#and then make a really great speech that fucks us all over

[bambifornia]

more swindle headcanons because he won't leave my brain and i'm tired of him

crazy good at math. he's able to calculate the price/cost of something within seconds. the only reason he's not a mathematician/accountant or anything like that is because swindle wouldn't do well with those jobs. swindle likes moving on his pedes, not sitting behind a desk

extremely well-versed in politics. but not because he's very political or anything; swindle just likes knowing where and when the next intergalactic war is raging so he can profit off it. it helps to keep up with the news

workaholic. though this trait is less notable to see in him than say, someone like optimus (mostly because swindle takes great care not to let his exhaustion be shown. his image MUST be perserved, after all)

used to keep a diary in which he noted anything interesting he found on the planets he traded with. he was actually semi-organized with it, and even included some crude doodles of the organics he ran into. he stopped journaling once the war broke out, though, and hasn't journaled since due to fear of his diary being used as blackmail

answers questions like a politician. if u want a straight answer from swindle then good fucking luck LMAO. he doesn't like to go into detail about his past. it's all old news, anyway

he's a Beyonce fan. i feel it in my bones

puts effort into his image. granted his image got fucked over ever since he defected to the decepticons LMAO but the point is that swindle tries to make himself look better than he actually is.

surprisingly open-minded. he has to be. if he were to be openly xenophobic to the multitude of alien races he trades with, then his business would tank. besides, he's actually pretty curious about other worlds besides his own (ex; how he mentioned he spied on the human villains in the SUV episode, and thought their whole get-up was "exciting")

he hates hates HATES the cold. if he HAS to do business in a cold planet, he will bitch and complain about it the entire time except when he's in the negotiating room

when he was a young bot, swindle was pretty open book. that's not to say he didn't LIE back then, it just so happened that swindle was created with a super expressive faceplate, and you could always tell what swindle thought based on whatever look he was giving you. this got him into some...issues (dw he learned how to keep a poker face later on)

not the jealous type (how can he be jealous when he's the most wanted bachelor on cybertron?) but on the rare occasion that he IS, he gets real quiet. probably sulks to himself in a corner while sipping on some energon. if confronted, he'll brush it off but don't you doubt it for one second; he is PISSED

says he doesn't have any regrets or moral dilemmas about his job, but that's only half of the truth. swindle takes care not to give himself enough time to think about the past. it makes living easier that way. and swindle is a creature who seeks comfort, even if it inconveniences everybody else around him. don't try to call him out on this bad habit of his; he will huff and excuse himself by claiming you'd do the same thing too if you were in his shoes (or pedes?)

he does not like keeping living things in his subspace. he's made the mistake of storing a organic he thought was cute when he was younger, and it ended up with a trip to med-bay (surprisingly, organics don't like being in strange voids filled with nothing but weapons)

fantastic at detecting scams. he doesn't have a mod for it or anything, he just KNOWS

has a """"healthy"""" amount of paranoia. he claims he's just looking out for himself, given the kind of business he's in, but there's times where the paranoia really fucks with his health

really likes sprinkling those "infomercial phrases" into his daily speech. he thinks it makes him sound suave. thought he sometimes fucks up with the delivery and he just gives up mid-way lmao ("guard the prisoners...orrr loot the ship? it's a no process-...or? er? err..." - a direct quote from decepticon air)

he's mostly self-aware. the only thing he isn't honest about to himself is his own emotions

whenever he feels stupid stuff like "fear" or "stress" or (shudder) "remorse" he takes a look at his bank account. it helps him, in a weird way. because yes, he's an outlaw, and yes, he's technically gambling his and everyone else's life, and YES, there's days where he winds up battered and broken, barely an inch away from death, but...at least his efforts aren't for nought. they're adding up to something; with every corpse, swindle's wallet gets fatter. and with all that money in his servos, swindle might be able to buy himself the one thing cybertron can't offer him: peace

^ swindle thinks he deserves this. he delusionally believes he deserves peace and riches more than anybot

[pupkinpumpkin]

EVERYONE WAKE THE FUCK UP

[enbesbians]

‘STRAWBERRY KISSES’

sub/top!a. anderson x dom/bottom!reader

cw: tribbing, ejaculating strapon (r. receiving), breeding kink, squirting, dove fucking, scent kink, r. is a parent, standing oral, slight impact play/face slapping (a. receiving), asphyxiation, lactation

MINORS DNI

summary: “real cowgirls ride pussy” and that’s exactly what abby did. who would’ve thought a respected farmer could be a pathetic slut? muscly, big and strong, all to be treated like a fucktoy under your hands.

a/n: this fic is by far one of the most lackluster fics ive probably written. it’s not that great in my opinion and i feel as though it ran in circles… i had been hesitant to post this for some time and had no clue how to end it so it’s a bit abrupt. this fic is almost just pure smut… really long and i over did it just a tad… id also like to apologize… it’s probably so all over the place… it’s been a long while since ive written anything and i don’t think this fic is as great as i tried to make it. nonetheless, i hope you end up enjoying.

that pretty girl abby in her cowboy hat, in those tight blue jeans that hugged her thighs just right, muscles bulging from its fabric and a rusted silver big buckled belt with roses carved into its metal, stood in front of your doorstep. the tap of her heel at your wooden porch with a smile that wore prettily across her lips, crate in hand full of fresh produce hand grown by her. corn, strawberries, apricots and tomatoes, all plump and in season. it was a surprise being greeted by her on your second day moving in. yeah there were others from the town who said their hi’s and goodbyes, some with buttered biscuits or a fresh lemon moraine pie that hadn’t been that well made came to welcome you too, but with her, it was different.

it wasn’t often to see a woman of her stature walking around the city you used to live in— she was built, big and broad, back confidently raised tall in a shirt that ripped at its sleeves showing every vein that ran up her toned freckled, sun kissed arms. on days you’d see her riding horses, galloping as her golden braid fluttered in the thick summer air or even a lasso in hand, things that you saw in movies that you hadn’t even thought twice about. she looked strong and able, independent, attractive, and alluring— even by the sound of her voice contrasting from her strong appearance with a gentle twang in every syllable she spoke.

you were used to the bright neon lights in the night’s city, honking horns and prolonged profanity being thrown back and forth outside of your window to now be surrounded by haybells, horses, clucking chickens and a sun that only ever burned down as if it had been summer year round. the switch was a culture shock and all the country side folk made you feel like you had been living here for years— smiling faces, waves as you rode up into your dirt driveway, seeing all the cows in the distance chewing on the brightest grass you possibly ever saw.

it was nice. through the few months you’ve lived here and growing more accustomed, you made a couple friends along the way. with their boasting charm and positive attitude, you were almost always involved in anything the town had gathered, like being invited to little events in the town— learning the ways of how the people tended their fun; good tasting beer, games and activities you never thought existed or took the time to take part in, like corn bathing or horse shoe throwing. socializing with other mother’s, talking about the shared stress you all experienced or new recipes that you ended up trying to make. even still, you felt a bit out of place at times. your clothes never matching with the attire the others had or their lingo being hard to comprehend, yet the cute accents they spewed whenever they spoke made you giggle warmly. they didn’t seem to mind when you’d ask what they meant when it came to the slang, catching on and using ‘y’all’ as a part of your daily speech. you’d let your kid play amongst other’s their age, finding solace in the open spaces they were able to roam and waddle through— seeing them come home with grass scuffs at the knees of their pants and dirtied palms.

not being too far from abby’s domain, she was well known in the town— inheriting her family’s farm and business as a full time farm worker, handing in fresh fruits, vegetables and cows milk to the monthly market. the anderson’s— you saw it etched in a wooden sign not too far from where you stayed, seeing a red wooden barn out in the distance beside a big pretty white house. she was a woman of business, hands gripping any tool with a grunt that echoed in the air as she puts herself to work.

the day before your initial move in, she saw you and the group of movers helping you gather all the furniture inside with your white summer dress that held against your womanly rounded frame, all frustrated in the face for how hot it had been. she smiled to herself, not seeing many people like you around here. city living people that is. it was adorable. a pretty thing like you didn’t belong in a place like this. filled with dirt and cattle and a body language that didn’t match up to the people that made up of this town— them wearing nothing but flannels and dirtied jeans. the women reeking of cigarettes as the men smelt like cigars all while spitting out peach pits and sunflower seeds.

it was already tradition to grant a new neighbor a gift when they first arrived— nicknacks and baked goods, books, canned food or peanuts. since abby was already getting produce to give to the market in the morning, it was best to give you a taste of what she was good at, wanting to get a real good look at you up close— hear how you talk, admire your body as you moved and see how you’d react to a gesture as big as a big crate of fresh home grown goods. it met all her expectations, seeing the beauty you held within your stare and the exotic nature of your frame, watching your eyes grow wide, replacing that tired and worn expression with a heartfelt one.

thick, sweet and velvety— she told you her name with a curl at the corner of her rose colored lips, tilting the tip of her cowboy hat. her golden hair tied into a tight braid that laid against her freckled shoulder and a hand clasping at her buckle. “it’s nice’ta see a new face round here.” she smiled triumphantly with her eyes gleaming with satisfaction, glazing over you as you held the crate that was once in her hands.

“i couldn’t take all of this.” you scoffed in amazement, noticing how there was not a dimple or bruise in sight on any of the produce.

“there’s not a pot too crooked that a lid won’t fit, hon.” she laughed, “it’s a welcomin’ gift. it’s my job to grow all this, don’t want it’ta go all to waste.” noticing how her accent slipped so elegantly as she spoke.

the image of her rested in your mind the entire day, placing all what she gave you in its respectable place, using some for the night’s dinner. it came out rich, juicy and complimented the meat you had made to go alongside it— feeling yourself moan with each bite as your lips drag over the silver of your fork. never have you have something that tasted so good. back home in grocery stores, you were so used to the over produced fruits and vegetables that you never got to taste what produce was really supposed to taste like.

as the days continue and you gave her your millionth thanks for her gift. she replaced her ‘you’re welcome’ with her presence— always being near when she wasn’t busy, coming whenever you needed help. if you needed someone to lift something heavy, there she was, if you needed something from the market, she’d tell you she was already on her way, if you needed help watching your kid, she was right there. no matter if she had been working all day in the sun— wearing sweat like a compressed shirt, coating her arms and face until it dripped from the underside of her chin, and dirt that seeped itself in the thick of her pants as if it had been bought that way— she was right there and that alone attracted you. she had an alluring personality with an even more charming presence that couldn’t go unnoticed, showing you around the town, or showing your kid to her barn, letting them see all the farm animals— petting the cows and horses, feeding the chickens, watching the pigs as they roll around in the mud— or even let them run down in her field. you presented them with freshly squeezed lemon juice and sandwiches as you watched from afar, staring in awe, not understanding how someone can be so genuine with their kindness.

you couldn’t lie, the view of her working was nice. your excuse to be near her was just as good as hers, making it a ritual to pass by when going to the market right around the time you knew she’d be out in the field. you’d catch her in her sports bar, getting a hold of the way her arms and back muscles flexed with the elastic of her boxer briefs peaking out from her pants— a thin line of hair following up to her belly button and freckles that scattered all over her arms and chest.

being the socialite she was, beer in hand with women flocking to her like fruit on flies, she’d laugh having them hang off her arms, fleeting eyes, talking about how impressed they were during the horse race that you unfortunately hadn’t been able to see. there was a slight film of jealousy that ran through your body, understanding why those women gave her attention but after all the days you’ve gotten to know her and the way she’d help you or even talk to you, you’ve grown a liking towards her.

abby could say the same. you hadn’t noticed when other farm workers placed their interests, seeing you as a fine piece of butchered meat, pristine and cut and hung in the most favorable way.

she didn’t want that. she wanted you all to yourself, adoring the relief on your face whenever she had a task done or the way you’d laugh after saying a joke or two, doing the usual head tilt when she left, eyes bouncing from your face until it lined all the way down your body. sneaking a hand at the side of your waist while passing by, inhaling the sweet spritz of your perfume that you wore or the sight of your ass in your jeans, finger in its pants loop, slighting jumping as you fixed them. nothing could top getting a tease of your panties whenever you bent down— that you may or may not’ve done on purpose— while wearing a dress. riling her up seeing the numerous pairs you wore, making the innards of her legs moisten and her heart race, keeping a visual memory of the blue lace you once wore or the lilac pair she last seen in the hamper in your downstairs bathroom that she shamelessly took.

it was memento. an unspoken thank you given by you, taken into her care. laid in her bed, she sprawled herself against her mattress, seeing the embroidered shapes in its cloth, remembering how it’d spread and cupped your ass. keeping in memory how you sheepishly pulled down at the dress’s fabric like you hadn’t known that you teased her with a beautiful, lustrous sight. she couldn’t help herself— you invited her in— trying to keep her indulgences tame each time she got a glimpse of your panties or the way your breasts sat in any shirt that you wore. she thought about your thighs and how they pressed together as you stood or whenever you sat down and how they expanded, thinking of whenever you were aroused and the mess you’d make in your panties and if they’d bunch at your folds or maybe even at your ass.

she’d take the panties to her nose, taking in your scent while rolling her fingers at her clit— pressing it against her lips and soaking them with her spit as she tried so desperately to let your taste linger. sopping wet, she’d let it bunch as she rubbed herself with it on her clit, grunting moans filtering her bedroom while her eyes closed themselves to remember the image of you— the simplicity in the way your tight shirt lifted and the skin that peaked just above your jeans, or even the way your jeans rolled at the folds of your hips. she’d hump the air, feet planted on her mattress as she pressed your panties roughly at her pussy.

and to think it all started off with a small hi and crate, inviting her to taste your sandwiches and apple pies, coming every few weeks or so, to her coming every week then almost every day— making it harder and harder to resist you and the need to be beneath your skin. to touch you, knead you, hear how you’d sound. now all that crowded her vision was her fucking you— digging her fingers into one of your dresses and tearing it off your body just to see how your panties really looked on you and how’d they’d look off. each breath painted the picture with the help of her entering your bedroom, keeping that in thought after you had asked for help to move your dresser. she thought about your body against hers, hand pressed down in the center of your shoulder blades, hips rolling deeply into you that had been hugged by her harness.

“you’re so nice.” you’d always tell her, sighing out a pleasant sigh whenever you got the chance.

“of course sugar.” she sang, her voice lustful and bright, “always nice to give a little, specially when a pretty woman is in need.”

“oh hush.” you laughed playfully while she leaned up against your doorframe— suspenders at the sides of her hips, hair undone from its braid and a hand tucked in the back of her pocket.

“it’s true. i don’t mind when’ya ask me of things, miss. i like helpin’ out. you’re so hardworkin’ and such’a good mama… the way you cook too? my god, it’s delicious.”

the sun rested against her frame like a glowing halo, taking the time to notice all the good deeds this woman has given you. no other has been this kind or dependable, being active in your child’s life as well as still have time to do all that needed to be done to maintain their business. it amazed you as well as excite you, coming to realization that abby’s eyes weren’t just kind but perverted. you had met your match.

every glance felt like she was studying you— the dark pools in her eyes expanded as the blue ring that surrounded, disappeared. they penetrated deep within your body, coddling your flesh like her plaything. feeling like a bee sting as her pupils prickled down your body. each time her tongue ran against the many cracks of her bottom lip, it was as if you could feel its flat bed roughly roll against your breasts, teeth grazing against your perked nipples with the subtle touches of her calloused hands sending shivers down your spine and towards your clit.

“i like to give back to deserving people.” you reply, your voice switching to an evident teasing tone that struck at her confidence, making her gather herself as she cleared her throat.

“there’s no need for that.” she smiled, her head lowering as the heel of her boot turned at your welcoming mat, “just cause i help ya out, don’t mean you have’ta physically give me anythin’ back. quality time is good’a nough for me.”

“is that so?” you chirped, hand now at your hip, letting the quiet ambiance of the distant bird chirp fill the comforting silence, “if that’s case, come back tomorrow, im going to make more strawberry tarts, you seemed to like those last time i made them. they’ll be in school tomorrow, so itll just be us if you don’t mind. we can have more ‘quality time’.”

“oh?” she smiled, biting down at her bottom lip, trying to hide the excitement that rose in the center of her chest, “yes… yes ma’am, i mean, i dont mind at all…us. i mean, it just being us… tomorrow. yeah… tomorrow then.” her well known confident demeanor demolished with you noticing her struggle to let out her words.

cute.

