#new begninnings

[dmckinney79]

"I am severely afflicted; LORD, give me life according to your word." - Psalm 119:107

[ccrites]

chokehold

listen, I've had this idea in my wips for a while (since the begnining of the year actually) and the fat reader worms have been wiggling in third gear with all the awesome stuff early ( @391780 ) has been putting out lately. So have 6.4k words of Soap being an absolute pussy eating freak but you know you love him

(also on ao3 if you prefer the formatting there, or if you want to drop a kudo)

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The second the doors swing back closed behind you, you start feeling the scratchy feeling of doubt at the back of your throat.

It was predictable, really.

A small gym in a small town, heads turn when the hinges creak, not because they’re staring at you specifically, but because it’s a reflex.

Or at least, that’s what you tell yourself to keep the scratchy feeling from turning sour in your mouth. Or make you throw up from embarrassment.

Perhaps your New Year’s resolution should’ve been to start on a home gym type of situation. Buy yourself some girly weights, a mat, and some sort of stepping device, and do those easy exercises every slim, pretty, high-ponytailed YouTube instructor seemed to preconize people out of shape do. Like a hamster on a wheel inside their cage. A rat chasing its own tail, maybe.

No, you promised yourself no more fake promises. Perhaps the money spent on the gym membership (stupid fucking New Year’s promotion) would motivate you to use it, lest it’s just money down the drain. 

You wore the stretchiest, thickest pair of black leggings you owned, hoping no one would see the terrible shape of your underwear through it. On the opposite spectrum of things, you knew the largest hoodie you owned would smother you and make you boil with sweat, so you chose the next best thing: the widest black t-shirt you owned. It was definitely not black enough, the dye faded into a dark gray from use over the years, but it was the only thing that camouflaged your body enough from the others’ sight. God forbid they imagine what your body actually looks like underneath.

The heads pretty quickly turned back around as you started walking towards the empty treadmills. It couldn’t have been more than a second, but the combined weight of at least a dozen pairs of scrutinizing eyes would’ve been enough to make you turn on your heels and back to your car, fuck the membership price.

At the very least, you could convince yourself that walking in place (no better than a hamster on its wheel but oh well) would be enough to get you started. Baby steps, and all.

It doesn’t take long for you to realize the treadmill fucking sucks. Why would anyone suggest looking at a parking lot while suffering instead of the pretty scenery of a park or forest (while also suffering, but still).

The timer you’d set for the warm-up (ten minutes, just like the pretty blonde coach suggested!) crawls by way too slowly for your taste. You’d be all but whooping with joy when it beeps if you weren’t so out of breath and conscious of a gaze on you.

You’d seen him as soon as you walked in.

Between figures of balding men trying to get rid of their beer gut with abs, two thin women whispering to themselves in a corner while trying to look inconspicuous, and a few other, completely average-looking men and women, there he stands, eyes meeting yours in the mirror as he deadlifts an impressive amount of black plates.

He immediately looks straight ahead, correcting his stance, as if there were anything to be corrected, in your unathletic opinion. The muscles in his arms bulge even through the thin, grey hoodie, and the ones in his legs coil tight as the weight is lifted off the ground in a slow, controlled motion. Not even a grunt escapes his lips, at least no one you could hear from where you stood, completely mesmerized.

There was always something almost unappealing about overly muscled men. Their wife’s not feedin’ ‘em enough, your granny would grumble when passing by the rows of magazines at the checkout of the supermarket. 

Yet this man.

Yeah, he was muscled. But in a way, he looked… almost normal. Like he was built for strength, not necessarily vanity. Each bend of his legs, each twist of his arms…

You’d swoon if you hadn’t lowered your standards so low he’d trip on them. Accepted it a long time ago. Fats belong with fats, thins with thins, and if there’s a thin with a fat, either one’s getting fattened up, or the other’s getting dumped. It’s a self-fulfilling prophecy, and one you’d rather not be a part of.

You walk with shaky legs to the water dispenser, then get ready to grab the second to lightest weights to try some bicep curls.

You try to remember the positioning from the videos. Rotate in… or out? Should the wrists be like this? You go through ten repetitions on each side, before you think that you should’ve gone for the abs straight away. God knows there’s fat to burn there, and that the flab under your arms can wait.

You turn back from the rack and walk straight into a wall.

No, a chest.

Fuck.

“Sorry there, miss,” says a deep voice. You detect some sort of accent, unable to quite place it right away.

Your eyes run up, instinctively stopping for a second at chest level (holy heavens that’s a Chest with a capital C if you’ve ever seen one) before finally meeting that same pair of eyes you met a few minutes ago, through the mirror.

Double fuck.

“S-sorry, it’s me, wasn’t watching,” you stammer out, gesturing to the weights in a panicked way. “Just, y’know, switching exercises,” you sputter with a nervous laugh, like it was a completely normal thing to switch exercises after one rep.

He chuckles, and you really need to start planning your escape, because holy shit the way his pectorals rise and fall as his chest puffs up is getting a bit too much for your poor little humiliated self to handle, but he doesn’t let you as he speaks in a soft tone.

“I’m getting arms aren’t really your thing, eh?” he asks, not unkindly. Gosh, did it have to be a Scottish accent?

You can’t meet his eyes, they’re too blue, too piercing for your liking. “To be fair I don’t know what’s my thing yet, I’m just starting out, y’know?” you shift your weight on your legs, conscious of the size difference, and not in the way you wanted to be. Your neck is very warm all of a sudden.

He laughs again, like it’s the funniest thing in the world, and you almost want the floor to open up and swallow you whole, but the words that come out of his mouth are completely unexpected.

“Figured! A girl with thighs like yours, I’m sure you can deadlift more than me with just a lil’ training. I’m Johnny, by the way,” he adds in passing, as if offering his name is the least of his concerns. “You ever got someone to train you?”

You’re entirely unsure if you’re dreaming or not. Did this Scottish hunk of muscle really just offer to be your personal trainer?

“Never - uh… lifted anything, I guess. Just when moving, my couch and bed and all, but I had a friend help me.” You definitely feel like you’re oversharing and you’re struggling to ignore the weight of the gaze of the two thin women, burning through you as they whisper among themselves, when you realize you hadn't answered the second part. “Oh and, uh– no. I’ve never… trained. Been trained. It’s my first time in a gym since- a while. I don’t want to bother you.”

You finally look up at him, and you’re unable to read his expression. There’s a sort of curiosity, a fascination, that blends fast into a wide-eyed joy that’s so open, so sincere that it makes your head spin as he gently but firmly grabs your wrist and pulls you where his bar stands on the thick mat, ignoring your sputtering protests. “Not a bother at all, lass!” He lets go of you as he bends down and effortlessly racks the barbell, starting to remove plates as he continues. “We can start by measuring your max lift, then the one where you can easily do three reps, then we’ll hike it up till failure, so I can calculate your starting training weight!” he rambles on excitedly. You nervously shift on your feet, conscious of more curious gazes on you, but then he’s back in your bubble, pulling your attention towards him like a magnet.

His smile is like a blazing sun, and you don’t have the heart to tell him to prepare for disappointment.

He’s infinitely patient as he shows you how to place your feet, and the angle of your hips (oh, how you feel your knee weaken at the feel of his light tough through the leggings, nothing short of electrifying, despite being perfectly friendly), the hold on the bar. It’s all a blur till you find yourself bent over in front of him, looking in the mirror at your position and trying not to feel conscious of the way he’s placed behind you. Or let your mind wander in inappropriate places.

“Whenever yer ready, hen.”

You brace yourself, close your eyes for a brief second, wondering how the hell you’d landed on this planet, then breathe in, open your eyes-

The weight is in your hands. Not on the floor. You’re holding it.

You almost drop it when he cheers behind you, warm palms rubbing down from your shoulders to your elbows and back up. “Easy! I told you you’d be a natural! ‘S all in the legs and you’ve got awesome legs, bonnie! Let’s add twenty more.”

It’s a blur of racking and de-racking and lifting once and setting back, and redoing it again and again. You’re out of breath, sweating like a sinner in church, but you’re smiling along with him, finding yourself giving him double high fives, and doing small, excited jumps.

