#just never gonna feel like I'm worth anything or competent at anything

[mistabonbon]

-

[wordstome]

the very first night (ntwdt pt 2)

tell me that you hate it hate that i'm no longer in your reach if i can't hear you say it maybe you can't change it, but if you never if you never put it on the line how am i gonna sign for it?

alpha colonel König x beta ex-lover reader

2nd person, no y/n, she/her pronouns, reader's callsign is Eden, reader speaks French, omegaverse, exes to lovers, fraternization, fantasy version of military protocol, probable incorrect use of "copy"

2.2k words

tw: mentions of dead bodies and vague violence, dirty talk, könig is in rut but no actual sex happens, mention of grinding

Do you guys still even remember this au??? 😅 I'm back to writing this fic with this specific format just like the last time I had bad writer's block. I'm sorry that I basically made you guys take a poll and then immediately disregarded the results :( metalhead König is going to be the next one published, and then kosovo maiden. Anyway, this is less of a foray into the omegaverse as it is into exploring a married couple's dynamic. Forgive me if it's inaccurate, I've never been married. (Several of the people who will probably read this are married so...I might be really embarrassing myself here lol)

“Two on your six, O’Conor.”

König watches as his colleague takes down his pursuants with practiced ease. “Good to have someone watching over me, Eden.” the man roughs into his comms.

“It was my pleasure, Declan.”

“Can you two keep the flirting off the main comms?” Fender huffs. König hears O’Conor snort before the line goes quiet.

“Steady,” Horangi says next to him.

“What?” König says.

“You’re breathing like an angry bull. It’s unnerving.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“It’s obvious you’re mad O’Conor’s flirting with your ex-wife.”

“She’s not—“ König lets out a sigh of defeat and tips his head away from the scope. “She can do whatever she wants. I’m not her keeper.”

“Right, which is why you’re white-knuckling your rifle and giving off the most furious pheromones I've ever felt."

König gives his friend a deadly side eye. “Can I help you?”

“Nah. Just confirming what I already know”, Horangi answers, unbearably smug.

König rolls his eyes and returns to the task at hand.

The two of you avoid each other, mostly.

When you’re forced to interact, it's with stiff professionalism. Cold and distant. The way it was when it was really, really bad.

You spend your time becoming closer to the other operators. O'Conor, for one, is someone you find yourself growing close to. In your line of work, it's usually not a good idea to get too attached to someone who may not see the next day, but it's part of your job to know these people now.

They're so competent that you can ignore the obvious, anyway.

König's always been competent, but watching him work nowadays is strange, like watching a remake of a nostalgic childhood film.

His movements are the same. He flicks his wrist the same way, with a heartbeat's worth of pause before the movement. Him taking cover, leaning with that awful posture you always got on his case about.

But everything about him is more ruthless, more efficient. The unrefined brutality of his youth is replaced with a honed precision that is foreign to you.

It stings, though you know the feeling has no right to exist.

You can't keep yourself from reminiscing about the past, when everything about him was familiar. When you knew him so well, it was enough to save both your lives.

"We've lost comms with König."

Your heart drops into your throat. You've been on several ops with him at this point, but this has never happened before.

"What do you mean you've lost comms?"

"He's not responding."

"What?" Fear grips your heart at everything that implies.

"He's in your building, Eden. Find him and extract. Copy."

You move slowly, like ice is flowing through your veins. "Copy."

You will yourself to calm down. Lost communications doesn't mean anything but lost communications. Panicking that you're going to encounter his body will only ensure you end up as a corpse as well. Besides, who could ever take down a man like that, tall like a giant and quick like a viper as he is?

If you had lost comms, what would you do? Re-establish them, of course. Pick your way out of the building and do everything in your power to reconnect with your team. From where König entered, he'd be exiting the building on the east side. You turn to head that way, then hesitate.

König's not you, though. He's not like any other member of the team. Proud, arrogant, vicious König, far more so than other alphas. You used to be afraid of him while he was at work, but eventually you came to realize that was simply how he was in his element—a different persona he wore to battle. As much as you wished he would be sensible and take the safe route, König would never take the safe route. He'd be carrying on the mission on his own, moving towards the target at the center of the building.

But he's a professional. No matter how good he is at what he does, he's not a one-man army, and he knows the right thing to do would be to extract. It's a gamble. If you head towards the east exit and he's not there, you could be losing precious time to find him. But if you head towards the center, you could be walking right into a fight you can't win and become overwhelmed.

You let out a shaky breath and attempt to calm your mind. What would he do? What is he thinking? If you make the wrong call, if you don't know your lover as well as you think you do, one of you won't be walking out of here. You close your eyes and think.

You open them with newfound determination and turn towards the center of the building.

You'd been right, of course, judging by the fallen enemies you find as you move through the hallways. But you don't allow yourself to feel sure until the moment you lay eyes on him, securing the target—a hard drive containing sensitive information.

"König!" you hiss, just as he whips towards you, gun drawn. He relaxes when he sees it's only you. Despite the fraught situation you're in, you can't help yourself from dashing towards him and burying your face into his chest in a hug.

"Eden," he says, his relief evident.

"You stupid motherfucker," you hiss. "You should have extracted the moment your comms cut out."

His eyes crinkle up behind his mask the way they always do when he smiles. "You knew I wouldn't."

"Yes, because I am burdened with being one of the few people on this earth who knows you like the back of my hand. Atlas holding up the sky," you grumble.

"I know you're relieved to see me," he responds, joy evident in his tone.

You let out a sigh. "Can we just get out of here?"

"Aye-aye, captain."

You could do without those memories, you think whenever the two of you trade clipped exchanges during ops now.

König still has traces of the arrogance of his youth, but it shows through less now. He's wiser, more patient and far less reckless.

You catch yourself admiring how good of a leader he's become. His connection with his teammates is like muscles flexing a hand.

You're no longer a part of that nervous system.

In fact, he's always catching you off guard now.

The energy in the common area is weird today.

You can’t quite put your finger on it. It’s like everyone’s walking on eggshells, but at the same time, nobody’s mood seems to be that affected. It’s like you’re all mice living in someone’s walls: going about business as usual, but with some looming threat casting a pall over everything.

“Is it just me or does the energy on base feel off today?” you ask Calisto.

“Oh. Yeah, that. Don’t worry about it,” she says. She swings open the refrigerator and pulls out coffee creamer. “No need for concern. König’s in rut.”

You do a double take. “He is?”

“Yeah.” She’s casual about it as she dumps cream and sugar into her coffee. “Usually he has a pretty light rut—he just gets testy and irritated. But for some reason this time is bad.” She offers you the cream, but you shake your head. “Don’t know what’s up with him, but he had to barricade himself in his room. His scent is driving people up the wall.”

You stare at the table in front of you. It can’t be a coincidence that König’s rut gets worse as soon as you’re near him again, can it?

When you look up, Horangi is staring at you from across the room. Slowly, he raises his mug to his lips, never once taking his eyes off of you.

You swallow the lump in your throat.

Calisto was right. The scent is overwhelming, but it's also familiar. You can't blame the others for avoiding the area. If you'd never dealt with him in this state before, you'd be hightailing it out of there too. Which is why you're doing this despite...everything.

You hover outside his door, trying to gather yourself, or work up the nerve to knock, or anything. It doesn’t matter in the end, though.

“I can smell you, liebling,” comes his voice, deep and growling and verging on feral. A shiver runs up your spine. You haven’t been called that in a long, long time.

“I only came here to bring you things. Water and…snacks.” you stammer, instantly hating yourself for how weak you sound.

“All these years later…and you still smell the same.” He blows right past your feeble little excuse, not even dignifying it with a response.

“I’m just here to check on you,” you murmur.

“Is that so.” You gasp as you hear a loud thud against the door from the other side. Oh God, it’s him, his body heat almost burning through the wood, pressed so close that you can hear his heaving breaths. “How kind of you.”

“It’s the least I can do, considering…”

“Considering it’s your fault I’m like this in the first place?”

Your legs feel weak. “Yes.”

His voice is silky, dangerous despite the barely restrained lust behind it. “Good girl.”

“That’s not fair,” you whisper.

“That’s a shame. You used to like it when I called you that. Still do, according to my nose.”

You wish he wasn’t right, but he is. You’re so slick that you’re soaking your underwear.

“Do you want the water or not?”

“Are you going to come with it?”

“I—”

“Because I promise you, if you’re still standing there when I open this door, you will get fucked against it.” He sounds like a savage animal snapping his jaws in hunger, and fuck, your body feels hot and weak in response. Every cell in your body is screaming out for you to throw open that door and let him fuck you limp. If you told him to break down the door, you’re sure that he would.

“You can’t say that anymore,” you whisper, hating the words as they leave you.

That seems to bring König back to rationality. You can picture him now on the other side of the door, shoulders slumping as he withdraws back into himself. "I...I'm sorry."

You slide down to sit on the ground with your back to the door, gripping a water bottle in a clenched fist. "It's like no time has passed at all, huh?"

You hear him let out a shaky breath, clearly trying to collect himself and bite back words he can't say. "Yeah."

That's the thing, isn't it? Your biology and his got the two of you into this situation in the first place. Very little of that has changed. Even though you've grown distanced in your minds, your bodies haven't forgotten the connection.

You're still struggling with how to feel about that. So much of your life has been dictated by what your body needs and wants. You've spent just as much time bucking against those needs and wants, so much that it feels like second nature.

"All of this...it takes me back. Do you remember the first night I spent with you during a rut?" you say. For a while you don't think he's heard you, but then he responds.

"How could I forget? It's my most embarrassing memory."

"Still?"

"I swore I would never let something like that happen again."

You giggle a little. "It was cute, for what it's worth." That first time, you'd come prepared with water and food, just like you had tonight, prepared for a long night full of...strenuous exercise. Instead, König had gotten so overwhelmed at his first rut with a partner that he came by just grinding on your leg and immediately fell into a 12-hour sleep.

"Yeah, you've said that. Doesn't make me cringe any less."

"And I'll say it again, it wasn't as bad as you think it is." You idly trace the cap of the water bottle with a fingertip. "There's no shame between us."

Another long pause before he responds. "Was."

A dull, throbbing pain nestles itself below your sternum.

"It...doesn't have to be past tense," you put forth tentatively.

"Doesn't it? We've gone right back to being strangers. You're still on the other side of the door."

You bite your lip. You can't deny that, nor the distance that's grown between the two of you.

This is all happening too fast. You don't know if you want to close the gap. You don't know if you're ready to make amends, after what happened.

"You're in no condition to have this conversation," you say, to distract both him and yourself.

"Conversation with you is hard to come by nowadays."

"Well...let's change that. Starting when your rut's over. Let's try talking like normal people again." This time, you don't know if you can blame your stupid biology for the relief you feel saying that. Maybe this time it's nothing but you and your treacherous heart.

You hear a thump against the door, but not an aggressive one. More like he's leaned his head against it. "I guess we have to start somewhere."

