#kicking this post out the house. it needs to leave my drafts now

[jetlaggingbehind]

just watched the creator

[bigtreefest]

watermelon juice dripping down his throat, onto his chest hair LEMME LICK

I don’t even like watermelon that much😅, but I like him. A lot. 🫣

Drip… and Lick

Pairing: Curtis Everett x reader

Wc: idk, written in drafts, but it’s gotta be at least 1k

Warnings: um, licking, and Curtis… so, yeah 18+ only, minors DNI

A/N: Inspired by this post and some of my beautiful hoe friends @thezombieprostitute @krirebr @stargazingfangirl18 @brandycranby This is me kicking off the 300 follower summer celebration with my own mini fic. Hope you enjoy and I can’t wait for your your feedback on this one😈

Made with the prompts: a long drive together + “I’ve got something else you can lick” + [watermelon] dripping down someone’s skin

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Curtis had wanted to have a picnic with you all summer, but your busy schedule hadn’t allowed for it. And honestly, neither had the weather. The days had been long and hot, unbearably so, with UV indexes maxed out. Stepping outside was like asking to be baked, which is why he was grateful for all the rain that hit this past week.

It was a great reprieve for everything: the grass, the garden, the sweltering temperatures. Now that the outside was actually bearable, Curtis could finally go through with his plans.

Before you got off work, he packed up his picnic basket, preparing the summer goods for you. A nice little salad, some sandwiches, and a beautiful watermelon he found at the farmer’s market the other day. He was all prepped once you got home.

As soon as you walked through the door, you were greeted by a kiss on the cheek and Curtis holding your favorite comfy sundress. After a long day at work, the last thing you wanted to wear was pants, so you went to change.

Once you emerged, hair tied up and off your neck finally and flowy dress adorned, you were ready to go. You grabbed Curtis’s outstretched hand and let him lead you to the truck where you slid up in to the middle of the bench seat.

An evening drive like this was one of your favorite things to do together. Letting the breeze flow with the windows down. Seeing the scenery of passing houses turn into open fields of wildflowers on the rolling hills.

After taking the long way around, Curtis pulled into the spot he always did at the end of the road on the back side of the airport where the two of you would lay in his truck bed to watch the planes take off and land. He hopped down out of the cab and held a hand out for you, taking you back for the cozy, yet cool setup he had made earlier.

The two of you got settled, Curtis pulling out your sandwich and handing it to you just as the sun began to reach the horizon. The sky was painted with hues of red and light purple, wispy clouds making way for the stars that would soon twinkle, framing the moon in the open sky.

You settled up close next to him, the two of you enjoying the main part of the meal as the planes flew overhead, the lights of the runway flicking on as the sky dimmed. All you could think about while you were eating was how sweet this was, how sweet he was for doing it so often for you. Curtis was a gruff, hardworking man, and with you, that prickly shell turned soft, as he used his efforts to show you his appreciation for the love and peace you brought to him. The feelings he thought he’d never have, the ones he thought he didn’t deserve. His humility and bottomless affection was all you saw, though, the deep care you held for each other tying your souls together. In this moment, you realized if he was all you had for the rest of your life, that would be more than enough, and you wanted to show that. You needed him, and could feel it start to burn in the depths of your belly: a love that you had to show, that you wanted to show, again, and again, and again, for eternity.

You climbed into Curtis’s lap, giving him a peck, your sundress falling around your legs, leaving your core settling right over him in his worn jeans. Your hands gently came up to frame his face, his beard lightly scratching your palms. Your body was growing warm against the cold evening air, buzzing with desire from the way he cared for you, the way you cared for each other.

“Thank you for this, Curtis. It’s perfect. The food was delicious, but I think I’m ready for dessert.”

Curtis’s large hands settled on your waist as he looked up at you. He could see the warmth in your eyes at that statement. It was evident this little date made your day so much better, but he hadn’t quite caught on yet to the true fire in your gaze.

“Yeah? I’ve got this beautiful watermelon. Thought that would be nice and refreshing.”

He looked up at you with the softest features, eyes switching between yours, looking for approval. Your thumbs brushed over his freckled cheeks, more prominent from the summer sun, as you nodded with a breathy giggle.

“Um, yeah. That sounds good.”

He beamed up at you, turning to the side to pull out the fruit before he went still. He hadn’t cut it. Or really even brought anything to cut it, unless you counted the flimsy plasticware the two of you ate your salads with. He looked up at you with big eyes as you laughed again, catching on to what happened.

“Hold on, give me a second, I can fix this. You don’t mind if it’s not perfectly cut, right?”

You shook your head, curious to see what he could possibly have in mind. He turned the watermelon upright as he grabbed a plastic knife, adjusting it in his hand so it seemed stable enough. He raised his hand, stabbing the edge of the utensil into the tough rind. That obviously wasn’t doing much, but it did enough. You watched as Curtis’s thick, yet surprisingly nimble fingers widened the nick into a gap as he put both hands in and pulled, the robust fruit splitting in two as some juices leaked out. As did yours, as you felt a flush of arousal at the show of brute strength. So casual, he probably had no idea what he was doing to you.

If that knife was any indication, there probably wasn’t a good way to get the flesh out, either, so he opted to just keep with his bare hands, scooping out a piece to feed to you. You opened your mouth, eyes never leaving his as your lips surrounded his thumb and pointer finger. The juice from his hand ran down his thick forearm, over the hair that covered it. As he moved to pull away, your hands quickly snapped to stop him, eyes still locked. You dipped your head to the drop that had trickled down, now about to reach his elbow, and stuck out your tongue, tracing the path of watermelon juice up to his palm, all the way back to his fingers, sucking them and releasing with a pop.

Curtis watched in real time as your pupils blew wide and you began to unbutton his linen shirt before reaching over and grabbing your own piece of watermelon to feed to him. Oh. That was where this was going. How did he not see it before? He was never going to slice a watermelon again, but he planned to get a lot more before summer was done. And he’d gladly pay a fortune to get them out of season if they made you react like this.

You popped the piece in his mouth, watching as the juice dribbled down his chin, and down to his neck, over the course hair of his chest. You pulled back slightly, watching the stream right next to his nipple, and you ducked down again and flattened your tongue against the firm warmth of his chest, circling the peak before tracing up again, tongue being deliciously scratched until you reached the smooth, slightly salty skin of his neck, dressed with the humidity and a thin layer of sweat.

You pressed a kiss to his jugular as he swallowed the sweet fruit, his lips parting in a gasp, waiting for what you were going to do next. The fire in his eyes grew, though, to meet yours, as his awe-struck, enamored look turned into a smirk. Curtis finally spoke up in a strained, deep voice, silky with seduction.

“You know, I’ve got something else you can lick…”

Bonus A/N: for your fantasies, brandy bean. Eat your heart out.

Taglist: @hawkeyes-queen @ronearoundblindly

[ri-writes-if]

Are there any funny memes you've seen and immediately thought "Ah yes, (specific RO)"?

Laz and Az radiate the smug knife cat.

OH it's them ABSOLUTELY

I probably did, but I'm not going to find them now 🥲 There's a meme I wanted to share but I realized it's spoilerish so I had to leave it in drafts. I might post it after the next chapter hm

I was messing with this thing in the past and made some fun combos, so have some of my favorites instead of memes:

Laz: You seem familiar, have I threatened you before? * Oracle: I’ve come to a point in my life where I need a stronger word than fuck * Oracle: With great power comes great need to take a nap. Wake me up later. * Az: .. .----. -- / … --- .-. .-. -.-- [translation: I’M SORRY] Laz: What's that? Az: Remorse code. Laz: I'm even angrier now. * Az: Kicks the door down looking panicked Ash: What did you do? Az: Nobody died. Ash: WHAT KIND OF ANSWER IS THAT?! * Oracle: Three words. Say them and I'm yours. Az: Three words. Oracle: * Oracle: Az… Why did you draw a pentagram on the floor? Az: Your text told me to satanize the house before you returned. Oracle: I wrote sanitize, Az. * Oracle: What's a word thats a mix between 'sad' and 'mad'? Ash: Disgruntled, miserable, desolated- Az: Smad. * Az: Is letting someone win at chess sapiosexual bottoming Os: Does anyone in this godforsaken group ever think before they speak * Selene: Okay. I get it. You've had a really hard time lately, you're stressed out, seven people died- Oracle: Twelve, actually. Selene: Not the point. Look, they're dead now and really whose fault is that? Oracle: Yours! Selene: That's right: no one's.

[aroyaltailor]

semi-hiatus (vent warning)

Currently failing Spanish 102 and things are not getting better. In a move that I'm sure will surprise none of those who follow this blog, I am going to be taking a hiatus from any writing. Yes, another break! Another hiatus, putting off work on this blog and leaving the replies I owe to rot in my drafts. The words simply do not come out of me, and I'm still struggling with perfectionism that blocks any genuine attempts at getting anything done. I basically have to learn the entirety of Spanish, or at least the relevant information for the class, because if I fail I won't be able to graduate this semester.

It's the same damn thing every time. I've submitted a request for the counseling service provided by my college, but they have a two week waiting period due to the huge influx of students needing mental health help these days. I genuinely believe that I've reached a point where I need professional help with my writing, and that I have somekind of OCD that prevents me from simply writing the first draft without needlessly fussing over every word.

I really didn't want to have to make this post. I was holding on to the hope that things would be alright. I was hoping that everything would be okay. That I'd be able to create legitimate routines, learn how to comprehend Spanish, and that I would be able to have the time to sit back and focus and work on building this blog.

The first exam of the class is next Tuesday, September 10th. I won't lie, I'm basically spiraling at this point. Self-care is at a total minimum, and I haven't really been taking care of my health either. I'm not eating much, both out of lack of hunger and the simple fact that my household doesn't have any food available. Today alone, I've been slouched over the table in the upstairs study rooms of my college, staring at this damned screen all day. Suicidal thoughts, a bit of self-harm with a pen, it feels just as bad as organic chemistry. And the genuine possibility that I might be kicked out the house if I fail Spanish 102 isn't helping matters. I don't really have anyone to talk to either, not in-person at least. Not really even online either, but that's probably too jaded for me to say. Doubt anyone will even read this, but that understandable I guess. Everyone has their own problems, so many people do, and they can't pause and stop when they have their own concerns to deal with, especially for someone that hasn't really produced anything.