•••

morning approached, the blue sky and yellow sun swelling through the windowpanes as the sweet smell of strawberries filled the aroma. twenty minutes to nine, abby’s knuckle was in meet with the front of your door. there was nothing wrong with being a little early, she thought— unless there was a chance she could’ve been too early or maybe seen as too desperate?

she laid restless in her bed the night before trying to think of the many reasons as to why you had asked her to come over. yeah, you did say you were baking tarts and you wanted quality time but what did that entail? it wasn’t as if you and her had much alone time since your kid was either present or in the house alongside you both. it seemed odd, taste testing tarts without her doing the usual tasks you’d ask her to do. seemed too good to be true.

yet she was excited nonetheless, expecting nothing but positive due to how cheerful you always seemed around her. bashful stares and a warm conversation, it flowed nicely. just as nice as the pasta you made that last tuesday, the sauce being thick and not too runny and aged grated cheese to go on top of well boiled penne pasta.

smelling of cologne, she dressed all nice in her thick blue jean jacket— a yellow patch woven into the shoulder— and another one of her hats that was a warm tan that looked soft to the touch. her hair in its usual braid seeing how every strand had its own shade of blonde with two stands that flowed softly against her freckled face. “wow.” she sighed, eyeing the black dress you ended up wearing that she hadn’t seen before. it clasped at your hip dips, with the imprint of your stomach showing so cutely at its fabric— she wished she could touch. it was short, stopping mid-thigh and with each time you walked, you’d have to tug at its bottom as it rose and rippled at your waist. cut at its collar so your cleavage was on full display, wearing one of your bras that gave them more of a push. “hi…there.” she smiled, tipping the side of her hat like she had always done before. “you sure clean up real nice… shit.”

“why thank you, so do you.” you replied, making it evident that you adored her attire with the way your eyes glazed against her boxy frame. “you’re early.” your hand holding the side of the door, noticing the nervousness abby wore in the tone of her voice. it was cute, even cuter with how she looked like she tried so hard to look good for you— the scent of her so welcoming and her so neatly dressed.

“oh! m’ sorry, if’ya need me to come back later, i definitely would. just thought that… ya’ know… i didn’t think it would be much of a-“

“no… no.” you interrupted with a laugh, “you’re so cute. it’s alright. come inside, the tarts are almost done anyways.”

your house was warm and quiet, free of the nursery rhymes that usually played on the living room tv. there were no toys scattered about and alongside the sweet smell of the baking tarts was a slight film of cleaning products. it was gentle, the ambience of the morning’s music filling your ears as you hum a lulling tune. strawberries and sugar entering the airwaves with nice conversations being made, clock ticking moving closer to the tarts being done and ready to be tasted.

she sat down on the stool of your kitchen’s island, mouth watering at the sight of the tarts as they had been placed on a plate and set on the countertop. “now… tell me if these are good. i tried doing them a little different. the neighbor down the way said it’s best if i don’t use to much sugar so you’d able to taste more of the strawberries. unless you have a sweet tooth, i can make more with more sugar.” you chirped, wiping your hands at the apron that had been tied at your waist you ended taking off and placing it on a hook in your kitchen.

taking one, abby didn’t hesitate to eat, humming a pleased hum as she nodded her head, eyebrows furrowing. “this is real good.” she said, mouth full of the tart, licking the tips of her fingers, “i don’t usually eat tarts, but if i were’a professional, id give it’a A+.”

“aren’t you just a charmer, abby.”

she smiled at the compliment. abby was a natural flirt, everyone knew this. she talked to women like it was a sport without even realizing her intentions. it didn’t help that her voice alone was seductive, supple and flowy by default. it didn’t take long for you to take interest in it after the first few moments of speaking to her— not caring about accents until you heard hers. each word was like a melody, needing to have it played beside your nightstand on your bed.

“well…” she hummed taking another bite, wiping the side of her mouth with her thumb, “a woman who knows how’ta bake is a dangerous lil thing.”

you laughed, “a dangerous ‘little thing’.” you repeated lowly, admiring the way she indulged your food, hearing her muffled chatter. “and why is that?”

“you never heard the sayin’?” grabbing another tart, “the one bout’a happy belly?”

rolling your eyes, you start to put all the leftover ingredients back where they belonged, rag in hand and wiping the left over sugar and flour that sprinkled on top of the counters, “so you’re saying i make good food?”

“don’t be silly. of course, miss. im sayin’ more than that. fuck, if id’a known you were this talented, i would’a invited myself for dinner every night if you’d let me.” she replied honestly, her voice coming out softer before drinking the glass of water you left beside the tart’s plate. “a nice dinner… and dessert.”

“in that case, the offer is on the table.” turning to face her seeing her politely wipe her mouth. “you’re usually present during the lunch i make.”

“how could i not? you make’a mean sandwich and dont get me started on that one time you made— oh uhm miss…you got’a little…” pointing at your breast, a small wet patch being shown. you had leaked. it happened pretty often and youd always get so embarrassed every single time. it’d happen in the most random moments and especially in public. there was nothing satisfying about having a wet shirt as you roamed through the grocery store or even in the past when having dinner dates with online meetups your friends swore worked— everyone would make notice with them seeming just as embarrassed as you were, but you just groaned. shamelessly trying to look sexy for abby all to be leaking through right as she arrived.

“fuck, why now?” your fingers running along the wet patch as if magically it would disappear. “im sorry… this always happens when i don’t want it to.”

“oh!” abby swallowed, her eyes widening as she shook her hands, “no, no! it’s nothin’ you got’a be embarrassed about… it happens, sweetheart.” she spoke with her voice trembling like in any way she made the situation worse yet she hadn’t. looking at her, you noticed how frequently she blushed and how easy it was for her to get flustered. your mind spoke loudly to you as you thought of the many ways to make her puddle at your feet— it was what you deserved anyway. a single mother that hadn’t been given this type of attention since before you knew you were pregnant, having nothing but lack luster sexual encounters that didn’t even grant you a good enough orgasm. just from her reactions alone made your body tingle— this big, buff woman acting all shy in front of you. trying to be so kind and respectful with her use of ‘miss’ and ‘ma’am’.

“you see stuff like this a lot?” you tease, taking a towel to continuously wipe at the fabric you knew wouldn’t dry but you tried nonetheless.

abby chuckled, her warm tongue rolling at the bottom of her pouted lip. there shouldn’t be anything alluring about seeing you leak through your dress, but to her, her perverted mind thought quicker and her body felt itself wash with a film of arousal. “no… its my first time actually. but i dont see why it’d be much of an issue.”

looking up, you notice her eyes and how she obliviously stared at the stain on your breasts. “you think so?” rolling your tongue in the inner of your cheek, you chuckle quietly as you hummed. “in that case…would you like a taste?”

abby choked on her spit, her eyes widening, getting a better sight of the blue and her growing pupils. the question was abrupt and she had no way to prepare how she could react. “taste…? im… m’ sorry miss… i dont think’a understand.”

“yeah, taste. haven’t you ever wondered what it tasted like? ive tried it. it’s a bit sweet, maybe even sweeter than those tarts.” your hands cupping at your full breasts, squeezing lightly as you felt yourself continue to leak from your nipples— the wet patch expanding. abby couldn’t do anything but sit there, hypnotized with how they oozed from it’s collar and the way you let yourself mess up more of your dress. “seems like you like it. does the sight of leaking and the thought of tasting me get you all hot and bothered?”

“you fuck’n tease…” she chuckled, enjoying the way you spoke to her. every woman she encountered had never dared to speak to her that way. seeing her as nothing but a woman of control rather than someone who could be controlled— take her as she is and put her in her place, knowing all what to say, what do do and how it should be done. abby hadn’t thought about it to know if that’s something she’d enjoy. but now, with the view of your hands fondling your breasts and the slow whispers that hummed in the air, asking her questions that you both knew what the answer would be made her more wet than she thought she could get, “you ain’t gotta ask… you’re a fine woman… how can i not?”

“oh am i?” you hummed, “i just like the way you react to me.”

“and, how do i react to you?” abby’s voice entranced by you and whatever move you made.

“well… when i compliment your work ethic… telling you how hard it must be, how draining… yet a strong woman like you? it must be easy for you, yeah? all the poor weak men who try to do what you do look like amateurs. but you, miss abigail anderson, you look so determined and sexy… fuck, how sweaty you get and how… your body… flexes… makes me want to let you take me right there on that dirty field and fuck me.” never leaving her eyes, your finger drags along the countertop of the island that separated you both, one foot in front of the other, making your way towards her slowly. she felt herself burn with anticipation, her golden glow washing a faint red at her nose, cheeks and the tips of her ears. frantic, her hands clutching at her buckle, then fixing her hat to pressing it’s palms down at her jeans to clean its sweat. “it’s odd.. ive been missing a few pairs of my underwear… do you think you know who’d take them? i mean… who would…?” you laughed sweetly, as you let your face lean closer towards abby who couldn’t even sit still in her chair— chest heaving, lips wet from the constant licking. “buuut, i think i have a pretty clear idea who could’ve took them. you thought you were so slick, but how could i not see a pair of purple panties poking through your pocket. tell me abby, what did you use it for?”

“m’sorry… i wasn’t thinkin’ they were just right there and i…”

“shhh no need for all that pretty girl.” you stood in front of her— seeing how her muscles craved through her jean jacket, and her hat slightly tilted down, unable to look at you, looking every which way as she felt her heart jolt with excitement. it wasn’t usual for her to act this way— get all nervous and tongue tied. your shamelessness got the best of her. it was abrupt, teasing and erotic, feeling her body burn with an intense desire to finally place those imaginations to reality.

you slid your finger at the underside of her chin, pressing your thumb just below her bottom lip. “look at me.” your voice in a hushed tone, lifting her face towards yours. she exhaled deeply, lips parting as if she was going to speak, but nothing followed.

“that’s it pretty girl… look at mommy… need to be able to see those pretty blue eyes.”

“shut your fuck’n mouth…” abby breathed with a smile forming on her lips, letting the word mommy wrap itself around her throbbing clit, rolling her hips down in the stool where she sat.

“why so snappy?” you coo teasingly, removing your hand from her face, placing both on top of hers that had been clasped against her jeans, slowly raising them until they were pressed at your breasts. “you’re the one stealing my panties… and your hips, they’re moving. my words are getting to you, aren’t they? i don’t think you really want me to.” you continued, abby’s eyes obedient as she watched the way yours study her body. her fingers mindlessly curling as she felt the softness of your breasts push in between every spaced out finger while feeling the roughness of her calloused palm. letting out a pleasured sigh, you ran your hands down the backs of her knuckles, then her wrists and her muscled forearms.

“miss…” she breathed, her clit vigorously thumping against the fabric of her briefs. the gentleness of your voice and breasts made her sink deeper into the stool, hands groping them tighter and harder, “you’re so fuckin’ sexy… keep talkin’ to me like that…”

“yeah, you like that? that’s it… you’re such a good girl aren’t you?” you tease, breaking the swelling silence that filled in between your shared gasps. “i see the way you’ve been looking at me… the way you talk to me. where’s all that confidence now, hm?”no response was given. it was as if this was the very first time abby had been left speechless.

“speak.” you demanded, quickly letting go of one arm to grip her jaw roughly, yanking her slightly closer as you bent down towards her face, “…speak.” you repeated, this time softly, lips just inches away from hers— letting yourself hover with gasps ghosting her lips, hearing a whimper fall from her own.

“shit.. you just make me nervous, miss… i can’t help ma’self… you’re just pretty as a picture.” she admitted, letting out a breath of shaky laughter. you stood up again, her blinking frantically thinking that you were going to kiss her, but you didn’t. not now at least. she let herself look down at your breasts to see them spilling from your black dress— your areolas peaking from the lace bra. “lord have mercy on me…” her eyebrows furrowed, gulping down harshly as she bit the bottom of her lip.

she was in trance with you, the way your body moved and molded even when she fondled with your breasts. her grip grew stronger, feeling the roughness in the prod of her fingers and feeling the wetness of your dress stick against her hands. “you want it, don’t you big girl?” you teased, “i know you’d know how to handle me… how to fuck me. show me abigail. let me see how a pretty woman like you can ruin me.”

a hand quickly pressed at the small of your back, pulling your body in between her legs as her lips latched onto your neck, her hat falling down onto the floor at the push of her forehead that tattooed the side of your jaw. open mouthed kisses running along its side and down to your collar bone letting her tongue run along your skin until her lips felt yours.

the intensity of her lips was strong and full, inhaling them into her mouth with you both trying to take lead. opened mouthed and husky breaths hugging one another’s tongues as your hand wraps itself at the back of her head. lips glistening as spit rolled down the sides of your mouths, chin and neck. she ran her tongue underneath yours before wrapping her lips around it’s muscles, suckling on it with a bobbing head.

pulling back to catch your breath, a smile crept on your lips, “open your fucking mouth..” you snarled playfully— her mouth ajar as you gathered spit and letting it fall at her tongue.

“ya’taste so good…” she couldn’t handle the absence of your mouth as she drank your spit, pushing you into her face as you study yourself back into the kiss. her thick muscle would roam inside of your mouth, spit bubbling and running from its sides, latching her lips and sucking up any that left.

her lips trailed down, fingers curling at the collar of your dress to yank its fabric down and hook it underneath your breasts, with the help of you unclipping your bra. now in her sight was your swollen nipples, wet and dripping and in need of release. she placed you inside of her mouth, hollowing her cheeks as she felt your warm milk rush in the center of her tongue. eyes rolling back as she swallowed, your breasts being pushed into her face and nose while kneading them together as she sucked.

the taste of you was addictive, loving the watery yet thick texture you let out and how it felt as she swallowed it. leaning her head back, tugging at your nipple, she releases her latch, watching the way your breasts move so obnoxiously, “fuck you taste so good… can’t stop sayin’ that…” she exhaled, “and… and you’re just so goddamn hot i-“

she pushed your breasts together rougher, seeing the light sprinkle squirt out from your nipples, “i could cum just drinkin’ you…” sticking her tongue out as she aimed it into her mouth. it got all on the sides of her lips, the tip of her nose and chin, messing herself up and letting it fall down onto her lap. hurriedly she leaned back in, sucking on the other. each suck harder than the last, letting you fill her mouth, savoring it with every two to three sucks before she swallowed it all.

watching the way she seemed so desperate for more, the way her cheeks hollowed and expanded and her nasally inhales filled your ears with bliss as well as her velvety moans that vibrated and directed itself at your sore, sensitive nipples. your hand pressed at the back of her head, pushing her in closer, adoring the way her head bobbed as she sucked.

“oh you’re so cute… look at you, so fucking desperate for me.” you cooed, letting out a pleased laugh— her immediately feeling embarrassment wash over her entire being but her being able to finally taste you, feel you, indulge you was far more stronger. the look in her eyes were as if she was in need of you and only you, taking in every vowel you spoke, letting it cradle her clit. your soft thighs encapsulating the heat she exuded from her jeans, letting your knee touch right at her crotch. “you’re such a good girl… drinking from me. you like it don’t you?” you wince pleasantly, loving the sting of her harsh sucks at your irritated and hardened nipples.

nodding she removed her lips, running her tongue along the rim of her mouth when any of your milk started fell down her chin. “don’t tease me like that… won’t be able’ta control myself.”

“mm, yeah? keep sucking and show me how you’d lose yourself to me.” you demanded and she listened. the feeling of her sucks drove you to the brink of insanity— jolts of pleasure lining down your spine and up your thighs making you press your knee further into her jeans. her large hands exploring your womanly frame, grasping onto your ass as your dress began to hitch up your thighs— the tightness of the fabric pressing deep into your skin, letting it bubble at its rim. “get on your knees for me.”

removing herself, the echo of the chair being moved back was loud and quick, pressing her knees down onto the wooden floorboards. her face in meet with your black laced panties that had been soaked. placing your hand at the back of her head, inviting her to press her nose right against your clothed clit, rolling your hips against her face as she held onto your thighs, nails digging into it’s plushness. she inhaled your scent— the aroma of your arousal filling her airway, letting you feel the lining of her curved nose slide from your clit then down your folds, letting it dampen her skin.

“that’s a good girl… such a pathetic pretty thing… huff it.” you moan, loving the sight of abby and the way she allowed you to talk to her.

“fuck miss…” she inhaled, “you smell so nice… m’ losin’ my mind…“ eyes closed, turning her head slightly left then right— nose buried deep into your clothed folds until it left an imprint, fabric sticking to your wet cunt. “m’so pathetic… all for you… can’t stop thinkin’ bout your fuckin’ pussy and god knows how much i…. how much i needed this.”

your fingers slid at the side of her face, taking any loose strands that fell from her braid away from her face as she spoke— getting a hold of her braid stabilizing her head, lifting it granting a loud inhaling moan.

she looked up you, eyes flickering between your eyes then your lace. “you’re so wet for me, i can feel ‘em through your panties, see” she breathed, sliding her thick fingers to feel your puffy folds almost hug around them— your slick seeping through and coating her fingers. she rose her fingers, spreading them apart, admiring the string that connected from her middle to her ring finger before placing them on her tongue and sucking them.

she lifted your dress some more, just enough to show your full stomach as she held onto your waist, pressing her lips deeply at the soft pudge, leaving slow, teasing kisses against, her lips sinking in every meet, with her eyes staring right up at you. abby wanted you to know she admired the way that you looked, how soft your body had been, letting this moment be the time she overindulged in every part you’d let her. her lips rimming around your belly button, opening her lips as she let her tongue slightly caress at the skin, “so soft..” abby spoke in a hushed tone, spreading your thighs apart more as she pressed her nose right in the center of your clit, inhaling your sweet smell once more before rolling her tongue over it. “can’t get ‘nough of this pussy… it just smells so sweet.” she breathed, latching onto your clit as she started to slowly suck right over your panties, feeling your throbbing bud feather against her tongue.