More silence. Then he speaks again, his voice tremulous.

"Can you stay? It's easier when you're here."

You swallow, your mouth gone dry like a desert. You can barely manage your next two words. "Of course."

The rest of the night is quiet, but you know he's there. At one point, you can even hear his steady, even breathing. Somewhere along the way, you notice that your breathing has synced with his.

The two of you fall asleep like that, propped up next to each other with a single layer of wood between you.

I miss you like it was the very first night...

I only revised this once while exhausted out of my fucking mind at 3am, so forgive me if anything's awkward or clunky. I'll probably go through it again in the morning (and die of cringe). But there we go! I hope you guys enjoy. As always, I would love to see your thoughts and comments <3

Regarding my tag lists: I've had to leave out a few people, so if you see your url missing from this, please let me know and I'll add you back. Also, apologies if you're here despite not asking to be tagged for this particular story. I haven't gotten around to sorting out fic-specific taglists yet 🥲

@kneelingshadowsalome @danibee33 @crowbird @poohkie90 @cumikering @iytatsworld @papaver-decervicatus @anxietyrain @cookiepie111 @no1runawaymilkdad @chthonian-spectre @backwards-readings @yxllowtxpe @hexqueensupreme @violetstyless @her-majesty-theking @vegan-peppermint @peonytarian @ghostslittlegf @deaddainish @teehee-47 @catluvwr @keiva1000 @waves-against-a-cliff @channelsoph @cutiecusp @itsagrimm @dins-riduur-anthe @mantishymns @lexuria @complexivelovely @black-moon-bunny @kit-williams @shebibtedmypepnis @mafer383

[billthedrake]

This story inspired by the classic writings of @macstevens.

THE NIGHT BEFORE

"You feeling nervous, Dad?" I asked as we walked back into our hotel room. We'd taken a walk around and had scoped out a lot of the other men we'd be seeing tomorrow.

Dad was surprisingly earnest as he thought over for a second. "I should be telling you I'm not," he replied. "I guess I get a little too caught up in the competitive thing."

"You wouldn't be here if you didn't," I assured him. "Trust me, you're gonna kill it tomorrow."

I could read all the doubts in my father's head. In 2018 he'd come here and had fallen short of placing. The pandemic came, and that meant time away from the gym. More than that there was Dad's self-imposed backaway from bodybuilding. "It's just not worth it," he'd said. "The time, the dieting, making yourself into some muscle bimbo," he said.

Until it was worth it. About a year and a half ago, Dad started getting that itch again. It took even more work this time, as he was in his mid-50s now, which meant would be competing in the Master's 50+ division

Now, Dad was probably in his best form of his life. Growing up, he'd always seemed just big - tall, beefy, ex-jock kind of body. Around the time of my parents' divorce, he'd gotten into better shape. My his mid 40s, that fitness kick got channeled into serious lifting. No two ways about it, my cop dad was a beast now.

And he was pulling off his XXL t-shirt, showing me all the ripped muscle he'd been bulking and fine tuning the last year. Dad tossed the shirt aside and turned to me. "Guess it's time for you to work your magic, Drew."

"Jesus, fuck," I gasped. It wasn't from surprise, since I was well familiar with my dad's body. But it never failed to take my breath away. He was hard, vascular, and covered with a pelt of silvery hair.

Dad chuckled. "I know you like the fur, buddy."

I gulped. Something had changed the last couple of years where the salt and pepper in Dad's chest hair was getting closer to full-on silver. "Yeah, I do," I admitted. "But you gotta show off your work, Dad."

"Yeah," he said, and started taking off his shorts. "You get everything ready."

I'd learned the hard way to put down newspaper on the bathroom floor. Dad's really fucking hair. I pulled out the supplies from my backpack - clippers, shave gels, a couple of additional razor cartridges, some aloe moisturizer. I used to wax Dad down, but we both enjoyed the slower, more intimate ritual of the shaving. And this way, his hair would grow back sooner, which was a plus for us.

"I'm afraid I'm giving you a lot of work," he chuckled as he stepped into the small space of the hotel bathroom. Dad was fully naked and his cock was already firming up into a healthy-sized hardon. We'd gotten beyond the awkwardness of this process and now got turned on by it.

I realized I was fully hard in my basketball shorts and I was glad I decided to freeball it, because otherwise my erection would feel uncomfortably constrained. I stripped off my shirt and affectionately patted his back, taking some time to feel the competition-ready muscle. "Jesus, Dad... being away at college... it's incredible to see you now."

That made my father smile. But he didn't say anything more. It was time for the shavedown.

I started the clippers and sheared off big swipes of that thick fur, watching the silvery curls fall down to the floor, some catching on his hair below. I then worked the clipped on the other side, from his lower abdomen to the base of his giant pecs. His cock jerked as I did and I could see the hunger in his eyes.

I pulled back the clippers and kissed him. Tongue and all, we make out, and I felt his prick nudge against the hard ridge in my shorts. I was actually a couple inches taller than Dad, a classic basketball jock build, and times like this, I loved the similarity and yet contrast between our bodies.

Dad was thinking something similar, too, and as I pulled back he growled. "I swear each time I see ya, you're bigger, boy."

I flexed for him some and laughed. In high school, I'd been on the leaner side, and even now my muscle looked less imposing because of my height. But I'd been working a lot with the team's strength coach and my effort had paid off. I placed the clippers back on him, focusing on the round swell of his chest muscle. "I got a bodybuilding Dad I gotta keep up with," I said.

It was Dad's turn to flex, making his knotted arms almost balloon in size. "I couldn't have gotten here without you, buddy," my father said, a twinkle in his handsome brown eyes that seemed lighter in color now that his hair was graying.

"Lift your arm," I instructed. This was the one part where the hair seemed less thick as Dad got older, but his pit was still well-furred. Dad's hair just had a way of growing in fast and thick.

It was going now, as I buzzed the clipper along the growth, shearing it down to a quarter inch.

Then I did the other arm pit.

My father's back isn't that hairy but I zapped away a couple of patches, along his lower back and along his upper traps. The forearms needed touching up to.

Dad reached down and gripped my boner, massaging it through the nylon of my shorts. It felt tantalizing, but we both kept the libido in check for now. Still, I pulled back with a huge wet spot at the tip of my cock. Dad used to tease me for my lack of patience in the bedroom, but now I knew how to be a good boy.

I squatted down and trimmed the legs, front and back. Then the hard cannonball ass that had been the first thing that required Dad to size up his police uniform.

This whole process took a while, about five to ten minutes for the initial trim. Now I turned off the clippers and set them aside. I wiped down the legs with a wet washcloth and put a good amount of shaving gel in my palm. This was the laborious part, but Dad would have a fresh, close shave for competition tomorrow.

It was quiet and sexual, Dad's prick dripping that slick clear fluid as I ran the razor over the quads, revealing hard muscle more fully. His dieting and diuretics meant every vein popped on the surface of his leg. I finished and wiped him down, admiring my handiwork. I took a strange pride in this, not only my skill in shaving Dad down but also an embrace of my kink. It was like each swipe of the razor blade was an act of power, of taking away Dad's masculinity, and yet giving him an even more amazing masculine form.

I started on the other leg. We broke the spell of silence some by talking about the likely competition he'd have tomorrow. Soon, I was wiping down the smooth muscle and rinsing off the blade in the sink.

I took my time with his calved and powerful hamstrings. Dad's hardon flagged. Mine didn't. I remembered when my father's ass has a little of that meaty give to it. The first time I'd touched his bare buns, or eaten him out, of fucked him. Now it was hard steeliness in my hands as I ran the razor over it, clearing a path in the foamy gel to reveal the smooth hard skin beneath. I don't know what it was, but there was something about a 55 year old's skin that was distinctive from a younger man's, even in Dad's competition ready muscle physique. Maybe because of his muscle physique.

"Want me to get in there?" I asked, my voice hoarse in excitement.

"Might as well," Dad said. And like that, he was leaning over and bracing his arms on the shower-tub rim, spreading his legs for me.

The first time Dad showed his hole to me, I had a premature ejaculation, I was so turned on. Those days were past me, but my heart always pounded double time to see this sight.

"I love you, Dad," I hissed. I had meant to save that kind of talk for later in the weekend. Or at least for a more appropriately intimate moment. But it just came out.

"Love ya too, Drew," he replied.

I could tell he was holding himself dead steady. This part involved more delicate razor work. I spread his crack further open with my fingers and flicked away the hairs around his pucker. My father's ring had seen more use lately. It wasn't a puffy, slutty hole or anything, but he'd gotten fucked more regularly, even with my absence at school.

"There," I announced, splashing some water on the pucker and wiping it down.

Dad leaned up and turned around. His prick was throbbing again. "You're the best, son," he said, reaching down to ruffle my hair.

I laughed. "Dad, you know how much this drive me crazy." I was already taking the shaving gel and smearing it around his lower abdomen. Dad trained natural and competed in a natural tournament. It put a cap to his size but also meant his belly was normal and relatively flat for a man his age.

He looked down with a look that had a good deal of pride mixed in with the lust. "I've been too scared to ask, but you having fun in college?"

I knew what he was getting at. I kept my attention on the shaving process but as I rinsed of the blade, I answered him. "Not really. Playing ball and keeping up my GPA keeps me pretty focused, you know?"

I knew he liked my answer but he nodded. "Well, I wouldn't mind if you found someone, you know." I think he half believed it. Trying to be the good parent.

I stood up. I was SO hard now. I knew I was tempting myself, but I pulled the waist band over my cock and slid my shorts down. Dad's eyes widened. "He'd probably have to be a cop," I said. "You and Rick spoiled me."

Dad chuckled. "I can't tell if you're kidding sometimes."

I raised my eyebrow. "I'm not kidding," I said. I pumped some more gel into my hand. The can was running low now, and I'd have to start on the second. I smeared it over his hard round pecs. I wetted down a new blade and brought it up. "I've been thinking a lot actually... I don't know, I'm seriously thinking about going into law enforcement."

"Drew," Dad objected, but he didn't complete his thought.

I shaved the chest in slow, broad swaths. It was beautiful to see Dad's new body emerge before my eyes. "Basketball's great, but I know I'm not NBA material," I explained. I gave a wry smile as I quickly glanced from his chest to his face. "And the pension's good, right?"

He laughed. "Pretty good," he replied. "But it's better in a city." Dad was police chief in a small town force.

"Then you get big city problems," I countered. I now ran the razor gingerly around dad's thick brownish nipple. "But you know what I'm thinking, right?"

"Yeah," he replied. "Just promise me you're not gonna rush into that decision lightly. I want you to think practically before you commit to anything."

"I will, Dad," I said. Feeling chastised some, but he was right. I had a way of letting my cock do the thinking for me. I leaned in as I flicked the razor along his upper chest, next to the neck. Our cocks touched, wet and leaking.

"Fuck!" Dad gasped.

"I didn't nick you, did I?" I asked, concerned. I'd been more prone to that when we started this, but I'd gotten better and a lot more careful.