Let's just say it isn't getting better. It's not. It's getting worse. I can't be on here as much as I want to, and I'm beginning to think that I've been damaged permanently by what happened to me. My dad had lung cancer, I did everything I could, but that's all I can say about it. Even just typing that sentence has me bawling now.

I'll either pass Spanish 102 this semester or I won't. If I don't, I definitely won't take it well. I'm sorry for everything I've said about how I'd made progress, or that I'd be around to do replies only to post nothing at all. I'm not doing well and haven't been for awhile.

Hopefully things will get better. But then again, I've said that before haven't I? Time will tell. I'm sorry to everyone for the times I've wasted their time with starters or replies I haven't responded to yet. Blog isn't even finished yet, but if I pass I'll try. I promise I'll try.

[bigenderanne]

Today was the first time I've checked my inbox since I wrote my side of the situation. I'm working on another post in my drafts now that's bringing out more emotions in me so it might take awhile as it goes more into detail my history with transphobia and abuse, but I wanted to write some more quick and to the point (and less triggery) for those of you who are checking in on me, and to answer a few questions that have repeatedly come up in my hundreds of asks.

Most of the asks have been supportive and checking in on my mental health and physical safety. Thank you for that! Obviously my mental health is still a little shaken, and I'm uncomfortable with the fact she knows we've bought a new house, but I believe we are physically safe. That being said, it is part of the restraining order that's she's not allowed to interact with us on the internet in any way, shape, or form, nor is she allowed to use any electronic means of communication to interact with us, either. This is why I have refrained from responding to any of her posts. It would be completely unacceptable for me interact with her with the expectation she cannot reply.

This leads me into restraining orders. No, you cannot get a restraining order on anybody for any reason. You certainly cannot get one "just because you don't like someone's hair color" as one asker put it. We had to provide evidence that it was necessary for our peace of mind and safety. Stalking is incredibly hard to prove, and "professional" stalkers know the laws and how to skirt them. I am lucky that she didn't. I've worked with people who have been stalked, due to the nature of my job, and will say I had it pretty easy in comparison, just due to the fact she was being so blatant.

I'm obviously not going to name names because she may be reading my blog, but if anything I say upsets her she only has herself to blame. Someone involved in the group chat had been lurking, just due to the fact they joined for the fandom and when it devolved into her talking about how much she hated me, they lost interest. However when she started talking about the intervention, they'd gone back and taken well over a hundred screenshots and compiled them into a folder. In these screenshots were also pictures she had taken of us from afar. Mostly pictures of me at clubs, or at arcades, or drinking/vaping, sometimes talking to men (strangers, people I never spoke to before or since, so I don't even recall these men, but I am a very chatty person and strike up conversations with people I don't know often) insisting that I must be having sex with them based on body language. If anybody even tried to say that I was just probably being friendly, she would immediately tell them she was going to kick them from the group. (She started the channel.) She would often post memes she found on the internet with the theme of how extroverts are terrible and simply leave my name as the comment. It seemed to have become a meme itself within the group chat: they'd find a meme about extroverts that was cruel, or even just a meme about how introverts are so much better, and simply respond with my name. This led to them using my face as a meme and simply reposting the extrovert meme texts around my face. The picture used was one she had taken of me sneezing, which looked absolutely ugly because I was sneezing. (To the handful of asks who made comments about me being an extrovert automatically made it ESH and all extroverts are obnoxious: try hard not to stress too much about starting high school in a few weeks. Freshman year is hard on everyone.)

Outside of the groupchat, although the photos she had taken of me without my consent was probably the only evidence really needed, "Mike" did recount the many, many times she would show up to events "coincidentally" or how she was shopping at all the places he shopped at the same time he shopped despite the fact she lived on the other side of the city where there are more stores closer to where she lives. Furthermore, many of our friends corroborated that she would often ask them what we were doing, if we had plans, and would often show up to events they were at but if we were not in attendance she would leave as soon as it was apparent we wouldn't be showing. Since we had all noticed this behavior, and die to my job I am well aware of the warning signs, we had all began writing down and taking pictures of these incidents, such as how her car was parked outside Mike's street (where it was public property) until two am a few times. The people that were in my house, I have come to find out, were minors, so im trying to be forgiving. I have not spoken to any of them since, and frankly I have no desire to ever speak to, or see, them again, but they are young and she absolutely had them convinced I was cheating. I ought to have called about her entering my home without permission, but I didn't. I didn't want to get cops involved.

Also, there has been a few "lesbians uhauling lol" comments that I can only assume are from terfs, so I don't particularly care, but for those who may be worried about the living situation for non terfy reasons: we have known each other for four years and been best friends for at least three of those four years. We got even closer this past year. Also, I was renting and the screaming did piss off my landlord and even though I explained the situation and I wasn't given an eviction notice, I didn't feel safe staying there because I started getting text reminders about noise complaints for, like, doing laundry in the afternoon. I brought up moving in together to his apartment, but we realized both of us were first time home buyers. He has good credit and doesn't have any school payments, so his debt to income ratio was practically nonexistent. I have great credit, although my DTI is higher than his. The mortgage was more than half what either of us were paying for rent. So really it actually made financial sense as well. We had been casually discussing it before we started dating, moving in as friends/roommates.

I feel like I'm doing as okay as I can, considering the circumstances. I'm a private person so I won't be putting my actual blog title nor hers anywhere. I have no desire to attract more attention to my blog, which is honestly just destiel, Good Omens, OFMD, and other ships. It's not a personal blog at all and I'd like to keep it that way.

[bonesandthebees]

I care about Rose! In fact, we started watching house of dragon (only 2 episode so far though) and it constantly makes me think of Rose because you use it as inspiration. Like obviously there’s the coronation scene which reminds me of stars. And there’s the character Willum is sorta kinda inspired by. And it’s an entirely different world, but every time I’m drawn back to Rose wondering how things will play out. (Which is not pressure to finish writing it if you don’t want to. Writer’s block can be a bitch and I get that the motivation for this project has been sucked out, but I just want you to know that I still care, and I’m not the only one.)

Also, I’ve been meaning to start my Ready, Set, Detonate analysis but I keeps getting away from me. I’m not sure there will be much to analyse, but there’s definitely fun details I want to point out. Oh and I am Looking 👀 at the fit/pac tag and kicking my feet. I don’t actually know if they are already in a relationship (I’m sure we’ll find out, but I just loved Fit’s little “Pac’s here?” That man is gone. Oh and I’m so excited for this Tubbo and to read more Bagi and the lore. Just all of it.

Then the original writing is a mood. I keep getting like a few chapters into my story before deciding it’s not good enough or thinking of something else I could do and throwing it all out. It’s this constant loop that never seems to get anywhere even though the story gets more and more fleshed out in my head every time. I think it’s because the opportunities are endless. Like there’s no characters and personalities and dynamics to stick to like there is in fan fiction. It’s free game but that does mean you have to decide everything yourself.

Anyway, best original writing advice I can give is remember the drafting process. There’s going to be a shit ton of drafts, which feels different for you because you’ve been mostly writing stories and posting them as you go, which means some minor or major editing, but leaves you without a chance to do a once over. It’s a sort of pressure to get everything right the first time. Meanwhile, original writing is something you keep close to your chest. There’s different drafting stages ranging from the zero draft (aka excessive daydreaming about all the possibilities) to the final draft (where you just go through and kill all your darlings and pour over ever single word to find the right one).

I’m struggling a lot with the first draft, which is literally just getting words onto a page. It’s a somewhat coherent mess that just allows you to shape the story and its structure so you can work off of that and edit it later on. I don’t know if this actually helps, but yeah, the first draft sucks and then it mostly gets easier. Just write, is kinda shitty advice, but it’s mainly, just get words onto a page, you will get a million chances to fix it, you don’t need to be happy about what you wrote right now.

-🌲

ohhhh I'm so excited you've started watching hotd!! good timing since the second season is going to come out later this year :D I hope you enjoy!! and I'm so happy to hear you're still excited about rose. I definitely want to finish writing it, like I said it's just me worrying about if anyone will bother to read it but a lot of you have said you would so that helps assuage my worries a bit

feel free to send whatever random thoughts you have about ready set detonate you know idc if it's analysis or not I just love seeing peoples reactions!! fit and pac are not in a relationship (yet) in the fic but theres a lot of flirty pining going on lol

god yeah it's so much harder with original fiction because it feels like there's so much pressure. you have too much freedom to do whatever you want so you're constantly second guessing if it's good enough or not. and ofc I know rough drafts are supposed to be shitty but I've tried to hone my skills so that my first draft is always incredibly solid because I rarely have the patience to do heavy edits, but that's with fanfiction. it has to be different with original fiction I know but it's hard to make my brain okay with that. I keep feeling like it needs to be nearly perfect on the first run :( but yeah I'm mostly trying to get words on a page. but then I think back and realize I forgot to mention this or I need to mention more of that etc etc and it's just stressful arghhh

[rosanna-writer]

hehe for the ask game: 🖊️ (sorry not sorry 🤣) and 🍰

🖊️ Post a snippet from a current WIP.

Alrighty this is in very rough shape, but I have a little bit drafted from the first day after Rhys and Feyre get back from UtM in we said hello and your eyes look like coming home. Here's a little taste of everything getting weird as hell for Feysand now that they have to face all the emotional cans they've kicked down the road:

"Black suits you," Rhys said. Something about the way he was staring at me made me tug the sleeve farther down my left hand. I didn't need to hear his thoughts; I could guess what he might be thinking, seeing me in Night Court black for the first time. "All things considered, it would be surprising if it didn't. Thank you, though," I said. He indicated for me to sit, and food appeared with a wave of his hand. It wasn't until the smell hit me that I realized how hungry I was. I'd been so desperate for rest and a bath that I hadn't eaten, but I was so used to constantly feeling this way I hadn't thought twice about it. At first, Rhys just let me eat. I could feel him watching me intently, even as he poured his own tea, and if it weren't for the obvious worry in his eyes, I would have assumed he'd been horrified at the way I scarfed food down. "Why did you leave?" he said eventually. I almost pointed out that I'd said I needed a bath last night and my things were here, but that wasn't what he was asking. It would be insulting to pretend it was. "It seemed... presumptuous to stay." "If it was something I—" "You haven't done anything wrong." We were home and safe, and I didn't have it in me to bring up Amarantha again, not now. But I didn't know how to tell him that after everything, I hated the thought of acting entitled to anything of his. "I just...thought you'd want space, now that you can finally have it." Rhys ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "Not from you." Right. The mating bond. I felt like an idiot for not having considered that it pulled him to me, too. "I think I needed to hear you say that." "Feyre, you're under no obligation to stay here, and obviously I'll take you back across the Wall if you want, but as far as I'm concerned it's your house, too. And even if I didn't, I thought after everything, you were at least comfortable enough to stay in my guest room."