“yeah…? you like it don’t you baby? huffing it like a dog in heat.” you tease, tilting your head to see those pretty lips that were in its usual pout spread against the lace. “come on big girl, show me how much you need it.” enjoying the feeling of her harsh inhales and exhales traveling against your skin as she sucked— moaning sweetly between every word as your hips buck into her face, rolling them.

pulling down your panties to the side, she saw the wetness connect from your clit, running all down your slit, immediately spreading your lips apart, seeing your whole view.

“m’ gonna fuck it with my tongue… may i…? can i have my tongue so deep inside you, i can feel you clench yourself…?” her eyes not leaving your face, letting her tongue run up your slit as her mouth latches on.

“show me.”

just as she always does, she obliged, listening to your every request like a trained puppy— she pressed it’s muscle harder, circling her lips at the bud. with one hand holding her braid and the other at your hip, you press your shoe at her crotch, pressing down firmly, circling it around.

a tingling sensation bounced off her body, roaming through each part of her limps, the heat rose at her crotch was now your stepping stool. furrowing eyebrows and low grunts, her lips released, dropping her head down, she watched as your shoe pressed against her aching clothed pussy— her jeans already tight and harshly hugging her thighs to the point where she felt like busting through them. “fuck…” she breathed, spreading her kneeling legs apart, liking the pressure you placed on her. abby rolled her hips upward, eager to just feel something more— any attention to her cunt and the hard surface from the bottom your shoe, did wonders on her.

“i didn’t tell you to stop now did i pretty thing?” you coo as you lift her head by her braid, other hand sliding against her cheek with a slight stroke of her thumb before lifting and tapping her face, giving her a hard slap. her eyes widened and her hips jolted, feeling more of a press from your shoe— the throbs of her cunt matching it’s beats with the lingering sting of the slap, her moans growing louder and throaty. “oh?” loving the surprised glare abby gave you, “took you by surprise didn’t i?”

she smirked, basking in the tingle her face had, “the way you’re handlin’ me miss…” her lips now ghosting over your clit, “never had’a women talk to me like this before.”

“you like it, don’t you?”

“oh i surely do.”

abby was enticed with the way you felt against her tongue, pushing her face in as if there were to be any space in between, she’d want to fill her face in it— each lick, she curls her tongue at your entrance, hooking all that you leaked against her tongue, swallowing it and your labia fluttering in her mouth in the roughness of her suctions. popping her mouth off just to see the flesh of your pussy dance prettily and coated in her spit.

“please fuck my face miss…” she groaned in between sucks, “fuck it… please fuck it.”

her bitten nails piercing deep in your soft thighs and your ass, letting it fill her hands as she gripped and shook it in her grasp— your panties bunching and lining in between your ass. cocking a hand back, she spanked, a loud gasp croaking from your throat, hips jolting closer towards her face as she spanked you over and over again. “your fucking mouth… god youre so dirty… you make me feel so good.” you sigh, taking a deep breath as you found your legs buckling inward, hands at the top of her head— her neat braid now forming a mess.

“look how it’s drippin’… you needed this, didnt’ya miss?” admiring how wet you were for her, her eyes in full amazement— dazed by the taste and the scent. her tongue ran along your stripe, spitting on your clit, quickly lapping it up before she slowly slid its muscle in your opening. instantaneously you clenched against her, head bobbing as she let her tongue penetrate deeper into your cunt. it felt hot and warm, contorting her tongue just you can feel how hard her tongue worked— her nose bumping at your clit with her eyes watching your even reaction.

you were left in a moaning mess, unable to taunt her as much as you would’ve liked— she knew exactly what she was doing and how to please your pussy. moaning her name over and over again as your shoe continued to press harder against her crotch and your hips fuck up into her face. the grip she had on your ass, pulling you in even before she even thrusted herself outward, humming a line of ‘uh huhs’ as she took notice of the switch in your heightened sounds.

leaning herself back, there was a string of mixed slick and spit that connected you both, spreading your folds, spitting against your clit and letting it run down, quickly running her tongue up your folds, then spitting again. the spit turning stringy and somewhat slimy.

“stop.” you panted, yanking her head from her braid seeing her face wet, skin glistening in the mess she made from you cunt. strands of cluttering at her forehead as she tried her best to catch her breath.

“did i do somethin’ wrong?” lining her tongue against her lips.

“go on the couch. i need more.” taking your shoe from her crotch, watching the big woman get herself up on her feet, gulping down harshly as she walked towards the couch with you following.

“stand here.” you demanded, “watch me.”

your fingers curl at her buckle, feeling its cold metal against your fingers as you undid it, throwing it to the side and hearing it loud clunk against the floor following with her pants and boxers that you let puddle at her feet. your face now in view with her pussy— a warm deep honey flush of hair coating it , wild yet trimmed that lined all the way up her belly button. “im gonna let this pretty pussy fuck my tits.” you announced breathily.

she gasped in return, watching as you press your breasts together, poking out your chest with her hips following. “dont be shy… fuck it.” you tease, her hands holding onto your shoulders as you gather spit and let it fall at your thick, rounded breasts, already wet from abby’s hungry lips and you leaking.

she took no time to press herself onto you, the softness of your warm, wet breasts pressing at her hardened clit allowing a shaky moan to fall from her lips. no time was wasted before she rutted herself into your— her strong build making your body jerk at every thrust she gave. her clit felt warm and her slick tattooed your skin— each pull of thrust having a line of her slick connecting you both.

“good girl, fuck them rough.” you praised, abby now lost in lust, your leaking nipples dripping down onto your thighs and her own. the slaps of skin were loud and her moans were louder, gritting at her teeth. bending at the knees, you took a hold of one, rubbing your nipple down her folds, letting it feather her clit.

“it feels… so… goddamn good.” her moans broken but her thrust directed, throwing her head back as she let the sounds of her melodic moans bounce against the living room walls.

“that’s it, show mommy how good it feels.” you laugh, enjoying how abby lost herself for you. each part of her body was at work, lifting her shirt to show her own cute, small breasts, grasping on one and rolling her finger against her nipple. she twisted and turned at her, her body jolting forward, knees knocking inward, unable to keep herself standing.

you stood up quickly, needing to feel her against you. with a hand pressed at her chest, you pushed her down, watching her body bounce of the cushion. taking her jacket, you straddle her waist, your cunt pressed against her crotch as you take both her wrists in hand, pinning them above her head. your hips wildly roll upwards, feeling the sharpness of her shaped abdomen, letting your clit trail against it’s bumps as she breathed heavily. “god you’re so sexy…” you whined, your hips snapping as your body jiggled and moved— abby’s hands clasping onto your thighs then your stomach as it moved. “i want to fuck every… fucking part of your body…” you admitted, her stomach now wet with your slick before you let yourself run down and hover her cunt once more.

“been wantin’ta fuck you so bad miss…” she sighed, hips rolling up into you, mimicking the grinds you gave. the feeling of her jeans bumping at your clit, dampening it as your face snakes along hers. “drivin’ me insane…”

“oh am i now?” you moan prettily as you continue to roll your hips, feeling the heat between you both interlock. “i want you…” you breathe, voice shaking, “i want you to ride my pussy with yours… need to feel it on me.”

“miss… i would’a never thought you’d’a be so damn dirty…” abby grinned wickedly, eyes flashing dangerously at your request, turning you around so your back replaces hers on the couch.

grabbing you leg, she spreads them, lifting it, hovering herself over yours as she angled her clit on top of yours. her strong legs being pushed into your frame, feeling the weight of her strength in the consistency of her starting grinds. your fingers tug at the bottom of her shirt, lifting it up to see the hair that trail down her belly button wash lightly against her pubic bone— her pussy fleshy and wet. at contact, a loud groan croaked from her throat, pressing herself down further and starting to move her hips.

she rutted her hips wildly, unable to control herself with the way you sounded at every movement she made. huskily grunting at the feeling of your beating clit pressing up against hers and down her wet folds. hearing the wetness of your collision rise with the moans that fell from your throats. grasping onto her arms, nails digging into its skin with eyes that connected as you spoke at one another in the song of your moans. “baby your pussy feels so good…” you call out.

“atta girl…” abby grunted, heavy hips lifting as they slammed against yours— feral, rigid, “m’gonna breed you… fill you up and make you pregnant.” that once sweet and soft spoken southern woman, losing herself in her lust.

abby knew she couldn’t— she wasn’t thinking straight at all. the adrenaline that pumped through her veins caused her to not even feel the ache that stirred in the quickness of her rolling hips. each thrust, she felt her body shudder with excitement, like her body took shots of this moment to remember. her clit, pounded against yours, loving the intensity of colliding skin and your moans that got whiner after every grunt she spoke.

beats of sweat slid down her forehead just like she had been out on the field, cascading down in stylized ripples, feeling the itch in the tickling drip. your eyes wide, it wanting to miss any second, feeling yourself close to a haze, unable to grasp at the fact that abby said she was about to breed you when it wasn’t even physically possible. it was hot nonetheless— your body arching into the couch cushions as your nails tattooed the thickness of her rough yet soft skin.

“say…” you breathe out in a struggle, feeling your moans flow from your throat on lumps, swallowing the spit and running their tongue against your drying lips, “say that again..”

she laughed in another hungered grunt, her large hand pressing down at your full chest, letting her palm slide up until it hooked around your neck, thumb firmly giving you a nice choke, “oh my…” abby laughed breathlessly, eyebrows knitting into a pleasurable expression, “m’ gonna make you a mama again— m’a breed this pretty pussy. you need it dont’cha baby… i know i needed this...”

“do it!” you shouted with a devilish grin, rolling your eyes back as your felt your stomach tighten and your limbs lock. unable to keep still, your body flared as you tried so desperately to hold onto something. even though abby had you in her grasp, each breath being harder to take with her tightening hold, and your legs in an unmoving position, your body couldn’t take all this pleasure. it was quick, rigid, hunger and outward looking in, anyone could see how desperate you both were for the building orgasm that flooded in the language of your body movements.

“fuck m’a cum… take it…”

her clit pulsated hard, squeezing a rasped grunt as she felt herself gush directly onto your push— a satisfied sigh after every one she made— the clear liquid splashing onto your stomach, her chest and your face.

it took you by surprise, snapping your neck up to watch her squirt right on you as she grinded it all into you, the puddling mess escaping everywhere and filling the lining of your stomach until it concave as you breathed in. the sight alone was disgusting hot, toes curling as your orgasm hit you harder than any toy you’ve used and definitely harder than any person tried in the past.

“fuck…” abby sighed, gulping down roughly with her hips slowing themselves down— her body now glistening with sweat, her muscles being more prominent than before.

“im not through with you yet.” you laughed, “no one’s ever made me cum this hard and that fast. need to ring you out dry.” letting go of her shoulders, taking her braid that slung over it, and pulling her down so your lips were inches apart, “you know how to work a strap on pretty girl?”

“you wan’ that? m’ might break you.” abby snickered, being well versed in the used of a strap on, having many herself back at home.

“break me big girl.”

•••

both of you were now free of clothing as she laid prettily on your bed, legs sprawled out to see her wet pussy being on full display. her clit was cute, fleshy, dripping with cum that ran down the innards of her thigh. you pressed deep and slow kisses against the inner of her thighs all the way to her clit, running the flat of your tongue on it and with each lick, she'd stare, watching as it’d move in the direction you licked. she tasted sweet, filling your mouth as your nose felt the tickle by the constant rub against her pubic bone, letting your lips take breaks in between to kiss alongside it. you ran your finger against the hood of your clit, watching its bud stand as you blew cool air against it— her body twitching at the soft blow.

“does it feel good?” you tease, each couple licks granting an inhaling suck. her eyes went back and forth, closing them and trying to watch as your face took it’s place in between her legs. she wanted to watch you, the way you looked so sexy rolling your muscle at her aching clit. she felt a constant throb huddled at her temples, jaw clenching as she let out soft grunts, bucking her hips up towards your mouth. the scent of her was strong and tantalizing, popping your mouth off just to see the flesh of her pussy flutter prettily.

she nodded, already feeling the building orgasm at the bottom of her stomach. you ran your tongue against her skin, letting it trail all the way up to her belly button before nipping at her skin— teeth grazing as you sucked gently, feeling the burn against your tongue.

“use your words.” you breath against her, allowing a trail of spit to coat over her exposed bud.

“it feels… so…” she hummed, gulping down roughly as her body jerked slightly with the movement of your flicking tongue, “fuck it feels good miss… please… please let me fuck you.” she begged, unable to wait much longer knowing she didn’t have time herself before she’d lose herself completely.

a smile resided on your lips as your hand slid against the cold bedsheets, grabbing onto the strap and harness you had gotten while stumbling your way up the stairs and into your room.

taking it, she stood, legs slightly locking. red flushed at her shoulders and cheeks, with wet trails that fell and lined down her legs and splattered on her stomach— getting a better sight of what made up of her build. her ass was tight and muscling, clenching so cutely as she put one leg in the harness after the other, letting it sit tightly at her hips that had been fastened. you took her place in bed, laying and watching her as she quickly assembled it onto herself. your fingers grazed over your clit, feeling your body jerk with sensitivity, humming out pleasantly as she made her way towards your bed once again.

her lips warm and soft, raw from the constantly prod of yours as you stumbled your way from the couch, up the stairs and into your bedroom— they were red and even more plump before, throbbing at every spread when she smiled.

“god miss…” another breathy sigh being exhaled, “you’re gonna make me all pussy drunk.” her hand wrapping around the dildo— thick and a reasonable length. one that could fill with its fake ejaculation and stretch you, make you gasp upon entering. it had been one of your favorites, never failing to make you cum as if you were in one of those films where the sex was hot from a quick hookup at a bar. you used it a lot and especially when you wanted your legs to give out, slamming it into you until your arms were raw in pain— loving the sight when you took its girth from inside of you, squeezing the ‘cum’ it let out.

“seems like you already are, dont forget, you were just huffing my pussy downstairs.” you teased, her body hovering yours as she let the tip of the dildo replace your fingers, sliding it up and down your folds with a firm press. “impress me. you have my hopes up, don’t want to be let down.”

she scoffed, her lips savoring gentle kisses in between every word you spoke, “just cause this shit fake don’t mean m’not gonna fuck you like it’s real, miss.” and with a lean, she gathered spit in her mouth, letting it fall at the tip of the dildo that had already dropped from your slick, letting it run down its detailed shaft before stroking it— twisting wrist and a firm grasp. “lift that leg up f’me.”

you obliged, holding on up as it still trembled, remembering that hard orgasm you had on the couch. her other hand, free, slapped your clit with no warning, replacing the immediate sting with a calming rub as you felt your body twitch coldly. you liked that. she didn’t treat you like you were helpless— she didn’t fuck you like she felt bad for you. a single mother all desperate for a good enough fuck to remember, that’s what people thought once they lay in your bed. they all looked at you, thinking by the sweetness of your smile, you weren’t able to take something as simple as a choke or a little back and forth between degrading words— but a slap to the cunt from a hand as rough and as big as hers? it felt good, and before you could even make a complete thought she did it again.

“you’re a dirty thing.” abby let out in a impressed sigh, your fingers replacing hers as they tried to soothe your clit from the slaps. your pointer and middle, spread yours folds open, allowing her to see your readiness. “you ready f’me?”

“show me baby… show me. ruin me.”

pressing your leg against her chest, you felt the softness of her small breast and the heaves of her deep breaths. she angled herself, the dildo slowly disappearing into your cavern with a gasping moan filling the air. her eyes glued themselves, admiring the way you took her so easily despite it’s girth.

the sting of your leg and how it had been lifted burned at your thigh, letting out a pleasured shriek once you felt yourself wrap around her entirely— folds hugging its shaft. sunken inhales and fingers clasping onto the bed sheets, her hips start to move slowly and at each thrust, you saw her abdomen form and flex.

“god you’re so big…” you whisper, her hips staggering as she dipped her body down, face inches away from yours as it hovered. “such a… good… girl, go faster…”

abby couldn’t contain herself. the tight hug at the harness nudged against her clit, already stimulated and throbbing from your now absent mouth. each push of her hips came a harder pound, loving the way your breasts obnoxiously knocked into one another, taking a hold of one as she latched her lips on them again. she sucked harshly, letting her hips loose as she rolled them faster into you.

“just… just like that.” you call out, her responding in humming ‘mm hmms’, only caring for your demands and the heightening moans you let out.

she fucked you good. she fucked you hard. your body jerking every time her skin came in contact with yours. lifting her head, your hands frantically moved gripping at her jaw. deeper she went, hearing your sounds and pleads for more. abby swore she could feel you wrapped around her. you let your fingers dig into her cheek, feeling in indentation of her teeth through her cheeks, bringing her her face down. you pressed a long warm kiss against her squished lips, her heavy breath from her nose blowing at your upper lip as she tried to keep her breath steady.