"No," he responded. "But please tell me we're gonna make up for lost time this weekend, son."

"We're gonna make up for lost time, Dad," I breathed. Then setting down the razor, I kissed him once more. This once feel deeper and more powerful.

"Damn, buddy," my father said as we broke off. "You've gotten even better at that."

I grinned. "Finish you up?" I asked. "We're almost done."

He nodded and lifted his right arm to let me get the trimmed hairs beneath, then the other. Up close, my father's hard muscled body now seemed bigger and heavier. We were both tall and our combined sized made the bathroom quarters seem particularly close.

"Maybe you can trim the crotch tomorrow. Figure out how much you wanna do." Dad said as I shaved his arms smooth. I could never decide what I thought about a shaved crotch. I used to hate it, but now there was a kinkiness in seeing his mature muscled cop body shaved completely smooth. Dad mostly like not worrying the posing trunks area and was glad for me to go as tight a shave as I wanted.

"Yep," I said.

Finally Dad started up the shower and we both got in. I loved sudsing up his shaved-down body and making out with him. We'd barely stepped out and dried off when we heard a knock.

"What fucking timing," I heard Dad say as he turned his upper body some.

I patted his smooth rump and picked up my shorts to slide them back on. I was achingly hard in them, obscenely so, but I had a good idea who was at the door.

"Am I interrupting anything?" Rick Caldwell grinned as I opened the door. He was fifteen years younger than Dad and six inches shorter. He was pretty much the textbook example of meathead cop, having been lifting and competing since he was 18. He stood now in full uniform, the bulletproof vest beneath his poly-blue shirt making his chest look that much more expansive, and his huge guns straining the sleeves.

"Dude, it's your room, too," I laughed.

Rick stepped in and set down his bag. He had a big grin on his closely shaved face. "Been too long, kid," he smiled as he stepped up for a kiss. I used to joke that Rick was Dad's boyfriend, but it seemed more and more like he was mine. I groped his hard body and felt him up beneath the uniform.

"Bout damn time, Caldwell," Dad joked as he stepped in to see us making out.

Rick pulled back. "Hiya Chief. Hit some traffic after my shift." He looked up my father up and down. "Your boy does good work."

"He does," Dad said as he stepped up, pulling his hand on my bare shoulder. "Takes his time."

Rick smiked. "I bet." Then, "You guys see all the beef parading around? Lots of law enforcement, too. I figured Junior here's gotta be pretty worked up," he winked at me. I didn't share a first name with my father but that didn't stop Rick from using that as a nickname.

"Understatement," I said. While Rick always encouraged my horndog side, I didn't always like to scope out other guys around Dad. But it was impossible to hide it on occasions like this .

Dad didn't seem to mind now. His fingers playfully dug into my delt muscle. "Drew here's thinking about signing up for the Academy after college." There was some pride in his voice, even tough I knew my father was stubborn enough to try to talk me out of the idea a few times over the upcoming year.

"Yeah?" Rick asked, turning to look at my own smirk. "You'll make a good officer, Junior," he said. Already he was crouching down in front of me and working my shorts.

I almost objected and I knew my body stiffened defensively. Dad and I had just had the most exquisite 40 minutes of foreplay and I worried now that all my patience would be squandered in a half minute's time.

"It's OK, buddy," Dad whispered hoarsely, pullling my upper body tighter against his nakedness. "Let him."

I gapsed as Rick sank his mouth over my precum-wet boner.

"Holy fuck," I gasped, looking down at him, beginning to blow me in full uniform. Big muscle head cop going down on me. Rick was skilled, but more than that he just loved doing it.

It was the two personalities of the men in my life. Dad always telling me to take it slow, to be patient. Training me almost. Rick indulging me and encouraging me to be as horny as any 20 year old would. Rick knew I had several loads in me in a given night. Why wait for the first?

I now rode the pleasure that Rick's bobbing mouth and throat were now giving me. Dad's eyes were cast down too, watching my thick son dick and his reporting officer's talented mouth quickly milking me.

"You're beautiful to watch, son," my father now whispered in my ear. Just us, something Rick probably couldn't hear. That excited me. "And Rick's right, buddy. You'd make a great officer."

I turned and like magic our mouths met. Tongues connecting a second before I started cumming. I shot hard and heavy into Rick Caldwell's craw. He not only swallowed greedily but kept working me to get the dribbles out of me.

"Goddamn," I muttered when Dad finally pulled back.

"Need a minute?" Dad asked. I knew his need was getting more urgent. And Rick had now turned his attention to my father, his chief. Licking along the thick tool that matched mine.

"Yeah," I replied. "Just a sec." I knew I should cool off completely, but I couldn't keep my eyes off these two men.

Rick sucked some more then went back to teasing mode. I don't know why he was doing this to Dad while he went right to sucking me off. But it was hot to watch. Rick finally turned to me. "You up for shaving me down in a bit, Junior?" He ran his hands openly along my father's smooth abdomen. "Get me competition ready?"

"God, yes," I said.

Dad chuckled. "Drives my boy crazy, doesn't it?" he said, looking at me.

I blushed. I don't know why I was embarrassed of the fact but I was.

Rick grinned, seeming to enjoy seeing my shy side. "Junior's gonna be SO worked up after tomorrow afternoon, he might even let us fuck him." Since going to college, I'd gotten into more of a top kick with these guys. Rick and I liked to have playful arguments about that, but he'd just shake his head and said it was a phase for me, that I just needed to prove something.

Rick never felt like he had anything to prove, at least in bed, and Dad was increasingly very open and flexible.

"How long has it been, Junior?" Rick teased, standing up and undoing his utility belt. "You let any of those college coaches sweet talk their way into your hot jock hole?"

Dad laughed. He was enjoying this. "Drew's been a monk up at school," he chimed in. "So he says."

Rick's blue eyes lit up as he pulled up one uniform shoe to a nearby chair to take off, then the other. "Is that right? Well, it's a whole weekend of bodybuilding, buddy," he said to me. "I'm pretty sure you're gonna get laid." It wasn't clear from his words whether he meant just him and Dad, or some other guy. Maybe for Dad's sake he kept it ambiguous, though I knew Rick liked to fool around and encouraged me to get my rocks off when I could.

"Come on, Rick," Dad complained. "Don't corrupt the poor boy."

Rick smirked. "Junior doesn't need me to do any corrupting. I've never met a dude so wired for big muscle."

Dad gave an exasperated smile. He knew his fellow cop was right. Fer christsake, I'd first come out to Dad when he discovered cum-crusted bodybuilding mags in my bedroom. He now turned to me and I could see a lot of emotion in his face, with the lust that had been building. "I know I keep a short leash on ya, Drew. But you're 20 now... you're your own man."

I didn't know if I was gonna take advantage of Dad's implicit offer. Or if I'd even have a chance to. Rick Caldwell had some wild talk sometimes, but the reality didn't always live up to it. I felt strangely touched by the idea of Dad letting me go off for some fun here.

I turned to Rick, "Why don't you get on the bed?" I asked, almost ordered. "No... leave the uniform on." His cock was already poking out of his zipper but it had been a while since I'd experienced a uniform scene.

The request made Rick smile. He gave a mock salute, "Aye aye, Junior." I watched as he got on, lying back, his big muscle body making the mattress sink. I had confidence in my father, but he'd have a hard time winning his division. Rick would have no problem winning his.

I climbed on, mounting his reclined, clothed body and meeting him for a kiss. Dad still didn't know what I had in mind but he stroked his cock and stepped closer to the bed. He told me he never thought he had a voyeur side until he first watched me and Rick fuck. I made out with the cop and pawed the muscled body before I pulled back and looked at my father.

"Just take it easy, Dad, OK?" I said. "It's been a year and a half."

"Yep," Dad answered in his deep voice.

"Fuck, Junior," I heard Rick say. I looked back into his handsome mug. He now whispered to me, almost mouthed the word. "He's missed this, you know?"

I felt bad, but any misgiving were pushed aside as I felt my father's strong hands run my hamstrings and over my bare buns. Then I felt a cool drizzle of lube and his warm finger press it into me.

"He's good at this right?" Rick said as he watched me get into my dad's prep work. The man was kneeling beside me and Rick. I'd alternate between kissing the cop and just enjoying the fingering.

Finally, I was mid-kiss when Dad stretched his muscled body on top of mine and guided his prick to my tight ring. He had the force to work me open, but he didn't rush it. Just steady prodding at my defenses, and once he entered me slow mini thrusts to open me up.

This was incredible. Getting fucked by Dad in the first time in a while. Getting past my stubborn top-only phase. And being there with Rick while I did.

Dad's thrusts were getting more vigorous, more athletic. I could feel the smoothness of his torso against my bare back as he fucked. The man had a hell of a lot of power in him, and Rick and I both gazed into each other's eyes in a feedback loop of horniness. Me getting off on him seeing the incestuous mating and him egging me on.

"Hold on a sec," I finally said. Dad's pumping stopped and he held his body still against mine while he softly kissed my neck.

"You OK, son?" he asked. I could tell from his voice he SO wanted to fuck to completion right then.

"Pull back," I instructed. As he did, I pulled back enough to give Rick enough room for what I was gonna ask. "Flip over officer," I urged.

Rick got the message, pulling down his uniform trousers all the way, his belt clinging and his prick jerking hard. But I didn't have long to see it. Already the big man was squirming to maneuver to a face down position.

Dad figured out what I was angling for and already was smearing lube on to my cock, adding some extra.

I was getting impatient now, and I reached down to guide my boner into Rick's muscle ass. He gave a soft grunt as I found and penetrated his cop hole. I should have gone easier, I knew, but Rick sensed my need and wanted this too.

Already my jock body was collapsing onto his meatier one, fucking deeper into his ass while I felt my dad cover tightly from behind, his own cop dick finding my entrance naturally and boring back in easily.

A sandwich threeway fuck isn't easy to get a rhythm on, and ours wasn't perfect. It was our first, in fact. But Dad did the driving, his hips and ass piledriving that meaty cock deep into me, jamming it against my throbbing prostate and pushing me into Rick, too.

I heard Dad's rumble of orgasm first and the idea he was shooting inside me had me nutting too. My body spasmed as I gave it up and simultaneously accepted Dad's load deep inside.

"Nice, Drew," my father whispered and slowly eased his body off mine."

I now worried it all been too hard on Rick, but as I rolled off, I saw him turn on his side, finally unbuttoning his uniform shirt and peeling it off his kevlar. His prick was angry red and it took me a second to realize the tip was wet.

"You fuckers," he laughed. "I don't know the last time I had a load fucked out of me like that."

"As long as I don't have to sleep in the wet spot," Dad deadpanned.

Rick grinned, peeling down his trousers, down those tree trunk legs and kicking them off. "I think Junior usually takes the middle spot," Rick said.

I got up off the bed. I'd gotten off twice now, in the span of twenty minutes, and I now felt more than a little drained. "I'll take it," I said. "Gladly." My dad was circling around the king bed to step up to me. I was used to the way his fur would get wet with sweat during sex but now the dewy perspiration rolled down smooth muscle.