“Next one’s exactly my weight, if y’can lift that, I’ll be losing my bloody mind! D’you realize how well yer doin’ for a first-timer?” He says as he bends next to you, adjusting the bar for the next set of weights. With a wipe of his forearm over his forehead, he crouches slightly down, placing his head right above your shoulder and looking your reflection in the mirror straight in the eyes with a conspiratory grin. “Swear to God, if ye can lift it off the ground, I’m buying you the most expensive drink at the bar next door!” he says, grin blending into a blinding smile, too genuine for your own good.

He’s just friendly, just friendly, just friendly, you say to yourself like a mantra as you position yourself. He stands again to his full height behind you, hands ready under the bar, a safenet.

Deep breath in– hold it…

Slowly but surely, you lift the weight off the floor, your ears ringing from the effort. You see his lips move as he cheers you on, but the blood pumping in your eardrums makes it impossible to hear him. Suddenly, the weight is back on the ground and your feet are off the floor as you’re lifted in a tight embrace and spun around like you weigh nothing.

You yelp and flail but he’s holding you tight, face pressed smack-dab in the middle of your chest, between your tits, rumbling praises about your prowess while you’re trying to figure out whether this can be something that your brain is capable of summoning as a dream.

“Put me down, Johnny, oh my God, put me down!”

He thankfully complies but not before squeezing your ass tighter, and suddenly nothing feels real anymore.

“Jesus, I knew ye were perfect,” he says, pulling back reluctantly to rerack the bar and put back the weights. “I cannot wait to properly start training ye’ tomorrow, but for now, I have a promise ta’ keep, and, uh, let’s just say I wouldn’t mind using those strong thighs as earmuffs with this freezin’ weather. On the way back from the bar, what d’ya say?” he adds, wiggling his eyebrows with a crooked smile that lets you know he’s joking around. (Is he?)

You laugh with him and for a second, you forget what you were here for.

+++

The way to the bar is short. It was just a block away (Good for business, he jokes), but the conversation with Johnny made time really fly by. 

He seems genuinely glad when you tell him you’d decided to head to the gym not just as a New Year’s resolution, but trying to simply become a better you. There’s no condescendence, no talking down, no (God forbid) pity, just an overall nice interaction the whole time. He tells you about being on leave as a soldier (Medical leave, he specifies, a fucked up knee can work in a gym, but it’s a different story out in the field), you tell him about your studies and how that led into a “big girl” job that left you no time for yourself.

“But I’ve always been a big girl,” you feel the need to justify. “Just… gotten bigger as I stopped finding time to move. The desk and the laptop are pretty stationary,” you joke, still trying to make sense of why a man like him (broad, and tall, and strong, and… gosh, just perfect-looking) would even deign to accept being seen with you.

(It’s not a date, you dumbass)

“I happen to like big girls,” is what you don’t expect him to say.

Wait, what?

His blue eyes glue you to your seat, and you respond dumbly. “What?”

“I mean, why do you think I’d offer to train you?” he continues, placing his hand, big and warm over your thigh. It’s squished as you sit, wide and flattened in your seat, yet his hand covers a good amount, almost covering the whole width.

Your brain is short-circuiting but you have to answer something.

“Out of– uh… out of niceness?” you stammer out, feeling your insecurities climb back out of the hole they’d been sleeping in all this time, making you shrink even more, trying to cover yourself as if he didn’t see right through you with that piercing gaze. “To feel good seeing you be the reason I lose weight?”

He chuckles, squeezing your thigh as his head hangs down, almost as if to hide the smile that spreads on his lips.

“Strength training doesn’t work like that, bonnie.” He looks back up, and his eyes are blue, and wide, and so pretty, that you can’t find anything to argue back. “Ye’ think building glutes underneath that fat arse does anything but make it bigger?” He shifts, inching closer as he licks his lips and drops his voice lower. “Ye’ think growing your quads will make this,” he gives an even firmer squeeze, wiggling the fat back and forth, and you tense under his grip, but he’s got you pinned down, “any less wide and soft?”

He presses closer, and the booth has no escape room, you’re practically squeezed into the corner as he pushes his body against yours, bending to whisper lowly in the crook of your neck.

“I did not joke when I said I want yer pretty thighs wrapped tight around my head.”

You can’t be blamed when you don’t remember how you ended up in the back of a cab, Johnny barely taking the time to bark an address to the poor driver and throw fifty quid on the front seat before kissing you absolutely senseless, shamelessly groping your tits with a hand and wrapping the other around your thigh, squeezing you close.

You should probably think more about going home with basically a stranger, no matter how hot, but when he presses his entire palm against your cunt, cupping it over the quickly dampening pair of leggings that didn’t seem so thick anymore, you can’t think at all. He swallows your quiet moans, and hums contently against your lips, taking each gasp for air as an invitation to slither his tongue into your mouth. God, you’d forgotten what a good makeout session was like, and you can’t even find it in you to be embarrassed when you see the cabbie’s eyes in the rearview mirror, instantly looking away when you see him staring. 

Johnny doesn’t seem to mind either, and when he notices you looking in the front again and again, he crowds you against the door behind the driver with a huff, half-climbing over you until his knee is pressed against your core, and the only thing in your field of vision is him.

“Johnny,” you try to say, but it’s getting hard to think, with the way you’re being squeezed in a corner, this hunk of a man of pure muscle pressing against you like a weighted blanket, kissing you like you were a drop of water in the desert and he was a parched man drinking you for his salvation. You feel his excitement pressed against your thigh, and it gives you enough lucidity to try again. “Johnny,” you gasp out again, “aren’t we going a little fast?”

He laughs instead, choosing to focus on the side of your mouth, pressing fervent little kisses down your neck before starting to suckle the delicate skin over where your clavicle is. “I can go as slow as you’d like, bun.” He takes the spot an inch next to the previous one into his mouth and sucks again, this time more forcefully, marking you, and oh God you’re going to have to conceal it before work tomorrow, unless you can find a turtleneck to wear–

The cab driver clears his throat, and you notice that the car is stopped in front of a small apartment complex. Johnny says a cordial thanks as he pulls you out of the car and throws another twenty on the backseat, before wrapping his arm around your shoulders and taking all of the thinking out of the equation as he walks you to the entry.

His flat is pretty well furnished, all things considered, but he doesn’t give you enough time to observe the deco as he presses you against the door and slides his hand under your leggings.

“Got me starin’ at that ass the second you walked in, best fuckin’ thing I’ve seen in months, d’ye realize that, bonnie?” he breathes out against your ear as his entire palm cups your sex, and you can only whine as you press your forehead into the crook of his neck. “And by how wet this pussy is, I think you liked starin’ at me, too.”

“You are–” you say, but he curls his middle finger in, spreading your lips and spreading the wetness to your clit, making you choke on your words, “-very nice to stare at.”

“Yeah?” you hear the grin in his voice.

“Mmhm,” you nod, as he keeps the back and forth of his finger, never dipping in too far, just keeping you hungry for more.

“Then how’d ye like to stare down at me as I taste this wet cunt of yours?” he purrs in your ear as he stops moving completely, letting the words process.

Brain.exe has stopped functioning. 

Had you ever had a boyfriend willing to speak filth like that to you when you were down to do the deed, maybe you would’ve gotten enough practice to know what to answer something sensible and intelligible to that, but as it stands, all you can muster is a very dumb-sounding “Huh?” as you stare back at him.

And that, apparently, is the funniest thing in the world to him, because he dips his head down and laughs, almost like a boyish giggle. Not only does that not stop him from kneeling in front of you, but it also somehow gives him more confidence to keep talking like that.

“How about you look down into my eyes as I eat out your pretty little pussy and make you come around my tongue, how’s that sound?” His baby blues bear no trace of maliciousness, no trace of a joke, as his fingers hook around the waistband and trace it around your stomach. You have to make a very conscious effort not to suck it in immediately in preparation for the letdown, but he doesn’t pull them down yet, only moving his hand alongside the edge. Your silence as you try to process what is happening only seems to spur him on instead. “In fact, how about you close your eyes, I close mine, and you hold my head close as I devour you, would you let me do that, pretty girl?”

“I’m not-” you can’t think of any way to properly let him down, not when he looks up with such pleading eyes, so the words stumble out gracelessly. “I’m sweaty, you don’t wanna–”

But he interrupts as he pulls your leg closer by gripping your thigh and squishing it against his cheek “But I do.” He inhales deeply, and your own breath shakes at the sight of how blissed out he already looks. “God, I want it. Let me have this.”