🍰 Name one of your fave comfort fics (doesn’t have to be your all time fave).

So I don't really have comfort fics in the sense that I'm not a person who seeks out fic when I'm sad. But I will shout out Erik Gets a COVID Test, which sounds like a crackfic but is an INCREDIBLY poignant and beautiful fic from the Phantom of the Opera fandom. Quite frankly, it's the only piece of pandemic-related media I've ever been able to handle, and it brought me comfort while I was processing everything I saw coordinating research in an ICU.

[firedragon1321]

All You Never Wanted (Short Story)

I'm working on a short story collection called Down With This Ship. It's on the back burner, mostly. But the central theme is "forced love". There's dystopias, artificial intelligence, fractured fairy tales, a horrifying deconstruction of The Bachelor (inspired by the hellsite itself) and an early draft for my novel Tick Tick, amongst many other things.

This entry is a second-person experiment. It's One-Sided Male Yandere Human Cartoon Character x Gender Unspecified "Normal" Reader. This is not meant to be romantic, but that's the clearest way I can communicate the content. It's still a little rough, but I wanted to share the draft anyway. It was kicked off by this post I made in the past, though I may revisit the idea again in a more polished form. If there's interest in this, I may post a few more stories from the collection.

Triggers include- yandere, alcoholism (implied by unreliable/yandere narrator), trauma mention, blood, minor character death, implied rape (of reader), bad end

Short Summary- An ordinary human gets together with ordinary friends to watch childhood cartoons. A drunken spat grows out of control. A wish is made- "may my favorite character always be happy". The morning after, the wish leads a poor soul to a new life. There, they meet the monster they created.

Now, now. Don’t  be afraid.

Don’t you recognize me, love?

It’s your old friend Touya. Y’know—from that kid’s anime? The one with the magical transforming monsters? I’m not a cosplayer or a hallucination. Can’t you see my hand? It’s smooth, without imperfections. Feel it. Haha! Does it scare you not to feel fingerprints? Rest assured- I’m real as you are.

I’ve always been here for you…

I’m sure you don’t remember the wish you made. You had a full plate of drunkenness last night, with a side order of high. Do you like poisoning your brain? Does it scare you? Maybe it’s your little friends. I don’t know why you all need drugs to have a good time.

When you have me…

You were watching my cartoon for old time’s sake. Laughing at the corny jokes. Laughing like asses. Hee-haw, hee-haw! Though I can’t blame you for being under the influence of those drugs.

And your stupid friends…you never needed them…

It’s been years since you’ve seen my backstory, but you never forgot it. I remember it, too. But it’s no longer a part of me. It’s all thanks to your wish. 

I owe you so much. I love you so much.

Still don’t remember? Picture this—the cold beer in your hand, your friends laughter like cheese graters, the stench of pot. The screen, in sepia tone, showing my little brother falling out of a tree house. It was because I wasn’t careful. He nearly died because of my negligence. It always bothered you, since

—you always loved me—

I was a child then. How can a little boy be expected to care for a toddler? All I cared about was adventure—the shining sky above, the world like ants below me. I didn’t want to leave my brother behind. I’d get in trouble if he was alone in the house. Yet, I still was the fool. I took the fall. It wounded me forever.

It wounded you too, love.

Your friends said something stupid about over-dramatics. Like every other character didn’t also have problems. They kept their mouths shut on them. But me? It was “going too far for a kid’s cartoon”. It made you furiously angry.

See? You don’t need them…

That’s when you made the wish. It was a challenge, almost. You were egged on by their asinine behavior. They had to stop their dumbass hee-hawing. Seeing me suffer was never a joke, even when you were drugged out of your mind.

Because I was always your favorite.

You wished I never suffered. You wished it never happened. You wished I would always be happy, and the sun would always shine upon me. 

It worked. I’m here, aren’t I?

You said a lot of other things, too. Many of them were angry. Your friends called you a baby. You never took well to insults. The drugs didn’t help. A few fists flew. A glass or two broke. One donkey hit the coffee table. He didn’t die, but there was a lot of blood. That’s when the others got scared. They scattered from your house, back to the pasture.

I think it was worth it—don’t you?

So here we are, in your bedroom. The posters of me—hand-drawn or official—are missing. All the toys on your shelves are gone. Your wish whisked me out of your room. It purged me from your life. I’m a puppet that danced on your screen as a child- no more, no less.

But you still remember me, don’t you?

I was always worried—about my brother, about other people. I longed to prevent that kind of suffering. My pain turned to love, my love to courage. That was what you envied most about me—courage. You craved it like a fetish. Without beer, there’s not a brave bone in your body. People like you long for a sip of valor. It’s pathetic, isn’t it?

And because of that, no-one loves you but me.

If not for my trauma, I wouldn’t be brave. Without my courageous heroics, you were never enthralled by me in grade school. You never carried me through your life. In rewriting my life, you rewrote your own life. But I still clung to your nostalgic memories.

You love me too, don’t you?

So here we are—in a bedroom with drab adult decor. You don’t know those smelly donkeys. You’ve never touched a single drug. Life is better, but not grand. You’re an office worker someplace. You go to work, clack on the keys, and go home. Only your boss and your parents know your name. You’re a blank face in the crowd. No-one knows you. No-one loves you.

No-one but me.

At least your wish worked for me. I have everything I could have ever wanted. One night, I dreamed of you—a shining star. I saw your little shit-show. Then, a gentle, maternal voice told me that I would be reborn. I would recall the dream, and my past life. I would remember you. But I would wake as a small child, ready to do my life over.

I’m eternally grateful.

I encountered no obstacles before the first episode began. The old me had to struggle to lead the team. I floundered for episode after episode, like a fish gasping for breath. But after your wish, I have no such issues. I lead with power, not courage. 

That is still appealing to you, isn’t it?

I killed that annoying bitch who told me I was being too harsh. I smashed her head against a log. It made me think of your donkey-friend. Hee-haw! Hee-haw! 

You were on my mind the whole time.

But that’s only the beginning. My rival? Monster chow. That one kid who worried about everything? Unfortunate accident. The others scrambled to find the monster who did it. They never checked the boy in front of them.

I did it all for you.

But there was one thing I still wanted. I made myself king. It was easy. The world was too scared to say no. My monster kept them all in line. The world saw what my creature of death could do. Every villain was torn to bloody shreds by his fangs. The goody-two-shoes were as grateful as they were afraid. All I had to do was ask, and the crown was mine. 

Doesn’t every king deserve a consort at his side? 

I couldn’t marry you as a child, though I had longed to. Luckily, my creators made me older, season by season. So I waited until I grew up. 

Then it was time for us to finally be together.

I went to the heart of my magical world. There, I slaughtered the great guardian of time and space. I still remember his blood on my hands, like gooey stardust. The barrier between worlds that he guarded became mine. I left several monster slaves there, to ward off any nosy donkeys. Then, I came here, to your world, to bring you back to mine.

We were always meant to be together.

You sweat like a pig with a knife pressed to its neck. Don’t be afraid. It won’t be so bad. You’ll finally be something. Haven’t you always wished for that? You may be a coward, but I still love you.

It’s the reason I love you.

Here—feel my chest. These are the velvety robes you gave me. I’ll give you a matching set—a thousand times more beautiful. I’ll give you the sun, the moon, the stars—whatever you wish. You won’t be able to leave my side. But you won’t want to.

I love you so much.

A weak word creeps from your lips—“no”. This isn’t what you wanted? Too bad. This is exactly what you wished for. It’s everything you ever wanted. After one night, you’ll remember how much you love me.

Even if I have to force you.

The portal won’t stay open forever. My time runs low. Good thing you’re easy to carry. Is that fear making you immobile? Your skin is like ice. Your blood is frozen syrup. Ironic—by defending courage, you plunged into further cowardice. But you must still love me. I’ll just have to remind you. After one night, you’ll never want to leave my side again.

We’ll be together—forever.

[sa7abnews]

Walz accusations of 'stolen valor' prompt battle between House veterans

New Post has been published on https://sa7ab.info/2024/08/09/walz-accusations-of-stolen-valor-prompt-battle-between-house-veterans/