"That was amazing kiddo," he said. "Thank you."

We kissed softly. We got so absorbed in our making out that I didn't feel Rick's presence until he placed a hand on both of our backs.

"I love watching you guys," he said.

I turned and leaned down to kiss Rick now, and Dad then had his turn.

"OK if we take a rain check on the shave down?" Rick asked. "There should be enough time tomorrow right?"

Dad felt up Rick's front. "You just got some stubble," he observed. "Shouldn't take as long for Drew to do his thing."

Dad rinsed off first, and then while Rick hopped in the shower, I applied the aloe to Dad's body. It was sexual and intimate, but the orgasms had taken the edge off and I could enjoy the act in all its sensuality. Dad and were both chubbed by shy of fully erect.

"You're killing it, Chief," Rick said as he towelled off. I still had to pinch myself that I had both these amazing muscle men to play around with. "You're gonna blow 'em away on stage tomorrow."

"We'll see," Dad said, that earlier nervousness and doubt creeping into his voice again.

The younger cop hung his towel on the hook. "You ever think of competing, Junior?" he asked.

"His body's perfect, Caldwell," Dad interjected. My father had an embarrassed look as he turned to me. "You should do what makes you happy, buddy, but I mean... you're fucking perfect." His voice cracked in a serious tone. "And any one of those muscle heads walking around this weekend would be lucky to make it with you."

Rick patted my back and winked in a conspiratorial way. "Chief's a big softie. But he's right. You are looking extra studly these days." He turned to Dad. "They looking for some extra tall recruits at the Academy, Chief?"

Dad grinned and nodded. "If that's what the boy wants to do... I'd say so." My father held my gaze and then winked, patting my on the shoulder before going back into the main part of our room.

Somehow, unbelievably, I had a fully hard cock once more.

"You want another crack at my ass, Junior?" Rick asked quietly.

It was tempting. But I needed a break, and I knew waiting would make it all the better. "Tomorrow, OK?"" I asked.

The big cop reached down and gave my dick a quick tug. "You got it. A celebration after I win, maybe?"

"Definitely," I said. I knew Rick would win, all right.

"All right, Junior, let's get some rest... big day tomorrow."

"Yes, Officer," I said and followed him back into the bedroom.

[silviakundera]

The Princess Royal ep 27 and 28

The moment when both Li Rong and Su Rongqing are like SHIT, your brother stepped into our game of thrones.

Damn it Su Ronghua, omg this is making me more heated than in the book.

now they're giving me the future flash of his death to make me sad but NO. NO! ACUALLY IDC. everything is your fault. 😤

blah blah romance with Shauggan Ya NO. NO NO NO. JAIL FOR 10000 YEARS

It's divorce era! SRQ's absolutely full proof plan has NOT devolved into a scenario that will lend PWX more power and cause his ex to soon start humping him like rabbits.... right... right?????

but who caresssss when my bro Cui Yulang is back in town 🎉

THE WAY HE HAS BOTH SRQ AND PWX SO PRESSED because they know he would hit that with the fury of god lololol

Look I do hate Consort Ruo but this whole poisoning the emperor thing is her 1 good idea

I am a simple woman who enjoys watching SRQ realize he's been clowned. And drunk Cui Yulang and exasperated Li Rong passing back & forth messages

Every time he brushes back a tendril of hair, I can hear her from the novel, "Be normal!"

They kept it! So I can be a softy and I admit was a bit charmed by this minor character when LR shared her view of someone with talent and perhaps desire to be of use, but who in her life never accomplished anything... and then he stops pretending to be a shallow pretty face for a moment to confess the real reason he wants to work for her is simply that he thinks she cares about people. I was disarmed by the way he doesn't think she'll believe that - but she immediately does (how few people have believed that about her, how few people have taken him seriously)

They even included PWX's petty ass fucking with the carriage 😭

Oh pleaaaaseeeeee Cui Yulang trying to come up with complaints about Li Chuan and everyone is like ?? ?? 😭😭😭

MY BODY IS READYYYYY for Li Rong digging a big pit with spikes and convincing Consort Ruo to enthusiastically jump in

Please don't let me down drama, I want that whole scheme!

For once the Su Rongqing and Li Rong scene actually worked for me. I did feel that moment where she bluntly references that this battle is heading in 1 direction: one of them will fall. We can see the blow hit both them. SRQ has been stubbornly in denial that this fight is against her faction but he's not taking her down - not truly. Not this time. But she just ripped all pretense away.

(this is where the story gets me to care about their dynamic. not as a love triangle, which it never really has been. but as 2 broken things that used to huddle in the dark to keep warm, now with a new chance in the light... and this is what they're going to do with it? fight to the death? it's sad.)

My darling Pei Wenxuan has not actually lost in brains from jealousy. Good for him.

(In the novel during this time he's secretly plotting shit about the exams and hiding it from LR, because of the whole 'we used to be the leaders of 2 competing factions in the last life' thing that LR was originally concerned about but then the glow of love made her stop being concerned about it, but guess!! what!!)

(I'm 98% sure they are gonna simplify that conflict.)

"Would you like to have the Inspectorate Office?" yaaasss lets goooooo

Su Rongqing, having no idea of wth is going on: Am.... I about to be clowned ?

as of Round 3 (work in progress):

Li Rong: 2

Su Rongqing: 0

Cui Yulang: my sincere love & devotion, whatever what's worth

[preview shows that next 2 episodes start some horny sneaking around ! whee!]

[howlingday]

Harley Quinn arc: Pyrrha gets her therapy session

"Um, hello? Dr. Quinn?"

"Pyrrha!" Harley sang, waving her arm towards herself. "Come in, come in! I was wonderin' when you'd get in here!"

"Well, Nora, Ren, and Jaune all said you were good."

"Oh, that's so great! I'm glad to see my reviews are so high. Now, would you like to take a seat for your first session with Dr. Harley Quinn?"

"Is there a form I need to sign?" Pyrrha asked.

"Ya know, you're the first person to catch in the middle of the session." She began to rifle through her desk. "I get so caught up in these sessions that I always forget until the session is over to get these papers signed." She giggled. "Of course, I'd nevah breathe a word about my patients, paper or no paper."

"Oh, well, if it's not too much trouble..."

"It ain't, Ms. Nikos." She pulled up the non-disclosure agreement from the cabinet and handed it to her. "If anything, I'd get in more trouble because I wasn't catching these soonah."

Pyrrha looked over the paper carefully, pen in her hand and ready to sign. Once she did, she handed the paper back over to Dr. Quinn, who took the paper and placed it delicately on the desk. She gave a giggle, then slid her notebook in front of her.

"So, I take it this isn't your first therapy session."

"Er, no, it isn't." Pyrrha shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "After a... falling out I had with one of my agents, I was recommended to seek counseling."

"Ooh, juicy~! Care to share?"

"It wasn't anything too serious. My agent just made some suggestions that I didn't feel comfortable with. When he pressed the issue, I may have... threatened him."

"Oohoohoohoo~!" Harley quickly caught herself. "I'm sorry. That was unprofessional of me. I just didn't expect you to be the threatenin' type."

"I... guess not."

"What was it yer agent tried to get ya into? Somethin' sleazy?"

"Yes, it was... It was a swimsuit photoshoot."

"Ick! And at your age?"

"Mhm," Pyrrha nodded, "my new agent was concerned of 'lingering issues' and recommended I receive counseling to ensure I'd be able to compete."

"I know just the type." Harley shook her head. "Where I come from, there's a lotta folks like that, tryin' ta get ya to do things ya don't wanna. Thankfully, ya ain't gotta deal wit the creeps like them."

"I... guess so." Pyrrha sighed. "Still, there are times when I think about what he said would happen if I didn't do it. Things like how I'd 'fall out of the spotlight,' that I'd 'get replaced in no time'. Things like that."

"Mhm, and do ya think that may have affected yer sense of self-worth?"

"Would it?"

"It did fer me. See, when I was younger, I met a guy and he made me feel special. When I left him, or he left me, he'd find someone else to take my place. Then I met the gal he replaced me with."

"Really?"

"Yuh-huh, and some piece of work she was!" Harley sighed. "I tried to talk some sense into her, but all I got for it was this nasty scar on my neck and my current beau's home getting burned down."

"Oh my!"

"I doubt something so drastic happened to you, but let me tell you something I told myself when I was going through it. Something that literally save my life. Every voice in my head was telling me this new gal was supposed to be the newer, better, hotter version of me. And I admitted to some facts."

Pyrrha leaned in.

"One, yes, she was younger than me. And yeah, maybe she was hotter than me. And sure, I went to easy on her and she whooped my butt. BUT there was one thing she didn't have on me. She'd NEVER be Harley Quinn, and I made sure she never fucking forgot it!"

Pyrrha leapt at the profanity.

"Sorry, sorry!" Harley waved. "Totally unprofessional. But maybe you should try it out sometime. Next time you feel like you could be replaced, just tell yourself this one thing. Look in the mirror, and say 'I'm Pyrrha Nikos! And ain't nobody gonna replace me!' Got it?"

"Y-Yes, Dr. Quinn!"

"Call me Harley, sweetie. Everyone already does."

[blackjackkent]

Got Minthara and Jaheira set up with the party color scheme, very important.

Annoyingly, Jaheira doesn't have any in-game dialogue to respond to Rakha's having consumed the Astral Tadpole, but that just means I'm gonna have to write it myself. ^_^ Jaheira has rapidly taken a position of wisdom and steady competence - and ferocity, when the occasion demands - in Rakha's worldview, so there's no way they wouldn't have had some sort of conversation about it.

-----

Jaheira squints sidelong at Rakha as the half-orc passes her tent. One eyebrow quirks up faintly. "I see Shadowheart is not the only one of our number who has chosen a change of fashion," she says dryly.

Rakha halts and looks back at her, her expression perplexed.

Jaheira smiles faintly. "Your face."

"Ah." Rakha shifts her weight with an odd sense of embarrassment. She and Wyll explained, in general terms, everything that happened last night to the full camp earlier, which was simple enough, but the more direct conversations on the subject one-on-one have proved... uncomfortable, at times. "It was... not intentional."

"Which part?" Jaheira says with wry mock-innocence. "The lines on your face? Or the illithid worm in your skull?"

"The lines," Rakha says. "The worm was my choice. The Astral one, at least."

She squares her shoulders in an involuntary, almost defiant gesture. It's a strange moment; she has never shied away from her own decisions or felt the need to apologize for them, but speaking to Jaheira in her sternest mood makes her feel oddly like a child being chastised.

And yet Jaheira has not even raised her voice nor expressed any active disapproval. The Harper merely looks at her appraisingly, head to toe and back, taking in her changed form, the new shadows on her skin and in her eyes.

"Well," she finally says slowly. "so it is, then. What is done cannot be taken back. And perhaps you are right, that the power is worth whatever cost it carries. Our enemies are certainly strong enough to warrant a desperate measure or two."

