fool did she take you to be? Did she think you couldn’t see the way she was stuck to your boyfriend like a leech or did she want you to see her making a move on your man? If it was the latter then she was most definitely successful – your eyes hadn’t left their huddled figures in the last ten minutes. At least not until red began to leak onto the papers strewn on the table. Groaning slightly, you quickly let the blade go and grabbed a tissue instead.

But you couldn’t let go of what was happening outside.

Pushing your chair back, you reached for your red satin gloves and slipped them on, covering your wound. It stung as the cloth grazed your skin but you knew it would feel better later, when you’ll run your hand through your boyfriend’s soft tresses as he fucks you into oblivion. He always made everything so much better. 

In complete contrast to the professional approach you’ve always advised your employees to maintain, you opened the door of your cabin and walked over to the pair, hugging your boyfriend from behind, wrapping your arms around his waist.

“Han.” You muttered, placing a soft kiss on the side of his neck before glancing at the woman before you. She tried not to look at you, the same way the entire office was averting their eyes, choosing to look down at the floor instead. Afterall, no one wanted to see their boss romancing right in the middle of the workspace. You didn’t care what they thought, at least not anymore. All that mattered to you was what Jeonghan felt, so when he slowly pulled your hands away from him, you were a little hurt.

But in all fairness, Jeonghan was always like this. Always so wary of people around him, always so conscious, always so proper. If you were being honest, even you used to be the same until a few months ago. Until Jeonghan came into your life to be precise.

Before him life was different. Inheriting your father’s company at such a young age meant you had to prove you were worthy, you had to make sure you were taken seriously. That’s why you made it a point to enforce discipline at work – employees always had to be on time, tardiness was looked down upon, improper dressing was not allowed, discussing anything unrelated to work was not permitted and office romance was strictly forbidden. Again, all that was until Jeonghan made his way into your office one fine day, to interview for the position of your secretary.

You still remembered the moment he walked into your room, clutching his file against his chest, looking around with big eyes. Your childhood nanny turned caretaker introduced him, stating he was a smart guy who just finished his MBA and had a lot of potential. Apparently, a few months ago, he was recruited on the street and used to work as a part time model in your company – you couldn’t seem to recollect his face as he went on explaining how he wanted to do a more serious job now. Surely you would have known if the literal man of your dreams worked in the same space as you right? But then again, before your father died and you took over, you used to work in the writing column of this fashion magazine, the photography side of things was never in your radar. Yoon Jeonghan was never in your radar.

Making him your secretary was quite an easy decision – he had the qualifications, he already knew the company in and out and very soon, he knew you just the same too. 

Well, almost. 

He knew you took your coffee with foam art but he didn’t know it was because you liked that concentrated look on his face when he making it. He knew you always wore gloves as a fashion statement, but didn't know it was also to stop yourself from digging your nails into your skin every time you were stressed. He knew your caretaker and how important she was to you, but he didn’t know she was the closest thing you had to a mother, one whose presence you craved since you were a child. He knew inheriting this company had always been your dream but he didn’t know it was you who mixed the sleeping pills in your father’s milk that led to his overdose. 

Albeit you only added enough to make sure he wouldn’t make it to the extremely important meeting the next day. The idea was that you would have gotten the chance to replace him as CEO temporarily and show the board your talent, but apparently your father was weak enough to die from that miniscule amount, allowing you to permanently take over his role. But this wasn’t your fault, was it? So there was nothing for Jeonghan to know about it. 

Though there were a few things that he had discovered over time that a part of you wished he hadn’t - your anger, your impulsiveness, your stubbornness, your possessiveness…. He didn't know how bad it could get, but Jeonghan knew enough. That’s why the first thing he did when he pulled away from your grip was lead you to the private washroom in your cabin and fuck you mindless, thrusting into you hard and fast, letting your mark his neck carelessly.

Letting you mark him as yours.

“Fuck, baby.” He sighed, pulling you closer and wrapping your legs around his waist. Your pencil skirt went further up your torso as your boobs spilled out of your bra thanks to his sheer force as he showed no signs of slowing down. The granite of the sink counter felt unbearably cold against your bare ass but you didn’t care. Not when this position allowed him to ram into you while you ran your glove clad fingers in his hair, moaning right into his ear, and coaxing him further.

“Cum in me Hannie.” You purred, fingers digging into his arm. “Don't you want to fuck it back into me after work? I know how much you love your own sloppy seconds.”

“Don’t.” He groaned, his thrusts becoming harsher just at the thought of it. “We have an investor meeting after work today and I need to go pick up my niece after that. We can’t, baby.”

You rolled your eyes before pulling him into a heated kiss. This was what you loved and hated about this man. From day one, he was incredibly efficient, always so aware of your schedules, of which client calls to avoid, which pen to carry to sign official documents - he was the perfect secretary, always keeping an eye on everything. He was also a perfectly good man, always donning the sweetest smile, trying to be helpful, staying alert about your smallest needs and wants. As much as you loved how he looked after you, it was seeing him being nice to everyone else that bothered you. 

Why did he have to lean over the desk of the girl clearly pretending to be stupid when he clarified her doubts? Why did he always agree to the dinners and the after work parties that various women in the company invited him to? Why did the lady in the canteen always bat her eyes at him and give him extra sandwiches? And was it your fault that one fine day nearly all these women decided to mass resign from your company? Yeah maybe you glared at them a bit too much and maybe you increased their workload to an unbearable amount but they chose to resign, that wasn’t on you right? Honestly, you should have stopped employing women after that - at least then you wouldn’t have hired her and seen her getting all handsy with your man.

“Stop thinking about her.” 