Walz accusations of 'stolen valor' prompt battle between House veterans

Controversy over Minnesota Gov. Tim Walz’s military service record is at the heart of Capitol Hill’s latest political firestorm, with veterans on both sides of the aisle chiming in on the new Democratic vice presidential candidate.Republicans are accusing Walz of misrepresenting details about his 24-year career in the National Guard — GOP lawmakers who served in the military have attacked him for leaving the National Guard to run for Congress shortly before his unit deployed to Iraq.Democratic veterans in Congress jumped to his defense, pointing out that Walz served past his 20-year retirement eligibility mark and dismissing the GOP attacks as baseless.”The veterans’ community is incensed right now that Tim Walz refuses to answer questions about his military record,” Rep. Mike Waltz, R-Fla., the first former Green Beret elected to Congress, told Fox News Digital. “[He] has misled voters about his military rank, and it appears he abandoned his men prior to their deployment to Iraq. We expect leaders to lead by example and this ain’t it.”JD VANCE ACCUSES TIM WALZ OF ‘LYING’ ABOUT MILITARY SERVICE: ‘STOLEN VALOR GARBAGE’Rep. Derrick Van Orden, R-Wis., a retired Navy SEAL who served multiple combat tours, told Fox News Digital, “He abandoned his soldiers and their families at the time they needed him most, before a combat deployment. He sat on the sidelines in Minnesota as his soldiers risked their lives in Iraq. This is a Cardinal Sin for anyone that has served our nation honorably. God forbid he is ever a heartbeat away from becoming the Commander in Chief.”The Harris campaign countered the GOP offensive with a press call hosted by House Democratic military veteran Reps. Jason Crow, D-Colo.; Jake Auchincloss, D-Mass.; and Mikie Sherrill, D-N.J.”We have officers and enlisted who have all said he’s an exemplary, admirable soldier,” said Auchincloss, a former Marine, adding that attacks against Walz were cast “in bad faith.”Crow, a retired Army Ranger, said, “It just shows how morally bankrupt they are. They have no ideas. They have no vision for the future. All they can do is attack and lie and twist and contort.”The controversy kicked off when Sen. JD Vance, R-Ohio, former President Trump’s running mate and a former Marine, accused Walz of “stolen valor.”VP KAMALA HARRIS PICKING GOV. TIM WALZ AS RUNNING MATE MET WITH MEDIA SCORN: ‘SUCH A WEIRD CHOICE'”When the United States Marine Corps, when the United States of America, asked me to go to Iraq to serve my country, I did it. I did what they asked me to do, and I did it honorably, and I’m very proud of that service,” Vance said during a media event this week.Crow responded to Vance on X, “Falsely maligning a fellow veteran’s service for personal gain is beyond the pale. You’ve lost your way.”Walz had served in the National Guard for 20 years before retiring and re-enlisting after the Sept. 11 terror attacks. He retired two months before his unit received orders to deploy to Iraq, spurring accusations among critics that he left to avoid deployment.”Tim Walz served honorably. He served for 24 years,” Auchincloss said Thursday. “He made his decision to run for the United States Congress before his battalion got notice of impending deployment to Iraq.”CNN FACT-CHECKS TIM WALZ ABOUT ‘ABSOLUTELY FALSE’ CLAIM HE CARRIED WEAPONS ‘IN WAR’He also contrasted his record to Trump’s, who has been accused by his critics of dodging the Vietnam War draft for his deferrals on medical grounds, and accused him of a “despicable track record of disparaging veterans.”The Minnesota governor has never deployed to a combat zone. Vance served in Iraq for six months in a noncombat role following the 2001 attack.Walz was also discovered to have claimed several times that he retired as a command sergeant major, which is not accurate — he reverted to his previous rank upon retirement because he did not complete the necessary corresponding coursework, the National Guard has said.It prompted the Harris-Walz campaign to update his biography page from saying he was a “retired Command Sergeant Major” to having “served as a command sergeant major.”Where Walz spent his deployment has also generated back-and-forth between the right and left. During his re-enlistment, Walz deployed to Italy in 2005 in support of Operation Enduring Freedom, according to the National Guard.He said in a resurfaced C-SPAN interview, “My battalion provided base security throughout the European theater from Turkey to England in the early stages of the war in Afghanistan.”That has been seized on by critics who have accused him of falsely claiming to have deployed to Afghanistan. It’s not clear from reports, however, that Walz has ever said he deployed to Afghanistan.Fox News Digital reached out to the Harris-Walz campaign for comment.Fox News’ Jennifer Griffin contributed to this report

[what-a-strange-creature--moved]

A Dying Fire - Chapter 1

Bella x Jacob | AU - Post-Apocalypse, AU - Fantasy, witch!Bella, BPOV Chapter Word Count: 2,824 | Rating: M/18+ Chapter Content Warning: none Story Content Warning: Violence, sexually explicit scenes, kidnapping Summary: Growing up in a dangerous, ruined world, the only things Bella Swan has ever trusted are her life with her mother and the meager bits of magic she can perform around their house. The confines of her life hurt her sometimes, but she realized long ago that there's nothing she can do about it. How could she ever find someone to mentor her in magic when that would mean sacrificing her domestic responsibilities? How could she allow herself to truly fall for the only man she's ever loved if it meant leaving home forever? When Bella is hit with a sudden chance to see the world and use her magic for good, what lengths will she go to to prove herself? When she is pushed to her limit, what kind of witch will Bella become? A/N: Well... what started out as a one-shot with a little too much lore to explain has now become a duology of several thousand words. I've been very excited to share this story after a few weeks of planning and drafting. I'll post chapter two on Wednesday and a new chapter will be posted every other Wednesday after that until all eight chapters are up. If you enjoy this first chapter, please please please let me know! It really means a lot when I get feedback from readers. Happy reading! 💘🔥

Read on AO3

‧₊˚✧┈. *₊˚

Excerpt below

If I know anything about magic, it is that it requires true, singular focus. I press my hands into the dirt of my garden, my fingertips digging in until my nails disappear, and I cast my touch beneath the earth. I search for the maple tree’s roots. It recently left its adolescent phase, winter-bare like the other deciduous trees surrounding it, but I don’t think it’s growing anymore. I stare hard at its smooth, gray-brown trunk as I focus, willing my touch to reach those tender subterranean veins. I imagine it will be like checking a pulse. I hope it’s exactly like that, for my sake. I need to practice my stronger spells on something, but I refuse to harm a living tree. This world can’t afford it.

Tendrils of my magic snake through the soil, and like always they go in any direction they choose. I can feel the root systems of my lettuce and potatoes, growing strong in neat, modest rows behind me. I feel each plant sucking up water and nutrients in their fragile capillaries.

I stare harder at the tree, my unwitting adversary, and dig my fingers deeper, forward. Nothing. Just soil.

Maybe I’m too far back from the tree. It has to be more than twenty feet tall, and when I picture bringing it down, I can only imagine pulling toward myself, so I want to give it enough room to land at my feet. Maybe I just need to get closer.

And yet, I thought maples had wide root systems. Maybe I was wrong.

‘Maybe’ is starting to become a very unpleasant word for me.

This would be easier if I had a mentor, I think ruefully, and a familiar ache blooms in my chest. But now isn’t the time to berate myself.

I unearth my heads, clapping the dirt off of them, and get a few paces toward the tree. Then I dig in again, the short grass irritating my palms.

This time, the tendrils brush against something new, something stringy. I eagerly push my hands deeper. I even curl my index finger as if to wrap it around the thing. It is one of the maple’s farthest roots, closer to the tree than I expected it to be. As I cradle it, I can’t feel it draw in the sustenance around it. No movement. No life.

“Okay, okay, okay,” I mumble to myself, a grin growing on my face. Now it’s time to do some real magic.

I stumble back a couple of steps, getting into position. I kick off my shoes and take a sturdy stance — I don’t know if feeling the dirt is necessary for this part, but I know staying upright will be.

A gentle breeze rustles the woods around me. Birdcalls make the air feel alive. Though I know home is only a few yards away, concealed by some trees and ferns, I feel alone in the world. It’s a peaceful feeling, as if the earth is cradling me. As if I grew from it. In many ways, I have.

With renewed confidence, I stare the maple down. If it’s not dead yet, it will die soon enough. It stands in a suspended life-state now, a twilight existence.

“I have you,” I whisper as I raise my dirt-covered hands.

Read the rest on AO3

[bl6ckr0s3]

Dealing With Reality pt. 2

Just notice that this post was saved in draft and I dunno if this ever got posted or not. I’ll post it anyway just in case it never did. For the note, this post is from Feb. or Mar. of 2023 right b4 me and Josh had left California.

As I realized that Josh was unable to make enough money to rent the UHaul truck for today's move out, I was thankful that I was able to take a few boxes from the apartment that I have already packed to be able to drop off at our storage right before arriving to my family's home. My brother was visiting for the day, so I didn't hang around the dining room table too much. I took my bowl of spicy fried noodles to my room and ate while I was watching King of the Hill on the tv since Lim was already put to sleep for the afternoon. My sister said that she didn't realize that Lim had taken another shit an hour after she passed out. Poor baby developed a really bad diaper rash since he's been taking so many shits, but what really sucks is that sometimes my sister doesn't change him as often as she should. Even though I remind her that he needs to be changed every 2-3 hours, she's got shit to do sometimes in the household. She's getting older and she cannot handle a very active little boy all the time. If me and Josh weren't going through what we been going through, I would've been able to take care of him the way I always have at our place. It just sucks that when you're broke to the point where you can't even afford to buy food all the time for yourself, it was just better off that I had Lim stay at my family's house because everything he needs is there especially food.

Me & Josh are in the middle of trying to move out of Beck Park Apartments, so sadly I had to decide to drop off Lim at Ricky's tonite so that we can do what we need to do tomorrow without having to worry about dropping him off at the daycare in the afternoon. I may have to call off from work tomorrow, but at least I'm thankful that I got some vacation time again for the new year. I should be able to save up some sick leave now, if my annual leave won't be wasted so fast like it was the last couple of years. Here's a recap of why: In 2021, When Ricky was putting me through so much bullshit & drama, I ended up using at least 2 weeks of my annual leave to recuperate from the stress and fatigue that I was dealing with when I was temporarily homeless (kicked out of my apartment from Ricky over the weekend, then waited until the cops were able to escort him out of my apartment to serve my restraining order on him). In 2022: Me & Josh ended up catching Covid19 during the holidays so I couldn't work for 3 whole weeks until I tested negative to be able to return to work. 2 weeks of my annual leave during that year got wasted on that bullshit because the pandemic leave program had already expired during Sept. 2021. It never got renewed. I have called off many times on certain occasions when mentally I haven't been well enough to go to work, or other days when I have actually been sick. Other days, it's just because my son had gotten sick 2-3 times then I decided to take time off just to take care of him.

My dad and brother questioned me about whether I'm going to be able to transfer my job if I do decide to move to Tennessee. I said I am trying to. They absolutely don't want me to leave until I made sure I have a job position secured. My sister says that the Chinese woman spirit thinks I won't be happy if we do move there. Why wouldn't I be happy there? Can she state some reasons? Maybe she doesn't know what she's talking about? I might end up liking it there, but I won't know unless I scope out the area and get a feel of the place first before I would judge. If we decide to move out there forreals, then it's our decision and that's the sacrifice I'm choosing to make for an opportunity of being able to build a better life. We still don't know what can really happen yet between now & the summer.

