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#the meaning might be 'i know what you are'
ash-rigby · 2 days
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"It's hard to write women"
"It's hard to write men"
I promise that you can just make a character and give them pronouns.
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thesirencult · 2 days
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How Will Your FS See You ?
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1--2
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Pile 1
I'm seeing a vision. A girl is gathering flowers and playing in the sun between trees. At the same time, a man is looking at her like she is his whole world.
What this tells me is that there is a very clear distinction between you and your future spouse's energies. Your FS is definitely more masculine (no matter their gender) and you are more feminine.
This person sees you as a ray of light. You are dainty like a flower and sweet like honey. I'm hearing the word "yellow" 💛. Whenever they are looking at you, you are draped in golden light.
Now, what makes me sad is that you don't see yourself that way. Your person knows that you are picking yourself apart and they hate it.
You are a shiny little star to them. Some words they might call you are : my little star, pooh bear, sweetheart, honey, sweetie, cutie. They believe you are the sweetest, loveliest, most sincere person on planet earth. You believe that you do not deserve love or that you are not that important but they are seeing "You are important. You are as important as the air I breathe. You are necessary to my survival."
Like the sun is the centre of our universe, you are the centre of their universe. Your FS is very affectionate with you. I'm seeing someone kissing the fingers of someone else and breathing in their scent from their neck/hair. First and foremost they find you sweet and cute. Like, to them, intimacy doesn't mean mindless physical connection but love making. They love your hands and your nose.
They adore your expressions and they find certain quirks you have cute. As an example, when you feel tired and puff air out or if you tag on their hand and look up at them.
This person might be bigger than you and they just want to protect and serve you. I believe that they want to set boundaries between you and the world. They want to hold up a mirror for you and help you see your own light.
Whenever you are sad they want to make you smile.
I believe that you and your FS are going to be really close. This is not a normal bond. To others it might not seem healthy, they way that you are attached to eachother, but for you it's perfect...
Pile 2
Your FS sees you as their dream person, not in a childish way but in a mature way. You are what they need not what they wanted.
This person has had lots of experiences when it comes to love. When they meet you they will be going through a "winter" moment, life will have lost its spark. You might be born in March, cause you are going to wash away the snow and help them see the bright side of life again.
This will not be easy. Your FS will see you as their wish fulfillment, but at moments they will be wondering whether God or the d*vil sent you. You will be triggering their old wounds and stagnant energy.
This person will be very caring towards you. They will constantly remind you to take your vitamins and drink enough water. They will tease you about your height or nose just to get to your nerves.
I'm hearing "They are so draining!". Now, this is really funny cause I heard it in a teasing way, like you are at the next room and they are telling your mom you are a pain in the butt when in reality they love your quirks.
They will be constantly worrying about your well-being lol. They will get mad when you are not taking care of yourself and they will be trying to guilt trip you into doing things that are good for yourself.
Let's say you are really shy and don't want to go to the beach but they want to go and you have a dog that loves the water. They will be telling you "See, the dog is broken hearted. You are not a really good dog mom/dad."
This person will think you are sneaky. They will love the sparkle your eyes have as you have a very "active" inner child.
I believe you don't show that side to others that often and no one will believe what they have witnessed. You could have made a crazy food combination or they found you teaching the dog muay thai, to them you can NEVER be boring. It's like, what is she up to, AGAIN?
I also get that you might give them the "puppy eyes" when you get caught doing something you're not supposed to be doing (ex. cheating on your diet) or playing all coy and sweet and they love that!
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woso-dreamzzz · 2 days
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Big Bed III
Hardersson x Child!Reader
Part of The Big Adventures Universe
Summary: There's a storm
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Magda wakes suddenly to the sound of thunder and she jolts.
It's quite a rude awakening and she groans loudly, pulling one of her pillows over her face.
It's kind of impressive how Pernille can sleep through it, still snoozing on the other side of the bed as another crash of thunder echoes through the house and rain pounds on the window.
Magda's used to the rain. She didn't live in London for years not to become desensitised to the sound of rain.
It's the thunder that always gets her. England was known to be fairly rainy but rainy didn't mean storms so thunder and lightning wasn't something that Magda was really good at tuning out.
She sighs, rolling over onto her other side as another round of thunder cracks in the sky.
So far, Germany was trying to make up for the lack of storms in Magda's life.
It was so unfair that Pernille could sleep through this when Magda can't.
She flicks on her bedside lamp, sitting up in bed and reaching for her phone. It's clear she won't be getting any sleep until this storm passes so she might as well get comfy.
Aimlessly scrolling on social media is easy so Magda occupies herself with that for a while before halting.
This is a thunderstorm.
You don't like thunderstorms.
You're a good sleeper most of the time, dead to the world like Pernille is but you've always had some kind of sixth sense when it came to storms, always somehow waking up before the first crash of thunder.
You waking up usually leads to you in the Big Bed but you're still in that weird in between where you've semi-weaned yourself off of it but still get in from time to time.
Magda shivers as she pulls back the covers, the early morning chill causing goosebumps to erupt all over her arms.
She's glad that she and Pernille had gotten a house that had carpet all over the upstairs because she's sure the chill of the floor would have been so much worse if it wasn't.
Regardless, she makes her way to your room, opening the door only slightly in case you actually are asleep.
You're not because your bed is empty and Magda can see you turning your nightlight on and off underneath the bed in time with the thunder rumbling.
"You okay there, princesse?"
You let out a little shriek of shock before Magda's temporarily blinded by you flashing your torch right in her eyes.
"'M fine, Morsa," You say though your voice is strained and you're very much not fine.
"Uh-huh."
It's a very tight squeeze and extremely embarrassing when Magda's bones pop but eventually, she drags herself under your bed with you.
"Why are we hiding?" She whispers, knocking her shoulders against yours.
"I'm not hiding!" You deny while you curl closer until you've practically wiggled your way under her.
"Okay," Magda says," So we're not hiding. What are we doing?"
With puffed up cheeks, you reply," Waiting for the storm to go."
"Okay."
Magda lies with you for a while. She didn't bring her phone with her but she knows it must be bordering on at least half an hour before she speaks again.
The rain hasn't let up and neither has the thunder and every time, you flinch and lean further into her.
"This isn't too comfortable," Magda says to you softly," Laying on the floor like this, is it?"
You shake your head.
"How about we head back to bed?"
Your head shakes even more furiously. The thought of going back to bed makes your tummy feel icky and bad. You don't want to go back to bed at all.
"No, I think we should," Magda insists and you whine.
"Morsa...Morsa, please no."
Magda crawls out from under your bed, dragging you with her before hoisting you up into her arms.
You expect her to tug you back into your bed, pulling your blankets all the way up to your chin and telling you soothing words.
But she doesn't though.
She keeps a hold of you while exiting your room, across the hallway and into her own.
Momma is a lump in the bed, fast asleep even though the storm hasn't let up yet and Morsa slides in, placing you in the space between her and Momma.
She takes your night light from you, setting it off to the side before fluffing up a pillow to slip under your head.
Magda leans forward to press a soft kiss to your forehead.
"Big Bed cuddles are always best when there's a storm going on," She whispers to you.
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sabertoothwalrus · 2 days
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I'm going to think out loud about the dungeon meshi ages for a sec
I'm going to preface this by saying that this is based on my existing knowledge, and fact checking is difficult because there is A LOT of contentious research out there.
First of all, I think a lot of people come at this from a modern lens, forgetting the context that this is fantasy medieval era. this is fiction. on top of that, this is specifically Ryoko Kui's understanding of medieval era aging. plus fantasy. So before anyone comes at me with a bunch of 'ermmmm actualy's just consider that I don't really care and also it might not matter in this context lol
as far as the "age of maturity" assigned for each race, something I don't see many people talk about is that "teenagers" are a fairly recent concept. For a long time, you were either considered A Kid or Not A Kid. but this doesn't necessarily mean kids were more/less developed then, just our cultural expectations for certain age groups have changed.
Laios says the age of maturity for tallmen is 16. I don't think that means 16 year olds in the dungeon meshi universe are necessarily "more mature" than modern 16 year olds, but moreso that they have more responsibilities. However, things like medicine, smoking, drinking, sun exposure, physical activity, etc all affect age, so it's possible that developmentally they're closer to modern 18 year olds? Izutsumi is 17 (less than two weeks from turning 18, actually), and very much acts like a modern 17 year old.
The age of maturity for half-foots is 14. Chilchuck was 13 when he got married and had his first two children. Even though, at age 29, he's the equivalent of a modern 50 year old, I don't think he was That much more developed at 13 than a tallman. I think if half-foot 14 is equal to tallman 16, then Chilchuck was Pretty Damn Young for a parent LMAO. Even if you're generous and say tallman 16 is a modern 18, he still would've been younger than that.
The long-lived races are interesting. Marcille is obviously a unique case, and not a lot of this applies to her. We do know what Senshi was like as a minor (miner, lol), and he seemed like a modern 15ish, considering he was 36 and dwarf maturity is 40. I think it'd be really interesting to delve into how a culture functions with people being developmentally adolescent for soooooo long. Imagine middle school lasting 20 years. that would fucking suck. I suppose it makes sense why long-lived races are so patronizing.