“oh fuck miss… you feel so good.” she cooed in between each kiss, capturing your tongue in her mouth, sucking on its pink muscle, bobbing her head. “i need’ta breed you… i want’a cum inside… please let me.” she begged, your tongue swiping across her lips, collecting the remnants of spit that coated them.

“come on big girl, fill me up.” you egged on, surprised at how close your orgasm was picking up. the heat between your bodies burning as the shift of your bed scrapped against the wooden floorboards. each thrust, you heard the hard collision of skin, your body and stomach moving as her hand gripped it, massaging it as she let her eyes fall from yours to your breasts to your stomach. “you’re so good to me… so good for me… the way you treat me… you deserve it… breed my pussy. impregnate me…”

a fleeting glint of mischief and eagerness glistening in her watercolored colored eyes, your words trapping her in a lust filled state as her hips lost its consistency but picked up in its power. eyebrows furrowing, and dripping spit coated lips, she felt herself nearing closer and closer.

“please..” she whimpered, chanting over and over as she let out soft cries, eyes welting from how good it felt and how you sounded.

“cum with me..” you spoke gently, a harsh gasp as you curl your toes, “cum for mommy… come on baby.”

“i… fuck…” her hand hurried in search and in hold of the valve that allowed the strap’s ’cum’ to fill itself inside of you. “im gonna fill you up…” right before she felt herself reach her high, she squeezed it tight, its warm, thick cum filling itself inside, pressing firmly at your walls as some seeped out with every pull of her thrust— a white ring surrounded the base of the shaft.

she let out a loud howl, releasing herself with a splash of her squirt coming from the side of the harness, spraying down on top of you and the bed. your rolled to the back of your head— body trembling rigorously as your push your orgasm down onto her shaft. loud and clear moans being fought from your mouths as she let herself thrust deeper and slowing its pace.

“god…” you breathed as she slid out, immediately sitting in between your legs, hand pressed at your thigh as you push them cum from inside of you out. it leaked, slowly escaping and falling to the bed. “look how much you filled me.” you laugh tiredly, her eyes growing at the sight.

“jesus…” she sighed all the while trying to catch her breath, “my apologies but i dont think i had’a nough…” she admitted, her body visibly worn but full of an adrenaline high to stop herself.

smirking to yourself, you nodded, running your tongue over your lips, “good, cause im not done with you.”

[mypoisonedvine]

100 random dialogue prompts

truly random, there's a mix of angsty and smutty and fluffy in here. as a result it's nsfw and 18+ :)

"who did this to you?"

"where are you going dressed like that?"

"this isn't enough anymore. I need more of you-- all of you."

"I'm not angry, I just get tired of watching you get hurt."

"don't say stuff like that, it gets me all... confused."

"just lie to me, okay? just this once."

"I never said I didn't feel the same way."

"you should go... before someone sees."

"I hate how you make it impossible to hate you."

"too good for you? don't be ridiculous-- they don't deserve you."

"fuck, do that again... please."

"you promise you're going to behave this time?"

"oh please, you knew what you were doing... you wanted to drive me crazy."

"no, it's not over. it's never over."

"so you're saying even if we were the last people on Earth--?" "nope."

"sooo... is everything supposed to just go back to normal after that?"

"you can't ignore me. not anymore."

"it's not what it looks like!" "is that a picture of me?!"

"you really didn't notice that I was falling in love with you?"

"is this really the last time?"

"I'm sorry, I swear I tried, but I just can't get over you."

"do you really think that toy can replace me?"

"don't tell me how to feel."

"forgive me, but I'm not feeling very patient right now."

"you could do so much better than me."

"what would they think if they saw you right now?"

"I didn't know you could be so obedient."

"you can take it."

"you were never my fallback-- I always wanted you."

"yeah, I want to, but... wouldn't it be weird?"

"don't act like you never thought about it before."

"I wish they could all know about us."

"you're the best mistake I ever made."

"no, I don't hate you... I'm angry, but I don't think I could ever really hate you."

"let's just stop now before anybody's feelings get hurt."

"don't get my hopes up if you're just gonna leave like everyone else."

"I can't let it end like this."

"if you do what you're told, you'll get a reward."

"what's gotten into you? you're being so... naughty."

"I think we're on a first name basis by now."

"don't do that... don't act like you don't feel this too."

"it was never just sex."

"I wish I'd met you sooner."

"you can tell me anything."

"why do we have to get out of bed again?"

"I think this is my favorite way to wake up."

"I was already yours."

"there's no way that was just a one-night thing."

"if you can look me in the eye and tell me you want me to go, I'll go."

"has anybody else ever made you feel like this?"

"it feels like we were made for each other."

"I just wanted to say I'm sorry, and I miss you."

"I have an idea to make them jealous."

"just one more kiss?"

"do you really expect me to believe this is what you want?"

"if you say you're happy with them, I'll believe you. or at least I'll try to."

"I can think of a more fun way you can thank me."

"no, I'm in charge tonight, remember?"

"if you keep doing that, this might end a little too soon."

"hey, you lost the bet, fair and square."

"stop imagining it!" "I'm sorry, but I can't get it out of my head!"

"it's too bad we never did. we would've been great together."

"I never thought I'd hear you talk like that."

"oh, fuck me--" "okay." "what? it's just a figure of speech..."

"were you joking? I wasn't joking."

"admit it: you had a crush on me!"

"I just need you to hold me right now."

"friends can cuddle, right?"

"I wouldn't have picked this for movie night if I'd known it had so many sex scenes..."

"they're great but... they're not you."

"I always thought it would be me and you in the end."

"you're not actually trying to convince me that was a friendly kiss, are you?"

"if you hate me so much, how come you keep coming back?"

"do you remember getting drunk and calling me last night?"

"I'm free tonight if you still need a date for that thing you're going to."

"I'd do anything for you."

"I think I finally get what all those love songs are about."

"it's weird being here again... so many memories."

"I wish you'd give me a chance."

"I never meant to hurt you."

"just come to dinner with me. it doesn't have to be weird."

"seeing you with them made me realize you should be with me."

"just ask yourself for once: what do you want?"

"okay, okay, I'll leave-- as soon as I can find my pants."

"we need to be more careful next time."

"wait, why are you in my bed? did we...?"

"I took you for granted, I know. but I want to treat you right this time."

"kiss me like you mean it."

"keep the lights on, I want to see you."

"is it just me, or does your celebrity crush look a lot like me?"

"we promised we wouldn't let this affect our friendship."

"no, don't cry-- if you start crying, I'll start crying!"

"I want to see my marks on you tomorrow."

"don't act innocent, it's not going to work with me."

"is this really turning you on? I'm not even doing anything."

"come look at the stars with me."

"I lov--" "no, don't say anything. you'll kill the moment."

"what happens next in your fantasy?"

"I probably shouldn't tell you this but... you were in my dream last night."

"why do you still wear the hoodie I left at your place?"

[fadingsnow]

𓆙 london boy - CORIOLANUS SNOW x f! reader

summary and tw: coryo grovels at your feet, begging for forgiveness after years. pt. 2 of cardigan loveliess!! 18+, smut, mr. snow kinda basically bends u over on ur table?? a/n: uh sorry for making it a lil sad in the beginning but snow prevailss, divider credits : @cafekitsune

taglist: @targaryenmoony 𓆙

He fell down onto the sofa, letting his head sink down against the pillows. Still, after five years, you plagued his thoughts. Tapping his fingers against his thighs, he didn't know what to do.

You hid yourself from him, not wanting to deal with all of the emotions behind his betrayal. You were able to find a quaint job, meeting the line of being able to finance yourself barely. Atleast you had a trust fund from your family, one of the benefits of the Capitol you suppose.

The one time, the one time, you decide to come back without any information on what was happening, you see him. You had heard small bits of Coriolanus' life from Tigris, but refusing for her to tell him she was in contact with you.

He still wore the same pin you gave him for his birthday. You remember his sombre look clearly, eyebrows furrowed and pursed lips. He didn't like being reminded of it, his mind forcing him to realize he had passed yet another year of his.. situation. You had gotten to work, spending days on it. You weren't that good of an artist, but you were able to engrave, "Snow lands on top." Clearly he did.

You really could go anywhere you wanted, but home. But now you had returned. You still considered him home. You thought this over, murmuring to yourself about how everything had changed. Did he still think of Lucy Gray? Did he even feel remorse - or guilt when he thought of you?

A knock at the door makes you jump out of your thoughts. What could it be now? You looked around the place in frustration, your rented apartment for now. You weren't sure how long you were going to stay, just going to meet some family and leave immediately.

You walked up to the door, getting on your tippy toes to look through the peep hole. At first, you saw whitish-blonde hair. Could it be Tigris? She never mentioned anything about visiting today.. You squinted your eyes, did you see the wrong Snow?

"Is anyone home?" You froze, stopping any movement. The click in your heart was pushed. If he couldn't hear your heartbeat, he must've been deaf. You went to sit down on your coach the quietest you could, trying to hide from what was happening. Hopefully, you were just going insane and imagining his voice. You told Tigris not to tell him where you were. You're going to have a lot of things to say to her when he leaves.

You waited a few minutes, only to check again and see that familiar face that you swore to not let yourself get attached to again. Your hand shakingly grasped the doorknob, going to unturn the locks. You couldn't run away forever. You should get it done and over with.

When you opened the door, you weren't sure what you should've expected. Furiosity? Sorrow? Joy?

You were greeted with someone you didn't know, Coriolanus Snow.

You stared at him in sheer surprise, not really knowing what to say. Should you shake his hand? Maybe that's strange considering the.. acquaintance you used to have.

He shuffled his feet, hands in pockets before he nodded towards your apartment. "May I come in?"

"Not like I can say no." You murmured, before fully opening the door. He stepped in, looking around anxiously because of you for the first time in his life.

He took this as his cue to go sit down, his hands pressed. "I want to apologize."

You scoffed, "Well, great. I forgive you." You didn't really want to deal with it anymore, trying to ignore the nagging feeling to listen to him.

"You can't see it? I'm still in love with you, not Lucy Gray. I regret it so much, I couldn't function. I dedicated those speeches all to you! Why the fuck would I care about how the Capitol was affected? I care about you! And now you're here, so please." He suddenly rose up, his desperation fuelling him to beg for you.

"And there's no way you don't want me back." He finally declared, his voice turning a little quiet now.

"And how do I know you won't do it again..?" You tried to forget him, you really did. His eyes never left yours, only a flutter of a blink made him turn his attention away from you.

"I love you, and I've known it for a long time. Since the Academy, I was too stupid to realize it. I let her get in between us, and for that, I'm sorry." He looked at the ground, what if you didn't forgive him?

Without thinking, you rushed to give him a tight embrace. Unabashed, you smelled him, and he still smelled the same. His hands went to wrap around your waist.

You hesistantly went up to kiss him. He eagerly returned the kiss back, but not wanting to scare you away. His lips were intoxicating just as much as you remembered. He broke into a grin, wanting to just bask in your essence.

He managed to murmur between breaths, "More?" His hands moving up to cup your face, tracing along your jawline and down your neck. His fingers trailed lightly over your bare shoulder before stopping at the hem of your dress, teasingly brushing against your exposed thigh.

You mumbled a yes, looking up at him.

He leaned in closer, their bodies pressed against each other intimately as he deepened the kiss, his tongue tentatively exploring your mouth. His hands moved higher up your thighs, reaching for the hem of your skirt.

His hands gripped your waist tightly as he lifted you up onto the nearest table, bodies pressing against each other intimately. The kiss became more aggressive, tongues tangling together in a dance of desire. He broke away for a moment, panting heavily. "C'mon..." he panted, reaching down to finally unfasten your skirt, revealing your lacy black underwear. "You're mine now."

"Tell me you want this," he murmured lowly, his voice husky with desperation.

"I do, Coryo. You know I do."

He hurriedly pulled it off, before slowly taking off his underwear. He took no time to tell you to spit on his hand.

"What..?" You squeaked out.

"Spit." Reluctantly, you spat on his hand.

He slid it over his now hard cock, wanting it to feel easy to slide into you. You let out a loud cry when he let it move through your folds, resting in place for a minute.

His head fell against your shoulder, inside of you but calm.

"You feel okay?" He asked, hot breath against your neck. "Can I move?"

"Mhm."

He moaned, thrusting slowly at first, savoring the feel of your tightness around him. "You're so beautiful, you know that? No, don't look away. Look at me." He grabbed your chin, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek.

Coriolanus complied, increasing the pace of his thrusts while maintaining a gentle rhythm. Each powerful stroke sent waves of pleasure coursing through both of them, the moans melding together in harmony. His hands roamed freely over your body, caressing your breasts and pinching her nipples gently. "Tell me you want it... tell me how much you need this," he panted between breaths, his voice hoarse with desire.

"Say my name, love..."

"Coryo!" You moaned his name, intertwining a hand with him.

Coriolanus's fingers dug into your hips, nails scratching lightly as he picked up the pace, his cock pounding into your tight cunt. His orgasm was building rapidly, and he knew it wouldn't be long before you both reached your peak. "Almost... almost..." He groaned out, his voice strained with desire.

"Here it comes," he warned just moments before releasing a hot stream of cum inside her, filling her completely. Panting heavily, he pulled out slowly, letting their juices trickle down her thighs.

He looked at you in pride, almost as if he was proud of the artwork infront of him. He went to cup your face, whispering, "You know I love you, right?"

"Depends, do you know I do?" You grinned at him, teasing him.

"President Snow loves meeee!" You said in a sing-songey voice.

"Well, I'm glad you're aware." He smirked at you softly, before bringing you in for one more kiss.

yk i love a londonn boy - me

[steddiealltheway]

I feel so bad for Steve. Because everyone he surrounds himself with are so highly intelligent. Like not even just smart, they’re off the charts gifted type kids.

And they all think Steve is so dumb. Like, yes he couldn’t get into Tech, but that doesn’t mean he’s the dumbest person to exist. And I especially hate how much they lean into that in season four.

But then Eddie comes along, Eddie who is redoing his senior year for the third time, and he sees Steve.

He recognizes how much the kids and his friends berate him for his ideas and thoughts. And he can’t help but feel the need to reach out and acknowledge how great he really is. That he has qualities other than the great intelligence his friends possess.

And he tries to make sure that Steve knows that it’s alright that he doesn’t know stuff. Like he doesn’t know Ozzy, and that’s okay. He just explains it and moves on to his main point.

He doesn’t get upset when Steve doesn’t understand something. He just slowly explains it to him in multiple ways until he understands - he loves the look Steve gets when he has a lightbulb moment. (Eddie later gives Dustin a speech on patience)

Later on, when Eddie is explaining something to Steve, he doesn’t nod back or ask questions like he usually does. He just stares at Eddie’s lips.

“Steve…?”

Steve hums and quickly looks away from his lips, a blush spreading over his cheeks.

“Are you listening to a word I’m saying?” Eddie asks slightly amused. Steve doesn’t respond. His mouth opens and closes a few times.

“You can ask me anything, Steve.”

Steve looks at him and swallows loudly. He runs a hand through his hair and asks, “Have you… have you every had feelings…” Steve trails off and heavily sighs. He starts again, “Can… can people… like… girls and… boys?”

Eddie stares at Steve incredulously and explains, “Yes. They can. It’s called bisexuality.”

“Bisexuality,” Steve parrots.

Eddie nods. Steve seems to grasp the concept quickly, but Eddie can feel that he has more to say. He remains silent.

Eddie doesn’t push it, so he goes back to explaining what he was before.

A few weeks later, Eddie makes his usual Friday night stop at Family Video right before closing. He notices almost all the lights are already off inside, but the door is unlocked. He makes his way inside and winces as he hears Steve’s voice carry from the back room.

“I can’t tell him!”

“Steve, you’re an idiot if you don’t,” Robin says. Eddie winces.

“That’s exactly it! I’m a fucking idiot. I’m an idiot who goes to see him weekly so he can explain the dumbest things to me! And you want me to tell him what? That I have feelings for him?! Me, Steve ‘the dingus’ Harrington loves Eddie ‘the freak’ Munson?!”

His voice gets louder by the end as the door to the back room opens up.

Eddie makes eye contact with Steve. He freezes.

“Why’d you stop, Dingus?” Robin asks pushing past him. She looks at Eddie. “Shit.”

Eddie and Steve continue staring at each other.

“Well,” Robin says awkwardly, “I’m just gonna…” she gathers her stuff up from the counter and walks towards the front door, “Hey, look. Nancy’s here to pick me up. So that’s great. You two uhh… have a good time. Later…” she salutes the two of them and exits.

Eddie continues staring at Steve who hasn’t broken eye contact with him since he’s seen him.

“Steve…” Eddie breaks the silence.

“Don’t do that,” Steve begs.

“Do what?”

Steve breaks, “Talk to me like that! You’re not supposed to use that tone. You’re not supposed to treat me like I’m stupid. And I know I am. But you weren’t supposed to find out about my… my feelings. Because I’m an idiot. And you would never date an idiot. No one loves a fucking idiot.”

Eddie jumps over the counter and rushes into Steve’s personal space, grabbing his hands. “Steve, I have never thought you were dumb. You’re not. You never have been. But right now, for once, you’re being an idiot.”