Pulling you off the counter Jeonghan spun you around, letting you look at your fucked out face in the mirror. Your lipstick was smudged at the edges and the remnants of his cum were still at the corner of your lips from when you let him fuck your mouth minutes ago. “Eyes and mind on me when I’m fucking you, sweetheart.” He grabbed your face with his hand, squeezing it roughly. “The only thought that should be in your pretty little head is me, so stop thinking about her.”

And this was yet another reason you loved this man. He knew you like the back of his hand. He could tell from the slightest change in your expression what exactly you were thinking. He could tell from the furrow of your eyebrow what exactly you needed. He could tell when you wanted to be handled softly, and gently made love to and when you needed to just be fucked like a ragdoll. Right now, you just needed him to fuck the inappropriate thoughts out of your head and that’s exactly what he was doing, snapping his hips against yours with a relentless pace. Jeonghan might be someone who looked sweet and soft and fragile but man was he capable of fucking like a beast. No wonder you fell in love with him.

The moment you realised you had fallen head over heels for him, the first thing you did was simply tell him. Though it took him a fleeting moment, he confessed that he had been in love with you for the longest time now. Brfore you could properly even kiss him, he pushed you against the office window 78 floors high and fucked you right against it, ignoring the hundreds of staff on the other side of the glass cabin who didn’t know what to do but immediately evacuate from the floor. 

Since then, you had gotten the glass tinted and the two of you had christened almost every piece of furniture in your cabin in a similar fashion. You had Jeonghan’s things moved into your office from his cubicle and at any point you were not working, there was only one thing you were doing. Rather, one man you were doing. People would walk in on you more often than you liked to admit but stopping wasn’t an option and shame really wasn't a part of your character profile anymore. Only one thing mattered, then, now and always - Jeonghan, Jeonghan, Jeonghan. 

“Oh god I’m close fuck fuck fu…” You felt your mouth hang as the feeling began to tighten in you, your legs weakening. With a hand on your back, Jeonghan pushed you onto the marble of the counter, your breasts and cheek pressed onto it, his other hand on your neck, pinning you in place

“Me too baby.” He groaned, fucking himself in you harder, momentarily forgetting how tight his grip around your neck was. The oxygen to your brain being cut off only made you feel more insane, mumbling meaningless words as you felt yourself being split open by the man you love. It was only when he saw your eyes nearly roll back that he loosened his hold, pressing his fingers into the soft skin on your hips, thrusting faster and deeper, grazing that spot again and again until you finally snapped. With a loud unintelligible moan, your walls fluttered around him, clamping his length and coating it with slick in a way that immediately sent him over the edge as he came, spilling into you in spurts. With a few more thrusts he continued to ride out his high like he didn't want to leave your warmth but when you winced at the overstimulation, he grimaced and finally pulled out.

As the two of you caught your breaths, slowly straightening yourself, you turned, finding yourself towered by him. Sighing, he caught your lips with his in a sweet kiss, in complete contrast to the way he slipped his fingers into your hole, pushing his cum further into you, for later. When the two of you finally parted, he stepped back, pulling up and buttoning his pants with a small smirk on his face. You smiled back, adjusting the panties he wasn’t even bothered to remove in his urgency, as you rang for your caretaker. Like always she would help you with your clothes, hair, makeup and make you look presentable but what was the point? Anyways, in a few hour’s time, everyone would get off work and you’d have to attend that one last meeting of the day but since it was just an audio call, you could still ride Jeonghan on your office chair while you were at it. You knew how much he loved the sight of his dick covered in his own cum pumping in and out of you so another round today was a given.

Just as Jeonghan finished dressing himself, your caretaker walked in with a fresh set of clothes, trying not to meet either of your eyes as always. Normally, Jeonghan didn’t hang around till you were made decent to the public eye, he let you have your space to dress but today it was like he could tell you wanted him around. Though his neck was littered with the red of bruises and your lipstick, and he smelled like he was doused in the sweet scent of you, the image of that woman’s hand on him kept flashing in your mind. You knew he could tell you had slipped back into those thoughts as he sighed, shaking his head. 

Putting his arm out he stopped the older woman, much to your surprise. “Let me.” 

And she did, handing your clothes to him before bowing deeply and excusing herself from there. 

Your eyes followed Jeonghan as he slowly undressed you of your wrinkled clothes, sweetly kissing you anywhere and everywhere he could. You loved feeling his mouth on you like this and you know he loved it too, you could feel his lips curl into a smile against your skin. Except when he slipped your gloves off; then his expression shifted to one of pained worry.

“What happened?” He looked at you confused. “Y/n what-“

“I’m fine.” You brushed him off, but his grip on your wrist was tight. “I wasn’t careful when I used the letter opener so it just….”

“Baby.” If he could tell you were lying, you didn’t know. He just kissed your palm softly, looking at you like he was hurting more than you were. 

This man loved you. He loved you so much. He loved you just the way you were, he always made sure to let you know just how much he cared, yet you couldn’t help but continue to obsess over that memory. 

Shaking your head, you kissed him back, long and hard. 

You had to get it out of your mind. You had to do whatever it took to get it out of your mind.

This entire weekend you didn’t get to see Jeonghan thanks to his niece’s birthday. 

As much as you shouldn’t be jealous of a little girl for getting so much of your boyfriend’s attention, you were. You didn’t like anyone getting between you and Jeonghan but knowing how much he loved her, you were willing to let it slide. You still wanted to see him first thing Monday morning so you made sure to reach work as early as you could and were waiting by the door for him. 

Instead, to your surprise and disappointment, you were met with the familiar face of just the woman you didn’t want to see as she limped in, bandages scattered all over her body, her arm in a cast, hanging in a sling around her neck. 