Moving onto lifespans, I want to emphasize that they're average lifespans. Even in the manga, they say some half-foots live to 100, it's just rare. So it's less that a tallman 60 year old is "older" than a modern 60 year old, it's that it's easier to keep people alive for longer nowadays. Modern medicine is a BIG contributor. Dental health as well, considering how much your health is affected by your diet (and how much the action of chewing alone aids in digestion). Curious to know what the FUCK elven dentistry is like.
It also makes me wonder if half-foots would have a longer average lifespan if they weren't like, used for bait and treated so poorly, but half-foot 29 does seem to be middle-aged for half-foots. so who knows!
In that vein, I don't know if I can see Mithrun quite making it to 400 😬 like, his experience as a dungeon lord took a lot out of him quite literally, and he's doing exceptionally well despite it! I imagine he'd eventually start to develop a lot of heart problems if he doesn't have them already. Perhaps early-onset dementia. His memory seems still quite intact (he corrects Kabru on his story's accuracy) and he doesn't act like, lobotomized. He doesn't seem forgetful or confused, and he has a sense of humor/sarcasm still. It's mostly his task initiation that's been affected.
I almost want to say that mana affinity could affect long-lived races' lifespans, except dwarves have very poor tolerance for mana, so it's probably not that.
okay anyway I didn't really have a point to this post so I'm just gonna end my rambling here
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serafilms · 2 days
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FIRST DATE, KINDA NERVOUS
part 2 of the golden quartet
art donaldson x reader, slight tashi duncan x reader, slight patrick zweig x reader
summary: the story of your first kiss with art donaldson in a hotel room, and your first date in a diner. cute, fluffy, healthy, a tiny bit suggestive but not really. group polyamory dynamics hinted at. (play: so high school by taylor swift). wc: 3.5k
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“What do you think?”
You shrugged. “They’re cute, they seem nice, and your backhand is like, a million times stronger than theirs, so I reckon you could take them in a fight.”
“What, you wouldn’t help?”
“Please. I’m too weak for that,” you said, shaking your wrist limply in Tashi’s face.
She rolled her eyes at you and pushed it out of the way. “Whatever, fine. We’re going.”
She ran her fingers through her hair. After showering, the straight hair from the party had disappeared, giving way to her natural waves. You always thought she looked prettier this way. Softer, somehow.
“Yay,” you said simply. “But just remember that my parents placed my safety and care in your hands, so if we get, like, murdered or something—”
“Oh, shut up,” Tashi groaned, a laugh bubbling out of her mouth, “you were just endorsing them.”
“Yeah, well. I’m indecisive.”
The smile that slowly spread across Tashi’s face told you all you needed to know. Ten seconds later you had grabbed and shrugged on your jacket and the two of you were climbing your way out of her bedroom window.
Now, you’re sitting on the floor of a hotel room, Tashi on your left and Art on your right, Patrick laying comfortably across from you, propped up by his elbows.
The beer in your hand is pretty shitty, which is a fact you find odd considering you can only assume it was either stolen from one of their parents, or paid for using a bribe, and in both of those cases, wouldn’t the beer be better?
But maybe that’s not what you should be focusing on right now, you think, as Patrick leans forwards to take it from your hand. His fingers brush yours as the can crosses over. For the last hour or so, the four of you have gone through eleven cans of beer, each consumed one at a time, being passed around like a bong.
Your eyes linger on the way Patrick’s mouth engulfs the opening of the can, right where yours had just been, and the way he passes it right to Tashi, who does the same as she takes a sip. The flush of heat in your face and belly are hard to ignore, and you’re not too sure how much of it can be attributed to the alcohol.
There’s a stutter in your chest as Art nudges you with his elbow. “So what are you planning on majoring in?”
His cheeks and ears also look flushed, but you think that might just be a consequence of the story Patrick told earlier. It was a sweet story; you assured the boy next to you of that when he’d buried his face in his hands, but he still seemed a little perturbed.
It was a sweet story though, you muse. Tashi said that they seemed like brothers, but you thought they seemed like they were an old married couple.
You’re brought back out of your thoughts as Tashi hands you the beer. “Oh, um. I’m not too set on anything yet, but I think maybe journalism.”
Patrick lets out a whistle. “What, not physiotherapy or sports medicine?”
You shrug, and before you can stop yourself, you say, “Just because I was a tennis player doesn’t mean it’s my whole personality.”
Immediately, you wince. Wrong place, wrong time. You steal a quick glance at Tashi, but she seems unaffected. Right. It’s Tashi. The last thing she feels is insecure. She simply looks at you.
But for good measure, you add, “I mean, I can still do sports news, or something.”
Against the better judgement of your burning stomach and your sluggish thoughts, you take another swig and then pass the can to Art.
“Journalism suits you,” he comments quietly as he takes it. You give him a small smile. He takes a small sip of the beer, and you can’t help but watch the way his Adam’s apple shifts when he swallows.
“I need some ice,” announces Tashi. She rises from her position on the floor.
Patrick wastes no time in scrambling up too. “I’ll come with!”
Tashi gives you a look like she’s exasperated, but you know better from the way she waits for Patrick to grab his key and open the door for her. She doesn’t look back as she walks out, but Patrick calls out a teasing, “See you guys later,” before the door closes fully.
When you turn your head towards Art, you see that he’s looking right at you.
“You sure do that a lot,” you mumble.
He smiles in a way that seems endeared and a little confused. “What?”
“Stare.”
“Sorry, I just—”
“No, no, it’s fine. It’s nice. I- I, uh.” Your thoughts are racing, everywhere and nowhere all at once, as you struggle to find the words. The way Art looks at you sends a buzz of something in your abdomen, and your mind becomes all the more scrambled. “I need to stand up.”
You stand quickly, maybe too quickly, and immediately stumble.
“Whoa, you okay?” Art’s quick to jump to his feet. His hands find their place on either side of your waist to steady you. Now you really can’t focus.
“Yeah,” you hear yourself say, “I think I should sit down instead.”
You’re very aware of the fact that his hand stays on your waist as you bumble over to the edge of the bed and take a seat.
There’s a pang of disappointment when his hand leaves your waist, and another when he stands unsurely in front of you. You pat the spot next to you.
“Sit. Please.”
He complies. Perched on the edge of the bed, hands in his lap, he’s much closer than when you were sitting on the floor together. You fiddle with your hands and steal glances at him every now and then.
“I wanted to ask you,” Art breaks the silence, “do you ever miss it?”
You don’t need to ask what he means by ‘it.’
There’s a moment where you gaze off, eyes wandering towards the door, before they return to the boy next to you and you shake your head.
“I don’t, not really.” You bite the inside of your cheek in thought. “It was fun for a while, and I liked being good at something, but I think I just fell out of love with it after a while. Like my whole life became just tennis, and thinking about a future in tennis. If I’m being honest, the injury was like a miracle to me.”
Art looks thoughtful at that. “What’s so wrong with a life of tennis?”
“Well. I mean, nothing, I guess. It just took a lot more time and effort than I would’ve liked. And there’s all the things I had to give up for it.”
He looks at you like he’s waiting for you to continue, so you do. “Cheeseburgers, sleeping in. Love.”
The bed dips closer to you as he shuffles a little closer. It prompts you to look back up at him.
The curls on his forehead hang low, just over his eyes. His hand rests just next to your thigh, and he rests his weight on it to lean just a bit closer. “You don’t think you can be in love and play tennis at the same time?”
Art’s presence has a magnetic effect on you. There’s a gravitational pull that has you angling your body towards him and moving ever so slightly closer to him.
“I don’t know. Do you?”
His eyes dart down to your lips. It’s an action that doesn’t go unnoticed by you, and you feel the corners of your mouth twitch upwards as you do the same. You can almost feel the warmth of his exhale as your faces draw closer and closer.
“Can I?” Art whispers.
“Please,” you respond.
His hand comes off the bed to rest on your cheek, and then he’s kissing you. It’s soft, gentle, but there’s an urgency in the way his tongue teases the entrance of your lips, and the way he moves even closer towards you, almost as if he’s chasing you.
Your hands find themselves at the back of his neck, fingers tangling in his hair. His other hand moves to rest on your waist. Then your thigh. You let out a hum as your stomach does a little leap. Then, he pulls away for a fraction of a second to take you in, before his lips are on yours again. It’s electric, when he tilts his head slightly to the other side, when the hand on your cheek slides down to your jaw to bring you closer, when you hear a low groan in the base of his throat as his hand slides to the inner part of your thigh.
Then you hear the key at the door, and you both jump apart.
Tashi has a cup of ice water in her hand when she surveys the scene in front of her.
Your bodies are still angled suspiciously towards each other and your hands both rest awkwardly in your laps. Little is left to the imagination. You can still feel the butterflies in your stomach and the racing of your heart when Patrick raises his eyebrows at the two of you, a grin on his face.
“So,” he begins, “what have you guys been up to?”