Something softens in her face almost imperceptibly, and her gaze grows keen and sharp. "Was it only for that, that you took such a step?"

Rakha flinches, and her eyes flick away. "No," she admits in a low voice.

"Mm." Jaheira breathes out slowly and nods, as if confirming something in her own mind. "Tell me, then."

There's a long silence. Rakha has not even tried to articulate this to Wyll, but something about Jaheira's placid attention is compelling - and steadying.

"I need its help," she finally says slowly. The words emerge one at a time, with pauses between, as she wrestles them into order. "The illithid. The Emperor. It..." A pause. "It protected me. When it's close, my mind is calm. The tadpole and... the beast..."

She isn't sure this will mean anything to Jaheira - but the older woman nods unblinkingly. Perhaps Wyll explained it to her, one of the nights on the road from the Shadow-Cursed Lands. No doubt she had questions about why Wyll ties Rakha up in a corner every night.

"It brought me peace," she finishes quietly. "Its power does too. I can't-- I had to. I needed it."

Again one of Jaheira's eyebrows flicks upward. Her expression is unreadable - it could be amusement, disapproval... or even concern. "I do not know the cause of your beast," she murmurs, "but I have traveled with more than one companion who struggled with darkness in their hearts. I know the desperation that comes with that struggle."

She scrutinizes Rakha's expression for a moment, then nods. "Peace is a fine cause indeed," she says. "But the path that leads to it is a rocky one. Take care you do not lose yourself along the way."

Rakha considers this for a moment. "How can I lose myself," she asks after a while, "if I do not know myself?"

Jaheira's lips twitch. "How will you know yourself, if you allow yourself to be lost?" she counters.

Rakha has no answer for that, and silence stretches again between them for a little while. Then Jaheira, unexpectedly, laughs. "We both speak in riddles, cub," she says dryly. "But I think you know what I mean. Find your peace where you must, if you must, but keep your eyes open. The Absolute is not the only darkness that threatens us - threatens you - and the sun has not yet risen on the day where I would trust an illithid further than I may throw it."

[dearansur]

i don't have a therapist and i'm not gonna get one in the foreseeable future so instead i'll just talk to myself on my blog like a weirdo but anyways, stream of consciousness joyce style ahead

my fear of drawing (like. outright fear that grips me and makes me unable to do anything!) is probably (99% sure) connected with my own self and how close the identity of an 'artist' is tied to my identity as a person. i'm not scared of making Bad art because i'm well aware that i'm mid at best, i don't have much going for me and i'm already grateful for the people who are nice enough to be kind to me about it. but what scares me every time is that i see Nothing. that whatever i make is empty and boring and it says Nothing, and it brings nothing, means nothing. it's the same stale ugly thing that is okay but is never good and will never be good enough for me to be comfortable in my skin and proud of it enough to say 'yeah, i draw'. and with each year passing it becomes even more embarrassing to identify myself with anything artistic because clearly, i'm not. in those 10+ years of drawing i have reached nothing and god i have known people who have started the same time as me or later and who are thriving while i continued to stagnate after reaching my peak back in 2020. that was the last time i made anything that at least felt good.

surprisingly, i even miss the early days when i kept feeling like shit because i was dependent on my friends praising me but still could just make stuff that was fun and cringe back in 2013-2014. i was unhappy a lot of times but at least i let myself fail and be free and just do little stuff without the care in the world.

and then i had to rely on art to survive because i dropped out of university (being suicidal and depression is kinda tough when your family hates your guts for it and doesn't want to accommodate or help). i would later find an irl non-art job that would last me some months and then go back to live on commissions, and that was enough to live just above poverty line but at least i wasn't chained ot an office life or in retail. and now working this Normal Job for 7+ months i resigned from art once again completely, because well! i have no time! i'm not an artist anymore, it's over!

i still don't know how i got work in that project and still feel like they asked me to work with them because i didn't ask much in terms of pay and frankly, i do feel embarrassed of how badly i did that job, even if i tried really hard. but when i look at what i make, i feel like charging any money for it is absolutely obscene and i'm a fraud.

considering it's the only job i have ever done professionally art wise and never worked on any other projects, i'm more than sure that it was a lucky coincidence that shouldn't have happened to me but did nonetheless.

i keep making stupid ugly mistakes that a professional or at least a person with 10+ years of experience shouldn't be making and it infuriates me so much because it only fuels my belief that it's not for me, that i'm forcing it, that i should simply let it go and stop embarrassing myself at my big age by pretending to play an artist online. i have nothing to offer and it's pathetic to watch, especially 'competing' with teens who are simply having fun while i'm tearing my hair over not being good enough and not making anything worthwhile or that i can show to someone without regret or shame

it's simply. so fucking scary to look at what you built of yourself for years and what you relied on to prove that you have a place in this world and that you're not a waste of space who doesn't deserve to live, only to see that you have built absolutely nothing, and all that effort to prove you have worth means nothing too. i can't do anything well, even the things that i do best.

it all circles back to the people who are my complete opposite and who chewed me and spit me out with disgust and who are living their best lives while i'm struggling to not lose my mind, and it only makes me feel like they were in the right and they should have treated me worse and be even meaner and rub their superiority in my face harder so i would never dare to imagine we could be close or that i could be seen as a person to them. truth to be told, i should have just offed myself instead of whining so much but i have known i'm a coward for years so i will just pity myself and wallow in my missed opportunities and my inherent vices.

i used to want to be seen and understood and praised and validated for what i am and how i feel, but in the last years i simply don't care to be seen, i want to be gone and closed off and for no one to touch me or talk to me because i have Nothing to talk about, nothing to share, and i want no one to see or be close to me because it doesn't matter anymore. i don't believe it's possible for me to connect to anyone in a real way and i'm content with superficial surface level contacts with people (until i'm hit with a nasty realization that i'm no one's closest friend and no one considers me their first option and it should be fine because i put zero effort in being anyone's friend and yet it stings).

god i truly lost the thread of what i was rambling about. but what i can clearly see is that i'm losing whatever scraps i called 'self' and that with each passing day i become less a 'person' and more of a ghost i always thought i was and that i can't handle even people i like so i escaped from all online spaces that aren't tumblr (bc i don't talk to anyone here) and telegram (which i use to communicate at work and with my 3 irl friends). i'm ignoring people's messages and feel like shit and all i can say in my defense is that i'm scared and it sounds so stupid and pathetic. i fear getting older and still being nothing and meaning nothing and regretting not offing myself when i was depressed enough because now i have cats i take care of and i can't just leave them. for fuck's sake.

[dcwnthercbbithcle]

🎔 + Sally/Carmina ~ @who-is-muses

Send Me 🎔 + A Ship And I'll Tell You || ACCEPTING! (Please only send in blog ships though!)

@who-is-muses

Who wins a prize at a carnival/fair/festival: OKAY HEAR ME OUT, I'm saying Sally, BUT that's not to say they aren't both competing! I imagine it's the complete opposite! Sally and Carmina walking by hand in hand, Carmina makes a sound of excitement seeing the booths and games and she traces to Sally in their shared touch language what she's seeing! Sally is excited for her and encourages her to go ahead! For old times sake! Life is too fleeting to deny yourself the simple pleasure of trying to beat a rigged game from your childhood!

Carmina pays for a couple of tries but after her first, she passes the ball to Sally to have a try. Sally, for obvious reasons is flushed, embarrassed, she's blind Mina, she can't play. But Carmina does her little, birdie laugh and shakes her head, she puts her hands over Sally's on the ball and guides her into position to shoot. Really, Sally would be doing all the work, she's just directing her!

Sally is giggling, partially because of the compromising, tooth rottingly romantic position of it all, and also because she genuinely never thought of it, and it's silly and fun! So unbecoming of a lady like herself, but who gives a damn?! IN the end she shoots, the poor underpaid carnie ducking for cover, and somehow she gets it right in! Winning the prize! The prize wasn't the real victory though, Sally got to play and Carmina got that nostalgic rush of joy with her lover. They pass the stuffed animal they get to a child they think would love it more and go on, having the best sort of day!

Who does most of the cooking: Carmina! But this is because Sally often forgets or forgoes feeding herself for almost full days on end. Carmina is just the only one to remember, plus, in addition to this, Sally is from Newfoundland circa. the 1800s, which is to say the only spice she really uses is SALT. Poor Carmina doesn't deserve such a fate, she'll cook and show Sally the Better Ways. SADJADASD

Who does most of the shopping: Sally honestly! I don't have much justification for it, but I feel like she powers through the chores in a way that leaves Mina in love and awe at the efficiency and her ability to politely, kindly and warmly side-step conversation attempts and people's stares!

Who is hopeless at board games: Depends on the boardgame!! Narrative style boardgames like Clue and more strategic ones like Settlers of Catan or Risk are Carmina's BANE but Sally loves them so so much, of course it doesn't help that she clears house at them! Meanwhile, Sally finds that she really is hopeless at sillier boardgames because she overthinks them a ton, and card games in general because she has NO POKER FACE!

Who is always trying to make the other laugh: Carmina <333, Sally is always so forelorn and morose, no one can blame her but the demons and weight she carries are obvious. It makes those sweet times when she laughs so honestly and giggles worth their weight in gold! Sally loves making Carmina laugh too, those sounds she makes are perfection, but, with Carmina, she loves knowing that she can take Sally away from her troubles to a happier place with just the two of them.

Who has a tendency to give out TMI: NEITHER, I MEAN LOOK AT THESE GIRLS, I think if they did anything more than a nuzzle and a kiss in public that they would faint on the spot like true Victorian Ladies!

Who does more DIY projects: HMMMM, I don't know! Maybe neither? I know Carmina has her art projects and endeavors, but I'd hardly call them DIY, it's just art! And Sally, well, Sally may have been a 'I'll do it all by myself,' once upon a time, but she's old and tired of her own bullshit at this point. She's not gonna DIY unless she knows damn well she's an expert at the thing, otherwise she's hiring in a professional.

Who is the big spoon: CARRRRMINA!!!!! Carmina cuddles around Sally, she is so small and she loves to feel that kind of protecting, grounding presence around her!

Who gives more casual affection: HMMMM, I'd say equal measures but just cause Sally is Kinda Weird about affection and has her limits. Typically Carmina initiates it more but they read each other both in body language and language language a lot and often when touching is to be done, they do it as one!

Who reads to whom: Sally to Carmina! Sally likes to read Carmina her braille books and journals! Sally likes to share in that way, even though with her throat and breathing issues, the task may take her years!

Who brings drinks and food without being asked: Carmina!!! Car brings Sally snacks when she's in the zone and places it down as a loving reminder and will give Sally a loving little nuzzle before she heads off to do her thing again!

[gdcatboys]

Things to be emotional about in chapter 27!

-Dream going “ooooo he wants to find a bedroom. Okay. Not that I WANT that or anything but that’s fine.” is very funny. 