[therapardalis]

//Where the hell have I been lately? I’m doing my best to get to drafts but I just don't have the brain power for more than one or two at a time.

tl;dr: Landlord has been trying to kick me out for various reasons that are not the real actual ones. Background here and here. Note that first link says the agent is in my corner ... revise that, she seems to be trying to convince me she’s in my corner, but now I don’t think she is.

Here, family friend to the rescue as far as finding a new place to live, but this was more than a week after the deadline.

So! Since last episode ... (very very long post)

When the agent first told me about the notice to vacate (Feb 23), I told her it was physically impossible to vacate the house in the 10 days I was given. Which it was, as we’re now 2 weeks later than that and I’m barely there, still working on it. On the advice of the two property managers I know (who were also actively trying to find me a new place), I just stayed, and told the agent again one day before the notice date was up that I couldn’t be out by then because (at that stage) I had nowhere to go. I say I intend to leave, I just need a bit more time.

She spouts off about how she doesn’t want me to be homeless and the landlord doesn’t want me to be homeless, so none of them are heartless ... so. The landlord has to apply to a legal service for a hearing, at which time the judge decides whether they can actually evict me or not. Which is exactly what these non-heartless, don’t want me to be homeless, did. This happened, and the hearing was set for yesterday. via telephone.

Meanwhile I’ve been going as fast as I can packing things up. By this stage I am pissed the fuck off, and am asking the agent for paperwork that will show how long they’ve all known about these ‘urgent repairs’ that I’m now being thrown under a bus about. She’s refusing. I’ve also stopped paying rent because a) they insist my tenancy has ended, and b) I need the money for a new place and moving (a) will probably be contentious later on, but right now b) is more important).

The legal service encourages people to settle disputes before it comes to the hearing, so I tell the agent I have a place and can be out the weekend right after the hearing date. NOPE, NOT GOOD ENOUGH, she insists on still going to the hearing.

Over the next few days I get copies of the paperwork she’s bringing to the hearing ... which she hasn’t prepared in the instructed way and hasn’t signed. A second round of them came through later with the ‘signature’, so it seems they called her out on that.

Hearing time comes ... I’m on the phone connected to the ‘waiting area’ as per instruction. 20 minutes after the due start time, the judge tells me that the other party (landlord or agent) haven’t turned up and therefore she’s dismissing their case. End of matter, final, goodnight.

An hour later I get a call from agent, very put out because she WAS there and waiting 32 MINUTES and they wouldn’t put her through. She’s going to re-apply and send screenshots to show she did attend ... I’m fairly certain from that she tried to join as a Zoom call rather than a phone call, because otherwise how are there screenshots? By this stage I’m being coolly civil with her rather than friendly like before, because bitch be doing everything she can to fuck me over and she’s had a habit of nice, chatty phone calls right before she drops bad news (the notice to vacate, the notice of the hearing) in my inbox.

Sure enough, within 20 minutes she serves me another notice to vacate, this one about the rent being overdue. Fortunately this one has to allow me 3 weeks and I’ll be out by then, and frankly I’m just laughing at them now.

[sunsents]

The Cardigan - F.W 18+

My first ever post and it's a goddamn smut one shot. This has been in my Wattpad drafts for way too long (wrote it three-four months ago), it's not the best, and I'm not proud of the writing but et eez what et eez. I really wan't to start publishing my work and gotta start somewhere. Also the smut is shitty, and the dirty talk is just goddamn vile. Also I'm a horny mf.

Summary ---> "Is that mine? You look better in it than me, that's for sure." An intimate night with Fred after you guys find the house all to yourselves. This is just pure filth, like scroll if you wan't plot. 🌚

Pairing: fred weasley/fem!reader

Word count: 2.3k

Warnings: smut / overstim if u squint / cursing / thigh tiding / dirty talk / fred being a horny little shit / an attempt at innuendos / hand-job / cum play (?) / like one ass slap

Rating: 18+

DON'T REPOST MY WORK

The bathroom at the Weasley's were quite cramped, but you didn't care. Your shower was more than satisfactory, the wavering smell of Mrs. Weasley cooking downstairs mixing with the wonderful scent of Fred's shampoo. The hot water loosened all your fatigued muscles - those extra hours out on the field playing Quidditch was worth it - your muscles were taut, flexing wonderfully whenever you lifted your arm to rinse off the products in your hair.

When you opened the door of the bathroom, clouds of hot air escaping and surrounding the small corridor, you were surprised to hear no footsteps, loud chattering of your friends and the usual plates clinking in the kitchen. You figured going downstair naked wouldn't be a good idea, and entered Ginny's room.

The disheveled bedroom was empty, and you looked out the window to the vast garden and wheat fields that got darker with the hot summer night approaching. There was no sign of anyone and you were starting to get anxious. Maybe it was because of the unusual silence - the Weasley household always had some kind of chaos happening - nevertheless, you quickly slipped on some satin shorts and a soft, white knit sweater to keep the evening breezes at bay. After swiftly drying your hair with a towel - you were letting it air dry, Cosmopolitan said Cindy Crawford did it - you applied whatever product was routine for your body and left the room.

Your magical radio was playing a soft jazz from the den and immediate relief washed over you when you stepped downstairs. The creams and perfumes that stuck to your skin wafted around the air and filled the rooms with delicious essences, and your soft socks slipped and slid across the wooden floor to the kitchen as you pushed yourself with ease. You quickly caught yourself with a chair and laughed, being alone wasn't so bad, you figured you could find ways to entertain yourself.

Until, a low chuckle from the den caused you to yelp and almost fall on your ass, merlin forbid. You couldn't bear another injury after George two left feet Weasley accidentally kicked you on the shin while playing Quidditch.

Speaking of Weasley, Fred Weasley was sprawled out on the couch, wearing only his boxers and a long, loosely knitted cardigan sitting on his exposed skin. You felt your mouth water, his head was lazily thrown back, exposing his curved neck and Adam's apple, his freckles more noticeable than ever. He was staring at you, his lips tugging a smile and enjoying the show you put on. Humiliation, is what it was. You were sliding around floorings like Madame Maxine on ice.

Your blood suddenly felt on like liquid fire, and you opened the cupboards to get yourself a glass of water. "Aguamenti," you casted, and from the corner of your eye you saw Fred's gaze set on your exposed legs, trailing up to your ass that was slightly exposed from the length of your shorts. They rode up more when you stood on your toes to place the cup back on the shelf after chugging the liquid down and muttering a cleaning spell.

"Is that mine?" you cleared your throat, finishing up in the kitchen and walking over to one of the rocking chairs. You didn't know why Fred was sitting around practically naked - you didn't question because he was Fred Weasley and you were tired. You weren't complaining etiher.

"Yeah," Fred said breathlessly. "It's surprisingly comfortable."

"You look better than me in it, that's for sure." You chuckled darkly, eyeing his provocative muscles. The hickeys you had left from a few days ago were slightly healed, soft reds trailing his nape and they weren't helping the growing desire between your legs. "Where is everyone?" you asked.

Fred quickly noticed your poorly hidden lustful stares and moved the cardigan away with a sly smirk, revealing more of his abs and flexed thighs. "They went out to Diagon Ally, won't be back until ten." he said. You nodded then took a deep, shaky breath and picked up a magazine from the coffee table. You settled in your mind that maybe looking through the new season Versace bikinis would calm your lust.

Fred let out a long, erotic sigh, allowing a soft groan to escape his lips along the way. Your hand twitched, you were still oblivious to his intentions and crossed your legs for some friction. "Hey ____," Fred called out, and you hummed in response, not looking up from your magazine. You seemed to have read the same line five times now. "I think there's something in my eye, can you blow on it."

Your eyes went wide, Fred was vulgar. This was no surprise to you after dating him for almost two years, but saying something so shamelessly, no hesitation still made your heart stutter. Your imagination was running wild now, you pictured every single thing you wished to do to him at this moment, in those clothes. You quickly put your magazine down, more of slapped it on the table. "Sure, yeah." you said in a shaky voice, then stood up and walked over to him.

Fred's arms were wide on the couch, and one of them pulled your hand down when he was able to reach you. Your heart stopped for a moment, you felt herself land harshly on his thigh and the impact on your core caused a groan from the back of your throat to slip out.

Fred was rather enjoying himself, his head lazily leaning back on the pillow as he rubbed your thighs up and down, digging the pads of his fingers into your skin and causing an embarrassingly load of your juices to flow to your newly worn panties.

You readjusted yourself so the heat between your legs weren't in direct contact with his thigh. You scooted closer and had to bite back a moan when Fred jerked his leg up and applied pressure on your clit. You were trying your best not to show his effect on you, "Which eye." you hissed through gritted teeth, still pursuing his obvious lie.

Fred's shit eating grin only grew wider, and he took your hand and placed it right on his crotch. He was hard beneath his boxers, swelling bigger the second and you were fighting the urge to palm his cock. You shot him a warning look to which he playfully frowned, then gestured to his right eye. You leaned in closer, maybe he really did have something in his eye.

Fred's breathing was heavy, fanning over your lips as you tried to take a closer look. Your inspection was cut short when he gripped your waist, riding up your sweater to touch you directly. You gasped and straightened up at his rough hands kneading around your stomach. Chills were racing down your spine, you didn't want to give in just yet, just for teasing purposes, but Fred was making it unbelievable hard with his tousled hair and hooded eyes boring into yours.

Your panties felt soaked and you hoped he wouldn't notice, but when Fred gripped your shorts and pulled them down, his eyes fell on the wet fabric that was stuck to your entrance. You were painfully aware of how aroused you were, and your heated cheeks weren't helping with your embarrassment.

Fred licked his lips - his expression lust crazed - then he gripped one of your legs and guided it around his thighs, making you straddle him. He held both of your thighs and pulled you in closer, and when your knee touched his boner, it caused him to groan lowly and attempt to close the small gap between your two bodies.

You marveled at the idea of being any more closer to him, the aching on your lower abdomen making you grind yourself on his thigh, whimpering at the much needed friction. The scene looked erotic to you, Fred's finger had slithered down to your panties and moved them to the side to expose all of you, flushed and swollen. He gripped your waist again and started rocking your body on his thigh, "Ride my thigh baby, wan't you to get off on me," he said huskily, "Slow and good~"

You didn't know what else to do other than nod as much agreeable a nod could get. Fred started guiding your hips at a slow pace, not letting you fasten it once. He tutted when you tried for the second time, "Stop being impatient my love." he crooned, straightening himself up to finally meet your lips.