Art and you speak at the same time. “Oh, you know, nothing much.” “Just chilling.”
Tashi’s face is thoughtful, as she looks at you and her lips quirk up in a smile. She nods her head to the door behind her. “Well, it’s late. We should go.”
Your eyes dart back and forth between the three people in the room. Slowly, you stand, giving Art an awkward kind of smile as you brush past him.
“Wait,” Patrick exclaims, “can I get your phone number?”
She shrugs back at him, holding the door open. “Play some real tennis tomorrow, and then I’ll give you my number.”
“So like, if I win?”
“You don’t have to win to play well.”
You’re not sure where this leaves you and Art in the mix, but Tashi is looking at you expectantly from the doorway, and you fear you don’t have the time to decide now. With an apologetic look and a wave, you mutter, “See you guys,” and then you’re out the door.
In the end, Patrick does win. He gives a flourishing bow as Tashi shrugs and applauds him. She turns to whisper something in your ear, but the words make no contact with your thoughts. As Art looks dejectedly at his racket, then at his best friend across the court, you stand abruptly. Tashi looks at you, bewildered.
“I’ll be right back.”
“Wait, I was—”
Whatever her next words are, they die in her throat as she sighs and watches you thread your way through the stands and go down the stairs to the side of the court.
“Hey!” you call out. Art’s head perks up and his eyes search for the source of the sound until they land on you. He jogs to meet you.
“Hi.”
“Um,” you say, feeling suddenly like your foot has been shoved into your mouth, “you did really well.”
Art looks at you deadpan, but a smile starts to show in his eyes. “I lost.”
“Still, you were really good.” Your eyes glue themselves to the floor as you start to regret coming over so hastily without planning what to say.
“Well, thanks. Really. It means a lot coming from you.” Looking back up, you see him scratching the back of his head nervously. It’s an odd look, considering he’s also drenched in sweat, and his glistening skin makes him look even more nervous than he is. “Look, uh. I know we didn’t make a deal or anything, but do you think I could get your number?”
Maybe this wasn’t such a mistake. “Yeah, I think I could make that happen.”
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SIX WEEKS LATER.
God, you’re stressed right now. The hem of your top has fallen victim to your incessant fiddling as you tug at it, scrunch it up, release it and repeat.
“You’re acting like it’s your first date ever,” Tashi says, rolling her eyes. There’s a smile playing at her lips that tells you she isn’t trying to be as mean as she sounds.
“He’s cute, okay? I’m nervous.”
Tashi comes up behind you and you meet her eyes in the mirror. A shiver runs down your spine as she tugs at the collar of your jacket, knuckles brushing your neck in the process.
“You should take this off.”
“What? Why?” You stare at her reflection. “I know it’s still summer, but it’s nighttime, so­ like…” Her deadpan expression has you trailing off. “What?”
“You can wear his jacket instead.”
There’s a hollow silence as your mouth forms an ‘o’. Your fingers move to tug at the sleeves of the jacket, gaze averted from hers for a moment.
“You think he’ll offer?”
Another eye roll. “The guy’s like, obsessed with you. Of course he’ll offer. Doesn’t hurt to throw in a little shiver either.”
“What if he’s not wearing a jacket?”
“Oh, he’s wearing a jacket.” She waves her cell phone in your face. “Patrick texted me an update.”
You grin and shrug off the jacket as you turn to face her. “Who knew Tashi Duncan was such a sucker for clichés?”
“I’m just trying to make sure your date goes well,” Tashi scoffs as she snatches the jacket from your hands. “You’re the one who swoons every time you watch a romcom.”
She’s right about that one.
Tashi smacks her lips as she hangs your jacket back up in your closet. “I still don’t get why you’re so nervous. I thought we broke all the ice at the hotel.”
“Well, I can still be nervous. Just because you and Patrick had sex two weeks ago doesn’t mean I have to be as confident.”
She sighs because you’re right. Tonight is your first date. With Art. Not your first date ever. But you sure do feel nervous enough to pretend it is.
You and Art have been texting nonstop for the last six weeks, but between the odd part time jobs you’ve picked up over the summer and his tennis training, you haven’t had any time to hang out, unless your best friends who managed to squeeze in their first date, first time and first sleepover together all in one go. But Tashi and Patrick are much more go getter than you.
Tashi didn’t give you shit for your lack of fervour in pursuing whatever relationship you and Art had, but you still felt a little perturbed when she called you the day after her night with Patrick, and told you that he’d asked about you guys.
(“Does he not talk to Art about it?” you asked.
“He said Art’s happy, but he wanted to know how things were going on your end. Since you guys have only been texting.”)
So now you feel pressured. Like somehow your relationship is linked to Patrick and Tashi. Like they’re waiting for you guys to catch up.
But you don’t say any of that. Because you want things to go at your own pace, you keep quiet. Because you don’t want to speak it into existence, even if Tashi will roll her eyes and call you ridiculous for it because she knows your life is yours and hers is hers, despite the way she keeps trying to push you in certain directions.
When the doorbell inevitably rings, you and Tashi exchange looks. She gives you a nod. It’s more firm than comforting, like she’s sending you off to play at Wimbledon and she knows you’re going to win.
Your parents aren’t home for the next few days, which is why you strategically planned your date for tonight, because God forbid they use their last few weeks with you living under their roof to embarrass you in front of a guy. You almost expect Tashi to answer the door for you as if she’s your mother, but instead, she shoves your bag in your chest, says, “I’m using your shampoo and eating all your snacks,” and pushes you out of the bedroom door, then closes it.
One last check in the nearest reflective surface, and you’re ready.
Art is dressed casually, like you, in jeans and a polo. Tashi was right in saying that he would wear a jacket. In the light of your front porch, he looks especially gentle, the warm light threading through his hair like a halo.
The smile that lights up his face when you open the door has the potential to end your whole bloodline, you swear. The way your heart rate picks up feels like some kind of fight or flight response, but you’re willing to ignore it all for him.
“Hey,” he says. His voice has a comforting cadence, you think. It’s been six weeks since you’ve last heard it, since you were always too scared to call him. But it’s a sound like coming home.
“Hi,” you speak softly.
There’s a bouquet in his hands, which he holds out to you, one hand tucked in his jeans. “I brought these for you.”
You take them gingerly, trying to fight the grin that threatens to split your face in half. He’s so cute. “Thank you. They’re beautiful.”
You put them on the table just inside. Tashi will eventually make her way downstairs and put them in some water for you. Closing the door, you turn back to Art, who holds his hand out to you. It’s such a strangely innocent gesture that you almost catch yourself giggling like a schoolgirl.
“Shall we?”
You take it, grinning like a madman. “We shall.”
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“I never got to hear what you want to major in.” The fry in your hand is currently being waved around as though you’re conducting an orchestra.
“Oh. I don’t know,” Art averts his eyes to his plate. “I haven’t thought about it much.”
“I won’t judge,” you prompt gently.
He looks contemplative, and wets his bottom lip with his tongue briefly before looking up at you. “Okay.”
“Okay…” You gesture your fry towards him.
“You promise you won’t judge?” He asks, bobbing his head questioningly at you
You lean towards the table with your hand over your heart. “I swear it.”
“Physics. Or engineering.”
Sitting back in your seat, you survey him.
“That suits you,” you say genuinely. After you’ve said the words, you’re reminded all too well of the night in the hotel room again, and your cheeks warm.
“Thanks,” Art says, gazing at you. “Patrick says that too, before he calls me a loser.”
“I’m guessing you’re more studious than he is.”
“You’d be right.”
Another sip of your milkshake. “I think it’s cool. Maybe we’ll even have some classes together.”
Art smiles his eye-crinkling smile across the table. “Yeah, maybe we will.”
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You don’t even need to pretend to shiver. The second you’ve stepped out of the restaurant, Art’s jacket is slipped onto your shoulders. It’s warm, and smells faintly like sandalwood mixed with laundry detergent. You resist the urge to inhale the collar. Instead you smile shyly, and take his hand. There’s a knot forming in your chest at the thought of the night being over, but when the two of you reach his car, Art doesn’t take out his keys. He turns and leans against the side of his car, hand still entwined with your own.
“I had a lot of fun tonight,” he says simply.
Your lips quirk up in amusement. “So did I.”
He hums. Your hands are swung from side to side as he looks down at them. You can’t help the laugh that escapes you as you step closer.
“What are you thinking about?” you whisper. You know what he’s thinking about.
He looks down at you, and does a one shoulder shrug. “I’m thinking about how much I want to kiss you.”
Your heart stops and gets jumpstarted again in the span of about six milliseconds. God. You knew it was coming, but you still couldn’t prepare yourself.
“Not asking anymore, are we?” You grin, chest thumping like crazy.
“Oh, come on.” With a tug on your hand, you’re pulled flush against him, chest to chest.
Art leans in to your ear, and whispers as if divulging a well-kept secret. “May I please kiss you?”
The tickle of his breath over your jaw sends a zap of electricity through every single nerve in your body. Your breath hitches. “You may.”
You’re not sure you’ll ever get sick of Art Donaldson’s smile. The curve of his mouth as he leans in, brushing his nose to yours before your lips meet.