Running your eyes over it, a small triumphant smile creeped on your face – now let her try and touch your man.

As though on cue, Jeonghan walked in, his eyes flickering between both the women before him. Reaching for your hand he pulled out the white glove you had donned today, running his finger along the fading wound. Seeing that it was much better, he interlaced his fingers with yours, and led you away to your cabin, without sparing his colleague a second look. You though, turned around just to catch sight of her dejected face. 

As Jeonghan prepared your morning coffee, you wrapped your arms around his waist, resting your chin on his shoulder, looking at the way he meticulously pressed the coffee powder. There was no fear or possessiveness in this hug, you were just happy. Jeonghan made you happy. He always made sure you were happy. 

Since the day he began working in this company, your smile was what he craved for the most. No, not since he began working as your secretary - since he was recruited as a model, when he first laid his eyes on you. 

It was during a press conference, announcing you had joined your father's company now that you had graduated from business school. You looked so prim and proper, like a sweet little girl from a high society, a perfect heiress with your glove clad hands clasped, resting on your lap modestly. Something about you was just so…. innocent, so easy to corrupt. It made Jeonghan fear for you - The corporate world was harsh and cutthroat. Sweet little things like you didn't belong here. 

But over time Jeonghan learnt you weren't the little innocent girl you seemed like after all. He saw how ambitious you were, willing to even put down others to climb the ladder, willing to do anything. He saw your anger and the things it made you do. He saw your tantrums when you didn't get what you wanted. He saw everything because Jeonghan was always watching. Always. 

He was watching you at work, he was watching you make your way home, he was watching what you did in your little penthouse, strutting around in your pretty night dresses…. Jeonghan was always watching. That's how he knew that you liked men with longer hair, and that you preferred them blonde and tall and lean. That's how he made sure to groom himself, to become the man of your dreams. Because he knew exactly what your dreams were - afterall, he always watched you sleep too. 

That's also how he knew the number of sleeping pills you added in your father's milk weren't right. Yes you were ambitious and vile but you were short sighted. What you needed wasn't an opportunity to prove yourself but a permanent position to lead the company. That was your dream after all and Jeonghan would do whatever it took to make them come true. That's why he slipped in more pills into the glass - silly little you could surely not have thought so far.

The thing that Jeonghan didn't take into consideration though, was how inaccessible you would be to him once you became CEO. He didn’t get to see you as often and even if he did, you always had company. You were constantly monitored, always followed by security, always protected. He needed other ways of getting close to you, other ways he could keep an eye on you. 

The first step was to get your previous secretary to resign. Honestly, that was probably the hardest step along the way - no matter what Jeonghan did, and mind you, he did everything possible, she did not step down from her position. So he did what he had to make sure she never returned, to make sure they didn't ever find her.

Although he might have been a little less successful on that front - from what he heard on the news yesterday, it turned out that after all this while, they finally had found her. He just hoped that the cops didn't dig around there any further - it wasn't like anything could trace back to him, he made sure of that, but he didn't know if they could digest everything they would find in his favorite dumping spot. Afterall, he had to make all those who truly knew him disappear - he couldn't take the risk of anyone letting you know what he was capable of. Of how far he was willing to go for you.

Your caretaker knew. She was the only one who knew but Jeonghan needed her. He needed someone you trusted to recommend him to you so he dealt with her in a way that was far easier - he just promised her he would pick up her granddaughter everyday after working hours and make sure she reached home safely as long as she kept her mouth shut and introduced him to you. The old lady was a sensible one - she did what she was told. Perhaps she knew that if she didn't, no one would question if her foot were to accidentally slip and send her plunging down 78 stories. No one would care. 

But if anything similar were to happen to the colleague who was trying to make a move on him yesterday, Jeonghan knew you would be suspected. He couldn't have that happen, he couldn't have anything happen to you. 

That's why he followed the woman around over the weekend, making note of where she went and what she did, waiting for the perfect opportunity to make his move. She told all the concerned employees asking her that she was too drunk and so she didn't realise she had walked into incoming traffic and Jeonghan didn’t see the need to correct her - she didn't walk on her own will, she was shoved. 

But then again, all that happened was she broke an arm and a few ribs, and dislocated her shoulder, it was hardly anything. At least when compared to the wound on your hand because of her. All that mattered was that the sight of her finally seemed to have put a smile on your face, knowing that he wouldn't have those hands on him again. That was enough for him, your happiness was enough for him. For that he would do anything. 

“Thank you for all that you do for me Han.” You muttered against his skin breathing in the combined scent of him and the coffee as he smiled to himself. But of course.  

Topping off your drink with a tiny foam heart, he turned to hand it to you, receiving your sweet smile in return. It made him scoff inwardly. Look at you, pretending to be all innocent. 

Like you too weren’t obsessively stalking her over the weekend.

Like it wasn’t your car that caused the accident that night. 

Like you didn’t pay off the cops to let you go while your employee laid bleeding and unconscious on the road. 

You always tried to hide so much behind that saccharine smile, but how could you? How could you when he was always watching? How could you when he would do anything to be by your side? How could you when he loved you more than anything Y/n? 

More than anything and longer than always. 

A/n - This is the first time I've dabbled in a genre like this so I'm nervous - kind comments and just thoughts in general are much appreciated! You can also check out Seungcheol's and Joshua's :)

[beardedhotchner]

Paranoia?

A/N: Hope you guys enjoy, Amia xx

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader

Summary: You visit your husband whilst on maternity leave. Whilst in his office, your temporary replacement decides to run her mouth at you. Aaron doesn't let it slide.