Steve’s hands snap away from Eddie’s. “What?”

“You, Steve Harrington, are an idiot for thinking that I wouldn’t fall for you. That I haven’t already.”

Steve stares at Eddie and shakes his head.

“I like you,” Eddie explains. It clicks in his head that sometimes Steve is a visual and kinesthetic learner. So he does the one thing he can think of and cups Steve jaw and brings him slowly in.

Steve’s hands make their way into his hair and pull him the rest of the distance. The kiss is sweet and gentle and full of promise.

Steve breaks the kiss and rests his forehead against Eddie’s. He huffs out a laugh, “Was that your way of explaining to me that you like me?”

“Did it work?” Eddie asks.

“Yes.”

[blkgirl-writing]

I love your touch starved Gale so much 😭❤️ honestly it's so tender and yum haha

Do you have an A-Z/Alphabet NSFW thing for Gale??? 🙏

I do now!!! I totally forgot abut Alphabet stuff, if ya'll want one for every character let me know, I'm working on Astarion right now!

Gale Dekarios NSFW alphabet (x reader)

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Gale is kind and caring, he will always make sure you get what you need before he really relaxes. Sex isn't over for him until you're taken care of, aftercare is a part of the sexual experience to him.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Creampie every time, though after eating you out he has stopped to cum on your thighs.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Not that much of a secret since anyone who looked at his underwear knows, it's self jerk off underwear. Honestly I think he's used them during battle when you look extra hot. Trying really hard not to show that he's pleasuring himself.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Gale is fairly experenced, having a few mortal hookups/relationships and obviously a long fling with Mystra that left him a bit sexually traumatized (and generally very traumatized). He's had enough sex to know what he wants but still open to try new things.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Side fucking is his favorite for sure, it's easy to get away with while camping with the others as well. Also plowing you from behind while you lay on your stomach is a favorite, as he can kiss your neck or hold down your waist.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Very serious. Once he gets in that mood there's no getting him out of it.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He's trimmed for your pleasure, otherwise he'd definitely just forget.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Gale is a great mix of romantic, passionate, and filthy. Everything does hand in hand very well, he can absolutely run a train through you in astral protections with gangbanging you with literally just clones of himself, but he will still whisper sweet and romantic things, still check if you need to stop or if anything is too much.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Gale cry jerks like all the time lmao. Guilty masturbation is something he has mastered. Thinking about you before you get sexually involved? he will feel guilty.

How he jerks off is two different ways. The only way he can really cum is by grinding on something, his hand, the bed, his enchanted underwear, etc... But he doesn't need to cum. So he also jerks off with his hand behind the rocks near the beach in act 1s camp.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

This is gonna be a hear-me-out kind of situation.

Semi public sex kink. in front of windows, on balconies, middle of the forrest, etc.

lil bit of a jealousy thing, leaves hickies on your neck to show that ya'll fuck good.

he wouldn't do anything to harm you, so anything thats too 'harsh" is a no no for Gale.

thigh fucking kink?

sweaty kink?? cause battling? that whole speech was one of the most sexually charged things I have read.

lil bit of a breeding kink, not with actually getting pregnant, but definitely the deep creampies and keeping his cum in you.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Gale cannot WAIT to fuck you in every single inch of his tower. Whenever he pictures fucking you, he pictures you in his home. It's kinda romantic.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Honestly, any glance at you will get him going. Like an instant hard on. If he looks at you too long, boner. if he looks at your thighs or butt? Boner. Slightly low cut top? Boner. Battling? Boner.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He would never do anything to hurt you, the most he'd do is wax play.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Giving. This man GIVES. He fucks to serve. He wants your pleasure, he doesn't cum til you do, no matter what. If that means he won't cum, then he won't cum. If he could spend all day between your legs he would.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Sensual but fast and hard. This man pounds.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He hadn't ever been able to not last a while before you, now, he can actually do quickies, which infatuates him for a while so you have a lot of quickies for a time. But usually everything lasts an hour or so.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Gale is down to try just about anything you'd want, but he definitely already knows what he likes most.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Shockingly he can go for awhile. He will need to just lay for a while because he definitely isn't made for long sessions, he just ignores his knee and back pain for you until he absolutely can't.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

We all know he will, can, and has used magic hand during sex. Does copies of him count as toys as well?

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Gale isn't one to tease much. Verbally, sometimes, yes, telling you how hot you are, how good you look, etc, while having no time to slip away to fuck.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

I feel like Mystra wanted him silent, so he's working on getting more vocal during sex. But he doesn't moan loudly, sometimes whimpers or gasps.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Gale absolutely reads smut. We know this kinda from his diagram books basically, but I think he has a whole bookshelf dedicated to smut. His favorite being wlw.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Said this before but honestly? I watched something and that dick that was shown just screamed Gale to me, so I'm revising my HC and saying Gale is 7 inches, girthy, and curved upwards and slightly to the left, it absolutely fucks. Like tied with best dick of the group, tied with Wyll and his ribbed cock.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Gales sex drive is very dependant on you. If he's thinking about you or around you? very high. On his own? slightly above average.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Depends. After a long fuck, literally instantly after he checks to see if you need anything. after astral fucking he feels energized, after a quickie he feels a bit tired but fine overall.

-

-

@shyminnie07 @makers-breath @claryvoyantfray @black-sapphic @fapqueen

(Consider supporting me on Ko-fi)

[karniss-bg3]

The Tragedy of Faith

So between tumblr and twitter I've read various takes on Kar'niss and what draws people to him. For some it's the monster fucking appeal, for others it's the desire to fix a clearly broken individual. There are in-betweens and of course this is subjective and depends on the person. Act 2 spoilers ahead. Where my personal interest comes from is how good Larian communicated the tragedy of faith and what a cult can do to a person. Kar'niss is a creature that has been broken by not one God, but two. Lolth broke him physically, the Absolute broke him mentally. His entire identity has been lost to a deity to the point he raises her in his speech. Referring to her as "Majesty" and "Queen", two terms you don't really hear anyone else address her as, he has elevated her to his final savior and leader. He also often refers to himself as "we" and "us", cementing him as part of the hive mind rather than holding any individuality of his own. When he does refer to himself as "I", it's mostly to show further loyalty to the Absolute, to maintain a position of importance in his fractured mind. Cults are notorious for targeting the most vulnerable in society as they are the easiest to mold and manipulate to their doctrine. The fact that goblins are one of the main races that fall to the Absolute's influence is telling in that regard, as they are often dismissed by the other races. Kar'niss was ripe for the picking, an easy target to lure into her arms. No doubt he was found shortly after Lolth twisted him into a drider and banished him, he didn't stand a chance.

Not even taking those elements into account, Kar'niss came from a society that is infamous for cruelty and violence, especially toward males of their species. Drow greatest hits include, but are not limited to: -Killing their young if they are not aesthetically pleasing enough. In other words, ugly. -Sacrificing every third born son to Lolth.

-If a male finds the favor of two competing females, it often doesn't end well for the male. The rival woman will kill the male and chuck his dead body into his opponents bedchambers, just for the sake of being petty.

-Love and emotions of any sort are in short supply, if not outright unseen as a general rule. The nature of drow to backstab and seek to rise in the ranks makes it near impossible to be anything other than fierce and domineering.

With these things in mind, it's easy to assume that Kar'niss had a turbulent upbringing and likely suffered untold abuse from many around him. It's not to say that good or reasonable drow don't exist, it's just not commonplace in a Lolthite society. Unfortunately, the game doesn't give us a great deal to go on as far as his past. What little he reveals only happens after he's dead, and even then its really a cliffs notes version. What we do know is that his devotion is intense and unwavering. He's willing to die for the Absolute because in his mind the Absolute are the only ones who care about him. We even see fellow followers talk down to him, dismiss him, and verbally eye-roll the guy. To them, his fanaticism is over the top and they follow the same God he does.

All told, this leads me to the conclusion that Kar'niss has never, or rarely, known true compassion in his entire life. He's been used as a puppet for one deity or another, and likely mocked or cast aside even when he did everything right. It doesn't surprise me that there are folks who desire a romance option, or barring that a side venture to break him free of the Absolute's hold. We don't know if Kar'niss did terrible things in his past, or where his moral compass sits as his entire personality revolves around God. But I'd love to know, and I crave more background on him in one form or another.

I've spent too much time thinking about different paths that could happen in-game. I also understand it's incredibly unlikely he'll ever become a companion. The sheer amount of time and resources needed to give a character a satisfying arc is likely more than Larian can do with other constraints, but maybe we'll be pleasantly surprised. So Kar'niss lovers, platonic, romantic, or everything in-between...I gotchu fam. We stan the spooder bby. Someone get that man a blanket and a nice mug of hot cocoa. And a cult de-programming kit, one of those would be good.

[theconstantsidekick]

i'm here as a hater.

i watched red white and royal blue and i'm here to be a hater.

i was having such a great time on tumblr, looking over people's posts and then i went to letterboxd to leave a review and my fucking god. why are there so many people bashing this film for being a bad adaptation. worse yet, why are they queer?

i understand, trust me, i completely understand loving a piece of media and waiting impatiently with bated breath to watch the adaptation of it into another recognisable medium. i'm a mortal instruments girlie, i'm a last of us girlie, i'm a fault in our stars girlie, i'm a watchmen girlie. i get it. i do. sometimes maybe good, sometimes maybe shit.

but bruv, i am also a person who works in the film industry and you have no fucking clue the amount of effort it takes to make a film let alone a film that's an adaptation of a pre-existing, utterly loved piece of fiction that is revered by so many. and this movie goes one step further. this is a cheesy, cutesy rom-com about a queer couple. how many of those do we even have? no. really. how many hopeful, easy-going, cheesy queer rom-coms have you watched? can you count them on one hand? do you need a google search to remind yourself of them?

this film is a rare commodity and fine, maybe that's not a good enough reason for you to be 'lenient' to it... but it kinda is. no adaptation will be perfect, not really, not for everyone. every piece of media has it's flaws but adaptations most of all. but this film does something that you cannot dismiss simply because your favourite scene wasn't in it. personally i so miss alex's speech before the election results are announced. i miss ellen's powerful and amazing speech when she does win. i miss june, i miss raphael and i miss leo, and the powerpoint presentations and i miss cornbread knowing alex's sins.

but none of that will ever take away from the beauty of being able to sit in front of my laptop and watch the most intimate queer love scene i have ever laid my eyes on. it just won't.

anyway.... i'm rambling. the point that i was trying to make before i got lost in all this, was that you are obviously allowed to hate on the movie but like... be kinder about it? don't hate it because it's not a straight up remake of the book. don't hate it because it's cheesy. idk man, just hate kindly, if possible.

this is a huge step for us.

i don't want the response to this film to seem negative in a way that gives the (already reluctant) studious more reason to not make queer media for queer people, you know?

there will come a time in this life where we can hate and critique queer media without worrying about all this context but we're not there yet?

so i guess, like henry, i'm also asking for y'all patience.

however, whoever fucking said that nick and taylor don't have chemistry can suck my huge ugly metaphorical dick. fuck you. they made me week in the knees.

[tossawary]

One of my favorite Discworld books is actually one of the more obscure ones, "Moving Pictures", which is about the invention of films and the movie business in this fantasy world that has dwarves and trolls and wizards and so on. It has its rough patches like every early Discworld book, but Ginger's speech about people who were born in the wrong time or wrong place for their dreams really gets to me in a good way, and I love all of the references to classic films and commentary on fame and creativity. It also has classic characters like Gaspode the Talking Dog and C.M.O.T. Dibbler, and it introduces Detritus's romance with another troll named Ruby.

Perhaps most importantly to me is that this book introduces Ponder Stibbons, who is a wizard, and who goes on in later books to be one of the most important members of the Unseen University (he holds like twelve different positions), in that he's one of the few people who can competently manage a project and so ends up managing nearly everything. (Bear with me, it's been a while since I read any Discworld and my memory is a little rough.) In "Moving Pictures", Ponder is the classmate (roommate?) of a fellow named Victor Tugelbend, who is one of the main characters.

Victor begins the book as a career student, in that a wealthy relative left him a great deal of money exclusively for school; so as long as he STAYS in school, all of his living expenses are paid for. If Victor graduates, that's the end of the money. If Victor drops out, that's the end of the money. But if Victor manages to hit a specific mark range in the 80s every year, then he gets to stay on for another year and try again, and so Victor is perhaps the most dedicated and knowledgeable wizardry student in the university's history, because you have to know what the right answer is in order to intentionally get a certain number of the questions wrong, so that you can continue to coast along on your college fund.

Ponder's graduation is (accidentally) Victor's fault, because Victor runs away to get into the movie business. (I won't spoil what happens, but it's VERY funny.) Now, I like to imagine after the events of the book, after Ponder holds a faculty position in the university, Victor comes BACK to the university occasionally as a disgustingly well-paid external consultant, which drives Ponder UP THE FUCKING WALL. Like, people are so stingy all of the time but SOMEHOW the university budget has room to bring your offensively handsome dropout roommate back just to say, "Hmm, yes, that looks bad. Have you tried turning it off and on again?" I'd throw a fit, honestly. (As soon as Ponder has enough seniority, he probably puts his foot down to stop this if Victor isn't actually useful. Maybe he is, idk, but maybe not for THAT consulting fee.)

I also like to imagine that Victor Tugelbend and Theda "Ginger" Withel are still together, maybe even still acting (badly? mediocre-ly? decently?) together, in some dingy little theatre (Ginger is the director and runs their acting troupe like a tyrant) where the front seats are regularly filled with middle-aged folks who still sigh over the memories of moving pictures. (Moving pictures are now, presumably, VERY illegal in Ankh Morpork.) Victor and Ginger have only because even more attractive as they've gotten older, which is EVEN MORE OFFENSIVE to poor Ponder because his former movie star former roommate is married to another gorgeous former movie star?! I'd throw another fit.

Anyway, I think Ponder deserves to have an affair with a pair of aging former movie stars. I like to imagine this purely because I think it's funny. He seems kind of busy for marriage, so joining someone else's marriage part-time might be good for him. It probably makes most of the rest of the Unseen University faculty breathlessly envious and that really does it for him.

And I think that this affair would OF COURSE be covered by every newspaper and tabloid in the city, including The Times, and William de Worde and Sacharissa Cripslock don't fully understand why their entertainment reporter is so breathlessly excited about people who were famous over a decade ago? (Supermarket tabloids love to tell me about alleged affairs of people who were famous 20+ years ago.) The article on Victor Maraschino and Delores De Syn's failing marriage* is their bestselling newspaper in months and William puts his head down on his desk in despair. (He's fine. This happens on a weekly at least basis. He just needs a minute.)

*Victor and Ginger are very happy with this situation, actually. They're going to take Ponder to dinner to go on a double date with Ruby and Detritus soon. Victor and Ponder are going to get distracted arguing about some of the Inadvisably Applied Magic research projects, but that's fine, because Ginger wants to talk to Ruby about this one-troll-woman-show concept. (Detritus will proudly hand out tickets at the Watch station and accidentally intimidate all of his coworkers into accepting the invitation.)

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Eddie Munson's royal fuck-up

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles, day 11

Prompt: Royalty AU

Rated: G

CW: none

Tags: Rockstar Eddie Munson; Royal Steve Harrington; Meet cute; Flirting; Secret Identity; Sort of angsty/open ending

"So, tommorow…" Chrissy says from behind the folder they've been provided. It looks so posh with its dark green binding, the royal sigil embossed on it in gold print. Eddie hates it. It probably thinks it's so much better than the other folders. "When you're introduced to Prince Steven, you're to address him as Your Royal Highness. After that, you call him Sir." 

"What, really? Dude, at least buy me dinner before we start with the kinky shit." 

Chrissy shoves his feet off the desk, which almost makes him topple off his chair. 

"Can you take this seriously? A royal visit is an important matter. We can certainly use the publicity-" 

Eddie's hand crashes down on the desk. "I'm a fucking rockstar, Chris. That ain't enough publicity? This place is my baby, mine. What does that royal asshole know about what it's like to have a rough childhood? He thinks he can come here, give a little speech, smile for the cameras, and suddenly it's all about him?" 

"What, now you care?" 

He whirls on her, but the look she gives him makes him freeze. Chrissy sighs. 

"Eds, you are so busy with the new album and the tour, you haven't even met the new volunteers. I said I'd manage the place, and that's fine. But you must trust me. Just do it for me. Please?" 

*

The skate park has new graffiti, and he hasn't even seen it yet. Eddie exhales his cigarette smoke and watches how it curls up to the sign spelling Hellfire Youth Center.

Maybe Chrissy is right. Maybe he should be here more. Maybe he's been so caught up in the whole fame and fortune thing, he's losing sight of what's important, like- 

"Watch out!" 

Like guys on skateboards barrelling towards him. 

Eddie throws up his hands. The guy tries to swerve, completely tips his precarious balance, and goes flying off the board and right into him. They land on the asphalt with an undignified oomph. 