A voice somewhere inside yells at you that this has to be some sort of weird fetish, and that he most certainly won’t be having the same aura of desperation around him tomorrow, when post-coital rationale shows up and he sees your body past the veil of lust, but for now, you think that getting some with Johnny cannot be that bad compared to any one of your past encounters. Might as well enjoy it when you still can.

You wrap your hand around the one he still has around your waistband, and see his face positively light up as you softly caress his cheek.

In the end, you’re the one that pleads.

“Johnny, please.”

Your pants are off you and your leg is over his shoulder before you realize what is happening.

The feel of his warm tongue against your slit makes any thought, any doubt, any fear positively vanish, and the content sigh that he lets out as he licks at you is the same sigh as finally removing a bra at the end of a long day, it’s the sigh of laying down carelessly onto a soft bed after standing up for hours, it’s the sigh of the first bite of the best meal a man has after starving for weeks.

It should be awkward the way his arm wraps around your thigh and sinks into the softness of your stomach, using it to pin you up as he uses his other hand to spread you out enough for him to work his jaw the same way he did when he was making out with you in the car… Yet it’s not. It’s natural, the way his hand squeezes you as he licks, and sucks, and kisses around your pussy, unhurried yet passionate, languidly but firmly, pressing his tongue in, licking around your lips, and maddeningly avoiding the place you wanted him to touch most.

“Johnny,” you moan as he grazes his teeth around your sensitive nub in response. You almost buck out of his hold, but he’s firmly keeping you in place. “Please, don’t tease.”

He hums in response and dives back in, eyes fluttering closed as he ignores your whines. Every time his tongue or lips graze your clit, he works his mouth the opposite way, holding your thigh harder and pressing his palm up as he counters your hip movements with a clever swipe of the tongue. It’s absolutely maddening. “Johnny, please!”

He chuckles as he pulls back, an obscene string of spit lengthening as he pulls back, only breaking when he runs his tongue against his reddened, swollen lips. “Thought ye’ wanted me ta’ go slow, bun.” His eyes sparkle with challenge, but you can also discern a veil of unhidden desperation, of waiting for you to give the go-ahead for him to let loose.

“I’m fine with faster–” you start, but the words dissolve into a barely restrained moan as he hikes your leg up more, getting you closer to him, and immediately singling onto your neglected clit.

His forehead rests onto your belly now, and if you had more than two functioning neurons you’d wonder how he is that he’s breathing, but his hums and moans let you know that he’s perfectly content burrowing his nose in your pussy, nudging at your clit with the tip of it as he licks you with all the dedication you’ve never been shown from a man of his caliber.

He builds it up, and soothes it down, knowing exactly when to put more pressure, or when to teasingly swirl his tongue around your entrance, or to lave broad strokes of his tongue, so much so that the knee that’s not hooked over his shoulder almost gives out on a particularly forceful suck of your clit.

“Easy there,” he groans almost petulantly, as if you’re interrupting him. “Can’t have you fallin’ over when I’m not done wit’ ye.”

“My legs are gonna give out,” you say honestly, trying to catch your breath and avoid having the perfect man at your feet steal it again. “You’re a bit too good at this.” He grins up at you, “Am I?” and you want to give you a playful swat, but instead decide on carding your fingers through his now disheveled mohawk. “Guess the mess on my face speaks for itself… Shall we take this to the bedroom?”

You throw a glance around the apartment, assessing your options. “Couch is closer.” His smile is blinding. “I like how ye’ think.”

It’s now the second time he surprises you by scooping your legs from under you and picking you up like he couldn’t wait any longer and that carrying you bridal-style was the only way he could think of moving you. You yelp out a protest but he swallows it with another hungry kiss, shamelessly smearing your own wetness over your cheek as he walks you both to the couch.

You sink into the cushions where he places you gently without so much as a grunt of effort, and oh God, there they are, the standards are rising.

You reach over to pull him closer as he straightens up, but he only gives you a peck on the lips in return, like he hadn’t been kissing you sloppily the entire time.

“Come back,” you whine, hoping you can get it done before he comes back to his senses, like they all do, but he just smiles and kneels between your feet, hands pressing your thighs apart. The squelch of your lips parting should be embarrassing were he not looking up at you like you were the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, eyes full of adoration, like a child staring up at the full moon on full display on a clear night’s skies. Maybe you are his moon, his goddess, judging by the lust-clouded look directed at you.

“I did say I was gonna make you come on my face,” he says lowly, the gravel in his voice making you squirm as he places a trail of kisses up your thigh. “And I intend to keep that promise.”

With that, he dives in again, using his forearms to pin your legs open on the couch and his fingers to tease around where his tongue can’t reach. You mewl when you feel his tongue at your entrance, circling it around it briefly before delving in as deep as he could, his right hand stroking your clit rhythmically. The fact that he’s so good at somehow playing all your buttons like a maestro directing an orchestra has you thinking that he must be some sort of womanizer, some freak who does this kind of thing every night, but then his lips wrap around your nub and he gives a firm, long suck, and any restriction that you could’ve conjured up simply vanishes. Your thighs want to close around his head, but you can’t move under the iron grip he has on you.

You fist his hair more forcefully than necessary, and he looks up, wet eyelashes framing his beautiful eyes as he hums in response.

“Please,” you moan, and he hums affirmatively again, closing his eyes to focus on licking and suckling harder. He heard you, he simply doesn’t seem to care. “Johnny.”

“What,” he asks, voice muffled and why is this so hot? 

“I need… I need,” you whine, unable to string the words together, and desperately trying to buck your hips under him, for lack of strength to actually close your thighs how you want to.

That seems to get his attention, and he chuckles, before pulling back with a gentle kiss on your mound. “Guess you’ll have to keep tryin’, pet,” he sussurs, a condescending pat on your thighs before he dives in slower than before.

Oh, the absolute asshole. Now he wants you to work for it?

You think that doing the opposite, relaxing your thighs open and letting him go to town however he wanted would help, but he seems hell-bent on riling you up every once in a while, getting you closer and closer with each lave of his tongue over your poor, overstimulated clit, but never enough to actually push you over the edge.

After what seems like an eternity, and almost, almost starting to think that this was a mistake, halfway ready to let him do this thing before your hip starts to cramp up, you feel a finger nudge at your entrance.

“Fucking finally–” you start, ready to curse him out, but he’s faster than you can think in your blissed-out state, and he slides a second finger alongside the first one, immediately zeroing in on that spot that makes you go cross-eyed and buck under his hold.

“Thassit– there you go, pretty girl,” he murmurs against your clit, and oh, okay, maybe you were closer than you thought, because the rhythmic curl of his fingers doesn’t need to last long before you’re off like an arrow, back arching and thighs squeezing, coming harder than you ever thought was possible. If he were any less skilled at making you completely lose the ability to think, you’d maybe notice that you’d managed to close your thighs almost completely around his head, but he wasn’t, so you don’t, twitching helplessly in the aftershocks of the most wonderful orgasm a man had ever given you.

Limbs that somehow still belong to your body hang uselessly off the side of the couch, and you struggle to catch your breath. You blink lazily, noticing him smugly wipe his face with the back of his hand, his half lidded eyes not any less blissed-out than yours. 

You didn’t believe a man like this ever existed, until now. It aches that this might not be something that would last, so you make grabby hands at him, unable to find the will to speak just yet. 

He laughs softly and gently grabs your arms, kissing from your knuckles slowly up your arm, to the crook of your neck. The patience he has is almost inhuman, as he takes the time to let you regather your senses, matching the marks he made earlier on the other side of your neck. You cup your hand around his head in response, and he smiles at you.

“Ye’ with me, bun?”

“Mmhm.”

“That slow enough fer’ ye’?” He holds himself up, an inch fron your face, and you reach up to kiss him.

“I’m gonna kill you dead,” you mutter against his lips, and he chuckles.

“Let me at least fuck you properly, first,” he whispers, and you notice that he’s long since unbuttoned his pants. You barely get a view of the massive size of him over your belly as he holds himself in his hand, large palm not enough to cover the whole length of him as he strokes himself, angled in such way that his tip rubs against your clit on each downstroke. The word “Please,” is not even halfway out of your mouth when he sinks into you in one swift motion, the rest dissolving into a long, drawn-out moan.