But you barely responded.

You were slack-jawed, your clit swollen painfully, your hips swiveling to get more contact. Pathetic really, is what it was. Fred said few words of filth and here you were, panting and rutting, thanking whoever up there to have the opportunity to ride Fred's obscenely attractive thigh. A thigh shouldn't be this attractive you thought, his skin warm and comfortable, generous muscles teasingly helping you get off. Emphasis on teasingly, he wouldn't let you have anything that easily. It was heaven and hell all at once.

Fred was sensually tracing the outline of your mouth with his tongue all the while, then dipped down and feathered kisses on your jaw that was just as slow as his pace. "Fuck, you're so filthy for this. Who knew this is all it took?" he groaned.

"You have such a responsive cunt babe, I can do whatever I want and you just lose it. Fuck-"

You were growing more frustrated the second and Fred was getting rather talkative, he ran his nose down your collarbones, sucking the supple skin into his mouth and leaving crimson marks. "Freddie please - just, mmmh!" you cried out a strangled moan, you had finally gotten what you wanted. You knew Fred could never resist the nickname, and in such a tone too.

He had started to rub your clit, his other arm wrapping around the small of your back protectively. He groaned against your neck, sending shockwaves of pleasure trailing from your marked neck all down to your feet. But Fred wasn't stupid, he had caught on rather soon and chuckled.

"Bad girl." he mocked, then gave you a light smack on your ass, causing you to yelp and jump. You landed harshly on Fred's thigh again and the moan you let out was almost painful. You clutched onto his hair as he gripped your waist and continued to rock you on his thigh.

You let him guide your movement, your juices easily allowing you to slide yourself back and forth on him, and whenever Fred would pull you forward he would apply pressure on your clit by gripping your waist tighter and pushing you down. He fastened his pace with every grind, and every huff of air you let out when your hips would come in contact. "Oh fucking hell - yes," Fred heaved, your knee must've been grazing against his cock just right because he was letting out soft groans and curse words every other second, his hefty length visible behind the fabric.

You couldn't resist, he had such an attractive dick even after seeing it so many times. You started rubbing him from the outside of his boxers, digging the pads of your fingertips into his shaft whenever you could. Fred's head rested between the slope of your breasts, and his hips bucked up at your touch, rutting desperately into your fisted hand, causing you to loudly moan out when his thigh pressed on your swollen bud.

He was barely jutting your hips at this point, barely able to focus on your pleasure from the amount he was getting. Cocky attitude gone as soon as you touched him, you made him melt under your palm. "I love you so fucking much - ohhh...holy shit, keep rubbing me like that." he moaned against your skin, the intense vibrations making you shudder.

You started to move by yourself, quickly and desperately, your juices glazing the skin and soaking up your panties that was making it harder for you both. But it felt too good to stop and remove it, the heat in your core was growing and you closed your eyes to focus on the man that was letting out hot breaths between the valley of your breasts. His hand started playing with your nipple, squeezing it between his forefinger and thumb as the other gripped your waist and rocked you faster.

Your movement was getting sloppy, legs trembling and jerking whenever pressure was applied to your clit. You were whining the name of your lover, your voice almost pornographic. "Cum my love - fuck yes, cum all over me. Make a mess of me." Fred's hand left your nipple and guided your hips faster, the other pulling down on your thighs as you threw your head back. Fred started circling your clit to speed up your fast approaching release, but it wasn't even needed.

With a final, high pitched squeal, your vision went black, stars dancing around your lids. Your body shuddered violently, and you came hard all over his thigh. "You look so beautiful I-" Fred barely managed to let out before you gripped down his boxers and let his erection swing out. You wrapped your hand around the head and watched in amusement as pre-cum leaked out when you squeezed.

"What? Gonna milk me dry baby?" Fred chuckled darkly, his free hand running through his tousled hair while the other gripped and kneaded the side of your waist.

"I was hoping to do more than that, but for now..." you licked a long stripe up the base of his neck to the back of his ear, and bit. All the while, your hand started working around his painfully hard cock.  Fred was almost heaving now, unlike you who just recently came down from your mind blowing orgasm.

"I-...please, I wan't-" Fred gulped, and in the very rare moments he didn't know what to say. You started pumping his cock, the moment you squeezed him tighter he was coming.

"Fuck fuck fuck - ____!" Fred released all over your hand, his dick twitching beneath your fingers as he leaned his body on yours and let out strangled moans against your neck. You licked your fingers clean, then gently lifted Fred's chin. His eyes were slanted in a deep post-orgasmic daze, and you started to give him slow, wet kisses. "Look how good you taste." you whispered, swirling your tongue around his as he groaned into your mouth.

You were obsessed with how mesmerizing Fred looked. When he came, when he cried out whatever filthy thing came to mind, that blissful glow he had after orgasming. You wanted to repeat those moments over and over again, come with him yourself and touch yourself to his noises. And his taste, you could never get enough of it.

[ppersonna]

good for me | ksj - m

“ stay on the ground until your knees hurt. no more praying baby, imma be your preacher ” - church, chase atlantic

✹ summary- You’ve forgotten something very important and your husband, Seokjin, makes sure you never forget it again.

✹ rating- explicit/18+/nsfw

✹ pairing- kim seokjin x reader

✹ word count- 2.3k

✹ genre- smut, pwp, no plot, you’d have to DIG for a plot, like............. thats all there is to it. there is nothing else.

✹ warnings- hard dom!seokjin, oral sex (m receiving), spanking, degredation, dirty talk, shower sex, established relationship, 

✹ a/n- this has been in the drafts for some time. i debated posting it because it literally has no substance LMAOOOOO but hey fuck it. here’s some hard dom jin because 🥵 i needed it. thank u to @chimoona​ for her help and for my ladies @xjoonchildx​ @ladyartemesia​ @untaemedqueen​ always giving me the hype.

The best part of exercising is the shower afterwards. 

Sure, you enjoy the benefits of cardio and weight training, but nothing ever feels as good as a hot steamy shower after you’re drenched in sweat.  

It’s what you’re looking forward to as you climb out of your car and trudge your weary body to the front door. 

It’s late in the evening now—Seokjin’s car is in the driveway next to yours, and you figure he must have returned home sometime while you were gone. You open the door and call out to your husband, alerting him to your return as you drop your keys onto the entryway table and kick off your gym shoes. 

It’s quiet in the house, not a single reply from Seokjin, but you quickly dismiss it. He’s likely busy, or stepped outside to the backyard for a phone call. 

It’s no matter. All you can think about is turning on the shower and stepping into the spray and allowing the shower to soothe away tension and wash away the slick. 

Your body is sticky with sweat and the bra and legging combo you wore is an unattractive darker color from the moisture.  You’re peeling off the clothes as you make your way upstairs towards your shared bedroom.  The clothes land somewhere near the laundry basket—you don’t care where—and you’re completely naked by the time your feet touch the marble of the bathroom floor. 

The muscles in your body relax the instant you turn the knobs of the shower to hot, as hot as you can make it. It takes a moment to warm up, and you generously use the time to roll out your sore muscles and gaze at your figure in the mirror. 

There are still marks on your body from your last playtime with Jin. 

Some nights, you have sex with him like a normal, married couple. Missionary, soft and gentle, plenty of emotion and sweet whispered words. 

Other nights, however, you willingly allow the sadist in him to gratify the masochist in you. He takes control, demands submission, and you freely give. 

Your time with your husband last night was the latter. He bent you over the bed and paddled your ass until you cried, and your pussy drooled onto the floor below you. He was relentless, powerful, and it made you putty in his hands. There was no one else on the earth you trusted more than Seokjin. You knew he would never intentionally hurt you in a way that didn’t bring you pleasure. And it made your desire for him burn even brighter. 

The bathroom is steamy by the time you’ve finished checking out the delicious marks your husband left on you, and you slip into the shower with a grateful sigh.  The pressure feels incredible on your muscles and you allow your eyes to close as you bask in the steam and heat. 

The cascading water and intoxicating heat clouds your mind and you never notice the bathroom door open or the sound of clothing being removed. You’re so distracted that you never hear the glass door of the shower open. 

And it’s too late now. 

You’re instantly being pressed up against the cold tile of the bathroom, a hot and hard body behind you making you squeak in surprise. 

Jin has joined you in the shower, and he’s pressed your chest to the cool wall and tangles his hands in your hair. 

“Look what we have here,” he tuts. “Nice to see you showed up.”

You furrow your brow, confused on what he’s talking about. He plays with your hair as he continues to hold you against the wall, cheek turned and flat against the tile. 

“Jin, wha—,” he cuts you off before you can finish. 

“That’s not my name, baby doll.” 

His voice is distinct from his usual.

This one radiates power. It oozes danger. And your cunt is already squeezing around nothing at the sound. 

“S-sir,” you gasp. Your breathing is heavy, body overcome with desire. 

“That’s a good girl,” he praises. He lets a free hand travel down your wet back towards your ass, where he cups a cheek in his hand delicately. 

“Now, can my good girl tell me what she did wrong today?” 

His hands rub the globe gently, and you shiver. His hands feel so strong, so ready to deliver the firm swats or gentle caresses you crave the most. 

You’re racking your rattled brain as hard as you can, desperate to figure out what you’ve done wrong. 

“I—I can’t remember,” you murmur. 

He tsks, upset at your answer. 

“You better start remembering, little one.”  

His hand rubs at the skin of your ass once more, before he’s lifting his hand and bringing it back down onto your cheeks with a crack. Your body jolts in reply and the stinging of your buttocks travels straight to your core. A low whimper leaves your lips—a sound of brewing desire more than despair. 

“Don’t you want to be my good girl?” He asks as he rubs the reddening mark. “Tell me what you’ve done wrong and you won’t be punished.” 

You puff out a breath in frustration, unable to remember what you’ve done. 

Jin notices and delivers another slap to your ass, this time on the opposite cheek, and you yelp. 

“I-I,” you stutter, brain spinning desperately to remember what it is you’ve missed.  

“If you’ve forgotten how to use your voice, then please, let’s put that mouth to use.”