-Dream absolutely not knowing why he was here except for being shared. WAIL and also hmmmmm what a fun idea let’s share Dream.

-Dream wants to trust him! :sob:

-just very pleased with sneeg content, he’s so excellent. he should get laid or something.

-constantly wailing about phil with little downy wings

-something about phil patiently waiting for Dream to get his thoughts together and not pushing him. He’s worth waiting for. 

“There hasn’t been anyone else” 

-WAILING aobut this one too.

“I want to be careful *with you*”. 

-HE DESERVES IT

-the way my stomach dropped with Wilbur kneeling. Mine and Techno’s, apperantly.

“Dream always said it was smarter to go limp”

-and both all mixed up about this for wilbur and how dream couldn’t do that. 

-I know it wasn’t the same and I still flinched at Wilbur calling Techno “sir” in bed. Or in general, but that setting isn’t great. 

-Getting techno traumatic backstory? Oh he cares SO MUCH.

-the meanest thing you could do to a dream, telling him he’s not allowed to be a prick.

-Dream is NOT disappointed that Phil lets him up when they’re sparring, he’s NOT. Don’t say that. Shuttup.

-Dream is SO sulky about cheating. He is just wanting to win for normal competative reasons, shuttup. 

“"Do you want me to fuck you, Dream?"

"You said you would," Dream says indignantly.”

-this is *hilarious*

“Dream doesn't bite, and he definitely doesn't preen at Phil's small hum of approval.”

-how to train your Cat with Treats

-Dream SO obviously has Baggage around oral sex. I mean, as makes sense. That’s not gonna come up later or anything.

-Someone ELSE wants to be Phil’s Good Boy I see. 

-someone wants to be Phil’s Handsome Boy I see.

“Dream does his best to pretend he isn't leaning into the touch.”

-everyone is fooled, boyo

-they are all kissing they are all Fond Of Each Other nothing bad can happen now!

Dream doesn't like want to get fucked by Techno, but it's fine if it happens. That's chill.

Sneeg content is actually going to be on the rise in the next few chapters, which is very funny to me.

(Imagine how guilty Dream feels about telling Wilbur to never fight back because it's more dangerous. He gets to fight, because he doesn't care if he gets hurt, but Wilbur can't.)

Techno backstory!

Dream is so incredibly sulky he just wants to get fucked this is so unfair.

a;ljfdlj does he have baggage though??? Like, he definitely has some baggage around sex itself, but I'm not sure that he has specific baggage around oral sex. Like when it comes to that part, he's got more baggage around "person in power telling me what to do" than anything else.

Anyways absolutely nothing bad can happen now, you're right!

[sadistic-softie]

more venting stuff, unfortunately (read tags)

The irrational fear that I'm gonna make an insignificant mistake or unintentionally say something I don't mean and everyones gonna misunderstand or twist it and just latch onto it forever and I'll never be able to move on from it and live out a good life no matter how much I do to better myself and make amends because they'll make sure I'll be nothing but that mistake foreverthat because was what my mom did to me and my siblings all the fucking time.

YES. I SAID NOON WHEN I MEANT AFTERNOON THAT ONE TIME. THAT DOESN'T MEAN I'M SO INCAPABLE OF INDEPENDENCE AND COMMON SENSE THAT I'M GONNA BE, IN YOUR WORDS, "DOOMED," WHEN I'M LIVING INDEPENDENTLY FROM YOU. IT'S A MINISCULE FUCKING MISSPEAK. EVERYONE DOES THAT SHIT! YOU DO IT ALL THE FUCKING TIME AND GIGGLE!!! THERE IS NO REASON TO FUCKING BLOW SHIT OUT OF PROPORTION AND INSULT MY COMPETENCE AS A PERSON BY REFERING TO IT AND TALKING DOWN ON ME AND YELLING AT ME AND SARDONICALLY DEGRADING ME EVERY TIME I HESITATE OR FUMBLE OF HAVE A QUESTION OF CAN'T READ YOUR MIND FOR THE ENTIRE REST OF THE FUCKING WEEK AND THEN SOME!!!! True story. Did that shit all the fucking time to me and pretty much everyone she got close to.

Sorry my blog is all just vent city lately. i just don't wanna put this on my friend cuz they're going through some shit rn and my therapist isn't helping and I really don't wanna switch therapists because I don't think I can wait that long for a new one rn nevermind going through the actuall process for the millionth time after therapists keep ghosting me, getting fired, putting me in danger, making me worse, etc. Honestly, I'm so tired of therapy. It's so stressful it's not worth it anymore. I don't get anything out of it. I just vent any they tell me they're sorry and to keep doing what I'm already doing. Legit every fucking time. If I wanted to hear that on a weekly basis, I'd set it as an alarm on my phone. It's so useless.

And it's unnecessarily diffictult switching therapists. It always takes months, too. Like, just tell me to kill myself at that point. I've found more insight, helpful advice, and relxing distractions from just talking to my family. At least they do more than throw me useless pity and say it sounds like I'm already doing everything I can. I'm struggling! I go to an expert for help and you tell me there's nothing you can do???

They're all like that or worse, and they always reccomend things that don't work or that you already do. So sick of it. They're only good for talking you into a calm state of mind and making you feel like you have a friend for a minute and you feel ok for like an hour before you realize they did nothing to actually help with what you asked for help with. I'm not fucking paying for you to sit there and go, "Oh, woe is you! You poor baby~ You're doing great, yay!" every week after waiting for months to see you and reliving my trauma every time I go to ask for your help and advice with it and pouring out my heart and exposing my thoughts and issues. Fuck off.

Shit, man. My anger is fucking festering so bad. I've been so cynical as of late. What is a good healthy outlet? And not something to push it down and repress it like meditation. I don't wanna ignore it with distractions either. I wanna like, actually let it out. I just don't have many options. I would work out, but that's out of the picture for many factors.

[marssmellow]

I wanna share a bit of a life story to explain WHY I feel I am gonna crush this academic year and I'm finally gonna be the top of my class. Pay attention folks, because this is probably gonna be a once in a lifetime show. I am not usually that comfortable sharing my life story online — I also don't want to share anything because I really don't like the Internet BUT my journal is far away and I am too lazy to pick it up so I am writing here instead (I am, in fact, lying to you. My journal is in the bedside table next to my head right now. I am just too lazy at the moment). Btw I feel like this is a story worth knowing about me as a person that all of you, little people who follow this blog + my three (3) real life friends simply must know to understand me. So fasten your seatbelts, we are going down memory lane together.

(tw: mention of sexual assault)

So, when I was in elementary school I was your typical golden child. I was so good in all of the classes and I always got the best marks. Of course, you are thinking "Whaaat, elementary school is not hard??" You'd be surprised. For some reason, elementary schools in Italy are hard. We learn, of course, all the basics, like the alphabet and how to add numbers and all that shit, but we also learn stuff that your typical 6-year-old wouldn't, like rhyming schemes and syllable patterns, chemical reactions, a bit of algebra, the idea of historical process, English and all that stuff (disclaimer: I do not know if this was the case just for my school or my teachers. I just know that we didn't limit ourselves to the alphabets and the names of colours). Apart from a general difficulty in math (probably caused by an undiagnosed dyscalculia) I was very good. However, I had a competitor. My best friend ALSO wanted to be the best in my class. The only difference between us was that, while I was effortlessly talented (I am saying this with every ounce of humility in my body), she tried really hard. I learned this after a long time, but she had very strict parents that used to treat her very badly if she didn't get the highest mark in a test. She went as far as to complain to the teacher if I got a higher grade that hers in tests. And here's the kicker: she would take it out on me. She used to make me feel bad because I got the full mark while she didn't. Of course, it wasn't my fault, but my little brain did not know that and I remember feeling anxious every time the teacher would give us the result of a test because I wanted to know how HER test went. You can well imagine the effect this had on me. I started doubting myself and blaming myself for other people's results. Maybe that's why I want to be a professor now, or maybe it has nothing to do with that. We will never know. The point is that I started to seriously think that she was better than me because she put all this crazy effort into her test while I just...winged them. I seriously did not study that much. I found the tests easy. That's probably something to do with the fact that I was genuinely curious about the subjects and I absorbed the information like a sponge. Anyway, that was the first thing on my path.

In middle school I was heavily bullied and I even was abused by one of these classmates that thought it was funny to grab on my body (yes, I do have a nice set of boobs) whenever he thought convenient. If that guy is reading this, which I highly doubt, go fuck yourself. Anyway, those were the worst years of my life, let me tell you. I was even bullied by a teacher. This teacher used to be my brother's math teacher 13 years back, and he thought it was extremely funny to constantly remind me how my brother was so much better than me. Once again, nobody ever thought that my struggle with math was probably a product of an undiagnosed dyscalculia, but here I was. Bullied by my math teacher. Around this time, I still had competition in the classroom. Another of my classmates competed with me for the highest grades. But let me tell you. She was so beautiful. It was around this time that I should have started realizing that I probably liked girls because I now realize I had the biggest crush on her. I really didn't care if she was better than me, because she was beautiful, and she was cool and she was dating the boss of the bullies. The class used to hate on me every time I said in class that I loved a book, or every time I would answer a question, or that I would get a nice grade. I remember this classmate of mine that almost beat me up because I got a higher grade than him in technical art — because he wanted to be an architect but I was the top of the class. It was horrible. Those three years taught me to keep my interests to myself to not be hated. It made me hate all those things that made me happy. So I gradually convinced myself that the things I enjoyed...I was the only one enjoying them. Those things were mine and mine alone and nobody would ever understand me. I felt alone. Misunderstood. Hopeless, even. Because the things I liked I couldn't pursue.

This is why I chose a high school with a scientific path. Because my brother is an engineer and all my mother could say was how you couldn't live off of books. So I chose physics, chemistry, math and science in general. Because my family said those are the only things that matter. Because literature, and art, and history and philosophy will leave me jobless. Do you remember the undiagnosed dyscalculia? Yes, it wasn't funny. I failed pretty much all of my math tests. Physics I could pull off. I could decently pass chemistry and biology because it was mainly words and not a lot of numbers. But let me tell you — I was happy. My teachers were AMAZING. My math teacher, he is the nicest man in the world (he is also a feminist and an anarchist and I lost myself in conversations about the patriarchy with him a lot of times. He was very funny too. He is so intelligent, he probably could have guessed I had an undiagnosed dyscalculia but I forgive him for that). And my classmates were cool. They didn't bully me. We soon enough recognized that we were there for the same reason — we were all nerds in something. I was, of course, the nerd in humanities. The only incident I can report happened in the third year, when some of my classmates basically ambushed me and forced me to come out as an asexual bisexual (at the time I thought I was bi. Now I know that I was a lesbian in denial). I never forgave them because I used to trust them. But for the rest, things went smoothly. But where is the problem? Well, for four years I was forced to study things I didn't really enjoy. I was terrible. My grades sucked. I was good in Italian, in history and English and art and philosophy, but the key courses? Let's not even mention them. It was a disaster. I lost all of my confidence and all of my passion.