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Your computer pings.
Patrick Zweig sent you a friend request.
You raise an eyebrow and hit ‘accept.’
A minute later, there’s another notification.
Patrick Zweig wrote on your wall. “Congratulations on a successful first date with @Art Donaldson! 😘”.
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luveline · 15 hours
Note
hi jade! ☺️☺️ ur one of my favorite writers gosh you feed my heart everyday
im currently going through my usual body-wrecking periods 🥲 ur fics are helping
could you write something for bombshell! x spencer where maybe deeper into their relationship she is open with him about her period and he comes over to take care of her when her body is aching or she feels nauseous. im thinking some hair playing or some tummy rubbing.
i hope your weekend is lovely 🫶
thank you ❤️❤️❤️ fem, 1k
Can I come over? Are you home 
You summon your first smile of the day, reading Spencer’s text. 
Don’t know, you text back, can you handle me? 
Usually not, but that hasn’t stopped me so far. I’ll bring dinner? 
What kind of dinner my love  
Maybe Indian? What do you want? I want tandoori chicken 
Indian food is awesome if that’s what you want, I’m just messing with you 
You can hear his voice in his next text, I know that. So I can come?
You can always come over but I have to warn you, I’m irritable 
What’s wrong??? 
Spencer texts again before you can answer, I’ll come now and we can order delivery, I’ll be right there 
You decide to call him before he can make the wrong conclusions. He answers so quickly you laugh down the line. “Spencer, hi, there’s nothing that wrong.” 
“What does that mean?” 
“You don’t have to rush over.” 
“Well, what’s wrong? Did I do something?” 
“Why do you always think that, babe? No, you didn’t do anything. You’re actively making me feel better just talking to me.” 
Spencer pauses briefly. “Really?” 
“Really. I’m on my period, it’s kicking my ass,” you mumble, dropping your face into the soft top of your couch. “It would make me feel so much better if you were here. I want a hug.” 
“I’m coming. I haven’t brushed up on my hug skills for a while–”
“You hugged me yesterday before I went home?” 
“How would you rate that? On a scale of one to ten?” 
“Ten, definitely.” You sigh and stretch out your legs. “No, just, my stomach is hurting and I feel sort of sick from the cramps. I’m a bit… depressed, maybe, so you don’t have to come over if you don’t want to. I might not be good company.” 
“You’re always good company, you loon.” 
“You what?” 
“Sorry, I’m trying to be playful.” 
“I know that, you loon,” you say, grinning. “Okay, you better be putting your shoes on. My patience is running out.” 
“I’m by the door!” he says, giggles woven through each word. You can picture his smile, his unbuttoned coat. “You feel sick, should I still get dinner?” 
“Yes, please. Tandoori chicken for me too, and–”
“I know what you want.” 
“Okay, I’m gonna go shower before you get here and see me all disgusting–”
“Don’t you dare.” 
“Spencer!” you laugh. 
“I’ll run you a bath when I get there. Can you sit down until then?” 
“I can’t believe how you’re speaking to me. You used to blush when I said hi.” 
“Because you never just say hi. And it’s not like anyone else saying hi, it’s you.” 
Spencer lets that kindness sit with you and says goodbye, promising he’ll be there soon with dinner. You hold your sore stomach and wait, flicking through tv channels, craving something warm to eat and a warmer chest to lay your head. Spencer’s hugs are without doubt a ten out of ten experience, he’s weirdly good at them for someone who maybe hasn’t had as many as he deserves. His hands are active as the rest of him stills, rubbing over your shoulders or your chest with care, his hair soft and ticklish on your cheek or his lips right next to your ear. 
You’re dozing when he lets himself in. The rustle of a plastic bag awakens your dormant appetite, and you force yourself to meet him in the hallway. 
He drops the bag like it isn’t forty dollars worth of food and beams at you. “Hi,” he says, fawning at your sloppy pyjamas. “These are cute, they’re way too big for you.” 
You manage to hug him first, your arms around him and face screwed up in his chest. “Hi. My stomach hurts so bad, I missed you.” 
“How bad?” he says, dropping his volume. “Have you ever considered you might have endometriosis?” 
“Spencer, I love you, can you hug me for now and tell me about it later?” 
“Sorry,” he murmurs, wrapping his arms around your shoulders. “Where does it hurt, everywhere?” 
“It’s in my back.” 
Spencer drops his hand lower. “Oh, here?” He rubs your back, and he leans away enough to see you eye to eye. “Let’s have dinner, then at least you’ll have a full stomach.” 
“I don’t know if I can manage it, but I’m starving.” 
“You don’t have to eat everything.” He visibly looks you over, one feature at a time. His eyes get stuck on yours, your lashes, and his lovely mouth tips down. “Were you sleeping?” 
“Got bored waiting for you. I’m not tired,” you promise. 
“It’s okay.” He grasps your back and rubs at it with good pressure, the shard of a cramp held back by his touch. “You okay?” 
You lift your chin, turn your head just a touch to one side, asking and not asking. He smiles in that not so secret pleasure as he gives you a quick peck. It’s quick and chaste and everything you need, better when he encourages your face into his neck to give you a last good rub on the back. “Do you wanna sit down? I’ll make you a plate and we can eat on the couch.” He dots a kiss against the highest point of your cheek. “I got you motrin. And tylenol, too.” 
“I don’t need any painkillers, you’re gonna rub my back.”
Spencer smiles into your cheek. “Mm, I’ll relax your uterus. Rhythmic touches.” 
“That’s one way to say it, sweetheart.” 
“How would you say it?” he asks, cupping the back of your neck tenderly. 
You deflect, not wanting to make fun of him. “I love you.”
He pulls away, grinning, failing to talk. He's smiling so hard. When he goes in for a third round of hugs, you aren’t surprised. 
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moonstruckme · 2 days
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Hey queen what about a lil fic of reader with one of the boys (u can pick whoever!!) where it's her first healthy relationship and May be she thanks them for being nice and he's just like ummm I don't wanna be mean to u
Thanks for requesting lovely!
James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 1k words
You have a habit of complaining into the void. It’s not the first text you send James griping about your day at work and it likely won’t be the last, but you’re surprised when the result is him turning up at your desk with flowers and a coffee. 
“James,” you say dumbly, looking up in absolute astoundment as he sets the flowers carefully by your keyboard and bends down for a kiss. 
“Hi, angel.” James presses the coffee into your hand. Spots the empty desk next to yours and, with a quick glance around, steals the chair, sitting beside you. “Are you still on your lunch break?” 
“I—yeah.” Your brain can’t quite make sense of him at your work. It’s like being a kid and seeing your teacher at the store. James, with his casual clothes and easy smile, doesn’t belong in this place. “I’ve got twenty minutes left. What are you doing here?” 
“You seemed like you were having a rough morning,” he says simply. “I thought I might see if I could come and make you feel a bit better—don’t worry, I brought supplies.” 
He shrugs out of one strap of his backpack, swinging it around onto his lap and pulling out a small vase. James seems too distracted to have noticed your stupefaction. 
“Do you have a sink around here?” 
You point him towards the break room and he hurries off, returning a minute later to arrange your flowers in the vase. 
“I know it might be silly,” he says, as he works with a care that belies his words, “but I was thinking that if I was stuck in one place all day, it might help me to have something nice to look at. I considered getting you a mirror, but I thought you may have grown used to that particular sight so I ought to mix it up.”
James glances up to catch your reaction to the last bit, dimples appearing when you fluster. As he sits back down, his gaze roams your workspace, largely empty as most of your coworkers have gone to lunch. He swivels the chair from side to side absentmindedly, his knees brushing yours with each pass. It feels like someone striking a match. 
“I didn’t know you had so few windows in here.” He blows out a breath. “We should hit a park or something after you’re off tonight, get you some time in the sun.” 
“That sounds nice,” you say, lifting the coffee in your hand to your lips reflexively. 
It’s not until you register the taste that you think to look at the logo on the cup. It’s from your favorite coffee shop, the one with only one location, which you almost never go to because it’s so far from where you work and live. 
“James,” you say, voice soft with wonder, “did you go all the way across town to get this?” 
“Yeah.” He smiles, tilting his head sideways to rest it on his palm. “That’s the one you like, right?” 
“Yeah, but…” You shake your head, grinning. “You’re crazy,” you say, when you mean to say You’re incredible. 
“Crazy for you.” He makes a disgusted face as he says it, laughing at himself. You can’t bring yourself to do the same. 
You remember a time, not so long ago, when you would have felt lucky if the person you were dating responded to your texts at all. James has responded in person, with kind words and gifts and a thoughtfulness that’s going to brighten not just the rest of your day but your week. You’ve no idea what to do with this much sweetness. 
You shake your head again. “Thank you. Seriously, I—this is too nice. You’re so—” You lean forward, running your forefinger over the stubble on his jaw as you peck him on the lips. His smile leaps up on his face. “You’re so sweet to me, Jamie. Thank you.” 
“I don’t mind, sweetheart, really.” James palms the back of your elbow, his touch trailing down to your wrist as you pull away. “I like doing things for you. You deserve it.” 