T/W: Nursing/breastfeeding, newborn baby, angry bitch thinking she can steal Aaron.

You weren't checking up on Aaron. That's at least what you told yourself. Months on maternity leave had made you anxious and slightly paranoid, that's all. Standing in the elevator, your baby girl in your arms, you tried to convince yourself of that. That you were just tired from lack of sleep. That your temporary replacement wasn't hitting on your husband. That she wasn't declining your calls to his office phone. No. You were just paranoid.

The first person to notice you enter the bullpen was none other than Derek Morgan. The man shakes his head, standing in a instant, "Do my eyes deceive me or is that my other babygirl?"

Penelope's hair flips around as her head whips in your direction. "Ah it's the only other person allowed to share my title!" Derek holds his arms out to take Athena from you. As soon as she was settled with her uncle, Penelope's arms go around you, squeezing you lightly, "How are you?"

"Tired." You laugh as you pull away from each other. Spencer and JJ leave the briefing room, spotting you both rather quickly. JJ practically runs to you.

"There's my favourite agent." She calls out, bypassing you to hold your daughter, "Good to have you here." She says, that wide smile of hers on her lips. Spencer gives Athena a wave over JJ's shoulder.

"As much as I miss you all, I'm actually looking for my husband. Have you seen him? About yay tall-" Your hand goes to a rough height estimate of Aaron, "About yay annoying." You hold your hands out to a show a wide space, your unit chuckling around you.

"He's with Allison." Rossi answers, joining your small group with an easy smile. They don't miss the way your eyes roll as you pull Athena back into your arms. Emily, behind him, narrows her eyes at your reaction.

"Of course he is." You mutter, sighing lightly, They don't miss your tone, of course. Hard to hide emotions in a room full of profilers, even if you all said you agreed not to profile one another. Athena gurgles in your arms and you smile at her softly. "Can someone go get him? I'm gonna nurse in his office." You don't wait for anyone to reply, or to pick apart your tone. Instead, you head straight up the small stairs to his office.

Walking in, you can smell Aaron's cologne in the air, making you feel more at home. His blinds are open, so you pull the string as you walk past his desk. Sitting in his large chair, you sigh at the comfortability of it. You tilt it back slightly before undoing the front of your dress and the nursing bra. Athena latches with ease, and you sit back sighing, waiting for Aaron there.

A few minutes pass, you're stroking Athena's soft pink cheek as she feeds, and the office door opens.

"Oh my god!" A horrified voice fills the room, unsettling Athena instantly. The short crys of your baby girl making your heart sting.

"Calm down." You snap, lifting Athena to your shoulder to calm her, grateful for the small burping blanket you chose to put over your both. "You should've knocked." You finally glance up at what you can assume is Allison, the girls face red with upset.

"You shouldn't have your tits out in a federal building." She bites back. "Who even are you? Do you even have security clearance to be in here?" She glances around, her eyes going back to you, "there's confidential information in here. Who do you think you are?!" Her screeching voice and Athena's unsettled cries echo through the bullpen, drawing your husband and saviour into his office.

"Agent Michaels. What are you doing in here?" He asks, almost harshly. She baulks at his reaction, pointing to me. "Yes. I know she is here. I'm asking what you are doing here." You redressed swiftly, Athena blinking up at you sadly, soft whines from her.

"I saw your blinds were closed and came to check on you." She tries to press her chest against him, earning an eyeroll from you. You can't help but beam when Aaron pushes her back, walking over to you and Athena. "And she was just in here. Sitting in your chair. Her-" her voices drops as if she's almost embarrassed for you, "breasts out."

Aaron sighs, taking Athena into his arms, cradling her gently. He looks back to Allison, "Agent. One, its not your business to 'check on' me. Two-" He snaps, once again, raising his voice toward her. Athena had calmed in his arms, but was watching your face for your reaction. You stayed smiling at your baby girl, keeping her happy. "You're her temporary cover so watch your tongue. Three, my wife can come into my office all she wants, especially to feed our daughter. Hell. She can undress in the middle of the bullpen if she wants to. It's none of your concern."

Your hand goes to Aaron's back, murmuring calming words, "It's okay. We're okay."

"She's your wife?" Allison chirps out, obviously upset by this news.

You can't help but let out a smug, "Yep." Aaron rocked Athena gently, cooing at the small girl. He waved his hand to dismiss Allison.

Following her out to the landing, Hotch called out to the team, "Rossi. Morgan. Can you help Agent Michaels to pack? She's being transferred back to her old unit." Allison stares at Hotch in shock but she doesn't miss the short celebrations from the team in the bullpen. She turns on her heels, stalking back down the hallway to her- my office.

Aaron walks back into his office, smiling softly at your baby girl, "God she was a fucking pain." You laugh loudly at his words, Athena staring at you with wide eyes.

"Duh." You tease, your hand going to his chest, just under his jacket. Athena rests in his right arm as her left goes around your hips. "No one can do my job as good as me, baby."

"Now that-" he smiles, that sweet kind that shows all his teeth off, "is very true." He kisses you softly, basking in this small moment with you.