"Shit, sorry," babbles the guy and tries to disentangle his limbs from Eddie’s. "Couldn't brake-" 

"S alright," Eddie hears himself say, even though his ass hurts like a bitch from the impact and he can already feel the bruises forming. "You can fall into my arms any time." 

Skateboard guy blinks up at him and - fuuuck, he's cute! In a scrungly, beanie-stuffed-over-chestnut-locks, black-rimmed-nerd-glasses kind of way. 

For a second, nobody says anything. 

"For fuck’s sake," someone swears, and then little Max Mayfield is running towards them, ginger braids jumping with the movement. "I told you to be careful." 

"Sorry," cutie with the glasses says again. Eddie has never seen him around. He must be one of the new volunteers Chrissy mentioned. "Guess I'll need to practice some mo- ow, shit!" 

His hands fly up to cradle his knee. There's a hole and a rapidly spreading bloodstain in the fabric of his jeans. 

"Oh fuck," Eddie says, and whips his bandana from his back pocket to press it to the wound. "Red, why don't you hop inside and get the first aid kit? I'll stay here with …" 

He trails off expectantly. Cutie's eyes go wide. 

"I, erm … Dustin." 

"I'll stay here with Dustin." 

*

Dustin, it turns out, isn't just cute, but also fun to talk to. He doesn’t gush about what a huge fan he is or ask for an autograph once. Eddie never thought he'd appreciate that one day, but it gets really old really quick. 

Instead, they jump from one topic to the next, sitting on one of the benches and watching Max go on her board. Dustin has a quick, sharp wit and isn't afraid to counter Eddie’s jabs with his own, delightfully bitchy sense of humor. Damn, to think he almost missed this one. He really needs to be around more.

"I love this place, y’know? You created something great for these kids." 

Eddie jerks to attention. The sun has started to dip, casting Dustin’s smile and the hair poking from his beanie in a soft golden light. 

"Thanks man," Eddie murmurs, and feels the bitterness boil back up. "Some people seem to think it needs better publicity, though." 

Dustin shuffles awkwardly, winces when the movement pulls on the Care Bears bandaids Max has plastered all over his knee. 

"You mean the royal visit?"

Eddie huffs. 

"Yeah, man. I mean, what are they expecting me to do, bow and grovel while his Royal Doucheness prances all over the place with his perfect hair and fancy suit and thank him for it? It's not like he cares about these kids, it's all just a gig to him."

Dustin draws his bottom lip between his teeth.

"You can't know that. Maybe he does care. Maybe he's-" 

Eddie barks a laugh. "Oh, give me a break. All the royals are good at is looking important and spending our tax money. I can fucking do without-" 

"Steve? We gotta leave, c'mon." 

They both whip around. A fancy black limousine with tinted windows has pulled up in the parking lot behind them. A gruff looking man is holding the back door open and looking at them expectantly. 

Dustin sighs and stands. 

"Coming, Hop." 

"Wait, wait, what?" Eddie babbles as he walks towards the car, shoulders in a sad little hunch. "What's going on? Who's that guy? Why's he calling you-" 

And then it clicks. 

"Oh fuck," Eddie says. 

Dustin … no, Steve … no, Steven - Crown Prince Steven fucking Harrington - gives him a tight smile while the man ushers him into the backseat. 

"Thank you for your time, Mr Munson, I'll see you tomorrow. I'll try not to be too much of a douchebag, I promise." 

The door clicks shut. 

The car glides away. 

Eddie buries his face in his palms. 

"Jesus fucking Christ. He's the fucking Prince."

Beside him, wheels grate on asphalt as Max brakes.

"Wow," she deadpans. "You're in some deep shit." 

Eddie groans. 

Tomorrow is gonna be a long-ass fucking day. 

Part 2

All my holiday drabbles

[bloatedandalone04]

Wrapped Around Your Finger - Part 0.6

Series Masterlist | Original Fic

➪in which a few calls get missed as the days go on and anakin gets a taste of what the rockstar lifestyle is truly like while you become closer to your classmate.

PSA: strongly suggested to read the warnings before proceeding.

WC; 5k | Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡

“Fuck, they were loud tonight,” Vinny muttered as he fell onto the couch in the tour bus. Clara was next to him, congratulating him on another great show as she pressed multiple kisses to his cheek.

The sight was a bit too much and Anakin had to look away as he was reminded of the way you were always all over him after a show. He pulled out his phone, glancing over at the couple. “They were amazing,” he corrected Vinny as he clicked on your contact. It was nearing one AM in Sweden, so it should be around twelve AM for you, and he hoped that you were still awake. 

The show went on a bit longer tonight, and his plans of calling you after had been greatly affected by it. He went to click the call button when he saw the few texts you had left him.

8:23 PM

Princess: Good luck, baby! You’ll do amazing, like always. Wish I was there!

11:07 PM

Princess: Call me when it’s over? I miss you

12:47 AM

Princess: I tried staying up, but I start class in less than seven hours, so we’ll just talk tomorrow. I love you, Ani. I hope you had a great show! Goodnight.

He cursed under his breath as he made his way to his bunk. You had sent that last text not too long ago, but you were probably just falling asleep and he didn’t want to disturb you. You needed to get as much rest as possible before you began the program, and he didn’t want to get in the way of that.

Guilt filled his body as he typed out a quick text, knowing it wouldn’t wake you up since you never slept with your ringer on. 

Goodnight, princess. I love you.

He plugged his phone in after that as Vinny and Clara passed him on their way to the back of the bus. Anakin groaned quietly and had to race Theo to the bathroom so he wouldn’t be stuck hearing them go at it. 

Theo flipped him off as he grabbed his headphones from off his bunk and moved to lay on the couch. Anakin laughed as he shut the door and then looked at himself in the mirror. His skin was a bit sweaty and his eyes held dark patches under them. 

He wasn’t kidding when he told you he had no idea how he was going to be able to sleep without you. After doing it for close to five years he had grown so used to having you next to him, he physically wasn’t able to sleep without you for too long. He had gotten maybe seventeen full hours of sleep in total since he left you behind in London, and it was beginning to show in his physical appearance. 

Anakin really wanted to talk to you before he went to bed and he wanted to wish you luck on your first day of class. He had this whole hype speech somewhat planned out in his head, but he didn’t get the chance to say it to you. 

He really hoped he could call you before you head off to school tomorrow as he felt like a bit of a bad boyfriend at the moment. You always supported him, always answered him and never missed a text. It really fucking sucked that he couldn’t do the same for you. 

Luckily, Anakin wasn’t left feeling like a total asshole the next morning when he woke up from his three hour sleep and called you at around six. “Hi, Ani,” your sweet voice greeted him and he could tell you didn’t get too much sleep either. He knew you were nervous for this program, and he would do anything to be with you right now so he could wish you good luck in person.

“Hi, pretty girl,” he murmured, getting up from his bunk and quickly making his way to the door. He unlocks it and quietly steps off the bus that was parked next to a rest stop. “I’m sorry I couldn’t call you last night. I wanted to, but the show went late and I didn’t want to wake you up.”

“That’s alright,” you say and he could hear you fumbling around with something in the background. “I figured you and the guys got caught up with something. It was a good show?”

Anakin leaned against the side of the bus, his eyes scanning the still dark surroundings. He would be two hours ahead of you soon, when he reached Finland, and he knew it would become harder to call you because of your chaotic schedules. “It was amazing,” he repeated his words from the prior night as he crossed his arm, gripping his bicep of the opposite one. 

“I’m not surprised,” you teased. “You’re up early. I thought I’d get a call from you after my class is over later.”

“I wanted to be the first to wish you luck,” he said, hoping you wouldn’t bring up the topic of his awful sleep schedule. 

You hummed. “Your effort was in vain, I’m afraid,” you laughed and the sound had him smiling. “Evan texted me a few seconds ago wishing the same thing.”

That had his smiling fading a bit. “Oh,”

You laughed again, a silence falling over the two of you afterwards. 

Fuck, why did this suddenly feel awkward now? Why did he suddenly feel annoyed that he wasn’t the first person to wish you luck today? Why did he already dislike your new friend without even meeting the guy?

The silence didn’t last long, thankfully, but you did the exact thing he didn’t want you to do. “You sound tired, Ani,” your voice was soft, laced with worry and now he felt worse. 

He didn’t want you worrying about him when you should be focused on your class that was scheduled in thirty minutes from now. “I’m fine, princess,” he brushed off your words, trying to hide how tired he sounded by clearing his throat afterwards. 

Of course you didn’t let him off easy. “Have you been getting enough sleep?”

“Yes, mom,” he laughed. “It’s just hard to sleep without you, but I already knew that it would be. I’ll get more sleep later today. We still have a fifteen hour drive ahead of us and then another ten after that until we need to start soundcheck.”

You were quiet for a few seconds before you mumbled, “I don’t want you pushing yourself too hard, Ani. You need to sleep more, you’re on stage almost every night, baby,”

Anakin sighed as he leaned his head back against the bus. “Don’t worry about me, alright? I’m fine, okay? I promise,” he tried to reassure you, but it was hard to do that when he was miles and miles away from you. He needed to change the subject, quickly. “I miss you.” 

That seemed to do the trick. “I miss you, too,” you say back, your tone much happier now. “I gotta go soon, but we’ll talk later?”

“Of course,” was that even a question?

“Okay. Thank you for calling me, and for the luck,” you mumble. “I love you.”

“I love you,” he said and waited for you to hang up before he dropped his hand back down to his side.

He stayed outside until the sun came up and he was fully awake with no chance of him going back to sleep for at least a few hours, knowing his sleep schedule was a lost cause without you here.

-

“Think of something or someone that makes you happy. It could be anything or anyone, but whatever or whoever it is has to have made some sort of impact on your life,” Kenneth Madsen, your instructor, ordered as he paced around the front of the room. “Could be a lover, a friend, a stranger, it could be your own bed. Whatever you choose, make sure it has a story behind it. Thank you all for a great first day, and I look forward to reading your pieces during tomorrow’s class. Remember to get a start on your short stories so they’re ready by the end of the program.”

That wasn’t so bad. The assignment is easy, too.

You close your books, making a mental note to refine your rushed scribbles later when you begin writing the assignment. As you stand up, you check your phone and see that it was nearing two PM. You could call Anakin as soon as you got back to your dorm and possibly talk to him for a lot longer than before, and the thought had you standing up quickly. 

“Hey,” a somewhat familiar voice says, making you look up as you grab your book. Evan stood next to your chair, his dark brown hair covering his forehead and making his green eyes stand out a bit. A smile danced on his lips as he watched you shove your things into your bag.

“Hi,” you say, smiling back at him.

He moved out of the way, gesturing for you to walk ahead of him as he asked, “Did you have a good first day?” 

“I did,” you answer as you and he walk side by side towards the doors. “I’m happy the instructor isn’t a total ass since he missed orientation day. He seems cool,”

“He is pretty cool. The assignment isn’t too bad, either,” Evan agreed, his accent slurring a few of the words, but you still understood him. 

You nod, smiling at him again when he opens the door for you. “I thought the same thing,” you say as you and he step out onto the campus grounds. “When are you planning on working on it?”

“I was actually going to ask you if you wanted to work on ours together,” he offered, adjusting the strap of his bag as he looked down at you. “And after you can read mine and I can read yours.”

You pause. “Right now?”

He stopped walking as well. “Yeah,” he nodded. “Why? Are you busy?”

You chew on your lip as you look down at your phone, and at your lock screen. It was a picture of you and Anakin that was taken back during the first tour, and the sight of it had your heart aching a bit. “I was going to call Anakin once I got home,” you trail off, looking back up at Evan.

He nodded again. “Right, your boyfriend. Yeah, this distance thing must be pretty hard for both of you, huh? I can’t even imagine how tough it’d be to date someone who is literally on tour right now,” he grinned and started to walk away. “No worries, we’ll catch up later.” 

Evan was so nice and now you’re starting to feel guilty for essentially blowing him off. “Wait, Evan,” you call after him, watching as he turns back around. “I can call him later, if your offer still stands.”

He laughed as he walked back over to you. “You mean the offer I gave you three seconds ago? Yes, it still stands,” he jokes and you laugh, too. “Are you sure you don’t want to go home and call him now?”

You pocket your phone as you shake your head. “He’s probably busy, or sleeping. He told me he was going to try to catch up on his sleep, so if that’s the case I don’t want to wake him,” you say as you walk next to him. “And I want to hang out with you.”

Evan looked away with a smile, bumping your arm gently with his elbow. “Well, in that case,” he glanced down at you as you neared the coffee shop you visited with him not too long ago. “Coffee?”

You find yourself agreeing and an hour later you are sitting at a bench on campus as you and Evan go over possible topics for the assignment. “What are you going to write about?” He asked as he wrote down another option for himself. “Or who?”

Lifting a brow, you give him a teasing smile as you answer. “Anakin, of course,”

Evan shakes his head, a smile dancing on his own lips as he looks up at you. “Of course,” he repeats your words. “Why did I even bother asking?” 

“Beats me,” you shrug as you sip on your drink, nearly dropping it as you feel your phone begin to vibrate in your bag. You pull it out as Evan mumbles something under his breath, your smile widening as you hold up your phone. “Speak of the devil and he shall appear.”

Evan squints at the screen, shaking his head again with a grin. “You gonna answer that?”

You look at it, too, before clicking the power button and setting it aside. “No, I’ll call him later,” you say, glancing up at Evan when he remains silent. “What?”

“You can call him back now, if you want,” he said in a soft voice. “I don’t want him to get the wrong idea.”

Shaking your head, you flip open your book. “It’s fine. He’ll understand that I can’t talk right now because of a school thing,”

Evan nods and goes back to writing down random topics, but you were quickly beginning to regret not picking up Anakin’s call, but you also didn’t want to go back on your own words. 

He’d understand, anyway. He had no reason not to.

Ani: Sorry, thought your class would be over by now. Call me when you can. Miss you.

You smile and turn your phone around so the screen is facing the surface of the table, knowing he wouldn’t be upset with you.

-

Anakin let out a groan of frustration as he tore out another page in his notebook. Helena had just finished her weekly lecture about needing to get more music out for the fans, and he was slowly starting to lose his mind. 

He discovered that trying to write a song without you around was about as easy as it was to sleep without having you next to him. It was about fucking impossible.

He leaned back in the chair at the table of the tour bus, his hands reaching up to pull at his messy hair. Vinny was across from him and Theo was on the couch, both guys wearing weary looks at the state of their lead songwriter. 

“You alright, man?” Vinny asked, crossing out his own stupid lyrics that he knew Anakin would never sing. 

“Yeah,” he huffed, looking over at Vinny with a blank expression. “I’m great.”

Theo shook his head as he went back to writing down notes of the beat he was working on, tuning the two out as he got back into his own head. 

“Maybe you should call Y/n,” Vinny suggested, flipping the page and starting over. “Might help inspire you.”

Anakin knew that just hearing your voice wouldn’t be enough for him to think of new lyrics, but he pulled out his phone anyway. He also just wanted to talk to you again. The brief call he shared with you this morning was just that, brief, and he missed you like crazy. 

He may or may not also want to be the first person to ask you about how your first day went, since he wasn’t the first to wish you luck. Evan was. 

He clicked on your contact and brought his phone up to his ear, looking over the weak attempts he had written in his book. He read over each one until he heard the sound of the call disconnecting and he felt immediately on alert. 

Pulling his phone away, he looked at the screen and saw that you hadn’t missed his call, but ignored it. You actually clicked ignore call. What the fuck. 

“Huh,” he said aloud as he stared at the screen until it turned black. He looked up at Vinny, who was already staring at him. “She ignored me.”

Vinny furrowed his brows. “Huh,” he echoed, giving him a reassuring wave of his hand afterwards. “She’s probably busy or still in school or something.”

Anakin wanted to say that your class should’ve ended an hour ago, but didn’t want to come off as pathetic for knowing your schedule. “Probably,” he agreed, setting his phone aside after sending you a quick text. 

After Anakin finishes writing down a few dumb lines, Clara enters the bus with shopping bags that she promptly throws onto the couch next to Theo before she wraps her arms around Vinny. “Happy six months!” She says excitedly, looking at Anakin across the table. “I know it’s not five years like a certain someone over there will be celebrating soon, but fuck it, we’re celebrating.” 

Vinny grins up at her and kisses her quickly. “Six months, huh? What’d you have in mind for us to do to celebrate?” 

She hugged him a bit tighter from behind, kissing his cheek multiple times before saying, “Since we’ll be in Finland for a few days, maybe we can find a cute hotel? Nothing too fancy, just something we can have a little more privacy in,” she whispered the last part but Anakin still heard her and he was instantly reminded of the time last tour when he and you stayed in a hotel for one night and he ravished you as soon as you stepped through the door. 

Clara added something about a nice restaurant she had heard of as Anakin grabbed his phone again and opened the Instagram app, his brows furrowing at the icon that showed you posted something to your story. Without thinking much, he clicked on it and felt his face heat up at the smiling face of, who is this, Evan? You had tagged him and set your location to the University of Dun-Walsh, and he saw that you had posted it ten minutes ago. 