You smile at him, letting the sincerity in his voice warm your chest. “Nobody’s ever been this nice to me before,” you admit. 
James’ expression heavies slightly, a divot forming in between his brows. You feel embarrassed for having said it. You don’t mean to sound self-pitying, you only want James to understand how much you appreciate him, how unprecedented he is for you. 
He smooths his thumb over the hairs on your arm. “I want you to be happy,” he says, a carefulness to his words that’s so unlike his usual quick, energetic way of speaking. “Angel, I’ve got no reason to be anything but nice to you, because it makes me happy to see you happy. It’s like—” He glances away from your face for a moment, biting the inside of his cheek as he thinks. “Like I’m getting to see you the way you’re supposed to be, does that make sense?”
He looks to you for confirmation. You can only stare back at him in stunned silence, horrendously in love and falling deeper by the second. James must find whatever he’s looking for in your expression, though, because he gives your wrist a friendly squeeze and goes on. 
“You’re supposed to be happy. You’re supposed to be treated nicely, no matter who you’re with, but I’m happy to be the person who gets to treat you that way.” He lifts his eyebrows as though to be sure you’re listening, lips quirking slightly. “And you’re nicer than nice to me, so I don’t want to hear any of this crap about bringing you flowers and a coffee being too nice. Got it?” 
Your face is a furnace. You don’t know how to respond. 
James grins, looking ten percent smug and ninety percent smitten. “Say okay, sweetheart.” 
“Okay,” you echo, unable to help breaking into a smile of your own. “Thanks.” 
James groans. He grabs the seat of your chair, rolling you closer to him until your knees are on either side of his. “Enough with the thanks,” he chides, more laughter than irritation in his tone. “Those other people sound like assholes, lovely. We’ve gotta up your standards.” 
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littleprinces · 2 days
Text
Summer of Sin: A Tale of Forbidden Desires ft Belle KIOF
T. Anal, Anal Creampie, Stepcest
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I couldn't believe my luck when I found out my stepsister, Belle, was coming to visit for the summer. She was a half Korean and American girl, barely 19 years old, with an attitude that matched her blonde hair. Little did I know, that summer break would change our relationship forever.
Belle and I had always been close, but there was an undeniable tension between us, growing stronger every day she was in town. One day, she asked to use my bathroom before we went out for dinner. I couldn't help but notice her shapely ass as she walked away, and I felt my cock stir in my pants.
I heard her giggle from behind the closed bathroom door, and I knew she caught me staring. "You like what you see, oppa?" she teased. I was taken aback by her boldness but couldn't deny the attraction I felt.
"Maybe I do," I replied, my voice barely above a whisper. "But I don't think it's appropriate for a stepsister and brother to act on their desires."
"Who says we can't?" Belle challenged, opening the door and stepping out, her eyes locked with mine. "We're both adults, aren't we? And it's not like anyone has to know."
My heart pounded in my chest as she walked over to me, her hips swaying seductively. She placed her hand on my chest, and I could feel the warmth of her touch through my shirt. "What do you say, oppa? Let's have a little fun."
Without saying a word, I leaned in and pressed my lips against hers, kissing her passionately. Our tongues danced together in a French kiss that left us both breathless.
Belle pulled away and looked at me with a mischievous grin. "I knew you wanted me. Now it's time to show you what I've been hiding under these clothes." She reached for the hem of her shirt and slowly lifted it up, revealing her perky breasts and flat stomach.
I couldn't take my eyes off her as she undressed, and soon we were both naked, our bodies pressed together. I couldn't resist burying my face in her neck, licking and nibbling her soft skin while she moaned softly.
She pushed me onto my back on the bed and climbed on top of me, straddling my waist. Her pussy was already wet and ready for me, but she had other plans. She reached behind her and guided my cock to her tight asshole, slowly sliding it inside.
"Oh, fuck," I groaned as she began to ride me in the in doggystyle position. Her ass felt incredible, and I couldn't help but grab onto her hips, guiding her up and down as she fucked me.
"Harder, oppa," she panted, her voice breathy and needy. "Fuck my ass like you mean it."
'Yes belle, you are mine, i love you my sister' i moaned hardly and still pounding her ass so bad
I did as she asked, pounding into her with all my might. She screamed my name, her orgasm building until she finally let go, her body shaking with pleasure.
I pulled out just in time, my cock throbbing as I watched her cum drip down her thighs. I knew what I wanted to do next, and Belle didn't object. I positioned myself between her legs, my cock still rock hard.
"You want to breed me, oppa?" she asked, a smirk on her face.
"Fuck yes, I do," I growled, slipping my cock back inside her soaking wet pussy. I thrust into her hard and fast, my balls slapping against her ass with each stroke.
"Give it to me, oppa," she moaned, her fingers digging into my back. "I want to feel you cum inside me."
I couldn't hold back any longer. With one final thrust, I filled her pussy with my seed, breeding her like she asked. We lay there, tangled in each other's arms, our bodies slick with sweat and cum.
As we caught our breath, I knew that our relationship would never be the same. But at that moment, all I could think about was how good it felt to have my stepsister's body wrapped around mine.
Sorry for late post, i'm so busy
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papercorgiworld · 3 days
Text
A good excuse to kiss
The requested Theo and Mattheo version of ‘a good excuse to kiss’
In order to keep your best friend’s relationship a secret you have to distract a certain slytherin.
Aria (cameo by @justdizzie ) is your Gryffindor best friend and has a secret relationship with Draco.
Read the Enzo and Blaise version here.
Not really proofread, so let me know if there's any major errors that hurt your brain. I really wanted to write and post something for my 2000 reblogs milestone so this might be a bit rushed. Anyways, here's some Mattheo and Theo content, I feel like it's been a while since I wrote for them, so enjoy and lots of love to all of you.
Damn it, Aria, where are you? It was lunch time and you still hadn’t seen your friend. You were seriously getting worried, which brought you to the door of Draco’s room. You were pleased to find the Slytherin common room empty, since Aria and Draco’s relationship was top secret you really couldn’t bring her up around his friends. 
“I think we should get up.” Draco whispers softly as his hand strokes Aria’s soft hair. With still sleepy eyes she looks up at him. “But I’m so comfy.” Draco smiles and gives her a soft kiss on top of her head, before wrapping his arms around her.  
Your fist hits the door hard. “Malfoy!” You yell and immediately you take a step back hearing a lot of noise and loud whispers. “What do we do? Quick hide.” “Where?” You roll your eyes. “It’s me!” You yell and Aria on the other side of the door relaxes her shoulders. “It’s (y/n). Thank Godric." Draco relaxes as well and can’t help but smile. “We’ve got to stop doing this.” He sighs and Aria frowns at his words. “I mean the secrecy, not the dating!” Draco immediately explains. “Idiot. Like I would ever let you go.” He mutters, before kissing his girlfriend so she can’t complain about his little insult. 
The door opens and you see Aria’s messy black hair and apologetic brown eyes. “We overslept. Keep guard for a moment, I’ll be there in sec.” You nod, but as soon as the door closes you shake your head. Being the only friend that knows of their secret relationship was an honor, but also a full time job. Luckily for you, everyone was at lunch so no one would come looking for them, except…
Theo
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You hear someone enter while cursing. “Where is that little sneaky slippery guy now?” You quickly scan the room to see if you can hide somewhere, but you don’t really see a way out and also you suddenly remember that you have to stand guard. Theo’s agitated gaze lands on you, fidgeting and awkwardly staring around the room. Things just got weirder, but also more interesting for Theo. “Why are you standing in front of Draco’s door like you’re hiding a dead body behind it?” You immediately feel caught, but you frown at the mentions of a dead body. “There’s no dead body.” You say, determined to prove to him you have no secrets, taking a few steps towards him in an attempt to keep him away from the door just in case he could hear Aria. “And how would you know?” Theo raises an eyebrow as his eyes meet yours. Gods, Theodore was the most smug and self confident guy you had ever met. 
“I checked.” You state and Theodore’s tongue wets his bottom lip while he raises his eyebrows. “And why exactly were you checking Draco’s room?” Your eyes widen a little as you fall short on excuses. “I-I-I’m I’m-I had a project… with Malfoy. I have a project with Malfoy and I came to check if he had done his work.” Despite your stammering you convince yourself you did well with your answer, but Theodore was far from buying it. 
“You’re a shit liar.” Theo snaps and shoves you aside, heading for Draco’s room. “Now let’s see what that blond’s up to!” Your brain goes blank as you panic when he walks past you, but Aria was your best friend so in an instant your instincts take over. You grab Theo’s arm and pull him towards you. Not expecting you to so violently jerk his arm Theodore turns towards you, but you give him no time to question your actions… or for you to question your own for that matter. Your hand reaches for the back of his head and you pull him in for a kiss. Theo lets you and even moves closer to you, his hands tracing from your hips to the small of your back. When you finally pull away your actions dawn on you and you’re met with a very amused and smirking Theodore. “What was that?” He demands in a soft whisper. Your mouth opens but your brain hasn’t come up with an excuse for your behavior yet, making Theo chuckle softly at your lost expression. “If you can’t come up with any good excuses your only option is to kiss me again.” His voice is suggestive, but you’re still too worried about your friend to realize he’s flirting. “I could always go check that room.” Theo suggests when he gets impatient with you and within a heartbeat you’re kissing him again.