[felassan]

Jason Schreier: "NEW: After the release of Dragon Age: The Veilguard, dozens of BioWare employees were told they were temporarily assigned to other projects within EA. This week, a twist: those temp assignments are now *permanent* transfers. And BioWare has shrunk. Story: [link] Dragon Age: The Veilguard was undeniably divisive, but to many who worked on it, it was a miraculous accomplishment to even ship a complete game after EA forced live-service into it, then reversed course. Now, their reward for the long hours and hard work is layoffs and transfers." [source]

Bloomberg article:

"Electronic Arts Slashes BioWare After ‘Dragon Age’ Sales Miss The studio has shrunk to less than 100 people following the release of Dragon Age: The Veilguard Dragon Age: The Veilguard missed EA’s sales expectations by 50%, leading to cuts at the studio"

"Hi everyone. Today we’re diving into the cuts at Electronic Arts Inc.’s BioWare. BioWare magic Late last year, after the release of the new role-playing game Dragon Age: The Veilguard, dozens of employees at developer BioWare were given some staffing news. Moving forward, they were going to be loaned out to other teams within their parent company, Electronic Arts, where they would work on various upcoming games like Iron Man and Skate. The logic made sense. BioWare’s next game, a new installment in the popular sci-fi Mass Effect series, was in pre-production and did not need the entire studio. There were no other internal projects for everyone to work on. Instead of getting laid off, they would stay employed, working on other projects until Mass Effect was ready for them. But this week, the group was informed that the loans had morphed into permanent relocations, according to people familiar with what happened. They were no longer BioWare employees who were temporarily on assignment elsewhere; now, they worked for whichever EA subsidiary had borrowed them. If they want to work at BioWare again in the future, they would have to look for job openings and re-apply. This was an unwelcome development for some of the employees, who now find themselves on brand-new teams at studios they’d never planned to join. Some had come to BioWare to work on storied role-playing game franchises and found the idea of working on action or sports games less appealing. But at least they got to keep their jobs. During the same reorganization this week, around two dozen other people at BioWare were laid off, according to the people familiar, who asked not to be identified discussing nonpublic information. Writer Trick Weekes and producer Jen Cheverie said on Bluesky that they were among the veteran workers who’d been cut."

"BioWare is now down from more than 200 people two years ago to less than 100 today, according to the people familiar. A small team will remain to work on the next Mass Effect game — led by company veterans who oversaw the development on the original trilogy as well as on 2019’s Anthem — in hopes of expanding as the game gets further into production. The company announced the reorganization on Wednesday, saying it planned to “become a more agile, focused studio,” without mentioning the job cuts and the relocation of staff permanently to other studios. A spokesperson for EA declined to comment on specific numbers. It’s been a rough month for EA. Last week, the company’s shares plunged 18% after reporting preliminary holiday-season results that missed estimates and lowering its forecast for the fiscal year. The poor results were largely due to the underperformance of EA’s latest soccer game but the company also said that Dragon Age: The Veilguard reached 1.5 million players, missing sales expectations by 50%. What may be most surprising is that EA, which has a long history of shuttering studios after a failure, is keeping BioWare around. The once-revered RPG studio, founded in 1995 by a trio of doctors, released a string of beloved titles throughout the 1990s and 2000s, including the first two Baldur’s Gate games, Dragon Age: Origins and the Mass Effect trilogy. But the studio has failed to release a hit since 2014’s Dragon Age: Inquisition. Mass Effect: Andromeda, released in 2017, received mediocre reviews and was widely criticized for its bugs and uncanny animations. BioWare then pivoted to a live-service shooter with 2019’s Anthem, which was roundly panned and killed after less than two years. Both games were plagued by management issues, brutal deadline crunches and a belief — called “BioWare magic” — that everything would work out in the end."

"With the single-player Dragon Age: The Veilguard, which had its own turbulent development cycle and was rebooted multiple times, the studio hoped to win back lapsed fans. Despite generally positive reviews, the game proved to be divisive among players, with some criticizing the writing, art style and linear level design. But many observers and staff blame EA for the situation they put BioWare in — canceling an early version of Dragon Age in favor of one that would be required to have a “live-service” multiplayer component with recurring revenue, only to then reverse course, reverting once again back to the single-player format. It would be difficult for most game-makers to release something great under those conditions. Now, BioWare studio head Gary McKay and Mass Effect executive producer Mike Gamble are essentially looking to reboot the company as they plunge forward on their next game. It will be a long road ahead, and what emerges will be a very different BioWare. But at least for now, the studio will continue.""

[source]

[thus-spoke-lo]

cw: gn!reader. angst. light physical roughness towards reader. mention of sex but nothing explicit. alcohol use [reader]. dressrosa spoilers. wc: 1.3k

The sun set over Dressrosa, just like it did the day before, and the day before that. You stood on the balcony overlooking gardens and stared out across the island, watching the sky turn technicolor, a nightly performance that somehow felt like it was just for you.

A door closed softly behind you; Doflamingo strode across the bedroom and ducked out onto the balcony, placing a hand on your upper back and giving your neck a quick squeeze.

“Enjoying your show, darling?” he grinned, leaning down to kiss along your earlobe and down your jaw.

You nodded and forced a smile, gripping the railing a little tighter, trying to keep your anxious thoughts at bay. You’d heard the phone calls, seen his barely-suppressed anger that only seemed to grow after he’d left for Punk Hazard and returned. Doflamingo tried to keep things from you when he could, but this was unavoidable—this was impending war, at least in your estimation.

He clucked his tongue and sat upon the stone bench beside you, pulling you in to stand between his legs. “What’s wrong, sweet bird? You seem upset.”

“What will happen to me, love?” The question came barreling out faster than you anticipated, unable to stop it as it landed with a thud. The years had taught you never to question him on certain things—his strength was chief among them.

“What do you mean?” His eyebrows furrowed behind his sunglasses, his grip on your shoulders tightening.

“I mean what will happen if—well—”

“That’s nothing you need to be concerned about, little bird,” Doflamingo spat, cutting you off, knowing precisely what it is you’re implying. “This situation we find ourselves in is merely a momentary inconvenience.”