“Fuck-” he grunts, “so tight, cannot believe it.”

He guides one of your legs to wrap around him, keeping it flush against his body with his elbow as his palm grips your ass tightly, the other holding him against the backrest, forearm near your head as he pulls you closer for a sloppy kiss as he starts rolling his hips. You moan into his mouth and he swallows them greedily, leveraging each trust of his hips with a pull with his hand, helping you move in tandem with him, readjusting when your thigh threatens to slip out of his hold. The slaps of his pelvis to yours should sound obscene, his hard muscles hitting against your soft, jiggly skin, but his groans into your mouth are like music to your ears, the fact that he’s vocal about it has you almost reaching your peak again in no time, but he seems to sense it, and slows down immediately.

You try to kiss him harder, but he makes a small noise of protest, muttering something that sounds vaguely like “no, let me, let me just–” and you want to ask what he wants to do, to help him, but he instead reaches down both hands to grab your hips and pull you off the backrest. You yelp as your ass suddenly hangs in the air, his cock speared inside you the only secure point as he pulls you halfway off the couch, but he directs you firmly, “Here, around me,” helping you wrap your legs tightly as he starts thrusting again, harder than before.

“Oh, God, oh God,” you flail around, but each thrust in pushes your back into the cushions, and he reaches behind his back to hold your feet in his hand as he presses his palm near your head for support, spewing more filth as he does.

“That’s it, hold me tight, squeeze my cock like ye’ almost squeezed mah heid off earlier, huh, bonnie? Show me what those thighs can do, fuck-”

Your whole body is jiggling with each thrust, and you don’t have it in you to even feel self-conscious with the way each time he fills you, the tip of his cock nudges against the spongey spot inside, making you mewl in tempo with his relentless rhythm.

“Johnny, Johnny,” you moan, and he bends over to kiss you again, swallowing his name like communion while you chant it like a prayer.

“Don’t give up now, bonnie, keep squeezin’, fuck, I can feel ye’, yer so close.”

You try to get some leverage with your upper body, trying to push yourself up the cushions, but his cock suddenly slips out of you as your thighs almost give out, and an apology is already halfway out your mouth when he kneels back down and burrows between your legs, tongue first with a rushed “Need ta’ taste us, fuck, both of us, together-”

One hand wraps around your hip and over your pelvis, reaching up to knead desperately at your stomach, to pull you closer or push you away, you can’t tell, the other pulling your lips apart to settle his entire lower face against your pussy firmly– before letting go as he starts humming.

Your thighs are free to squeeze around his ears, and he nods encouragingly as he keeps licking, and then you hear it: the sounds of wet stroking. You don’t see him fisting his cock, but you hear it, fast and desperate. As your hand tangles in his hair to pull him closer, and another hum– no, another moan vibrates through your core, it’s the last thing you hear before you’re absolutely gone, gasping out a curse as you tense up in his hold, trembling as you come.

It’s even more intense than the first one, and as you buck out of his hold, he stands up shakily, his hand moving faster and faster around his cock, the angry red of his tip at the same level as your face. You gesture for him to sit down, trying to signal to him that you want to reciprocate despite the post-orgasmic haze and exhaustion, but he shakes his head, and, seconds later, you feel warm wetness land on your belly and slowly trickle down as he moans your name when he comes.

You feel like you still have to give something back, and, when he slumps down next to you with a content sigh, you climb over to place a delicate kiss on the tip of his cock, letting out a huff of laughter when it twitches under your touch.

“Ye’ absolute menace,” he whispers fondly as he pulls you up and tips his body to the side to lie down, using his legs to push you up halfway over him, trapping you between his body and the cushions, yet protectively shielding you from falling over. You place another kiss on his stomach, and you see his abs tense under your touch as your warm breath moves his hairs as you hover for a second, before deciding to shift up and use his pectorals as a cushion. He hums softly as his arm wraps around under yours, reaching to pull the plaid off the back of the couch and settle it around you both. Ticklish, eh? That’s a piece of information best stored for later.

You’re still breathless, absolutely done for. God, best decision of your life, going to the gym. “Now what?” you can’t help but ask. It’s the same fear that always creeps up, the fear that he got to try out a fantasy, and now that he was done with it, he had no need to want to continue anything possibly serious. Not that eating a girl out on a first date, if you could even call it a date, was a sign of a one-night stand, you can’t help but feel awkward and insecure now that it’s all done, despite the comforting cuddle.

He chuckles in response, that same chuckle from earlier in the day, a What a silly question chuckle. Like he’d read into your thoughts and insecurities and found them absolutely laughable.

“Same time at the gym, tomorrow? I want you to squeeze my head off next time.”

“Next time, huh?”

He pulls your leg over his pelvis, trapping his still half-mast cock between his belly and the crook of your knee, hand firmly wrapped to shift you up, almost completely on top of him. When both of you are comfortable and you start feeling the tendrils of sleep pull you deeper, he gives a last, playful squeeze to your ass.

“Next time.”

[resi4skz]

Another one bites the dust. :D

Pairing: Chan(idol)xFemMC

Pairing: Han(idol)xFemMC (2nd couple)

Title: New Begninnings

If it was thing I ever really wanted, it was to see a Stray Kids concert. Although I lived with my roommate/best friend, her and I made it our mission to afford their ticket + plane tickets. We worked our asses off, even worked on holidays for 3 years straight. My boyfriend was against it because he thought that it was a waste of money to just to see a bunch of guys sing and dance.

Our flight was in less than 12 hrs and Daniel, my boyfriend, was lazing around in our living while I packed a last few things for the trip. "Hey, Nora, do you have any eyelash curlers. I think I lost mine."

"Let me take a look," she calls outs from her room.

"Are you seriously going to go to Korea?" Daniel asks.

"Uh, yeah." I replied, rummaging through my makeup bag for an eyelash curler.

"You seriously bought a ticket just to see this lame ass band?"

I paused. I look up and see the back of his head. "What is your problem?"

"My problem?" He gets up and faces me. "My problem is that the fact that my girlfriend is so obsessed with these men that don't even know her!"

"Here's one I..." Nora walks out of her room and stops when she sees us two. "Wasn't using."

"Is that what this is about?"

"Oh it most definitely is, Ava!" He exclaims, throwing his hands in the air. "You could be doing so much more with that money."

"Like what?"

"An education! A real job! Not to see a bunch of gay ass dudes dancing for a few hours."

"Daniel, do you even realize what they mean to me?"

He scoffs, rolling his eyes. "Oh please don't start with that mental shit. I don't wanna hear it."

"Okay." I walk into my room, closing it behind me. This was the last straw. I have told him time and time again that those boys have saved me from a lot of things. I pickup his duffle bag and start throwing his clothes and stuff inside. Even his gifts to me, which I haven't used at all. Once I thoroughly got rid of this things in my room, I zip up the bag and walk out, throwing the bag at him.

"What's this?" He asks, looking down at the bag.

"Your stuff. You're free from me so you can leave." I grab the eyelash curler from Nora, who's grinning from ear to ear. "Thanks."

"Are you serious? Ava, what the fuck?"

"Daniel, I really don't have time for your bullshit. Leave," I explain, pointing to the apartment door. "The door's right there."

He huffs and puffs and storms out before mumbling some curse words at me, slamming the door shut.

"Good riddance."

*30hrs later*

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

I was unpacking my bag while Nora took a shower. It was a bit cold at this time of year in seoul. Thank god for Nora for telling me to pack warm. We were going to get dinner. I wore a black turtleneck with blue tight jeans, black boots and a long beige coat. i went light on rhe makeup. I hear a whistle from behind me. "Girl, you're gonna make heads turn."

Rolling my eyes, I turn around and gasp. "Nora."

"What?" She blinks at me.

"Talk about making heads turn." I look at her from toe to head and whistle. She was wearing black tight jeans, a dark green sleeveless crop top, a leather jacket to go with the whole look. The girl never gets cold.

She rolls her eyes at me as she wears her black ankle boots. "Ready?"