He turns your body, your back now pressed against the tile where your tits once were. Your eyes widen. He looks like a fucking god. He’s wet and dripping from the spray of the shower, and his eyes burn like coals, stoked by his desire for you. He steps back from you, allows you to drink in his image pridefully. 

His cock is rock hard, straining and thick against his abdomen. He doesn’t bother to touch it, doesn’t stroke or grasp it. His eyes are drilling holes into your own with intensity and you can feel your submissive nature begging you to kneel. It’s what he wants.

He knows you—knows you better than you likely know yourself.  You’re lowering on to your knees with no thought, eyes fixated on his like he likes. 

“No hands,” he speaks gently. “Dirty fucking whores don’t get to use their hands.”

His powerful hands grip your damp hair, gathering a bunch and bringing your face to the tip of his cock.

“You wanna suck daddy’s cock?” He asks, tone almost teasing. He rubs the head against your plump lips, allowing them to collect the generous pre-cum at the tip.  

You nod, big simpering eyes peering up at him.

“Please, daddy,” you beg. “Let me suck your cock.”

He rubs your lips a few moments more, before grasping your jaw in his hands and prying your mouth open.

“Suck.”

His hips thrust forward and suddenly your mouth fills with his length.  You almost gag, almost, but you squeeze your fists tight and will it away. Jin smirks as he sees the tears build in your eyes from the pressure and continues forward until his cock fills your entire throat.

“Oh fuck,” he sighs. “Look at you take it all like a practiced whore.”

He pulls out slowly, torturously calculated and measured, before he’s slamming his length back into your throat and starting a pace.

Your mouth becomes a simple vessel for him and his pleasure. You tuck your teeth in as best as you can as he fucks your throat, cheeks hollowing as you attempt to tighten the space in your mouth, and lave your tongue over any inch of his cock you can find.  

He keeps his hand on your head, grip tightening steadily on your hair.  

“Shit,” he puffs a breath. “Best fucking cocksleeve.”

His head tips back as he enjoys the slurping, sloppy sounds your mouth is making. Saliva is sliding down the corners of your mouth where it gathers and drips to the wet marble floor below.  

Jin delights in the way you submit to him. He feels powerful, feels like a god. He loves you, every single aspect of you in the bedroom and outside of it. And he absolutely loves it when you’re on your knees, begging like a good girl. So good for him, even when you fuck up.

He peers back down at you, pushing more hair out of your face tenderly while he fucks your willing mouth.

“Mm, this is where you belong, isn’t it? This is what this hot little mouth is meant for.”

He punctuates his sentences with quicker, rougher snaps of his hips that force his cock to the very back of your throat. Your eyes spill over with tears and your throat tightens in reaction, squeezing the head of Jin’s cock.

“Ah, fuck yes, choke on it.”

He’s absolutely enamored by the way you work harder, mouth bobbing along with his thrusts.  You get off on this just as much as he does—you love to be degraded and treated like a whore in the bedroom while he treats you like the queen you are outside of it.

His queen, bowing in front of him to give him pleasure through her submission.

It’s one of the many reasons he loves you so fucking much.

He can feel his stomach tightening, core clenching as his orgasm builds. Simply watching your tears, mixed with the shower water slip down your face has his balls and heart yearning.

“You ready to swallow my cum, doll?” He asks, fully knowing the answer.  

Your impossibly beautiful and big eyes widen even further and Jin stifles a groan at the sight of you, the definition of submission personified. 

“Mm, I know you are.” He pumps harder into your gaping mouth, groaning at how wet and hot it is despite your aching jaw. “You love swallowing cum. It’s your favorite meal of the day.”

He’s gritting his teeth as his orgasm becomes more and more apparent and you bob your head earnestly to bring him off. You easily accommodate him without your hands, and he swells with pride at how good you are for him.

“That’s my perfect little slut,” he grits. He’s staving off the orgasm as long as he can, wants to soak in every moment of you gagging on his length. 

Your hand seeks purchase on Jin’s thick thighs, holding on for balance as your head bobs quickly and your throat works overtime to accommodate his length. Another quick glance up to him is all it takes for him to fall to pieces. He can never resist the way you look at him with a mouth full of cock.

His cock pulses with each groan and you whine cutely as he fills your mouth with his seed. You slow your movements and stay put, staring at him as his cock twitches.

He gently pulls his spent cock from your lips, panting as he attempts to right himself.

“Open up,” he demands in a gentle voice.

You’re compliant—mouth opening to display Seokjin’s thick cum pooled on your tongue. It makes him grin. 

“Nasty,” he winks. “Swallow, my love.” 

He rests a hand on your throat, wants to feel as you swallow his seed down. It makes his cock twitch back to life, ready to go again and again. It doesn’t matter how long he’s been married to you—he’ll always find the stamina for a round two.

“Are you ready to discuss what happened today?”

Jin holds out his hand for you, which you take gratefully to stand up inside the shower.

“Yes, please.”

Jin wraps his arms around you and pulls you under the spray of the shower. He places gentle and soft kisses up and down your neck as his hands slither up and down your wet body.

“What’s the date today?” He whispers as he kisses the shell of your ear.

“It’s the eighth--,” you start, before your eyes wide. “Oh, my god.”

He smiles and pulls back to look into your eyes.

“It is the eighth, yes, and?”

“It’s our wedding anniversary.”

Your heart sinks. In the hustle and bustle of the day, it slipped from your mind of your anniversary. He had planned an entire evening to spend together, and you had forgotten all about it, abandoned the plans for a night at the gym.

“Oh, my god, Jin, I am so sorry. I totally forgot.”

Jin kisses at your face, cupping your cheeks with his hands.

“Baby, it's okay,” he assures as he kisses your shower-slick lips. “I’m not mad. The steaks are a little cold, but…”

You cling harder to your husband. 

“God, I’m an idiot. I owe you!”

He chuckles in your ear as he wraps his arms tight around you. Anniversary or not, Seokjin is in love with you. And he can forgive a simple mistake. Especially when you make up for it so sweetly.

“You’re not an idiot, baby. You can show me how sorry you are tonight when you’re tied up to the bed and taking my cock, hm?”

You lick your lips, already excited for the delicious punishments Jin must have planned for you.

“I love you,” you murmur, standing on tip-toes to press another kiss to his full lips.

“Mmm, and I love you,” he replies. “And you’re going to be good for me tonight, aren’t you baby?”

Jin is turning off the shower as you nod.

He gathers a towel and steps out, drying every inch of your body before guiding you to the bedroom.

“Show me.”

© ppersonna - 2021 - do not repost on any site, or translate without express permission from author. 

[meistwentyinchheels]

draken and kazutora with a gamer s/o

; draken x gn!reader, kazutora x gn!reader

; fluff, slight crack

; warnings: cursing in kazutora’s part, possibly ooc, not proofread, otherwise none

; form: short imagines

; word count: 0.8k

; published: 28.07.2021

; author’s note: hi i haven’t posted in two weeks ahahaha sorry about that so have this thing i’ve had in my drafts for like a week now. also i used dmc and the re series in these two cuz they’re great games and that’s on mf period

The slight shout of a “Yo, I brought some food” was heard over the sound of a sword slashing at demons and the light “ROYAL GUARD” of a certain white-haired character. Draken noticed that you weren’t responding to him at all and had all your attention on the video game you were playing. He took off his shoes, leaving them at the entrance, and started walking towards you. It was only then you noticed your tall boyfriend’s presence and finally spoke, “Oh, hi Ken! I need to finish this part and then I’ll join you in a second”.

He placed down the food he had brought onto the living room table and sat next to you, staring at the tv screen. He was used to this kind of behavior as you always spent your time inside playing video games and the only time you even left was when he had dragged you along with him. Draken always saw you playing the same games over and over again so he wasn’t the slightest bit surprised when he recognized the character on the screen to be the main character of Devil May Cry, Dante.

“Is this a new Devil May Cry game or have I forgotten what kinds of stages there were?” Draken asked breaking the silence between the two of you. “Oh? You actually pay attention when I keep on talking about it?” you asked shocked at this new information. You only slightly glanced at your boyfriend as you quickly moved your sight back onto the tv screen. “But yes! It’s the new Devil May Cry 3: Dante’s Awakening. It was released just some time ago and I finally had enough money to buy it.”

Draken only slightly laughed at your excitement. He won’t lie, he did sometimes get jealous when you kept on blabbering about Dante and how cool he is. “I’m not that bad of a boyfriend that I wouldn’t pay attention to what you say, idiot.” he voiced out loud. Draken noticed the way your lips curled upwards the moment those words left his lips. That also gave him an idea. An idea that might potentially have you kick him out of your house. He remembered how the scores in DMC are time-based so he decided to tease you a bit. He pecked your cheek only for you to go completely red. You quickly got over it so Draken decided to bombard you with kisses which caused you to smack him on the head with your controller.

“KEN PLEASE I’M GONNA GET A BAD SCORE I WANNA GET S FOR ONCE”

“Too bad.”

Have a sleepover with your loved one they said. It’d be fun they said. All these emotions swirling around his head, but happiness is not one of them. You, Kazutora’s lovely partner decided to play Resident Evil 4. At two in the goddamn morning. Oh no, neither of you were going to sleep well that night. Kazutora felt dread as he watched you maneuver the player character, Leon, around the village which was sadly full of villagers that are out for Leon’s head. A cutscene plays of Leon barricading himself into a house and how the villagers are working together to kill him.

“GET THE FUCK OUT OF THERE” Kazutora whisper-yelled, afraid he was going to wake your family up. “You fucker I’m trying okay” you whispered while smashing a bunch of buttons to get the villagers away from the player character. The church bell is heard from the tv screen as another cutscene plays, but this time the villagers are all walking towards the church. You and Kazutora watch in fear as Leon steps out of the house and says the corniest line known to man, “Where’s everyone going? Bingo?”. Kazutora looked dumbfounded while you tried to suppress your laughter.

“Did he just,,?”