Which is why I decided to study Languages in uni. I wanted out of the scientific world. Back to humanities I go! It was not easy. My study methods were all calibrated to study and learn and memorize scientific stuff. I remember that I passed my Philology exam because I studied the High German consonant shift using my geometry method. I LOVED these past three years of uni. I don't think I was ever this happy. I finally was able to study something I liked, free of judgment (my family, by this point, recognized that my talents lied somewhere else, and not in chemistry or maths) and free of competition. I could be myself. Freedom.

But. There's always one, right? But this was not true freedom. I was still studying things I didn't really like. Like Spanish, for example. I had to choose a second language and Spanish was the easiest course — or so I was told, because let's be honest, that course was NOT easy, even as an Italian native speaker. Everyone that tells you that Spanish and Italian are similar is LYING. Anyway, you can well imagine how a person that lived through what I experienced can feel about studying stuff you don't like. It felt constraining.

During the past two years, I got very lucky. I found myself a partner that loves me for who I am. Friends that support me and love me and make me laugh and are there for me, and that are genuinely interested in my interests. Friends that root for me, even. My family did a complete 360 and now supports me and my plans for the future. I found a professor that not only accepted to be my supervisor but that goes on and beyond to help me in my career. I feel like I'm on top of the world.

Around two years ago, I realized which Master's I wanted to take. It's in the same university, my supervisor is one of the teachers. This means at least another year with my friends and my partner in the city I love, doing the things I enjoy the most. So, these last two years have felt like...a rite of passage. Like something I had to do in order to get to my Master's. Which can be a great motivator, but it can also transform everything that you do into a chore. I lacked intrinsic motivation. All of my motivation was external. "I have to take this Spanish exam so I can graduate and get to my Master's". That's what I thought for pretty much every single one of my exams. I am not gonna lie, if this is your mindset then studying becomes boring. That's what happened to me, I lost most of my motivation to study and do good. I wasn't studying for the sake of learning, I was studying to get a decent mark on the exam and get accepted in my Master's. It was not pretty. It got me pretty anxious too.

But now? Now everything is changing. I no longer have that kind of motivation. The classes I had to take "for the sake of the grade" are no longer there. All the classes of the next two years are interesting, fun, and motivating. Every single one of them will teach me something for my future career AND are genuinely interesting. Which means that, this time around, I have both internal AND external motivation.

Which is what brings me back to my main point. I feel, I KNOW I will crush this academic year. I have the potential to be at the top of my class again. I know I shouldn't brag (but damn I amaze and astonish, as Hamilton would say) but I really feel this way. My mindset shifted during these summer months and I cannot wait to test this new life philosophy. I really can't wait for this new, big adventure, and to see where it will take me. I hope it's somewhere bright and beautiful. I had enough of the darkness.

[pupintransit]

The thing about social media is that it's a demon that steals your happiness. They say that comparison is thief of joy, and boy howdy does social media love encouraging people to do that. It's bad for the mind to obsess over it, and I do my best to avoid doing that. So you can imagine my dilemma now that I've picked online sex work as a second job for when I'm post-op, which nessecitates having an online presence.

Fuck.

Well, this is the path I've chosen so let's see if i can unpack this a touch. What causes me the most dread about my online presence is, predictably, when posts don't do as well as I would have hoped. Duh, right? Obviously you'd be bummed if the content you made doesn't resonate with folks. What are some reasons a post might not do well?

It was posted at an inopportune time of day. Statistically most of my audience is from the eastern United States, the UK, and northern Europe. If I'm posting my content at 630 in the morning PST, which is a couple hours after i wake up, most folks who follow me are either just ending or just starting their work day. That of course means they don't have the time to check Twitter or whatever their app of choice may be. I may wish to experiment with different submission times to see when folks most reliably view my content.

The content wasn't interesting. I stand by everything I post but obviously not everything is gonna be a winner. If a specific post doesn't resonate with folks in the way I was hoping I'll tailor my content around things that do. I can also muck around with captions to try and make engagement a little more enticing.

I'm bad at this. Not likely since the feedback I've been getting up to this point has been very positive. I have to imagine this means I'm at the very least competent at being slutty online.

My audience isn't all that big. Really there's nothing I can do about that other than put myself out there and do my best to engage folks. All that takes is time.

User bases changes on a given platform. As we know Twitter is facing a mass exodus due to it exploding all around us, and Tumblr never quite recovered from the porn ban back in 2018. Unexpected things can impact the appeal of a platform in the longterm. Poor engagement on posts may very well be because the audience for the kind of content isn't there, or that formerly active users have abandoned ship completely. Again, not much I can do about this one other than focus on platforms that have proven to be sustainable.

Seems doable now that i've laid it all out.

You may be thinking to yourself "Hey wow this guy is really overthinking posting his nudes online, I feel like it's not that big of a deal." To which I would say Hello And Welcome To My Tumblr, where talking about my various neuroses is cheaper than therapy.* If anything I write is relatable to even one person, it was worth writing and worth the risk of being teased about.

*i'm fine, i have an appointment with a new therapist next week

[juicywritinghoard]

emoji prompts

🥺you sleep with the stuffed animal I won you??

🤏 truly I am this close to kissing you or biting you and I haven't decided which

🥖 I would do anything to get you to bake me more bread, was that straight up mind control oh my god

🥚babe we cannot raise a dragon egg babe please we live in an apartment 

🧨stop asking me to do crimes with you I am falling in love too hard 

🏆okay I know the two of us are crazy stupid competive and are very close to getting kicked out for our bs but trying to beat you makes my blood pump like it never has before

🌮I'm the celebrity guest on your cooking show trying not to show the whole world I can't make anything more complicated than grilled cheese but I'd do anything to make you keep laughing

🎟did not actually expect to win the lottery with you and now we have to split the cash, but at least I can afford time off work now to run from your insane family that's after the money? 

🎈you're a single parent at this birthday party at my work and I cannot believe I have to keep up the shtick when I'd much rather be wooing you 

🩰we are rivals and I hate your guts stop being so pretty and kind about me getting the lead or I'm gonna have a feeling about it

🔌androids aren't supposed to have souls but we sure are falling in love like you have one 

📚you are my favorite author and you haven't published anything for so long can I help you please please please

🔎my life long dream of inspecting a murder mystery super might get me killed but like, worth it

📬penpals to lovers I'm willing it into existence I know you live so far away but I can't help falling ass over teakettle in love with you, I mean. you seal your letters and doodle and add washi tape how could I Not

🔒I broke into your car to impress you when you locked your keys in and now I have to construct an elaborate lie to explain myself 

🛏this mattress store is gonna kick us out. yep

👑stop kissing me so right I have to assassinate you

🗡four minutes after you, my sworn rival, tilted my chin up with your sword

🎻you keep asking if your practicing is bothering me but honestly I'm so swept away. play something for me. haha I mean freebird not a like, romantic song, that would be, wild

🎩your costume is stupid but just you wait until you see mine

🔇you haven't been online in two days would it be insane for me to drive to your place and make sure you haven't like, died. because I am omw

💍good morning will you marry me

🛒every little moment with you is a sweet adventure, even going to the grocery store, which I hate to bastard death

🥧 I am so sad but this pie you brought me is helping a little. let me get two spoons 

🎂am I the first person to wish you happy birthday today? it's so late :( I'm dropping everything rn let's celebrate you

🦖and don't get me started on jurassic Park as a concept if they had just had some ENRICHMENT, sorry, sorry, you don't need to listen to me go on. I know it's annoy- why are you looking at me like that

🦄so like. Magic is real huh. and you're magic? cool cool cool. I'm gonna be sooo normal about this just. just give me a sec

👽no you crashlanded your spaceship in my backyard I think I'm owed an explanation actually 

😻I'm so sorry my cat keeps escaping to go to your place, Beans is just obsessed with you. haha and who could blame him, honestly

❤️‍🔥may or may not be burning my exes things in the park and sobbing be cool maybe

[edoro]

I'm gonna be honest, the main reason I thought Darius and Raine would find out was actually though *Adrian*/the scouts. Gossip travels, and Adrian doesn't strike as the kind of person who would keep his mouth shut when talking about it would humiliate Hunter *more*. Then again, depending on what he thinks Belos's reaction might be/how smart he is, Adrian might actually decide to be discreet. There's also the possibility scouts spread the story warning each other to avoid Adrian/those two scouts.

oooh you know what, i hadn't considered that! Much To Think About, Anon, Much To Think About

so Adrian strikes me as, perhaps not stupid, but a man who makes bad decisions and lets his temper get the better of him, and has an inflated sense of his own worth and importance and competence in any given situation

that being said, this whole thing did not go well for him. if he had actually returned with the fugitive Golden Guard in tow, no matter what shape he was in, then that would be one thing. instead, he lost the Guard, failed to brand even a single kid, and got spanked by a bunch of teens and a geriatric school administrator. not a good look!

seems like he was still in pretty rough shape by the time the Day of Unity rolled around, too, so who even knows at what point he recovered enough to be able to say anything?

he strikes me as the "defensively pretending embarrassing shit never happened" type, so i can't imagine he'd want to directly bring up such an embarrassing failure.

(i COULD see him bringing it up to needle Darius, specifically - something something your previous mentor something something shameful conduct something something, perhaps, but probably not if the whole thing went so badly for him. if he'd actually brought Hunter back, though... although i wonder how Belos would react to that, tbh.)

i could see the scouts talking about it, though. locker-room bragging and all of that. these are obviously not exactly the Emperor's most morally stringent soldiers.

tbh, while i don't think it's ever gone this far before, this is probably not the first time Hunter's had to deal with inappropriate comments or conduct from other scouts. sure, his rank protects him - he's the Emperor's right-hand man, so anything you do to him is an insult to the Emperor himself, right? - but he's also just a kid among a bunch of adult soldiers, and i'm just saying that 'the military' is not a great place to be a vulnerable person when it comes to sexual assault and harassment, and it's hard to get more vulnerable than 'isolated child soldier whose singular guardian is controlling and abusive.'

anyway, they'd probably talk about it. a lot of other scouts would be rightfully horrified, but there are plenty who'd spread the gossip around, and tbh it's probably going to be less "we put the Golden Guard to sleep and raped him in front of a 12 year old" and more "we fucked the Emperor's pet boy"

and well, you know, there are probably SOME people who feel a bit protective of the literal child soldier, regardless of how much Belos tries to poison his relationships with everyone else, so... the castle is a pretty cutthroat environment, and being a scout is a dangerous job, who knows what might happen...