This time Theodore meets you with even more passion and you can’t deny that he’s doing everything right. “Remind me to thank Draco later for whatever he’s got you keeping secret.” Theodore breathes in between kisses as his mouth sloppily works down your neck.
“Thank me for what exactly?” Draco’s voice has you spin away from each other to meet his smirk. Theodore doesn’t look very fazed by being caught, rather annoyed that the little make out got interrupted. When Theo looks over at you he immediately falls in love with your flustered look. You were very embarrassed, but at least you were a good friend to Aria.
Mattheo
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“Ey Malfoy!” You’re startled when you recognise Mattheo’s loud and demanding voice. “Get your incredibly white ass to the great hall, you’re la-” Mattheo stops and his eyebrows knit together when he spots your sheepish figure standing in front of the door of Draco’s room. “What are you up to?” He demands, suspicious as he was about everyone but his close circle of friends. You cross your arms. “Nothing.” Your answer only makes Mattheo more curious and assures him that he’ll get whatever secrets you’re keeping out of you easily since you obviously possessed no skills of lying. 
“I recognise trouble when I see it.” Mattheo calmly walks over to you, his eyes falling down your figure, taking in every detail like he was going to find out all your secrets by watching you intently. You huff and try to wave away the fact Mattheo is successfully intimidating you. “You, Riddle, are trouble, I, on the other hand, am the innocence itself.” You state, tilting your head as you make your argument. Mattheo snorts and walks around you, making you turn and narrow your eyes at him. You were not some prey he could circle like this. “You weren’t just standing here, doing nothing. So explain yourself.” You lose all focus when he says those words as you see the doorknob of Draco’s door turn behind Mattheo. 
Smiling and unaware of Mattheo, Aria appears at the opening of the door and the panic that rushes over your face informs Mattheo that something’s going on. “Wha-” He turns, but you grab his face, squishing his cheeks in your hands. “What are you doing?” He demands with his face still smushed together. Aria is still in view and you realize that she’s going to hide somewhere to get out of the slytherin common room. Your attention is brought back to Mattheo when his hands pull on yours, but you can’t let him turn around so here goes nothing. 
You hoped that Mattheo’s eyes would close, but they go wide as your lips slam against his. Knowing that Aria is going to need a few seconds to get out of this room you decide to go in for a deep kiss, all or nothing. It only takes Mattheo a moment to realize what your effort is all about and he wouldn’t be a true slytherin if he didn’t take an opportunity like this to make out with a pretty girl. No secret you were keeping was worth missing out on a little make out session with you, according to Mattheo’s book. His hands immediately slip under your skirt to rest on your thighs and you want to complain about this rather blunt move of his, but when he finally kisses you back you let him because no guy had ever kissed you like this. There was an immense fire of desire in the way he kissed that ignited a deep longing for more within you. 
When he knows he’s doing it right he squeezes your ass urging you to move against him and allowing him to pick you up and push you against a nearby wall. Aria who has by now made it to the other side of the room is shocked by what she’s seeing. Her best friend who’s always so innocent full on making out with Mattheo Riddle of all guys and this before the day had even started properly. For a split second Aria considers coming to your rescue but as a soft moan leaves Mattheo when your fingers entangle with his hair and you throw back your head allowing him to nip at your sweet spot, your friend decides it best not to interrupt this and rather tease you about it later.
Picture source: https://pin.it/1WOSNnX6U
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shrenvents · 3 days
Text
Guard Dog
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Warnings: Part one of two (is smut), stalkerish lol, fluff, mentions of death, mutual pining
Pairing: Daryl Dixon x you
Summary: Set after joining Alexandria, Daryl's overtly having issues settling in, and even more problems leaving you alone.
Word count: 1.8k
...
You and Daryl have known each other for years. Through thick and thin, your found-family has each other's backs. But your group has been wearing thin. From Beth to Tyreese, now in Alexandria, a strange and new environment— it's safe to say, Daryl’s been on edge. He was losing his nerve, and that somehow entailed keeping you close, very close.
Every and any second you're alone, he invades both your physical space, and it's becoming difficult to keep your feelings at bay, because you’ve been in love with him since your time at the prison. Even then, when shit hit the fan, he raced to get you out. Though you feared your affections for him made such a delusion — one that posed he would think to save you first— his recent clingy behaviour has made you believe in said delusion.
Today, he's back at it. You were alone gathering food for dinner for less than 10 minutes before he marched into the garage. Bearing in mind that he has no reason to be here, and spent most of his time hidden from the locals, his appearance would be considered unusual.
You let Daryl silently stand there, patrolling the entrance for a few seconds, till your heart gives out.
“Is something the matter?” You utter, shifting your eyes to his dark ones, and they snap to you, slightly taken aback. “Nothin,” is all he grumbles before looking outwards to your surroundings, observing and scanning like the hunter he is.
“Daryl, we’ve been here for weeks," huffing, "we’re alive, and well,” you state, swallowing quietly. “You can relax you know.” You turn to lift a basket of supplies. When heading for the exit, Daryl swiftly steps in front of you.
“I ain’t doin' nothin' but standing,” he rumbles defensively.
“Standing in front of me, might I add,” you retort, smiling, trying to ease the strange tension, but his face remains stoic. Daryl stares directly into you, and a shiver rolls down your spine. His intense gaze doesn’t last long, as he chooses to walk off without a goodbye. Your shoulders instantly deflate, and you exhale, closing your eyes.
“Now what was that?” Sasha’s voice makes you flinch, popping your eyes open to peer at her. “You tell me,” you sigh and she laughs.
“I’ll be damned if I ever try to read that caveman's mind,” she grins, “You're better off leaving that question for Carol.” Her smirk tells a different story, one that says she knows something more, and you can’t help the second shiver that racks through your body.
...
Desperate to figure out Dixon, you go to Carol’s, asking for her assistance with dinner as a cover.
As you both cook, it takes little time for her to notice your incessant gawking. She pronounces your name, and your eyes snap back to the sizzling food. “Cmon, you can talk to me,” she assures.
When you decidedly stay hushed, she releases a sigh that eases into a snicker. “You should speak soon before Daryl finds us, or you, rather,” she mentions, attempting to contain her humour. You spin to face her. “What do you mean by that?” You question far too quickly, that the words practically jumble together. “Exactly what it seems,” she smiles pleasantly, ignoring your eager tone. “You’ve got yourself a lifelong, loyal guard dog.”
“Why? I mean, Daryl’s protective of everybody? But why does he only follow me?” You ramble, “Doesn’t he trust me to not end up dead, in a friendly, gated community?” You pout and Carol laughs again.
“That isn’t quite why,” she dwindles.
“Please just spell it out for me, I can't take it anymore.” Now square to her, you drop the stirring utensil, and tug your apron over your head. She watches you move, absorbed in her thoughts, as you jump to sit on the edge of the kitchen island. “He’s making you uncomfortable?” She asks warily.
“Yes,” you pause, “and no.” Your head lowers in embarrassment.
After a moment, you look at Carol, while she refocuses on adding more ingredients, to the dish you abandoned. “Why does he do it?”
Her moving actions falter, and she pivots to face you. “It isn’t for me to say, but being around you, knowing you’re safe, clearly calms him." Though you don’t truly get it, you nod slowly so Carol goes back to finishing the meal.
Just as she puts meat in the oven, Daryl waltzes through the door, without so much as knocking or giving some sort of warning. You yelp when you spot him. When you lock eyes, you refuse to hold it, so you turn your head over your shoulder quickly, with a grimace, one that doesn’t go unnoticed by Daryl.
“What? Somethin' happen?” His hoarse voice sounds almost panicked. As you swivel your neck to soothe Daryl’s unnecessary worry with a "No," he suddenly grips your wrist, far too roughly. You squeak as he grabs your full attention.
You assess how he stands motionless in front of your knees, eyes widened, regarding his hand as it holds your wrist. He looks kind of appalled, as if he couldn’t believe he touched you. He then briskly lets go of your arm, like it burned him, retracing into himself.
You gulp and your bottom lip trembles. 'Was he disgusted? Did he see you as a child? What had you done to warrant this behaviour?' You think anxiously.
You look between Carol and Daryl now, as they share a lengthy stare. You swear under your breath, then push Daryl's chest with your fists, shocking both of them.
“I’m leaving, do not, follow me.” You order, with a vexed, yet hurt look. His mouth gaps with a soundless word, and you leave.
...
Sitting alone in your home, your empty stomach growls, and you start to seriously regret what you did earlier, which left you too ashamed to stay for dinner.
As your thoughts run wild, a quiet knock at the door diminishes them. You stay still, almost wondering if the noise is no more than a tree branch, moved by wind, but he bellows your name.