The phone calls you’d overheard, the conversations on which you’d eavesdropped, the information you’d begged and bribed out of his guards—nothing seemed to indicate it would be a mild “inconvenience;” Doflamingo had a temper, but mundane troubles didn’t seem to rattle him the way this had. You steadied yourself and breathed in deep before adding, “You’re not answering my question.”

He took your chin and held it between his thumb and forefingers, his massive hand engulfing your face. “Are you doubting my ability to keep you safe? Hm?”

“No, of course not, I’m just—”

He squeezed your jaw, his hand almost shaking as he leaned forward, the tip of his aquiline nose touching yours, his hot breath spreading across your face as he spoke, bits of spittle landing on you with every enunciated word. “Are you suggesting that one little brat and some upstart pirate crew pose any threat to me? To us?”

You shook your head, a whimper clawing its way up your throat, as you grasped at his wrist, trying to wrest yourself from his painful grasp.

“Good.” He released his hold on your chin and leaned forward to place a gentle kiss where his thumb left an indent in your flesh. “You know I would never let anything happen to my little bird."

That night, Doflamingo made love to you as he did most nights, but something felt changed. He pulled you closer, he kissed you harder, and as you laid there afterwards, your cheek pressed to his chest, listening to his heartbeat as his long fingers danced over your sweat-dappled skin, you would swear you sensed something in him you didn’t think you’d ever truly felt before.

Fear.

----------

The sun sets again, just like it did the day before, and the day before that. Brilliant hues of gold and lavender spread through the sky and the ocean reflects them back, soft waves beating upon the shore. You sit curled up on your porch, a blanket wrapped around your shoulders, a glass of wine on the table beside you, wondering if that day was the last time you would ever see a sunset with Doflamingo again. It’s a thought that haunts your waking hours and invades your dreams.

It’s quiet here, far removed from the buzz and busyness of Dressrosa. You still aren’t quite sure where here is exactly; you weren’t allowed onto the deck of the ship for your journey, nor were you ever shown where this little slice of idleness lies on a map. The journey could have been a day or a week or a year for all you had known; as soon as you were hurriedly smuggled on board, a man had jabbed your upper arm with something that made your blood burn before it gripped you by the shoulders and pulled you under into a deep and dreamless sleep. At night, when visions of Doflamingo, bloodied and beaten and restrained with seastone, flash in your mind again and again as you writhe in sweat-soaked linens, you wish that man had left you with a supply of your own injectables.

A soft breeze picks up and carries upon it the scent of citrus trees, the ones belonging to your neighbor down the road that you’d only waved to a few times. It was still unclear to you just how approachable you were allowed to be under the circumstances. You occasionally walked into town, covered in scarves and layers of fabric to hide your form, just to bask in the warmth of other living beings, and inhale the scent of fresh-baked bread at the market, and take home a few homemade goods to carry you through the week. Men who never spoke to you dropped off supplies now and again, more than enough to sustain you and you alone, but nothing could compare to the sound of friendly voices and the feeling of carrying home a loaf of crusty bread knowing it would soon be slathered in butter and jam and inhaled within minutes, just like you used to insist upon doing back on Dressrosa, even when the castle was fully-stocked with anything your heart desired.

He found that strange and charming about you, your insistence on going about your same routines despite the privilege your position afforded you. Midnight trips to the late-night café for their house coffee, staying up until just before dawn to watch the bakers prepare their days offerings, flour settling like snow upon their shoulders. Doflamingo thought you a little mad at first for your commitment to the customs of a common citizen, but even he would grow fond of being dragged into town just to get that fresh-squeezed juice that the market only had on Tuesdays.

The sun dips below the horizon, and a chill settles in the night air. It’s time to head inside, time to make yourself dinner and read one of the countless books that were packed inside this house, or perhaps drink yourself into a stupor so you could skip wallowing in melancholy and time-travel to morning, when the sun could keep you company. And then you can do it all over again—wake, and sob until your lungs hurt and your core aches, until you’re so full of yearning and wanting that you’re numb inside. And you’ll think of him, think of him in better times, think of him wrapping you in pink feathers and grazing your skin with long fingers and kissing you, kissing you with desire and longing, and a softness that took you by surprise every single time.

You’ll think of him and you’ll hold hope within your aching heart that you’ll see him again—see him walking up the sand, a grin stretched across his lips, tanned arms outstretched to welcome you home to him. And you’ll hold onto that image, hold it so tightly inside you, hoping that it will keep the grief from spreading like poison and killing you before you can ever feel his touch upon your skin once more.

[fushiglow]

[Exclusive] Getō Suguru is this week's cover star!

Here's a preview of his interview where he discusses his collaboration with Satoru and much anticipated album, Your Blue. Read the full story in chapter 14 of Over the Threshold!

“I’ll never return to Blue Spring again”

The quiet resurrection of Getō Suguru

This year marked Getō Suguru’s long-awaited return to the radio waves, but this time, his voice is nowhere to be heard. The singer-turned-producer discusses raising the next generation of musical artists and forging fast friendships in unlikely places. Read the full story below the cut.