"Born ready." We head out of our hotel room and head down the elevator. We decided we would explore the city a bit before having dinner at a restaurant. The city at night was another sight to see, although there were people around, we were more than happy to walk around and explore. And our hotel was very close to han river. We had always wanted to visit it. We asked bystanders to take a few pictures of us which turned out great.

All the walking around got us hungry so we opted for fast food. Even korea's fast food was different than ours back home in the states. But nonetheless, it was delicious. With our tummies now full and content, we were walking around and goofing around. "Careful, Nora," I warn as she walks backwards on the sidewalk. "You're gonna fall and blame it on me."

"I won't," she says giggling. She turns around and bumps into someone, hard. And they both go tumbling down.

"Nora!" I shout. I run towards her and bending down. "You okay?!" She turns her head, groaning but nods. "I told you that you'd fall."

"I'm oka-" she gasps at the person underneath her.

"What? Does it hurt? Where?!"

The person under her groans and lifts their-his head. "Aish. What the hell?" He looks up, his brown eyes shining. "Miss, are you alright?"

Holy shit. There's no fucking way. He helps himself and Nora up, as we both just stare at him. Nora stands beside me, wide eyed as me. "Are you sure you're alright?"

"Hyung! There you are. Others just went home so it's just you and me." A very cute brown haired, bubbly person comes running to the other man.

What are the fucking odds of seeing our biases together?

"I'm not dreaming, am I?" Nora asks. "Ava, pinch me." I pinch her arm. "Ow! Okay definitely not dreaming."

I look at the duo in front of me as they converse in korean. My eyes catch the black haired one. I had only seen him on my tv screen. But to see him in the flesh....."Miss?"

I snap out of my thoughts. "Yes?"

"Will you two ladies be alright?"

Holy fuck. Even his Australian accent was hot to hear it in real life. "Yes. We're just heading back to our hotel."

"Oh? May I ask which hotel?"

I glance at Nora then back. "Uh, Lotte Hotel."

"May we walk you ladies back to the hotel if it's not too much trouble?"

I glance at Nora who's looking at me like a deer caught with headlights. "Girl, what do we do? That's Chan and Han!" She whisper-yells.

"Calm down." I turn to him, smiling. "Sure."

He smiles, his dimples popping. Oof. I want to swim in them. "Great. Let me tell my mate and we'll go." He runs back to Han who nods his head after a second. They both run up to us, smiling. "Shall we?"

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

Even though it was a 15 min walk, I couldn't stop telling Chan that he was amazing in everything he does while the other duo walked behind us, a few steps behind. "Nah, I'm not that good."

"But you are!" I exclaimed. "You sing, rap, write songs, make music and not mention being able to speak more than 1 language. If that's not your definition of good, then you need a new dictionary."

He chuckles. "Is that so?"

"Mmhm," I nod, smiling. "Don't ever underestimate yourself just because you think the rest of the members is okay with it. They want you to be in the spotlight too, they just have a different way of showing it to you." He turns his head, looking at me while walking. "What? Do I have something on my face?"

He gives me a soft smile. "For someone who just met an idol, you're quite chirpy."

"What did you think I was going to be? Screaming at the tip of my lungs or cause so much attention to you and Han that would make you uncomfortable?"

"Well," he nods. "Yeah."

I snort. "I'm not the crazy fans so sorry if I dissapointed you."

"I'm not dissapointed. More like.....surprised."

I blink at him before looking ahead. The hotel peeking around the corner, just a few more minutes. "Well, then you haven't been ona date with me." The minute the words left my mouth, I knew it was over for me. Way to go, Ava, now he's going think you're a weirdo.

"Are you saying I should go on a date with you?"

Fuck. I knew I shouldn't have opened my stupid mouth. I laughed, nervously, peeking behind me to Nora and Han conversing. Well they seemed to be getting along just fine. "Listen, I didn't mean to say that."

"Oh?" He says as we come around the corner. "That's a shame."

"How so?"

"Because I would have loved to take you out on a date."

My heart stops beating, or at least I think it does. Is this real life? "You want to go on a date with me?" He nods in answer. "But you don't even know me."

We come to a stop. Han and Nora still behind which I was kind of glad at the moment. "Is that what dates are for? Getting to know each other?"

"Okay. Fair point," I replied. "But I'm just-"

He takes a step closer and suddenly, the air around us gets warm. "Give me your phone."

Perplexed, I take out my phone, unlock and hand it to him. He taps his thumbs on the screen and hands it back to me. My eyes widen when I saw what he did. I want to take my clothes off and jump in a pool. "Wha-"

"Give me a call. Text. Whichever is better for you."

I stand there, my phone in my hand as Han and Nora come around the corner laughing. "Alright, thank you for walking us to our hotel," she says.

"It was our pleasure," Chan replies, smiling. "Get some sleep, yeah?"

"Yeah, we will." Nora nudges me, snapping me out of my trance.

"Goodnight ladies." Chan smiles and winks at me before turning around to walk with his friend.

That night, I went to sleep with a smile on my face. And dreamt of dimples and the boy who gave me his number.

[belladoesmakeup]

Hi guys!

I am so excited to write this blog post today because Charlotte Tilbury has brought out a brand new skincare product! As well as makeup Charlotte Tilbury is even more known for their skincare products and the last time we had a new product was last years Magic Water Cream. So today we are chatting about the brand new Magic Hydration Revival Cleanser £25 (120ml) or £12 (30ml)

Though there are a lot of products in Charlotte's skincare range, one product she has never released is a cleanser. Personally I always felt like this product was missing from her collection. Back in the begnining of Feb I got a notification asking me to test out a brand new product skincare product I jumped at the chance. Ironically I didn't know what it was until it arrived but I was ecstatic to see a cleanser arrive at my door.

Let's chat details shall we? This cleanser is designed to deeply cleanse, purify and melt makeup away, it will leave your skin hydrated and with a gorgeous glow. Made with hyaluronic acid, peptide and biomimetic complex as well as giving your skin a deep clean it also helps to reduce pores and make skin look clearer. This formula is very unique compared to other cleansers because it goes from cream to foam to milk. When you first apply the cleanser to your face it appears as a gel cream and then as you add water it foam and when you wash it away it changes into a milky consistency.

I honestly adore this product so far because it gives your skin a real deep cleanse without drying your skin out or irritating it. Sometimes the best cleansers can give your skin a deep clean but dry out your complexion whereas this one smooths my skin texture and leaves you glowing with hydration. So if you are a fan of Charlotte Tilbury skincare products I think you're really going to like this product.

As always all products mentioned are linked above. Currently you can only purchase this item through the Charlotte Tilbury App before it launches officially beginning of March!

Lot's of love

Bella x x

[lucyfloyenworkshop]

“Back to Valley of Thorns, meals appears before me at the second where I sit. To know it requires such efforts. It’s a new discovry for me.“

Some Malleus Masterchief... ^^

In fact the voice line that I use for the title was, at the begnining the origin of this Malleus!Prince/Malleus!Masterchief’s illustration but... Still while I draw and colored this, I realise that this reflect in a way, all Malleus’s personal story ( within the searching of WHY after centuries of pratice, Lilia is still a such destrarous  bad cook XD )

We all know that Malleus is the crown-heir of a Kingdom. A Kingdom where the great majority of his inhabitants are immortal or bessed with long life. In plus to belong to a such higher social  ( so having the habit to have servants around him), he belong to a race that live without grow old. I don’t know how much Malleus is old but I guess it’s around +/- 100 years old. (I am don’t going to do a all speech herre about Malleus and immortality because it’s a whole subject that I will digging deeper in a futur Malleus character analysis after extras researchers :-) )

So what it’s means to him, a  immortal Dragon-Fea prince ? Well, even he is still a child form Fea’s point of view, we see trought voices lines and events that the class “boring“ a bit. Not because he is lazy or somethings, it’s just because he know theses things. He is one of the Five most powerful Mage of the world and he is praticting magic since decades ! On the magic side there nothing to learn left... But on new discovery about meeting people, socialization, discovring new cultures through travels... This it’s the most important for him.

“ This class is a social study for me. “ Malleus Draconia - SR Apprentice Chef - Voices Lines

 The reason why he enter to NRC as a student is because he is wondering about human’s relationships. And everythimes we see Malleus experimented theses kind of bond and discovers about humans’s cultures and open to others, he is seems, for somes hours, release of all his duties/destiny. without rejected his role as a futur monarch. During, his both Birthdays Events, Scalding Sands fireworks and Masterchiefs events, we, and the characters see a others side of Malleus, more cheerful,a bit mischief but more than all curious about things and the worlds.