So you weren’t in class, and you had your phone with you, and you still hadn’t answered his text. 

Anakin was not one of those obsessed and crazy boyfriends…well, maybe he was a bit obsessed with you, but he’s always been that way - still, he felt a bit annoyed at the fact that you had ignored both his call and his text because you are busy with Evan, but clearly not busy enough to not be able to post him on your story. 

He was not one of those crazy boyfriends who gets mad when his girlfriend is hanging out with another guy, but he was a bit frustrated. 

Scoffing, he scrolls through the app for a bit before getting a notification that Liz had messaged him through DM. 

elizaphotography: hey :) i would’ve texted you but i don’t have your number. hint hint. anyway, we’ll be here for a few days so i was wondering if you were wanting to get out of that bus and have a night on the town with me. i need a night away from screaming fans and taking pictures and i heard about this club that is supposedly great. the guys are invited, too.

After reading that, his mood had lifted a bit and he glanced up at the guys. “Hey, Liz is asking if we want to go to a club tonight,” he said, getting the interest of Vinny and Theo, as well as Clara. “Said she needs a night out.”

“I do, too,” Theo mumbled as he set his guitar aside and tossed his book away. “I’m in.”

Vinny tore his eyes away from Theo and agreed as well, wrapping his arm around his girlfriend’s waist. “Me too,”

“Me three,” Clara added with a small smile. 

Anakin nodded, looking back down at his phone as he typed a reply. 

We’re so down, we all need a night off, too. 

He sent it then stared at his screen for a few seconds, hesitating only a bit before he typed out his phone number and sent it to her as well. 

-

“It doesn’t matter how young we were, or how young we still are, he has my entire heart and not a day goes by where I don’t think of him. We shouldn’t have gotten together, shouldn’t have even talked to each other as we had no reason to. He was the cool guy in band class who had no idea just how talented he truly was, and I was the nerd who would rather stay late after class and attend book club rather than go straight home,” you read the words you had typed not even half an hour ago, your nerves getting the best of you and making you stutter a bit. “But we did anyway. And I was his from that first second we spoke.” 

You wait a few seconds before glancing up at Evan, who had an unreadable expression on his face. His eyes flickered all over your features as he remained silent, making you feel even more nervous. 

Closing your laptop, you stand up quickly. “I know, it’s bad,”

Before you could run away, his hand reaches out and wraps around your wrist. “Damn, Y/n,” he huffed, making you raise a brow as you sat back down. Once he was sure you wouldn’t get up and run off, he released your hand and sat back in his chair, an exasperated sigh leaving his mouth. “I might as well just drop out now.”

Your eyes widened a bit as a surprised laugh escaped you, settling back on your own chair. “What are you talking about?”

Evan gives you a pointed look. “That was amazing,” he said, making heat immediately rush to your face. “I don’t know why you doubt yourself, you’re an amazing writer. At the end, when Kenneth gets to pick a short story to send to his team, there’s no way he won’t pick yours.”

You blush more and shake your head, breaking eye contact with him. “That’s still three months away,” you point out. “That’s a long time, and I haven’t even decided on what I’m going to write about.”

Evan rolled his eyes as he shut his laptop and shoved it into his bag. “Just take the compliment, Y/n,” he laughed and stood up. “I’m serious, your piece is good. Kenneth will love it.”

You look up at him, a grateful smile on your lips. “Thank you,”

He smiled back as he grabbed his phone. “It’s getting late,” he noted as he pocketed it. “Can I walk you home?”

You nod and pack away your things before standing up and walking across campus side by side with Evan. “Thank you for today, it was fun,” you say as you stand outside your dorm. “I’m really glad to have you here with me. It’s not so lonely because of you.”

Evan grins at you, reaching one arm out and hugging you once you stepped into his embrace. “The feeling is mutual,” he says and pulls away. “Promise.”

You shake your head as you grab your keys. “See you tomorrow?”

He nods. “If I can get my assignment done in the next three hours,” he joked and walked away. 

You watch him for a few seconds before entering your room, tossing your bag onto your bed and grabbing your phone. “Shit,” you mumble when you realize that you never actually got back to Anakin. 

Bailey, your roommate, walks in just as you raise your phone to your ear, and she gives you a smile as she quietly shuts the door behind her. “Hey,” she mouths, dropping her own bag onto her bed. 

“Hi,” you say back as you listen to the phone ring a few times before it connected. 

“Princess,” came Anakin’s voice. It was slurred a bit and you could hear loud music in the back, making your brows lift slightly. “What’s up?”

“Hi, Ani,” you say, unsure if he could even hear you. “I’m sorry I missed your call earlier, I got held up with something…are you at a party right now?”

There was a beat or two of just music before he answered. “A club, actually,”

“Oh,”

“Yeah,” and then he went quiet again for a few seconds. “Don’t worry about it, it’s fine.”

You nod even though he couldn’t see you, and you could feel Bailey’s gaze on you. “Okay, well, I feel bad about it, so I just wanted to call and see what you were up to,”

“Don’t feel bad,” he brushed you off, making your face fall a bit at how dismissive he sounded. “I gotta go, baby, I can barely hear you. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay,” you agree, giving your roommate a reassuring smile when you notice her look of concern. “I love you.”

“You too,” he said and then the call ended.

Your heart skipped a beat at how quick that call was, and you dropped your hand with a quiet scoff. Part of you wished he left the club and stood outside of it to talk to you for a few more minutes, but he already sounded drunk. He must’ve been there for a while now, but you still felt a little hurt that he ended it so soon. 

“You okay?” Bailey asked as she grabbed her bin for the shower. 

While you didn’t know her very well, she seemed nice enough. You were sure you and her would become a lot closer the longer you roomed together, but for now you didn’t feel the need to tell her about your concerns. “Yeah, I’m good,” you say, smiling afterwards for good measure. 

“Okay,” she smiled back, grabbing a towel. “I’m off to the showers.” 

You nod and watch as she leaves the room again before looking back down at your phone. Chewing on your bottom lip, you type out a quick text before moving back against your headboard and grabbing your laptop, suddenly feeling inspired enough to start your short story. 

-

Princess: I hope you’re having fun, Ani. I’m sorry again. I love you. 

Anakin didn’t answer you and pocketed his phone before downing his third shot of the night. Liz was next to him at the bar while Vinny and Clara were off dancing, and Theo was a few stools down. “Hey,” she called over the loud music, making him lean closer to her in order to hear her better. “Have you ever gotten high?”

Anakin shook his head, the fast movement making his already dizzy head spin a bit more. “No, never,”

“Never?” She asked, shock lacing her tone as she took out a plastic bag from her purse. “Wow, your girlfriend really kept you on a short leash, huh?”

“I guess,” he said without really thinking over his words. “What is that?”

“Just a little something to make this night even more fun,” she smirked.

“How did you even get that in here?” He asked as she opened the bag and took out one of the little pills. “We were checked at the doors.”

She shrugged, “I have my ways. Want one?”

Anakin looked at the pill she held up, a teasing smile on her red lips and her brow raised. “No,” he shook his head, watching as she shrugged again and placed the pill on her tongue.

“Suit yourself,” she said as she put the bag back in her purse. “Dance with me.”

He couldn’t say anything before she grabbed his hand and another drink as she guided him towards the middle of the club. The place was packed and Anakin kept a firm hold on her hand as she made her way through the crowd of drunk people, still worried about her getting separated even in his near-drunk state. 

She placed her hand on his shoulder and he kept his at his sides, making Liz roll her eyes. “Come on, Anakin,” she said over the music. “Dancing with me isn’t cheating.”

She held the drink up to his lips and he took more than a few sips from it before she finished it off and set it on a nearby table.

“Dance with me,” she said again, guiding his hands up until they were on her hips. “Have fun.” 

Anakin squeezed her waist a bit as he felt his head spin from all the drinks he had before this. She moved their bodies to the music, a proud smirk on her lips as she slid her hands up and gripped his hair. 

If he closed his eyes and let himself get lost inside his own head, he could imagine that it was you who he’s dancing with, and that it was your body that is pressed to his. Your hands that are tangled in his hair, pulling on it in the way you knew he loved.

She jumped and swayed against him, a laugh leaving her mouth at the dazed expression in his eyes. He had no idea how long they did that before she stilled her body and stared at him. 

Liz leaned up and teased his lips with the tip of her nose before she turned around and pressed her back against his front. Her hands cover his that were still on her hips as she subtly ground back against him, making Anakin jolt back a bit at the same time Vinny slaps him lightly on his shoulder. “Hey, man,” he called out. “You doing okay? You seem a bit…wasted.”

Vinny eyed Liz, who just gave him an innocent smile as she reached up to fix her hair. “I think I am,” Anakin answered and Vinny nodded, wrapping his arm tighter around Clara’s waist. 

“I think we’re done for tonight,” he said, mainly to Liz. “Come on, Anakin.”

Vinny took his forearm and began to pull Anakin towards the exit. “Are you coming?” Anakin asked Liz, who just shook her head.

“My nights just begun,” she said before Vinny fully tugged him away from her, nodding at Theo on his way out.

[sky-kiss]

Okay I had a thought and you can do with it whatever you want... but Raphael speaking infernal is so underrated. Even in game when he casts spells during battle, he doesn't really verbally say anything which is a shame (but is kinda cool if certain beings are powerful enough to cast nonverbally. Either that or my game is hella bugged). When you had that moment in your latest chapter of him speaking infernal to transform that made me 😳Like the way it'd described of being this harsh language and Raphael speaking it just snapped some part of my brain and I'd imagine it'd do something for Joi/Tav too. Like would Raphael still somehow make it sound beautiful (to quote Mamzelle, "a voice that could make the foulest blasphemy seem the sweetest hymn" or it would he still sound harsh but it's still hot because it's flying out of THAT mouth?

__________

A/N: There’s an actor I used to adore who was German, but often spoke a lot of french. So his German would come out with that gentle French lilt. Gonna channel that.

__________

He comes to her in the evening, this devil she loves, and the scent of cherries, sulfur, and musk hangs about him like a shroud. Raphael prowls about her suite like some great cat, his dark head held high. In the hells, his hellfire eyes will light with their inner fire. On the prime material, he’s softer. Warm brown, a touch of honey, almost sweet enough to make her forget. 

“You’re late,” she says. 

He hums lowly. The natural theatricality of the noise does not rob it of its power; Tav shivers. The devil sees; he knows. He always knows. “Ah, but there is such beauty in anticipation, wouldn’t you agree? Desire honed to a knife’s point.” A turn of his right hand, long-fingered and elegant. “Before one tips over the edge.” 

It’s a fine enough point in principle, but less appealing in reality. Their time is short, limited to stolen moments when their schedules align. She has a city to rebuild. He has the lower planes to conquer. 

Her devil smiles, patronizing. “If you feel neglected, mouse, I have already proposed a solution. You’ve only to accept the offered hand.” 

“Join you in Hell?” He nods, eyes wide and lovely. It strikes her that he has cultivated every aspect of this human skin: the smile is so wide, so open, and so nakedly suffused with guile that it wraps back around to innocence. 

Raphael steps close. The scent again: cherries, sweet and delicate. Her devil, wearing sweetness and silk to hide his uglier underbelly. He brushes the fringe of her hair back from her cheek, touch lingering. “Deny me all you like, pet. It shall make the eventual fall all the sweeter.”

Anticipation. Tav shivers. 

Some nights, they fuck in front of the fireplace or on the chaise. Never in the bed. It’s her stipulation. Raphael crinkles his nose at the coarse language and indelicacy of the location. She deserves better, he says. The phrase always comes with an accompanying hand gesture, as if he's framing her for a portrait. Something pretty he can lock away from the world, point at when he wants to feel superior. Admire his wealth, this wild adventurer he’s collared. 

Most nights, they work. Tav shuffles through requisition orders. Raphael amends his contracts. She watches him work, more often than not, gaze flicking across the elegant script. It burns, and there’s an undeniable elegance to the infernal ruins. Tav reaches out to race a line, mouthing the words. She’s out of practice. Infernal is not a pretty language; it fits particularly poorly in her untrained tongue. Raphael rests his chin in his palm, amused by her attempt. 

“Allow me.” 

The devil repeats the phrase. It may as well be a different language. The words drip off his tongue, the harshness erased in favor of a lilting cadence. Tav chews the inside of her cheek, brow furrowed. “Is that…is it a regional dialect? Something distinct to Cania?” 

“In all likelihood, you’ve only heard the lower dialects. The least baatezu are harsh and guttural. The higher speech has a grace to it, provided one is willing to learn. It is a melody, dark and heady as any wine.” Raphael places his hand, palm up, on the table. “Allow me.” Tav sets her hand in his. “Close your eyes, pet.” 

She does. 

Raphael traces lines across her palm, humming to himself. “There are four tongues, sweetling. Lower, lowest, high, highest. For the sake of your sanity, we shall avoid the dialect of the archdevils. But the language of the courts might please you.” 

“And is there a reason my eyes must remain closed?” 

He chuckles, thumb pressing against the veins of her wrist. There is an awful note of potential in the touch; he could break the fragile bones with half a thought. “Feeling, Tav. Like the steps of the dance, it should fill you, move you.” 

She shivers as his fingers ghost up her forearm, featherlight nerve strokes. Raphael repeats the lines of infernal, his fingers drifting up on the mouth melodic stretches, dipping down when the words adopt a guttural edge. It is never grating, never clipped; some of that is exclusively him, years of experience and language marrying in a distinctive vocal pattern. Tav chews her lower lip. She’s too aware of his heat, pinpricks of warmth dancing across her skin as he plays his game.

It is beautiful and dark, and she feels the words on her skin. Raphael traces the runes. Her mind struggles to translate the higher dialect, flowing until it isn’t, succinct until double-meaning creeps into the terminology. Tav feels drunk in the darkness. 

“And now,” his voice is closer, spoken against the shell of his ear. The devil gathers her into his lap. He smiles into the curve of her throat. “The student demonstrates what she’s learned. Come, pet, impress me.” 

He traces the runes on her thighs. Over the skin of her belly. Between her breasts. And if she loses the thread, if her voice gives way, her devil stops. He’ll suck a bruise into her throat, press teeth until they threaten to breast skin, tease, tease, tease…

Anticipation, she thinks, that earlier word flitting across her awareness. 

And her devil is ever patient.

[slexenskee]

At Tea Time

Inspired by this lovely little drawing of Fuyumi and Satoru by @lwx-xx

Oneshot  [Here]

He keeps reaching up to stop it from tugging at his hair, but never seems to manage much else but more tangles. He doesn’t hate having hair this long, but it sure as hell is tiresome. He has no idea how girls can stand it. It’s not even that long, just enough to graze his shoulders and irritate him every time he turns his head. No matter how much it annoys him though, he refuses to cut it. The look of rage and disgust whenever his father sees him is enough to have him put up with it. 

Gojo hides a smirk of amusement. There’s no way that guy doesn’t have decades of smothered homosexual urges, with the way he gets so personally offended whenever his eldest son so much as puts a dress on. 

Really, Gojo’s just doing this for his benefit. If Endeavor could just embrace his own gayness and stop with this quirk genomics scheme, they’d all be better off. He snickers into his hand. The thought of Endeavor in a dress was so hideous he almost wanted to make it into reality. 

“Nii-chan,” Fuyumi whines, pulling him out of his thoughts. “What’s so funny?” 

“Nothing, Yumi,” he replies easily, picking up his little plastic teacup. “Aren’t you supposed to pour me more tea?”

She gasps in horror at the thought of being a poor fantasy hostess, and hastily leans over to splash more juice into his cup. Gojo didn’t really mind playing tea party whenever Fuyumi asked, including dressing up in whatever outfit Fuyum insisted on for him and procuring various sweets for their game, but he drew the line at using actual tea. A four year-old was more likely to scald them both than pour tea into a cup. 

Truth be told, Gojo has no idea what you’re even supposed to do during a game like this. Fuyumi seems to have a plan in mind, so he’s just winging it. Maybe it’s just his adult mentality, but it just seems awfully boring. Fuyumi just pretends to be some old-fashioned Victorian lady asking about the weather and playing at being an adult. Why would anyone want to be an adult? Gojo honestly can’t fathom it. 

It’s about as weird as having a sister in general— especially now that she can talk and play games and follow him around ceaselessly. The only reason he’s even here indulging her at all is because she’d cry if he left to fuck around with the neighborhood kids. 

“Do you— do you like the tea?” She stutters out, trying and failing so terribly to affect a refined, lady-like voice that he almost falls into laughter again. 

“Yeah, it’s great.” He takes a sip and plays along. “Not as good as the cake though.” 

He’d gone all the way to the bakery in the next neighborhood over for it. The obaa-san behind the counter had gushed over how cute it was, for a little girl to be running errands for her mother. Gojo hadn’t bothered to correct her. 

Fuyumi wrinkles her little nose at him.

Gojo sighs, and affects a very snobbish voice; “Yes, ojou-sama, the cake is really quite delicious. My compliments to the chef.”