Once upon a summer, Getō Suguru’s sunny smile lit up every street in Tokyo. You couldn’t round the corner without seeing his billboard, bold and bright and brazenly blue. The man I meet at a quiet café in Kagurazaka is a far cry from the fresh-faced youth Japan remembers. Crowded behind a tiny bistro table, he seems almost too big for his surroundings, both in presence and in stature. It’s a quality he shares with his collaborator, Gojō Satoru (known mononymously as Satoru), with whom the producer made his emphatic return to music this year. But over the course of forty five minutes and an English breakfast tea (milk, one sugar), I learn they share little else. “Satoru is the most honest person I’ve ever met,” Getō says of the story behind their implausible partnership. With his all black attire and neatly crossed legs, he’s the picture of understated elegance, despite the tattoos and piercings. Though he lacks the otherworldly looks of the singer he’s talking about, Getō is just as striking to behold. He’s beautiful for a man, with soulful eyes that bely how terribly young he is, even after all these years away from the industry. Unlike his counterpart, there’s a certain warmth to him, evident when he says, “It’s the reason he’ll go down as the greatest artist of our generation.” A bold claim, especially considering the as of yet unreleased album marks the K-pop idol’s first foray into the Japanese language market. Satoru’s individuality has won him hearts overseas but, despite his staggering talent, his aversion to discretion risks alienating him on home turf. Only this week, he caused a stir when he described the “old geezers running the music industry” as “a collective erectile dysfunction flopping around in a poorly fitted designer suit”. Indeed, “honest” is putting it generously. But perhaps you’d expect nothing less from Getō, whose brand of charm is suave and sophisticated where Satoru’s is cheeky — to put it generously. “There’s a heart of gold beneath that rough exterior,” he insists, surprisingly serious. “You can hear it in his songwriting.”

Maybe he’s right, or maybe Getō simply brings out the best in Satoru. In music and in conversation, Getō has a way of polishing Satoru’s harsh edges to reveal the hidden jewel within. It’s a marvellous gift he possesses, and Satoru has undoubtedly reaped the benefits of his proximity to Getō. The reverse, surely, cannot be said to be true. From stampedes at Shibuya station to speculation about his sexuality, this year has seen the producer catapulted into the public eye in new and uncomfortable ways. Is Getō bothered by the seemingly relentless scrutiny the superstar invites, inevitably bouncing off Satoru and onto him? “Not at all.” Getō’s smile is warm, fond even. His effortless charisma makes it easy to trust his word, but if Satoru is honest in his estimations, then Getō’s admission that the pair of them are “opposites in lots of ways” raises question marks. Unrelated, I was instructed not to ask any questions about the mysterious reasons behind his lengthy hiatus from music. There’s a common English proverb that says ‘opposites attract’, often used to suggest that ideal partnerships are built on contrasts. Research proves otherwise, and in Japan, we tend to prefer the notion that ‘birds of a feather flock together’, but perhaps Gojō Satoru and Getō Suguru buck the trend, because the art they’ve created together (and it is art, despite what their naysayers declare) is undeniably impressive. Ahead of its release on December 24, Your Blue has already garnered a number of wins at the prestigious Japan Record Awards. Though there was no prize on offer for best producer (a title that would surely go to Getō), all three singles due to be announced during the ceremony on New Year’s Eve. It marks the first time in history that multiple works by a single artist have been nominated in the category in a given year. But is he worried that Satoru’s untimely comments have dashed their chances with the voting committee? “That would suggest I think the awards aren’t really about the music.” Ever the diplomat, Getō neither confirms nor denies that’s the case, though it’s perhaps of note that Getō will not be attending the awards with Satoru on December 31. “For me,” he says with a shrug, “New Year’s Eve is a night for family.” One might imagine Getō is rooting for Sugar, a masterclass in pop production on his part, or Limitless, which earned him his first lead songwriting credit on a professionally released record since his debut. His favourite for the win? “Blue.” A predictably magnanimous choice by the producer, considering it’s the only song on the album he didn’t have a hand in creating. In the face of such humility, it’s not hard to remember why the Prince of J-pop was once touted as the ideal role model for Japanese youth. In recent years, Okkotsu Yūta took that title for himself, though one could argue that Getō Suguru paved the way for a great many of the young artists climbing the charts today. Prior to his collaboration with Satoru, the producer worked with up and coming group, Resonance, on their debut album. The trio are overwhelmingly tipped to win Best New Artist at the Japan Record Awards, less than a year after they burst onto the scene. With his tracks widely lauded as the standouts on their album, is Getō Suguru the key to unlocking an artist’s potential? He thinks not, at least when it comes to Satoru. “Satoru is perfectly capable of unlocking his potential by himself. He doesn’t need Getō Suguru—

I actually lied. This is the full story. This is all you're getting, here and in the chapter itself. So, what do we think? How's that for a WIP Wednesday, huh? Please please please scream at me to help me get this thing over the finish line at last! ♥

[roguishcat]

Snippet Sunday

Thank you so much for tagging me @inkymoonbunny! Can't wait for the next chapter of 'Branded Blood'! 💖

I'm currently working on @the-lady-mienshao 's ask (Astarion finds one of fem! Reader’s books (romance about a human and vampire of course) and she’s terrified that he’ll think she’s with him to sate a vampire kink)

I'm very slow, but I do get things done!😊 (eventually), so this is going to be Part 2 of 'What books don't teach you' (18+ MNDI).

Shelves upon shelves of novels. The biggest and most impressive collection in all of Faerûn. You scoured Sharess' Caress, picked up copies during your travels, and traded with other enthusiasts. You collected the books with fervour others reserve for collecting priceless trinkets and hid these away from prying eyes in the basement of your house.

To say that Astarion was impressed would be an understatement.

"And how exactly are these arranged, my sweet? Knowing your penchant for keeping things in order, one might expect to find a system of sorts."

"Thematically, actually. Started out alphabetically, but then it got confusing once I got my hands on tomes in Elvish and other languages."

"Elvish, you say? I didn’t realise that you are a master of tongues."

"I'm not," you admitted readily, the innuendo going completely over your head. "But I love how beautiful they are. And I figured that wanting to read these might be motivation enough for me to learn."