We don’t know if Malleus will cook in the futur but during the Masterchief he learn again so much. Having a little chat with Ruggie (whom, socialy is, his exactly opposite !), learning a new skill and please someone with something he had done with his own hands.

The satisfaction to create something  with his own hands.

I think it’s all is about...

                                          ________________________

 Artwork made by @lucyfloyenworkshop

. Please don’t use/repost/trace my artworks without my permission

. Reblogs (with my copyrights) and likes are welcomed :-)

[the---hermit]

Brave New World by Aldous Huxley

At the begninning of the year I read a few dystopic classics, and this one missed from that list. I put off reading this after I finally got a copy, because I wanted to annotate it like I did with the other books, but I was never in the right mood. I finally decided to pick this up with the help of an audiobook, and I am happy I did because I think it would have taken me much more time to get through it without the audiobook. I was really hyped for this novel, but I must say I am not fully satisfied with it.

A bit on the plot. The story takes place in this totalitarian dystopic world, where people are born artifically and conditioned from even before they are born. There's a strong comentary on consumerism, and how that and drungs keep everyone happy but controlled in thi world. This part of the novel, and this type of critique was very well made, and the worldbuilding was very interesting. As it often happens the world building is stronger than the rest of the story, I wasn't really invested in the characters, which is not the best. I also think it's really interesting to see how certain things that were definitely perceved as dystopic in the early 1930s, when the book was published, have changed with time. To emphasise the dystopic aspect this society has no religion and it's very sexually free. People are not supposed to fall in love and have a family (which is a cool dystopic idea) but they are very much pushed into having a florid sexual life. In a lot of scenes you can tell the author was using this sexual liberty of the characters, and lack of "religious moral" as a way to tell the reader this world is bad. In today's society this is of course does not work as strongly as it might have in the 30s. This element made me think about the other dystopic classics I have read like 1984 by Orwell and We by Zamjating, where in both cases there's a different strumentalizations of sex in the futuristic worlds. Whereas in 1984 sex is something that should be cancelled completly, in We there's a closer situation to Brave New World. In We sex is very much free, and there's this idea that everyone belongs to everyone, like in Brave New World, but whereas in We the way it's described still feels really creepy, in Brave New World you basically just have to deal with the ideals of older generations. In We what felt really creepy is the fact that you soon learn that people can offically "book" others without consulting them priorly. In Brave New World we are seeing people ask each other out in a normal way, and given everything else as I said it did not feel like that big of a deal from the view of our own time. I really hope this whole thing I am saying makes sense. Certaily the passage of time has given Brave New World an additional layer on which we can reason. Even though this book wasn't one of my favourite dystopic classics I still feel like everyone should read it. In general reading dystopia is always something we should do, because it inevitably pushes us out of our comfort zones, and it makes us think about society, where we are going, and so on. I really look forward to reading more dystopic novels in the future because it feeds your brain in a very specific way.

I read this novel for the studyblr w/knives summer reading challenge 2.0 for the classic prompt. I'll soon post a proper update on the challenge.

[ghostchanuwu]

Hhiiiiii can i ask for Cain (reborn) and maybe Adaman too for the ask game?

Cain Instinct and my fav clan leader that I'm totally normal about let's goooooo!!! ( Purple for Cain and Blue for Adaman) (Edited because I can't read lmaoooo)

~Sexuality HC~

Taking from the cannon for him being pan but also I can see him being demisexual too

Bi af he is tied for being the most himbo character with Meli

~Gender HC~

Genderfluid af his gender is a nice clam chowder with a side of saltines and bread

DemiBoy for sure first time I saw him I got very strong they/them vibes

~Shipping HC~

The only one that I've thought of was with the MC but I can also see him in the future falling for someone new in the Bixbysion Restoration group spewing nothing but cheesy puns and innuendos

Irida and Adaman fight like a old married couple over the most begnine things and not even 5 minutes later they're talking shit about Kamado while their eeveelutions play in the background

~BROTP~

Heather because they both use poison types and to have a older sibling in her life but also I can see him really bonding with the Belrose sisters + Hardy

Mai and Mini Cowboy for the most chaotic reasons but also Ingo since he is a literal time traveler that might have closer ties to some Dialga fuckery

~NOTP~

Victoria is a hard no they're strictly plutonic (would also say Fern but they're more on a "yea we kissed once when we got drunk" level)

Adaman makes it his life mission to terrorize Kamado at every given moment last time being sicing a hoarde of Chatot on him that scream "FLESH" at max volume

~Random HC~

He has a mixtape of him singing and has hijacked Opal Ward's siren system to blair it at 2 PM on Tuesday for 3 months straight before anyone caught him

Can judo throw a mf with ease,also has lots of scars on his arms and back from how many times he's had to protect a child of the Diamond Clan from a wild pokemon (also a handfull of Pearl Clan that got lost)

~Overall Opinion On Character~

They're both blorbos that I am totally normal about and absolutely didn't scream the first time I beat the Glass Factory Gauntlet and was searching for Cain

[lefebvre-emilia]

  Un Nouveau Départ - (A New Begninning)

Floor layout for each of the three levels. There is a basement which is used for storage and laundry.

[nufy-stuff]

HVaR UPDATE! 🔸

Happy Birthday Me! Yep yesterday was my Bday and I had a blast with some friends and family. got some Lego gifts. FUN TIMES!

But now it's time for tears

Vedya shows a different side and surprises Drum

Hold on tight and read the new page here

or startle back to the begnining here

[ravandchels]

ALERT FOR SPOILERS

Okay so seems Raven’s Home is over (apprently it wasn’t renewed and Anneliese made a post saying goodbbye or something though I don’t have instagram so don’t know) I am sad Disney never cared much about the show comapred to their others, but at least we got a proper ending which satifjed me. Booker and Nia came to terms with the fact Raven and Devon wouldn’t get back together finally and Devon moved back.Levi is more involved with his dad’s side of the family and is able to be independent and exlpore new places without someone holding his hand, showing he is growing up, Tess wasn’t in the episode because this episode was about the development of relationship between the mother’s and the kids, it ended with Raven and Chelsea and the last few epiodes hinted on a relationship for fans who want that. I would adore a season 5 but I think they tied up the lose ends nicely. I still would love a film (I have the idea they all go to England and it’s about them trying to deal with the culture shock until someone has a vision and realises something bad is going to happen) I am honestly just glad we got an ending, as That’s So Raven had no closure. They did Raven’s Home dirty from the begninning (the channel not the producters or cast or anyone) so I knew it wouldn’t be long, it wasn’t even in there 2021 rtrailer, all you see now on Disney promos is that Gabby show, Ladybug show and Camp whatever it is #raven’shome #finale #somewhatsatifished #notsuprised #knewitwascoming

[dmckinney79]

You, LORD, give perfect peace to those who keep their purpose firm and put their trust in you. Trust in the Lord forever; he will always protect us. (Isaiah 26:3–4 GNT)

[thesmalltowngal]

Snowbaz 28- If I Had $1,000,000

OTP Prompt #28: Penny spells the boys to sing what they really mean. 

~ So this takes place during eighth year, but Shepherd is there for some reason because why not. This is based on the song If I Had $1,000,000 by the Barenaked Ladies, and while listening to it while you read isn’t required, it might help. This is a total crack fic, and it is very self-indulgent, but I had soooo much fun writing it. Enjoy! ~

*Penny’s POV*

Simon and Baz are bloody bickering again. Lately, it hasn’t been anything too hostile, just a few small arguments here and there while we’ve been figuring out how to kill the Humdrum. But if I didn’t know that they ‘hated’ each other, I’d call it a bit of a domestic. Simon has come to breakfast every day this week complaining about Basil and how posh and perfect he is. I swear, sometimes he can be the daftest person I know. All I know at this point is that I need to knock some sense into the both of them before I fall in love with Baz. And at the rate Simon complains about how perfect he is, it might be bloody soon. 