"Daryl?" You respond, and his voice simply calls your name again, almost like a plea. You turn the lock and knob, opening to find Daryl, fidgeting on his feet uncomfortably at your doorstep. "Um, come in?" You alllow meekly, and he enters, faintly brushing your side.
Picking up his musky, pine scent, you bite your lip examining him, slowly leaning back on the closing door. He looks around agitatedly, seeming completely out of place, and somewhat flustered.
Growing stiff, you can't bear the awkward silence for much longer.
"I'm sorry," you mumble an apology for something, you're not sure what, and clearly, neither is he. He whirls towards you, stepping into your space. "For what?"
"I was rude earlier and-"
"Not rude, just, confusing." He interjects, brows furrowing in tune with his sentence. You scowl, "Well, if I'm being honest, I wouldn't say I'm the 'confusing' one here." Your remark reminds you of your previous feelings, and they bubble to the surface.
When he says nothing, you continue. "I'm safe here Daryl, and pretty happy, all things considered," you breathe out in exasperation. "Is there some danger that I should know of? Is someone here out to get me?"
"No-"
"So why do you keep chasing me around?" You just about shout, interrupting him. Daryl flinches and looks as though he wants to be anywhere but here, with you. He fixates on the door behind you. "I ain't doin' nothin-"
"Daryl! Please just," you cut yourself short as your voice escalates. "Please be honest with me, after everything we've been through, you owe me that," you beg.
His tense frame withers in defeat. "I just can't leave your side," he grumbles, his words barely understandable. "Why?"
"Don't wanna lose ya," Daryl's voice trails off as his head wheels to the side. "You won't, and I can take care of myself, just like the others, who you don't follow around." You fail to hide your ignominy, visibly disappointed that he believes you need special attention, over the rest of the group. "Can't," he mumbles.
"'Can't' what?" You inquire, now stepping into his space, voice rising.
"I can't, 'cause I don' wanna lose you," he exclaims again in a burst. Your face twists further in ignorance. "Christ woman," he runs his hand down his tormented expression. "Daryl, please stop dancing around what you mean." You cry out, "'Lose me?' Tell me what you mea-"
Abruptly, he grips your shoulders. "I want ya." He states, baring his teeth as if it were a threat. "I want you, I want you to live."
"You 'want' me... To live...?" You ask slowly and his eyes roll back in frustration. "No, not just to live-"
"Because I love you," you blurt and immediately try to pry your shoulders from his clutch. He stills with you firmly in his grasp, so close that his nose nearly grazes yours. His hold increases its strength, and he shakes his head to himself, seemingly battling his own thoughts. "Daryl?" You whisper.
"How can you?" He utters so quietly it's barely audible, so quiet you don't think he expected to say it out loud.
While his eyes squeeze shut, you snake your arms around his waist, and his entire build clamps up. Now afraid of a possible rejection, you loosen your embrace. But his hands move from your shoulders to your upper back, arms drawing you to him, fully caging you in. You take in his broad chest as it presses against your less impressive one. Your fingers seize his leather vest, aching to know how it feels under your palms.
His heavy breathing fans your nape, and you swear he sniffs your hair, as his nose tickles the skin behind your ear. His fingertips tease the ends of your hair, and you take this as an opportunity to breathe him in. Just as you do, he pulls away, moving you to an arm's length. You blush.
"Sorry," he mutters and your brows crease. "I smell bad, I know," he murmurs and goes fairly red himself. "I don't mind," you say sweetly with a smile, ignoring the urge to tell him you like it. Finally getting a chance to gaze into his eyes properly. You virtually melt when his pupils appear glassy. You've only seen him cry once, after losing Beth. 'So would he really be brought to tears over a confession? From you no less?'
"Daryl?" He peeks up from behind his fringe. "Do you 'want' me, or like me, like I like you?" You ask, trying to minimize the pressure he may feel to admit any feelings, but you so desperately want to know —how desperately you want him to hold you again.
"Both," he rasps.
You nod and smile sheepishly, "I can work with that."
When a comfortable silence envelops the room, your stomach growls loudly. A modest smile takes shape on Daryl's face. "I put some food aside for you, back at Carol's." He emits, gesturing to the door behind you, wordlessly asking you to go over there, with him. You nod a yes and your heart pounds, swooning at his thoughtfulness. "Thank you."
You reach your hand out, and he very hesitantly, takes it in his, after wiping it twice on his thigh. You beam, heading out the door.
Part two
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not100bees · 3 days
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"Trump is so wacky and unpredictable that he might do anything! Including implementing my personal leftist whatever because he is so wacky." Donald Trump's brain is melting out of his ears through a combination of being worshiped by a particularly stupid portion of the country, being in the public eye, being surrounded by yes men who will not tell him no, and plain old age but that doesn't mean he isn't extraordinarily predictable. His politics are based on cruelty, we know what he'll do. And who he'll do it to. Women, people of color and LGBT people All had their rights stripped away from them as a direct result of Donald Trump being president. Do whatever you want. I am not in a position to make demands about who you vote for or whatever. But please do not insult my intelligence by pretending that a second Trump term could be good.
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svtswhorehouse · 1 day
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OT 13 : edging vs overstimulation
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Seungcheol : overstimulation. honestly, i feel as if he’s the type of person to use it as a punishment. ya’ll would probably go through like a hundred different positions and he’ll make you cum with every single one before he can switch to the next. would hit you with that faux sympathy and imitate a pouty face when he slows down to check on you. when you say you’re okay, he’ll slam back into you again. won’t stop until you use your safe word, but will take a break if you really need it. needs to see your mascara running, desperate doe eyes, and fucked out expression the entire time.
Jeonghan : edging. oh baby, good luck with this one. A MENACE. would probably do it for hours until you’re crying and a babbling mess. he lowkey gets off on how pathetic and dumb you get for him. likes being begged, so he might gaslight you into thinking you don’t want it as much as you say you do which will make you even more desperate. the type to use anything from his tongue, to his dick, to toys — you’ve grown to hate vibrators overtime. also another one who would fake being sympathetic and imitate your sad face. he would probably play dumb like “what baby? why are you crying?” he’s a meanie overall, and will do it just for fun but he’ll make you feel good so don’t you worry your pretty little head.
Joshua : edging. he’s honestly such a sweet and caring person, but he’s also friends with jeonghan and apart of the 95’ line so what do you expect. some days he would choose to be nice, but other days he would decide to be a tease. honestly, not that bad though. he would only do it for a little while before deciding you’ve had enough. lowkey likes it when you cry. he has the biggest hands in seventeen so he utilizes them a lot, especially when it comes to you. enjoys the way you clench around them whenever he stops. he definitely takes time to examine your face which a teasing smile and ask you “what’s wrong,” even though he knows he’s being an ass.
Jun : edging. tbh, does it just to laugh and be a little shit. will be fingering you, pull away really quickly and look back up at you with a smile on his face. will probably be like “ha, you thought,” or “gotcha.” let’s out the cutest giggle whenever he does it that sometimes it’s difficult for you to be mad at him. does it a few times before you smack him on his shoulder and threaten him with no pussy for a week. will definitely let you cum after that.
Hoshi : overstimulation. HOSHI IS A MUNCH AND NO ONE CAN CONVINCE ME OTHERWISE. would probably choose to live between your thighs if you let him tbh. def eats pussy like he’s a starved man and it’s his last meal he’ll ever have. probably enjoys it more than you do. you can push him away all you want, but he’ll come right back (will literally beg you if that’s what it takes, he loves pussy). main dancer and his stamina is insane, so he doesn’t mean to overstimulate you really, he can just go for hours. you would definitely have to take breaks in between rounds with this one.
Wonwoo : edging. finds it amusing. might tie you up, just to keep you still whenever he decides to go to town on your pussy. he’ll shoot you a little smirk from time to time which will end up pissing you off because he def knows he’s being an asshole. prefers to edge you with his cock, he likes the way your pussy flutters around it whenever he stops. also, his favorite time to do it is whenever he’s gaming. he’ll have you sit on his cock and have you do all the work while he plays a video game. it’s only when your whines start getting louder and movements start to get fast when he’ll place a firm hand on your hip and hold you in place. loves when you look at him all teary eyed, but still promises he’ll make you feel good after. no one said how long his game was gonna last though so good luck.
Woozi : wild card. depends on what HE feels like. you have no say. you just shut your mouth and look pretty for him. if he’s stressed he’ll edge you, but if he needs a mental break or something, he’ll overstimulate you. will definitely happen in his studio the most, just cause that’s where most of his stress leads back to — writing and producing. enjoys cockwarming while he works, but if you’re being stubborn and moving too much, he’ll decide to fuck and overstimulate you. will be like “i thought this is what you wanted baby? couldn’t stay still cause you wanted my cock so bad hm?”
Dokyeom : overstimulation. he’s just happy to please overall. also another one that doesn’t mean to overstimulate you. he just wants to make you feel good and when you try and push him away, he just might look at you with puppy dog eyes. also loves when you sit on his face, he feels like he can be as messy as he wants. asks why you’re crying, but not in a mocking type of way, he just genuinely doesn’t know that it feels too good that it’s getting hard to hold yourself up. it’s a good thing he’s strong.