Fuyumi bursts into delighted giggles. At four years-old, she has little to no grasp on formal speech, so she instead subjects Gojo to using it at her behest. It occasionally reminds Gojo of his unfortunate true childhood as the young master of an estate, where everyone demurred to him in such a manner, but he can ignore it easily enough when he’s trussed up as a girl playing tea party to appease his little sister. 

He sighs again. “May we please cut the cake now? I’m feeling rather famished.” 

“Yes, of course!” Fuyumi nods eagerly. Then she stares at the cake with a perplexed expression. Gojo quickly reaches over before his four year-old sister can attempt wielding a knife. 

//

He stops playing tea parties, and all of Fuyumi’s other favorite childish activities deemed too effeminate by his father the year after, when the man decides he’s old enough for ‘real’ training. Fuyumi’s despondent about it for weeks, but there’s really nothing Gojo can do about it. Fighting with his father over it would just cause more tension in their already untenable household, and by then Fuyumi has a willing victim in little Natsuo, who’s finally toddling around on his own. 

He’s not sure why he’s remembering it all so fondly now, when at the time he’d found it all quite the chore. 

Fuyumi liked all the things little girls liked; playing dress-up as princesses, playing house, making fake tea parties and playing with her assortment of dolls. Gojo had mainly been bemused and distantly fascinated by it all, having never had a little sister before, but still found indulging her to be tedious. He’d done it anyway, mainly out of pity. She’d been such a lonely kid.

“What is this?” Eri asks him curiously, holding up a very familiar teapot. 

Earlier, Fuyumi had dropped off the rest of her old clothes and toys that had been squirreled up in the attic, looking rather nostalgic as she’d handed over the plastic bin to him. She’d stayed for dinner and doted endlessly on Eri, who seems to be slowly but surely warming up to her, but with work tomorrow she’d left soon after, before Gojo could even start going through the bin. 

“That’s a teapot, Eri-chan. It’s for tea parties.” He crouches down next to her, rummaging through the unsorted mess of toys and clothes. “Have you ever played tea party?”

She blinks at him, brow furrowed. She slowly shakes her head. 

He laughs, as he unearths one of the matching teacups from the set. “Is that so? Well, why don’t we play before bed then?”

He uses real, lukewarm chamomile tea in a half-hearted attempt to have Eri in bed at a reasonable time. This promptly proves to be a lost cause, as Eri gets terribly excited over the whole affair as he sets up a fake tea table with flowers and cake and all of Fuyumi’s fake plastic servingware, and dresses them both up in something appropriately frilly. Somehow, wearing an entire fake wig of hair is a lot less uncomfortable than a little bow. They even get the cat involved, dragging him into her room and outfitting him with a generously sized bow he immediately hates. He still has no idea what the hell you’re supposed to talk about during these little fake tea parties, so he instead just teaches her how to sing Anti-Hero. Eri loves singing along with him, even if she has no idea what she’s saying. On the downside, this means she knows far too many curse words and unknowingly sings an awful lot about sex, but on the bright side her English pronunciation is improving by leaps and bounds.

“—at tea time, everybody agrees—” 

Gojo glances up as he hears the door open, smirking widely as Hawks catches sight of him and almost face plants into the carpet. It’s been a while since he’s put on his ‘Toru-chan’ look, hasn’t it? 

“I stare directly at the sun but never in the mirror,” 

Hawks fumbles with the door, but eventually makes it into the room with a dazed expression. He’d told the blonde he didn’t have to ring the doorbell every time he came over and could just let himself inside, yet still Hawks looks a little hesitant about whether or not he’s allowed to intrude. 

Gojo winks at him and beckons him over as he finishes up his little sing along. “It must be exhausting, always rooting for the anti-hero~”

Eri’s voice trails off in an offkey warble as she looks up and sees Hawks. She’s still shy about singing in front of others.

“Hi,” he says with a smile, holding out a teacup to the winged hero. “Want some tea?” 

Hawks looks a little mystified, settling down on the floor with them. “Uh— sure? What are we doing here?”

“Playing tea party, of course!” Gojo answers, cheerfully. 

“Right,” Hawks agrees, taking the cup so Gojo can pour him some tepid and terribly oversteeped tea. “And… what is that, exactly?”

“Eri didn’t know either,” Gojo laments, chuckling. “Let’s just say you learn a lot of interesting things when you have a little sister.” 

“Oh. Is this a game you used to play with Fuyumi-san?” Hawks trails an appraising eye down his outfit; the blatant approval in the hero’s gaze almost has him blushing a bit. “I think I like it.” He purrs. 

Gojo rolls his eyes, glad the wig is covering his reddening ears. “We’re princesses. You can either join us as a princess or— or you can be the butler, I guess.”

Hawks raises a brow. “No prince charming to come and rescue you from the evil dragon?” He jerks a thumb up at Meow in the corner, the dragon in question, who looks miserable in his bowtie. 

Gojo turns his nose up. “We don’t need one of those. We can save ourselves.” 

Hawks laughs. “That’s how it is, huh? A butler is fine, then. Devoting my life to making sure you’re always left satisfied… I’m on board with that.”

Gojo coughs weakly into his cup. He definitely doesn’t remember his tea parties with Fuyumi leaving him this flustered. 

“Just drink your goddamn tea,” he hisses at the other man, shoving a slice of cake in his direction. 

Hawks snickers under his breath, but gamely complies. 

--

lol not a Swiftie and no hate for her at all but I usually don't like her songs at all, but I recently discovered Swiftie rock/punk covers...

[magnusbae]

If you're interested, here's a prompt from the ones who just shared:

"Then why did you do it?" "BECAUSE I LOVE YOU!"

No rush hehe I hope you get rest and have fun writing this!

Now, see, I could have taken this as an open prompt and went with something else, but I know you like dreamling and so I was good.

Thanks for the prompt dear! 💖 Also special thanks goes to @cuubism for actually going through it 🌻🌻🌻 any mistakes are me ignoring her wisdom or straight up forgetting to edit it. one of the two.

Dreamling - some flavor of hurt/comfort(?) 'you dare?' kind of situation going on there, 1,394w

▾▾▾

“I cannot fathom why—” 

Dream halts mid-sentence, his outrage rendering him speechless for a precious moment in which Hob tries, fruitlessly, to come up with a way to placate him, to explain in a way that will somehow pass as acceptable to Dream. The betrayal is tangible in the air, so charged that Hob’s hair actually stands on end as if from static. It feels like standing at your front door, still safe but seeing the hurricane on the horizon, knowing that this false safety can and will change in moments. Hob cannot think of a single thing. 

“You.” Dream grits his teeth so tightly that they scrape loudly, the sound of it making Hob’s own teeth ache uncomfortably. “Know.” Dream says each word as if it takes a great burden to even use human speech and not simply burn a hole in Hob’s mind. Given Dream’s past record, which Hob had recently learnt of, perhaps it does. “You know I do not ask.”

“I know.” Hob winces.

There’s no denying that he knew. Knew full well that asking Dream’s sibling for help was a guaranteed way to not only outrage him, but also land Hob a very creative punishment and the end of their long friendship.

He knew that, and did it anyway. 

Would again, if he had to.

He will not apologize for that.

Dream seems to come to the same conclusion, cheeks reddening in a surprising display of humanity, of lack of control over his appearance. The darkness that creeps into his eyes is distinctly not human. Hob shudders but fixes his eyes on Dream’s, refusing to avert his eyes like a reprimanded youth. He did what he did, and he’s not sorry.

''Then.” To Hob’s surprise, Dream seems to level himself, to school the darkness out of his eyes and ask with a calm that is somehow more unnerving than his rage. “Why did you do it?" There is a finality to this question, like a judge asking for one last confession to tip the scale one way or another. There will be judgment at the end of it, Hob knows. 

“Because…” he sucks in a breath, there’s a ball of nerves in his stomach and frustration, surprising him with its intensity, it feels almost like anger.

Why is he here, searching for excuses for something he believes in wholeheartedly? He doesn’t want to learn firsthand of Dream’s notorious pettiness but he’s not here to play these sort of games. 

The outraged huff is stuck in his throat— he didn’t even realize he had raised his voice this much, not until the ring of it strains his ears. He is practically shouting. And he doesn’t care. 

 ''BECAUSE I LOVE YOU.''

There’s anger in it, frustration, a measure of desperation.

“I bloody love you more than I fear you, that’s why.” His own cheeks burn, itch, tingle with the indignation of it all. “Because I’m a besotted fool who would make a pact with the devil if I had to, if it meant helping you.” He gestures curtly at Dream, then spreads his arm in an exaggerated motion of question. “Why else? Seriously, why else?!” He stops at that, breathing harshly. This is not how he had imagined, not even close. Fuck it. And fuck Lucifer, too. And Dream’s all too pleased sibling, on top.

Through his outburst Hob had stopped paying attention to Dream’s face, only his eyes, latching onto them as if they were his anchor in this universe, the only constant thing, in life, in this.

When he finally looks, really looks, he realizes with a start that Dream’s cheeks are no longer red with anger, that his eyebrows are not as tightly knitted, that his pale lips form a small and lax ‘o’. 

His friend looks taken aback, pacified and…surprised.

Like he couldn’t fathom this being the reason for Hob’s supposed betrayal of trust. Like this was the last rationale he had expected to hear, like he, an Endless being of incomprehensible wisdom, is unable to conceive this simple truth. Like he’s at a loss now.

Like he’s a bloody idiot. Hob shakes his head in amazement, his own anger evaporating as quickly as it came. Yet again he wonders how it is possible to be all knowing and yet so blind, so oblivious to such a simple truth, one Hob didn’t even try too hard to hide, really.

“I know you didn’t want me to,” he softens his voice, speaking more quietly “but I really didn’t have a choice. If I could do this on my own, you know I would have, I’d do worse for you.” He smiles at Dream, he doesn’t even try to sound self-deprecating, it’s the honest truth. He would.

His hand drops by his side and he awaits then, for his judgment.

“You love, me?”

Hob doesn't know how to respond to such a simple question other than–

“I do.”

There’s nothing else to add to that, he said it all, he did it all, even Dream must understand this is no passing fancy. One does not risk their immortal soul for something insignificant. Especially not Hob. One does it when it means everything. And in this case, it did. Dream did. 

Dream seems to again, come to the same conclusion. 

He wilts, shoulders sagging. He looks both much older and much younger at the same time, like this knowledge has stricken him, hurt him.

“You shouldn’t” is all he says. 

“But I do.” Hob answers in return. 

“I see that.” Dream’s voice is a whisper carried by the breeze, gentle, endless, aching. He looks torn in that moment, the judge whose scales no longer measure in any understandable manner. He casts his gaze down. 

“Just let me,” Hob says. He did not come here demanding boons, nor love, only to help Dream. “Forgive my impudent human inclinations to save what I love, and let us continue as we were. Friends. “

“Friends…” Dream repeats after him, as if in disbelief.

Dream opens his mouth to say more—to accept or refuse, Hob doesn’t know—but in that exact moment Matthew half-crashes, half-lands on Dream’s shoulder, a flutter of black feathers and barely muffled curses.

“Boss! Oh for fuck’s sake— I mean cracker’s sake— I mean what the hell— I mean you’re fine—you’re actually okay, I was sure that this time you’re like legit—” he notices Hob then, and cawing loudly he curses again “You actually did it you son of a bitch— you really did!” His wings open excitedly, brushing against Dream’s face, covering it up.

“Matthew.” 

“Uh-” Matthew folds his wings immediately. 

Hob looks at Dream then, the moment is decidedly broken but he has to know if he’d see him again, he can’t just go on not knowing, it’ll drive him insane. “Dream—” he starts, but Dream speaks over him.

“We will discuss this—” Dream’s lips tighten, eyes flicking to Matthew and then back at Hob. “At a later time.” He concludes rather curtly, seemingly deciding that addressing exactly what they will be discussing is not something he wants his Raven to be privy to.

“Right…” Hob murmurs, not speaking further of the topic either. It’s one thing to break Dream’s boundaries over life and death, another entirely over his own impatience and need to know. Dream wanting to see him again at all is already a damn good sign, and Hob will take it, gladly.

“I’ll see you later then, Dream” He uses the name even while not being sure he is still permitted to, that he did not lose the privilege. Dream tilts his head but doesn’t object, instead he nods once and disappears in a swirl of golden sand.

“Show off…” Hob murmurs into the empty air, shaking his head in disbelief. There’s a good feeling in his gut, he should probably be worried but he has a feeling that things will work out, that it all will be just fine. He can’t explain it, but he has learnt to trust his gut over the years. After all, it once led him to believe that he would never die.

It was right then, and it’ll be right now too. He and Dream will figure it out and will be better for it. Just like the other time, just like always. 

[qqueenofhades]

I frankly sometimes feel like social media has ultimately given a lot of people the illusion of power, while also causing them to become corrupted in a similar way to traditional forms of power, only without any actual power that goes with it. The similarities in their behavior to the latter is disturbing as hell, ESPECIALLY given the horrid behavior of online types the past few months.

I really can't emphasize enough how much of a constructed and artificial environment social media is, especially these days, and especially the Social Media Platform Formerly Known as Twitter, which is still the main avenue by which a lot of people attempt to "do" social justice. Once upon a time, Twitter was a moderately beneficial public communication service because everyone and God was on it and you could therefore get communiques directly from the source, there was a blue-check verification service that actually helped you understand who was real and who was not, and while there were serious and ongoing flaws such as there is when useful public discourse is sacrificed on the Great Altar of Profit, there was at least some attempt to monitor or ban Nazis, white supremacists, bad actors, and eventually Trump himself. All of that changed and/or was directly destroyed when Apartheid Clyde took over and turned it into a revenue-generating service for Russian propaganda, alt-right cranks, bots, and the rest of the Elon Fanclub willing to pay $8 for a meaningless blue checkmark, while trashing the site's guardrails and any other useful features. It basically exists for Elon to fanboy Putin, Trump, white supremacy, his 4chan trolls, and anything else that makes his money (while Mr. Free Speech Absolutist arbitrarily bans anyone who hurts his man-child fee-fees). This is not an unbiased, neutral, or constructive environment to start with. You don't have any certainty about who you're interacting with or who is amplifying your messages, and only a hardcore-radicalized (of whatever persuasion) base of human users remain, while a lot of casual users have left.

As such, if you're basing anything (hypothesis, claim, source, evidence, opinion) on "what everyone on Twitter thinks," that is fatally flawed data to start with. Even at the peak of its popularity, something like 24% of all American adults regularly used Twitter. That still means 76% of the country who doesn't (and the number is larger now as Chucklefuck McGee has continued driving it into the ground). If you're forming your ideas or looking for "what America thinks" just by quoting or relying on the tweets of people who already agree with you, you've done basically nothing and you certainly haven't proved it, you've stunted your own critical thinking skills, and you are selecting from a data source that is already fatally poisoned and limited in any number of ways. Adding to the echo chamber of similar opinions on Twitter is not going to actually influence public policy or make lasting change. Yes, the interns and/or public relations staff of the public figures still on there will probably check the feed every so often and make note of things that come up, but couching it as mindless vitriolic abuse and/or demonstrably nonsensical things is not going to get back to their boss. It will just be ignored and/or given less weight in the limited space available for things that are deemed important enough to actually follow up on/make policy around.

Also, a lot of people saw Trump tweeting insane things at 3am for four years, and somehow decided that was actually how US/American presidential and governmental policy was made, rather than that he was a fucking narcissistic-personality-disorder psychopathic lunatic. But uh, and it should go without saying, it didn't work. Just because Trump posted something absolutely unhinged and announced it was now policy, that doesn't mean it was. Half the time he didn't even do so much as issue an executive order, those can be and regularly are challenged in courts, and so forth, because despite all its flaws, America is not an absolute monarchy where the king can rule by fiat and have it totally done, no questions, the end. That's also why Trump's second term would be even more dangerous than his first. In his first, he was flailing around and yelling on Twitter and not really paying attention to anything. In his second, the administration will be staffed top to bottom with dedicated fascists like the Heritage Foundation's Project 2025 people, who have spent the last four years brooding on revenge and drawing up detailed plans to actually co-opt and suborn all the levers, checks, balances, controls, and functions of government directly to Trump's personal will (and/or the outrageously evil people pulling strings behind the scenes, because Trump is now basically a gibbering orange vegetable and the media is still far too beholden to the Biden Old!!! narrative to accurately report this).

In short, another Trump term (God fucking forbid) would be run by the kind of methodical and careful evildoers who know that policy isn't made by tweet, and would act accordingly. That would be much, much harder to remove, counteract, or fix, it would almost certainly lead to the end of American democracy at least for most of our lifetimes, and the repercussions of that would be absolutely terrible. But because we still have people who act like Trump is somehow a preferable option, who think that it's bad that Biden is trying to work through established and long-term channels to make sustainable policy and not just get short-term chuckles from an internet dopamine approval rush, that is the risk we are running from now until November 2024. After that, either way, we'll know for sure: we'll finally have a measure of safety, or we will be comprehensively fucked for generations. We all have the power to influence which of those outcomes come to pass. I suggest we use it.