As Simon, Shep and I are walking to the abandoned theatre off campus, he’s (once again) ‘complaining’ about Baz. “His hair was clogging the drain again, Penny!” (See? Domestic.) “And the prat had the audacity to just smirk about it! Can you believe that?”

“Well, I-” He tugs at his messy curls as he interrupts me. 

“It’s like, we bloody get it, you have great long hair and you always shower with your posh cedar and bergamot soap!” I just sigh and try tuning him out as we make our way across the pitch. Seriously, how does Simon manage to complain about Baz’s beautiful hair and great smell and still think they’re just enemies? Shep and I give each other a look and roll our eyes- their feelings for each other are really only not obvious to the two of them. 

“Remind me again why I agreed to this truce, Pen?” Because you love him, dolt.

“Because we need each other’s help, Si.” And then he’s off again jabbering, even as we enter the theatre and see Baz sitting on the stage. Simon only shuts up when we get close to him. 

“Bunce. Snow,” Baz starts, eyes lingering on Simon. (The pair of them, I swear.) “Where do we begin today?” His eyebrow is arched in the way that riles Simon up (and not in the way he thinks), and he moves his gaze to me. He looks tired- I don’t think he’s getting much sleep. 

“Well I was actually thinking we’d start with a sort of bonding exercise…” They both roll their eyes but go to stand on stage next to each other while Shep and I stand off in the wings. 

“What are you going to make them do?” He asks, elbowing me with a smile.

“You’ll see,” I wink.

“Well, Pen? What is it?” Simon asks me, determined to stay at least four feet away from Baz. 

“I’ve decided I’m done with your relationship drama.” Simon blushes and starts stuttering, trying to deny it. 

“Wh- Pen, no. I mean… Baz and I- we’re enemies!” Baz stays silent, skin flushing slightly as he sets his jaw and looks the other way. I roll my eyes for what feels like the hundredth time today.

I huff, “This is what I’m bloody talking about!”

Before he can protest further, I lift up my ring and cast Music is What Feelings Sound Like. The magic takes hold almost immediately, darkening the lights in the room and stiffening the boys to stand straight. A spotlight moves to Baz, and music starts playing in the background. This song?! I have to stifle a laugh as I watch my spell play out perfectly.

*Baz’s POV*

Bunce is trying to kill me. I never intended Simon to find out my feelings- not like this. I wanted to tell him as his sword plunged into me, tears welling in my eyes. Not in a fucking song that is not even what I listen to, anyway. But my mouth moves with a mind of its own as I start singing the folky lines of a song I would never sing in a million years. 

I look out into the crowd, a serious look on my face. (I can feel Simon’s eyes on me.) “If I had a million dollars-”

“If I had a million dollars…” Simon’s voice echoes mine as another spotlight shines on him, and I can hear Bunce’s stifled laughter from here. The spotlight fades off of him but stays on me. 

My body moves now, too of its own volition, walking over to Simon and doing a small dance move that seems as though it could be from the 50s. He smiles at me and he’s the sun. (I know it’s just the song doing it to him, but a bloke can hope.) “Well I’d buy you a house-” After I sing the words, my body freezes in an ending dance pose. The spotlight moves from me to him. 

Simon copies the move I just did, echoing me again and saying “I would buyyy you a house!” He freezes in the same pose as me. I love him.

“And if I had a million dollars-”

“If I had a million dollars!” I spin him into me and then back out, keeping our hands together. 

“I’d buy you furniture for your house-”

“Maybe a nice chesterfield or an ottoman!” He comes back close to me and we do something resembling an upbeat waltz. There are many thoughts going through my mind, such as what the fuck, why me, and fuck me, Simon Snow. Mostly I’m just focused on how I tried to convince myself all those years that Simon’s eyes were boring blue. Nothing special. But the way that he’s looking at me right now, I have to come to the conclusion that I was bloody dead from the neck up, and his blue eyes are the most exceptional thing I’ve ever seen. 

“And if I had a million dollars-”

“If I had a million dollars!” As we swing around the stage, Simon’s terrible wailing might be simultaneously the sweetest and most torturous thing I’ve ever heard. 

“I’d buy you a K-car-” What is a K-car, and what the bloody hell am I doing with my hips?

“A nice reliant automobile!” We sing together the next part and Simon comes in close, twirling and pressing against me. If magic wasn’t controlling me I’d be sporting a right hard-on. 

“And if I had a million dollars…” We sway together, looking into each other’s eyes, which is completely cliche and absolutely perfect. “I’d buy your loveeee…” I understand why this is the song I’m singing, but- why is he singing it if it’s supposed to tell each other how we feel? Perhaps Bunce’s magic is faulty. 

But I don’t have much time to ponder over it, because the next thing I know, we’re ripping our clothes off to somehow reveal posh outfits that seem as though they could be from dapper dancers of the 1800's. We suddenly have tophats and canes, and before I can think much of it, I’m whisked away from Snow into some sort of solo with the spotlight on me. 

*Simon’s POV*

I hate Baz very bloody much sometimes. His unwavering, pitch perfect voice and flawless dance moves. The way he looks right fit in the new clothes we suddenly have on. (Seriously, no bloke has a right to look that bloody fit in clothes from the 1800’s.) And now he has some sort of solo and I’m standing off to the side admiring watching him and singing a few parts with him. 

“If I had a million dollars-” We sing together, Baz facing outward, me facing Baz. 

“I’d build a tree fort in our yard!” He finishes, facing me with a smile. (I don’t know if I’ve ever seen Baz smile before. It’s… nice.) 

“If I had a million dollars-”

“-you could help it wouldn’t be that hard!”

“If I had a million dollars-”

“Maybe we could put a little tiny refrigerator in there somewhere…” He comes over and grabs both of my hands, pulling me back to the center of the stage in some sort of dance-walk mix, and I copy his movements. 

My mouth moves without my consent, as it so often does. “You know we could just go up and hang out.” I sing-talk.

“Like open the fridge and stuff and there'd be foods laid out for us!” (Even though it’s just a song, I would love to really do that. Maybe not with him, but maybe.)

“With little pre-wrapped sausages and things, mmm.” A part of Baz peeks through and he rolls my eyes like he so often does when I mention food. Usually I see it as hostile, but right now, it only seems like good fun between mates. 

“They have pre-wrapped sausages but they don't have pre-wrapped bacon!”

“Well can you blame them?” He lets go of my hands when I say that and does some sort of dance step spin. 

“Yeah!” He laughs and goes back to dancing with me. As we start on the next verse, I find myself not minding this so much anymore. This is… well this is a right fun ‘bonding exercise’. (I wonder briefly why this is the song we’re singing to each other, but my thoughts are wiped away as Baz takes my hand again.)

*Shepherd’s POV*

I lean into Penny as we watch the boys dance and sing, and I feel her shaking with laughter. As I stare on, I whisper into her ear, “What the fuck.”

She laughs harder. She continues watching the boys, and I start watching her. (She’s brilliant when she laughs.)

*Penny’s POV*

The boys are twirling around on stage in their dapper outfits and spotlights, singing about fur coats and elephant bones, and when Shepherd leans in to say what the fuck, I can’t help but nearly bloody colapse in a fit of laughter. I think Shep notices because he secures an arm around me as I’m about to go down and laughs into my shoulder with me. He doesn’t move his arm when I’m done laughing. 

And I don’t tell him to.

*Baz’s POV*

I think this is what dying feels like. Simon, the bloody prat, comes back to my arms (I know he can’t help it) and starts swaying with me again as we sing the line “And if I had a million dollars, I’d buy your loveee…” He’s mere inches from my face, and right when my stomach nearly empties itself because fuck is Simon going to kiss me, he smirks and then dances away, begninning his solo. I can’t tell if I’m disappointed or relieved. 

“If I had a million dollars-” We sing in unison.

“We wouldn’t have to walk to the store!” “If I had a million dollars-” “We’d take a limousine ‘cause it coooosts more!”

“If I had a million dollars-”

“We wouldn’t have to eat Kraft dinner!” And then we proceed to have a conversation about how we would eat Kraft dinner (whatever that is), but just more, with fancy dijon ketchups, which results in us both bursting into laughter. 

*Simon’s POV* 

We sing the rest of the song, and I can feel my body getting rather tired. But I also feel like this song is leading up to something- a big finish of sorts. To what I’m not sure, but I decide not to think about it, and instead focus on the fit bloke in front of me. We get to the last line, closer to each other than ever. 