[rare-and-beautiful-things]

The first thing I see when I wake up is that your requests are open again?? Best way to wake up EVERR

I am once again begging for your godly Union content 🙏 how would the boys react to a girl who should be scared of them but isn’t? No pressure to write this if you don’t feel like it of course!!! I look forward to reading anything you write! <3

Omg you're so sweet!!! How are you always so sweet??? Leave some sweetness to candies and cakes please! 💙💙💙 Also it was incredibly pleasant for me to see that the first request was from you, you never fail to make me feel inspired 😌

Kinda touched a sensitive topic here? Maybe? Potentially problematic? But also the violence is canon-typical imo so 🤷‍♀️

This girl is not scared of them?! The audacity!

ft. Donald Na, Wolf Keum, J&J, Forrest Lee

Donald Na

Donald works hard to maintain his image of someone strong, intimidating and practical. Delinquents are especially sensitive to it because they know or even have seen what he's capable of, but just about anyone would feel uneasy in his presence. So someone who's not afraid of him? Bound to catch his attention.

Now would this attention be the good or the bad kind... depends. It's easier since it's a girl cuz girls are generally seen as less threatening. It would be a different story if Donald (or anyone on this list) saw her fighting and being good at it, so I'm not taking her potential fighting skills into account here. The boys don't know if she's a fighter. But regardless of her sex and gender, if her being unafraid manifests in the form of aggression it's not gonna be a pretty sight.

If he's with a business partner he's not gonna do much. Will try to intimidate you with words, glances and body language and if all fails will get Kingsley to show you out. But if you end up embarrassing or provoking him in front of his fellow delinquents he can get physical. Would probably prefer not to hit you but if it's that or tainting his reputation? He'll do what needs to be done, and chances are he won't even feel any remorse. Can try to measure his strength but the punch will be real - will probably punch in the solar plexus or the throat, not the face though.

But if you're able to be unafraid of him without being aggressive or provocative? It's gonna be so good. If you're competent in addition to that and able to provide valuable insight into something he's doing? *chief's kiss* Congrats, you've earned the right to speak on equal terms, maybe even interrupt him - you gotta be polite and respectful about this tho.

Actually, I think it's possible to get away with provoking him if you're smart about this. Like, he's so proud of being open to challenges. Dare him to do something using his brain, not his fists (gotta be a situation where violence isn't an obvious choice tho). He might even come to appreciate this. Expect him challenging you in return tho.

Wolf Keum

As we've seen in the scene set in a bar bathroom not everyone is scared of Wolf. If they don't know him or about him people can think he's just some unpleasant punk or a nerd cuz glasses. He's infamous in the delinquent circles tho, so most are terrified of him.

If it's some random girl he doesn't personally know I doubt he'll think much about it or try to make a fuss. Even if she broke his three seconds rule or something, he's a lot more likely to ignore it or just make some intimidating comment than start a fight. I mean, there's no honour in beating a girl, not much fun for him either. Plus he's a lot more likely to get in trouble for beating a girl than a guy, so... not worth it. Also did you see him? Girls probably break that rule every damn day cuz he's so handsome

Now if it's someone he knows and, more importantly, someone who knows him... this can get interesting. Or really bad. Either or.

I'm sure he's fully capable of telling a girl to stop staring at him, might physically force you to turn away though it will depend on your dynamics. If you taunt or provoke him... well, r.i.p. Where Donald is likely to hit a girl if it concerns his reputation, Wolf would do so because he believes you asked for it. Won't hold back either. At this point you can't plead ignorance anymore, y'know? And Wolf doesn't discriminate, so whether you win or lose you don't get special treatment just because you're a girl.

Now if you manage to be unafraid without ticking him off he might straight up get addicted to your company. You're probably rather chill in this case (or bubbly? can see it both ways, but I'll roll with chill for now), so your presence is going to be very calming after you make it clear that you do respect him and he doesn't need to prove anything to you. You already know what he's about after all, and it's alright, you're not scared and you don't feel the need to tame him either. It'll take some time for him to grasp the idea but when he does it's like a whole new world has opened.

He'll probably try to scare you on purpose. Like, swinging at you and seeing if you flinch (and if you do he'll bully tease the hell out of you), making an effort to sound and look really intimidating (and if you're uncomfortable he's gonna look super smug). Really, just things to make sure you see the worst in him but usually in a light-hearted way. It would mean the world to him if you saw all of it and still wouldn't be scared or hate him or grow disgusted.

J&J

Jimmy says it's all good. He doesn't do all he does to scare little girls like you - it's a show for his fellow men. Girls should and do appreciate him for being so cool and strong. Jack doesn't say shit about this but is actually curious if it's a facade or you're dumb or misinformed or if you seriously just do not give a fuck that they're delinquents and strong af and rather aggressive too. He'll try to figure it out on his own but at some point might straight up ask you.

It's all good in the start - until you being unafraid of them becomes... too clear for comfort. Even if you're not particularly aggressive some comments or even just nonchalant behavior in some situations would make them kinda uneasy. Jimmy would probably try and warn you about possible consequences of your carelessness - in this jokingly mocking manner of his, maybe will weave some vague threats in too. Jack would be upfront at this point, telling you to stop with whatever you're doing and notifying you about the exact things that will happen if you continue.

Aggression if justified and expressed in private might be alright, perhaps even encouraged later on. But in front of other delinquents? Yeah... not gonna work. There's this idolised image of the perfect guy in most delinquents' heads - strong, cool, doesn't care about pretty much anything or anyone. Most of them try to match it. Wolf and Donald can sometimes allow themselves the luxury of refusing to conform just because they're that strong, cool and infamous. Jimmy can't - like, really, the situation in Yoosun is obviously not all that great with ex-leader trying to bark on Jimmy and Helmet snitching. There's also the matter of his pride. So Jimmy's more likely than any other guy on this list to hit you because of something petty. He'll probably opt for a slap on a cheek since it's a girl. Will regret it very much later but I doubt he'll apologize. Since he can't actually promise not to do this shit in the future, y'know.

I don't see Jack hitting a girl if she didn't at least hit him first? He would be really angry at Jimmy for doing that too - like, he gets that reputation is to be secured and all but fuck, is he angry. Jimmy's probably gonna get silent treatment for a week or so. Jack might try to explain the situation to you again - won't apologize for his friend tho. Can say that you were warned so it's your responsibility as much as theirs or something and like, kinda true

All in all, it's obviously possible to be on good terms with them without being scared. You just need to be careful cuz the line between blatant disrespect and simple disregard for the danger is really thin with these two. As long as you're able to do that you should grow on them rather quickly.

Forrest Lee

Forrest makes an effort to be perceived as intimidating by guys but he probably treats scaring girls as an undesirable but ultimately unavoidable side effect. So if a girl is not scared of him? Wow! Wait, is that because you know some delinquents stuff and think he's weak? Is that it?

He's not gonna be really insecure about this if you don't tease him too hard or appear overly aggressive tho. He'll simply be too happy for that shit. I mean, if you're not scared of him he might perhaps get closer to you? He's not gonna assume you like like him obviously but maybe you could be friends? You'd probably be his first female friend...

While I believe that all the above-mentioned boys would kinda prefer the girl to be tougher, firmer in such scenario, Forrest would probably like someone softer - whether it be her appearance or personality.

I think he's rather open to criticism, and he'll find himself seeking your opinion in no time, so there wouldn't be much of a chance of something violent starting because of a misunderstanding or plain pettiness. If you decide to, I dunno, fuck around and make an ass of yourself the most he's gonna do is physically remove you from the situation and cut ties with you. I don't think he would hit a girl if he isn't sure if she can take it or if she can fight (and if he does know she can whether he will or not would largely depend on their relationship and particular situation).

[cognitosclowns]

We love AB brain rot here, I'm currently sick so I was wondering if I could get HC's for AB tasting classic feel good foods for the first time. Like chicken noodle soup.

GUH <333 I ALREADY DID SOME SICKFIC STUFF HERE BUT <333 IM A SUCKER FOR THIS KIND OF STUFF + FOOD HCS SO,,,, EEE <33

SFW BELOW,

Tw for food and cooking!! Illness, medicine!!

GUH <3333 THERES SO MUCH CUTE SHIT HERE

I already did one where he's a Worried Mess (tm) so how about when he's maybe,, 80% less anxiety and 40% more competent??

AS MUCH AS YOU BEING SICK SUCKS ASS <333 YOU CAN ABSOLUTELY MAKE HIM TRY SOME COMFORT FOODS <33

because,, its YOU and you’re SICK and >:(((( if you two sharing a meal is gonna make you feel better, than goddammit fine he’ll swallow his pretension for 30 minutes.

 in all honesty

he doesnt eat that often, even after he gets his tongue upgraded bc it feels like more of a hassle than its worth

when he does eat its,, usually ungodly combinations of ingredients and/or things that absolutely should not be consumed (the mental image of him eating a bowl of Dried Herbs like cereal will never leave my head)

SO,,, <333 THERE IS A LOTTA STUFF HE HASN'T TRIED?? LIGHTNING ROUND SMDNSDM

He doesn't get the whole Chicken Noodle Soup thing and why that's your go-to when,, there's much better combinations of foods to assist immune system function?? But he doesn't say anything bc <333 he has learned not to be a brat when you're sick.

IT DOES TASTE GOOD THOUGH <3333 he understand a bit better when he notices how much it,, warms him up on the inside <333

Applesauce???? is,,, fine??? He's a very textural eater and its too soft for his liking. He'll stick to Just Apples!!

Oatmeal feels like he's chewing on paper. Horrible texture and absolutely flavorless. He doesn't understand why people eat this. You're adding at least 7 different things to make it palatable. Oatmeal isn't a food that's a test of endurance smnsmds.

TEA <3333 he'll insist on you having at least one or two, and ofc he's gonna have one with you because,, <3 tea <3

>:( he will complain if you ask him to make you a cocoa because the sugar isn't gonna help >:((((( its gonna irritate your throat, it isn't worth it (he will still make u one if you want it smdnsmd just with a lot of whinging. also i HC this man having a Massive Sweet Tooth But Refuses To Admit It...... so instead of making himself one, he steals a few sips from yours when youre distracted lmao sorry)

You suggest garlic bread and because he is a Weak Willed Man Who Cannot Resist How Cute You Look, he absolutely makes some <333 he has 7 slices and then insists 'its nothing special' while reaching to munch on another one. Stubborn bastard can't just admit he likes things smdnsmd

NSBDNSD OKAY THIS ISN'T COMFORT FOOD BUT LIKE,, BUT <333 

he keeps insisting on giving you some Cough Syrup and,,, eventually you get fed up and say that 'youll only try it if he has some too'....

OKAY HE HOLDS IT TOGETHER FOR LIKE 5 SECONDS BUT THEN HE TRIES TO SWALLOW AND,,, yeah he's pulling out alll the expressions, lunging to Inhale Water to dilute the taste, Wiggly Fingers (tm), slams his fist on his thigh hard enough to dent it-

 MSNDSMD ONCE HE HAS IT DOWN HE WONT STOP SWEARING AND PACING AROUND THE ROOM???

<333 on the plus side, he'll never insist on you taking it again. In fact he may just throw it out when you aren't looking smdnsd what a horrible substance

THIS WAS SUPER CUTE <333 TYSM ANON, TAKE GOOD CARE OF YOURSELF!!!