Astarion hummed in appreciation and ran his fingers along the spines. The books were truly a work of art, fine leather and beautiful designs that winked playfully at you when you tilted your head even a little.

"Whilst this is very impressive, I don't understand why you were never tempted to try the real thing."

"Well," you cleared your throat and pretended that you were very busy going through the scrolls on the table, "maybe I was waiting for you. Waiting to be swept off my feet by a charming, dreamy elf."

"And I'm absolutely certain that I was worth the wait. But enough flowery words."

Astarion looked at you intently, making you fidget and drop a couple of scrolls. He didn't look away from your face. You being clumsy was not news to him. However, Astarion seemed to have great interest in your answer.

Although you confessed your feelings - not that it wasn't obvious to everyone who cared to look that you were completely in love with Astarion- actually talking about the said feelings was still difficult. But you didn't want to lie to him either. So, you chose to settle for something as close to the real reason as you were ready to tell him.

"I told you. I don't have that confidence that comes so easily to some. And I did try once, you know."

"Yes, with the man who was lacking in both skill and manners."

The look on Astarion's face became a touch softer. He put his cool hand on top yours, long digits strocking smooth, warm skin. The comforting gesture was sweet, his nearness welcome.

"Well, at the time I thought that I was the problem. And then I was lucky enough to have you teach me." You took a step towards him and tilted your head up. You very much wanted a kiss but did not know if now was the right time. In spite of you 'being well and truly taken', you still felt nervous about asking Astarion for affection.

Fortunately, he did not seem to notice you nervously chewing on your bottom lip as you tried to think of best way to put your wants into words.

"Oh? What's this?" Astarion moved past you and reached for a book. "Caught in the night?" He raised his eyebrows and then started reading the titles of all the books on that shelf. "Blood to remember? The Count's Courtesan? La petite mort? Darling, it seems that you've had a taste for creatures of the night before we met, hm?"

"Pardon?" You said dumbly.

"Well, my sweet. If I may be so bold, by my very rough estimation, you have at least thirty books with damsels of all shapes being kidnapped and devoured by vampires."

"Forty-two, actually."

"And that is why I feel it's safe to assume that you've got a type. Fangs? Crimson eyes? Eternal hunger that can only be sated in one way? And fortunately for yours truly, I just happen to fit that description."

No pressure tags💖 : @obsessedwhyyes, @rahuratna, @preciouslittlebhaalbae, @arzen9, @clazberryk, @khywren, @vixstarria, @hellethil, @nyx-knox, @pursuitseternal, @busy-baker, @deadly-diminuendo, @wilteddreamsofbaldursgate, @bloodinwine, @xxnashiraxx, @charmandabear, @anacdoce, @larvasmoon, @vividiana, @davenswitcher, @funniestbitchinfaerun, @verbenaa, @pinkberrytea, @dramatiquechipmunk, @nerdallwritey, @marlowethebard, @bardic-inspo, @forget-me-maybe, @whiskeyskin, @lanafofana, @fangbangerghoul, @rivereverie, @starlight-rogue, @bum-dragon, @alwaysmauria, @bhaal-battle-beer-bard, @dez78, @shandoratheexplorer, @ravenswritingroom

[danieyells]

do we have canon ages for the TD boys? or like rough estimates? curious lolol

Nope! No canon ages or estimates, but we do know they're probably at least 19(if not 20.)

For starters an academy is a specialized teritary education facility--a college--and that's exactly what Darkwick is. An elite college that's secretly for the study of anomalies. In their fourth year they go on a sort of internship before they can graduate, which is unlikely to be done for high schoolers. I believe at least one ghoul has referred to himself as an adult. Many of them run businesses, which you need to be 18+ to do in Japan. If Yuri is actually legally a full on doctor he'd have to be like. . .26 at least? But he's probably not a full on doctor. Probably.

The first years are probably around 20 because Ritsu, someone who would surely not break the law, throws back a martini with little to no problem in Episode 8.

The legal drinking age in Japan is 20, so Ritsu, as a first year is likely at least that old. Of course he could have done it for dramatic effect/to make a point/keep Taiga's attention/play the part of someone who belongs at the auction, but regardless they're all at least 18 for certain as it's unlikely that they would have them be 20 and in high school.

If he's 20 then this is definitely a college, which means everyone is at least 18 as universities in Japan require you to be at least 18 to attend I believe.

With Alan having gone from juvie to basically being adopted by Darkwick two or more years prior he's also definitely above 20. On top of that we know he can drive which means he's probably got a driver's license which he has to be 18+ for. Other Vagastrom students drive around campus so the general students are also at least 18 unless they're driving without licences.

Tohma and Haku both seem to like cars, if we presume they have licenses they're at least 18.

Haku also said the PC seems to be around his age--while the game is 12+ or teen depending on what app store and language you're looking at I believe it is marketed more at a young adult audience, which means Haku--and presumably other third years--would likely be considered in their early or mid 20's.

Jin can drive a speedboat apparently according to one of his summer home screen lines, based on that he mentioned wanting to hear the waves i assume it's a first class small vehicle license that lets him go far enough in the eater to do that so 18+

Bonnie is described as being a large motorcycle. Assuming that makes her a heavy motorcycle by Japanese law, Sho needs to be at least 18 to drive her as he said he refuses to drive without a licence in episode 11. Licenses in Japan differ based on vehicle and its size and heavy motorcycle licenses(which don't cover cars, hence his refusal to drive a police car) are for people 18 and older.

. . .tl;dr, no age confirmations or estimations really, but we know they're at least 18~20 and older adults treat them like young adults so I'd say they're unlikely to be older than 35(but it's college so no age after 18 is impossible!)