“If I had a million dollars…” We sway together, harmonizing. We throw our top hats and canes haphazardly into the crowd. 

Just as the song hits its most musical, most climactic part, I yell “I’d be rich!” (Which is a very dumb me thing to say.) The music gives one last hard trumpet spurt and then cuts out. Just as it finally ends, the magic gives one last push and forces Baz and I’s bodies together, making us kiss. 

It feels forced at first, but as the magic wears off, we both melt into it, grabbing hair, clothes, cheeks, anything we can get our hands on. (It must still be a little bit of the magic.)

The spotlights black out and Baz and I only spring apart moments later when we hear Shep and Penny slowly clapping. 

*Penny’s POV*

They’re both somehow back in their normal clothes, and when they spring apart, they’re both flushed (Baz as flushed as he can physically be) and sputtering. (I’ve never known Baz to stutter- he must be very bloody into Simon.) They’re looking everywhere but at each other. 

Shep and I come out of the wings clapping and I can’t help but wear a smug grin. “Yeah, enemies. Sure you are.” I laugh as they start sputtering out denials, but I can tell that both of them have some glimmer of hope- some sort of feeling that maybe they both feel the same way. (It took them long enough to figure it out.)

Even though they both deny it, by the time we walk out of the theatre (after Simon and Baz chatted privately), they walk out holding hands. 

And I’d be bloody damned if either of them ever let go. 

[saffronaura]

A fan called DragonSkyRunner did a Spyro Reignited Trilogy PC mod on @nicholaskole‘s Reignited Cynder. She’s gorgeous! The mod comes with rendered fan models of Reignited Cynder on the game selection screen, custom Cynder head icon, and an alternate color scheme based on Cynder’s The Legend of Spyro: A New Begnining counterpart.

The mod is on moddb(dot)com now for fans to download! :D moddb(dot)com/games/spyro-reignited-trilogy/addons/reignited-cynder

[mecavulnerable]

W H Y ?!

I never thought this would have to be something I kept track of again. 😔

When I was 21, I begged someone to listen to me for years about a huge lump in my right breast and pains I was having. I went to the hospital’s free mammogram days, Pink Heels Tours, and any table our health department had about woman’s health. I got the same answer from all of them for years, “you’re too young. There is nothing wrong with you.”

I finally went to my new doctor who I was scheduling a spinal tap thru for my migraines and let it slip that I had lump in my breast that nobody wants to looks at and keeps telling me I’m fine. So she looked and felt. The look on her face and the questions she was asking didn’t make me feel any better. She scheduled me for a mammogram the very next day. I cried all the way home. I just wanted my mom.

The next day at the mammogram, the tech had me point out where I “thought” the lump was and started feeling and got the probe. I tried to read her face, but I was way to nervous. After that was done, the doctor came in and I knew it couldn’t be good. He explained to me that the shape, the shadows, the size all point to it being cancerous, especially since I was having pains in my breast. I was a 4-5 on the BI-RAD scale, and needed to have it removed immediately. I cried all the way home once again.

The surgery came and afterwards, the surgeon explained that he had to take more than he thought because it was bigger than he thought. BUT not to worry as of now, of course, I worried the entire time until I got the results. Thankfully, it was begnin, but he explained that this will happen again and I may not be so lucky next time. I just didn’t expect it to be almost exactly 5 years later and in my other breast.

I know that I cannot afford what I went thru before. The doctor’s visits, the surgery, the follow ups, the mammogram. I work in patient accounting and know that insurance doesn’t cover anything. I haven’t told mom yet cause I know she is going to freak out.

I know no one reads my posts, so this is just like a little journal entry to me. But if you do happen to stumble upon this, just say a little prayer for me please. My anxiety is completely thru the roof right now, so a dark room, my bed and instrumental @taylorswift music is what the rest of my weekend is going to be. 😔

[a-bored-writer]

Question:

What the actual fuck is the timeline from Metal Fusion to Metal Masters to Metal Fury? It’s stated that Shogun Steel is set 7 years after the Nemesis Crisis, but the passage of time within the MFB series is still a little fuzzy.

Firstly, Fusion to Fury is at least a couple of years. This is obvious by a few things.

when Doji appears in Metal Fusion, he looks as if he’s in...his early thirties, let’s say, maybe a little older, but by the time we get to Metal Fury, his hair is grey and his very thin, almost sick-looking.

When Tsubasa visits the US to go see Masamune in Dungeon Gym, it’s made very clear that they haven’t talked/seen each other in A While, but it’s never stated how long that is. (I believe Masamune even says “I haven’t seen you in a while.” Or something along those lines.

This might just be me, but Kyoya definitely looks older in Fury. I know, ew, Fury Kyoya, but still, he’s taller and the way he dresses is just more mature-looking in my opinion

Kenta is obviously much older. I’m going to go ahead and assume he’s 8 in Fusion, and about 10-11 in Fury

That, particularly, is important here. The passage of time with the series’s youngest characters: Kenta and Yu. With Yu, we don’t see it physically, although I think the “older brother” role he takes on with Tithi was an emotional maturing/development of sorts. But with Kenta, he’s definitely gotten older: both physically and emotionally.

He’s distinctly made out to be a very small child in Fusion, hanging around his much-weaker friends and being altogether clueless (the first scene that comes to mind is the one where he begs Ginka to train him). Then we hop over to Masters, where some time has definitely passed, but this might just be a few months. He’s definitely gained a spine by that point, and he even had a few genuinely funny moments. He points out the facts, and stops sounding like a whiny child. As far as Fury is concerned, Kenta is definitely aged. It’s blatantly obvious on so many levels.

Fusion/Masters Kenta would’ve never even thought to follow Ryuga. Even if it did cross his mind, he never was a very brave character pre-Fury, he would’ve rejected the very thought of it. Along with that, he looks physically older and doesn’t dress as much like what the audience would consider a “little boy”.

But this isn’t a character analysis on Kenta’s wardrobe change, although I’d be happy to write that one. That change in Kenta makes it very obvious that the time passage goes:

End of Fusion -> Beginning of Masters: somewhere between 6 months and a year.

Not a major difference in the characters’ ages, although it was enough time for Hikaru to not only be hired by the WBBA, but get settled enough in the new position to be trusted dealing with the World Championships. And again, the differences in Kenta mentioned above.

End of Masters -> Begninning of Fury: Between two and three years.

It was enough time for Team Dungeon to be established and for the three of them to get into a fluid and constant routine of training. The second world championship announced at the end of Masters hasn’t happened yet, and those things definitely take a long time to plan, between scheduling, choosing teams, organizing venues for the matches, etc. etc. And again, it was stated to be a long time that Tsubasa and Masamune hasn’t seen each other, and for two people who used to be constantly together, they definitely would see this time period as a long time, even if they were in communication. This is assuming that the last time they spoke in person was at the end of Masters. And again, Kenta went from the ages of 7-8 to 10-11, which would make that time jump plausible.

[deliadexaerisofficialuniver-blog]

Delia Melody - Transitions (Instrumental) and Phoenix (Lyric Video)

Song, Lyrics, Music, and Video © Delia Melody 2016, All rights reserved.

Photograph by Minxi Model: Delia Melody

Every day's another step behind you Every step's another way to find you In the darkness I'm the light that guides you A fire burning bright inside you From the dust you are a star But your feet stay planted where you are The earth is not what holds you down Let it go

And fly Just spread your wings No one could keep you down Into the night Like a phoenix Burning Bright Behind Your eyes

This is not the end So just stop pretending You know a new begninning Is right around the bend

Every day's another step behind you Every step's another way to find you In the darkness I'm the light that guides you A fire burning bright inside you From the dust you are a star But your feet stay planted where you are The earth is not what holds you down Let it go

And fly Just spread your wings No one could keep you down Into the night Like a phoenix Burning Bright Behind Your eyes Just Fly

And fly Just spread your wings No one could keep you down Into the night Like a phoenix Burning Bright Behind Your eyes With the galaxies you hide

Fly Just spread your wings No one could keep you down Into the night Like a phoenix Burning Bright Behind Your eyes With the galaxies you hide

From the dust you are a star But your feet stay planted where you are He could never hold you down Let him go