“Yeah, he did” you spoke while trying to keep your laughter under control, “I can’t believe I laughed at that, that was so corny”.  You and Kazutora both laughed at your comment and focused your attention back onto the tv screen. The two of you have played the Resident Evil games together before, but never in the middle of the night so you were genuinely unsure if the two of you would be able to sleep tonight. You can’t just pause the game and save it either as you have to reach a certain spot. “I want to save the game and just continue in the morning so bad right now, but the spot hasn’t appeared yet” you voiced out loud and Kazutora commented saying, “I have a feeling it’s going to get freakier from this point”.

“Which is why I want to save and quit the game you coward.”

“I can’t retaliate cuz I kicked you on the head earlier due to getting scared so yes, I am a coward.”

© meistwentyinchheels; written by meistwentyinchheels - do not edit or repost

[captainimprobable]

part two of that thing I posted last week! This is also an unedited first draft, so take it with a grain of salt

~ ~

She arrives in the dead of night, clothes singed and skin burned.

The knock wakes them all, but Hooty is the loudest.  He bursts through Luz’s window, a worm shaped interloper, and announces “HEY LUZ, YOUR GF IS HERE!!!!! SHE LOOKS LIKE SHE WAS DIPPED IN A POT OF ACID, BUT I’M SURE IT’S NOTHING TO WORRY ABOUT.”

Before Luz can even open her eyes fully to focus, he slides back out of her window with a loud “HOOT HOOT”.

Blinking sleep out of her eyes, Luz thinks she might be dreaming, until she hears the knock at the door.  It’s insistent, quick, and somehow a little desperate.

Something is wrong.

She is instantly awake and on her feet, flying down the hallway just in time to collide with Eda, whose hair is sticking up at all angles.  Before she can fall, Eda steadies her, and says “Did I hear Hooty say that Boots is in trouble?”

“I’m not sure,” Luz says frantically, “but we need to get to the door.  Now.”  She’s already running as she’s talking, and finally, finally, she makes it to the front of the house.  She wrenches open the door and standing there is Amity, eyes red rimmed and body shaking.  

Behind her is a sheet of boiling rain.

“Oh my gosh, did you run here in the rain???” Luz asks, grabbing Amity’s hand and tugging her inside.  Amity nods wordlessly, staring at a spot on the floor.  Now that she’s closer, Luz can see the damage; the rain has singed the sleeves of Amity’s dress, and dark, angry burns march up and down her arms.  “Dang, kid, are you okay?” Eda asks, sounding genuinely concerned.  

Something inside Luz tugs insistently, and though she wants to panic, she knows Amity needs her more right now.  So she takes a deep breath and says “Let’s get you patched up, okay?”

Amity doesn’t move.  She’s still staring at the floor with a blank expression, and Luz suddenly has no idea what to do.  She wants to wrap Amity in her arms, protect her from whatever’s going on, but she knows that might not be appreciated, so she decides to ask.  

“Do you want a hug?”

Amity nods so imperceptibly that Luz thinks she might have imagined it, but she nonetheless takes it as a yes.  Careful to loop her arms around Amity’s waist and not her neck so as to avoid touching the burns, she wraps Amity in a loose hug.  For a second, Amity does nothing.  She stands there shaking with her arms hanging at her sides, until all at once, like a dam exploding, she grabs at Luz almost desperately, pulling her tighter as she bursts into tears.   

Luz has never been in a situation like this before.  Eda is sitting on the couch a respectful distance away, watching but not getting involved.  Luz doesn’t know what to do, so she decides to follow her instincts.  She reaches up to stroke Amity’s hair and whispers “It’s okay, you’re okay”.  Amity cries herself out a few minutes later, Luz talking to her in a soothing voice the whole time.  When only sniffles remain, Luz asks “Can we go to the couch? Eda wants to treat your burns.”

“Y-yeah,” Amity hiccups.  It’s the first thing she’s said all night, and something in Luz loosens at the sound of it.  She keeps an arm around her girlfriend’s shoulders as she guides her to the couch.  She doesn’t want to let go, so when they sit down, she instantly grabs Amity’s hand.  

“Is this okay?” she asks Amity.  Amity nods, gently brushing her thumb along Luz’s knuckles in silent consent.  

“Wow,” Eda whistles.  “The rain got you good.  Why were you out in that anyway, are you crazy?”

“Eda-” Luz starts, but Amity holds a hand up.  “It’s okay,” she says.  As Eda begins pulling potions out of the cabinet, Amity says “It’s- it’s my parents”.

Luz goes cold.  She remembers them well.  It’s hard to forget people who tried to kill you.  

She hasn’t had much contact with Alador, but Odalia...Odalia gives her a feeling she can’t describe.  Just the sight of her makes Luz unspeakably angry.  Looking at Amity now, though, she realizes that Alador is just as bad.  Complacency in the face of abuse is just as bad as the abuse itself.

“We had a fight,” Amity continues.  “And you ran away? In the boiling rain? That takes guts, kid,” Eda says, a mixture of impressed and concerned.  

“Not exactly.  They, um...they kicked me out.” 

“WHAT?”

“It’s not forever,” Amity hastens to say.  “Just for the night.  My mom said she...she said she can’t even look at me right now, and my Dad just agreed with her.  Like he always does.”

Luz’s grip on Amity’s hand is tight as steel now.  She’s ready to get up and give the Blights a piece of her mind.  She wants to take them down, and make them pay for what they’ve done.  

“So,” Luz says in a low voice.  “Your parents left you alone in the middle of the night in rain that can literally kill you?”

“Yeah,” Amity says bitterly.  “They’re not the best parents.”

“I’m going to make them pay for this. I’m- I’m going to go over there, and I’m going to-”

“Luz,” Amity puts a hand on Luz’s shoulder.  “No.  You can’t- I don’t want you in the same room as them ever again, okay?” Amity sounds scared.

Luz remembers the abomiton that tried to kill her, and the disappointed look on Odalia’s face when it didn’t succeed.  She also remembers Amity’s righteous anger, and the steely eyed glare she gave her mother.  

“I can’t have you hurt again,” Amity says, sounding almost frantic.  “I just can’t, okay?”

“Okay, okay, shh it’s okay,” Luz assures her, cupping a hand to her face.  Neither of them have the energy to be embarrassed about it right now, but it’s probably the most romantic gesture they’ve shared.  Amity leans into Luz’s hand, breathing deeply.

“This might sting,” Eda says from the other side of the couch.  Both Luz and Amity jump, having forgotten that she was there.  Sheepishly, they part, still holding hands.  Eda smirks at Luz and gives her a wink that Luz hopes Amity didn’t see.  She gets the feeling Eda is going to be talking to her about this later.

Eda dabs a bit of blue potion onto Amity’s arm, and Amity hisses, breath whistling through her teeth, but she doesn’t flinch.  “Is it- ow- is it okay that I came here?”  She asks Eda, looking at her shyly.  

Eda snorts, like it’s the stupidest question in the world.  “I practically take kids in for a living, now,” she says.  “What’s one more?”

“It’s just for the night,” Amity hastens to assure her.  “I’m going home tomorrow morning.”

Luz shakes her head.  “I hate the idea of you living with them.  I can’t believe they treat you like this and just get away with it!”

“I’ll get out of there eventually.  When I join a coven…” Amity trails off, and an awkward silence ensues.  They haven’t talked about the whole “Amity’s biggest dream being potentially crushed by the Emperor being evil” thing.  

“Well, the point is, it’s not forever,” Amity finally finishes.  

“Aaaand done,” Eda says, wrapping the last bandage around Amity’s wrist.  She stands up, knees creaking in an entirely unnatural way.  “And now it’s bedtime,” she yawns.  “You two get some rest, too.”

“Thank you, Eda,” Amity calls, and Eda gives her a lazy wave over her shoulder as she leaves.  

The adrenaline is wearing off, now, and Luz suddenly realizes she has no idea what she’s doing.  She glances at Amity out of the corner of her eye, and the image of her cupping Amity’s face floats into her brain.  She flushes a deep scarlet, and suddenly, she needs to be doing something, anything else.

“Well, okay,” she says loudly, standing up abruptly and walking towards the closet.  “Let me get you some pillows and a blanket, the couch is old and creaky, but it’s comfortable.”

As she’s rummaging through the closet, she hears Amity say “Luz”.

“Yeah?”

“Would you- I mean, if you wanted to, could you- could you stay with me for a little while?” She sounds so scared, and so sad, and it’s so unlike Amity that Luz melts immediately.

“Of course,” she says.  “Here, scoot over.”

Amity moves a few inches, wincing at the pain in her arms.  Luz sits down next to her and drapes a blanket over the both of them.  They sit there awkwardly for a few minutes, and Luz is absolutely freaking out.  She has no idea what to do now.  Before she can agonize over it any further, Amity’s head lands on Luz’s shoulder.

This is unprecedented.  

Nobody ever told Luz how scary the beginning of a relationship is.  Nobody warned her that every little thing Amity does could change her mood instantly, or that every time she touches her she can swear to god she feels electricity.

Nobody told her how bittersweet it could be to have Amity Blight resting her head on her shoulder, exhausted from a horrific night of what can only be called abuse.  

Her internal alarms are going off, she’s losing her mind, and she hopes Amity doesn’t notice.  In the midst of this emergency, Amity calls her name sleepily.

“Hey, Luz?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re my favorite person.”

Oh.  Oh wow.  Oh. Wow.

This is a whole new level of scary.  She feels a mixture of nerves and elation swirl through her, and she can’t help but smile, and she feels a little bit like crying but she doesn’t know why.  She doesn’t know what to say, so instead, she does something even scarier: she kisses the top of Amity’s head.  

She freezes, hoping that was okay, hoping that Amity doesn’t feel weird about it, but before she can ask, Amity starts quietly snoring.

She’s fallen asleep.  Luz breathes a sigh of relief, marveling at the fact that Amity felt comfortable enough, after an awful night, to come to her house and fall asleep on her shoulder.  How did she ever get so lucky?

After awhile, Luz yawns and checks her watch.  Four forty two am.  It’s definitely time for bed, but she doesn’t want to wake Amity up by leaving, so she decides that she’s going to stay up all night, watching over her girlfriend and making sure she’s okay.

Two minutes later, she falls asleep, resting her head on Amity’s.  

When they wake up in the morning, it’s all apologies and blushing and everything Luz has started to get used to.  But Amity has a small smile on her face despite her blush, and Luz has to admit: it’s the best nap she’s ever had.