Mingyu : overstimulation. i feel like he has an oral fixation and cures it by eating you out tbh. this big and beefy man specifically loves it when you sit on his face. if you hover over him for a second too long, he’s pulling you down and holding you in place. obviously he’s ridiculously strong so when you try and pull away, he doesn’t let you. will gaslight you into thinking you can take one more, even if it’s the hundredth time and you’ll agree just because it feels too good to say no. will cage you in with his arms and fucks you so good you wouldn’t be able to utter an audible sentence. likes when yours eyes get all dazed and it looks as if there’s not a thought in your head. he’ll be on a mission to make you squirt.
Minghao : edging. says that you need to practice patience ???? might use it as a learning experience for you ???? might make you want to kill him after ???? lmao. i feel as if he’s more likely to deny your orgasm completely than to edge you. like he would edge for a bit, but overall wouldn’t let you cum. he says it’s to learn to be more patient, but really he just enjoys how desperate and whiny you get after. will definitely fuck you nice and good when y’all get in bed for the night. might tease you by edging you once, but when tears start to brim your eyes, he’ll let up. just, be a good girl for him and don’t piss him off.
Seungkwan : edging. honestly, he’s sweet with it. will check in on you often and make sure you’re doing okay. seungkwan’s favorite way of edging you is by literally having you grind on his thigh. he enjoys how easy it is to get you off and likes to see his skin coated with your slick. also, he def knows his quads are strong af so why would you not wanna ride his thigh? will mutter words of encouragement and praise, even when he stops your movements. knows that him shaking his leg really helps so he’ll stop moving altogether when he feels like you’re getting close. a sucker for your tears so he might give in if you play your cards right.
Vernon : honestly, whatever you want. goes with the flow and the mood. vernon is the type of guy who might let you take the lead. if you wanted to dom for the night then okay. if you wanted to fuck in a bathroom then okay. if you wanted to be edged or overstimulated then he will help you. won’t do it as a punishment, but it’s also not something that he thinks of. you might have to bring it up or give him hints before he can act on it. you might also have to control it so like when you think you’re gonna cum you might have to push him away, or if you want to be overstimulated, just take the lead and hold him close.
Dino : overstimulation. another main dancer right here. he has a lot of energy in him. you would want it as much as he’s happy to give it though. y’all are definitely the type of couple to fuck like two bitches in heat. he would be on a mission to either see how many surfaces y’all could fuck on or how many rounds he’s capable of going which will therefore lead to you getting overstimulated. honestly, doesn’t mean to overstimulate you he just gets a little excited. will apologize after and be so soft with you though so it’s okay.
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kissedsuns · 3 days
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i adore your account & writing style 🫶🏼 i'm thinking reader who is low-key obsessed with charles' hands but not necessarily in a sexual manner (optional) at all but just always wants to hold his hand, public & private aka. physical touch as a love language, and he notices? lot's of love <3
thank you sweets! this was such a cute idea, loved writing it. especially because it gave me something to do while i'm recovering from this cold . . .
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you absolutely adored your boyfriend.
everything about him was flawless. his luscious, brown hair, his dazzling eyes. that charming smile of his and his little dimples that show up occasionally which makes your heart do somersaults. but most especially, you fucking loved his hands.
sure, it might sound weird, but they were so long and delicate. you can't help but stare when he flexes his hands, his veins practically bulging out.
and yes, he does notice.
"charles!" you call out from the kitchen, and his head instantly perks up at the sound of your voice.
"yes, baby?" he comes rushing in.
with a jar of strawberry jam in your hand, you push it towards him, hinting that you need some help opening it.
he giggles, shaking his head before taking the jar from your grasp.
for just a second, you got to see those veins pop out. those slender, alluring fingers curling around the jar, gripping the lid, and using almost no effort to unscrew it.
you quickly scramble to take the jar from his hands, your face heating up. although charles couldn’t feel the warmth, he definitely sensed it.
and he certainly caught you staring.
"thank you," you smile at him, placing the lid on the counter. "did you want some jam tarts? i'm making some in honour of the monaco grand prix. afterall, red is your colour."
charles' lips twist into a genuine smile. "jam tarts sound great," he leans down and presses a small kiss to your temple. "thank you."
to top it all off, he reaches forward and brushes a stray strand of hair out of your face, making it even more intimate by tucking it behind your ear. his index finger then trails down the side of your face, tracing your jawline before his hand drops to his side.
he knows exactly how much you love his hands—the way you melt at the lightest touch of his fingertips, or how you instinctively reach for his hand whenever you're walking together in public. it's almost as if your hands are magnetically drawn to his.
and he doesn't mind at all because he absolutely loves it.
his smirk widens as he watches the corner of your lips twitch into a loving smile. "need any help with making them?" he asks.
you shake your head. "that's alright," you say, taking his hand and interlocking your fingers, pressing a soft kiss to his knuckles.
before charles leaves the kitchen, he gazes into your eyes lovingly, with that same grin on his face.
it doesn't fade, and you start to wonder what could be so amusing that he can't wipe that smile off his face.
"..something you want to say?" you ask, an embarrassed grin tugging at your lips.
"oh, nothing. it's just.." he reaches out and tips your chin up with his finger. "did you want to kiss me anywhere else or just my hands?"
you roll your eyes, feeling a bit flustered that he has finally caught on.
charles leclerc isn't clueless when it comes to understanding his girl and the way she expresses her love. and if that means drooling over his hands, then so be it.
you press a kiss to his lips before pulling back, and his hand comes up to gently tug at your cheek.
"your hands are so warm," you hum, holding his hand against your face.
he laughs, patting your cheek gently before eventually pulling away.
and only then does he leave the kitchen. with that same smirk from earlier, of course.
© kissedsuns
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uriekukistan · 3 days
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JJK 261 ANALYSIS: What happened, how, why Yuuta made the choice he did, and a discussion of tragedy & major themes of JJK
MAJOR spoilers below the cut so please read at your risk.
i wanted to dissect what happened a bit, and address a few points i saw floating around since the leaks dropped. of course, these are all my interpretations, so feel free to disagree, i just had a lot of thoughts floating around that i wanted to put out for discussion.
I. Gojo was never coming back
first of all, i don't know how you guys expected him to survive bisection. i said this earlier in the day as my justification for why i didn't think gojo was coming back, prior to leaks, and i don't think i can say it any better now.
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and this is just my interpretation of reverse curse technique, but if anything, yuuta in this chapter supports my theory. in the scene where he's on shoko's table and arata nitta says that he's used rct to keep the wounds from getting worse, but it might be too late for yuuta to recover. in that case, gojo wasn't coming back from being sliced in half. it's just not possible.
additionally, and this is another thing that i've said for a long time. he says right in episode 6 (i forgot the chapter) that his dream is to reset the jujutsu world raise up a generation of strong students that work together. that is why he became a teacher. this very clearly comes from his relationship with suguru, and it's one of gojo's clearest motivations from the beginning.
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the problem is, in order to achieve this, he has to die. so long as satoru gojo is alive, he will have to carry the burden of being the strongest alone. his students won't have to work together, because gojo will just take care of everything. this is already in the works, with how many people have come together to stand against sukuna. if gojo lived and defeated sukuna on his own, this wouldn't have happened, and bringing him back would, again, reduce the need for his students work together.
unfortunately, gojo has been doomed by the narrative from the start, and his primary goal as a character basically requires his death to be realized in its entirety.
II. They're not heroes, they're jujutsu sorcerers.
yeah, i'm stealing megumi's line because it's true. he literally said it twice for a reason, and then yuuta said a repackaged version of it in this chapter ("we're about to fight history's strongest jujutsu sorcerer. if we can win by throwing away our humanity, we shouldn't even be arguing about this").
trust, all the characters are well aware of the ethical issues with taking gojo's body after he's dead, both with what it means for gojo, and with what it means for yuuta. but this isn't a story about heroism, this isn't a story about the power of friendship. if it was, yuuji would have saved junpei all the way back at the beginning of the series. it was pretty clear from the start that this wasn't going to be the typical shounen manga like that.
in fact, expecting it to be is unrealistic. it's unrealistic in real life too, if i'm being so honest. everyone wants to think they'd take the moral high road in this type of situation, but the reality is, when you're fighting tooth and nail against an opponent that is fighting dirty, you have to fight dirty too if you want to win, and i think that's what yuuta is trying to point out in this chapter.
this happens in real life wars which im not gonna get into examples because i dont want to start that kind of discourse, but like...it's so great to be idealistic and hope that virtue will triumph simply because it is virtuous, but i think if you take a look around, you'll realize it's true that good people do not get what they deserve simply because they're good (that's so megumi of me to say...). or if you think of it like a board game, if a player is cheating, it is infinitely harder to win without cheating yourself.
maybe this is a bit pessimistic of me to say, but you will not win a dirty fight without getting dirty yourself, and i think it's pretty clear that sukuna fights dirty.
additionally, it's shitty to see gojo be weaponized, and i understand that, but it plays into the themes about strength in jjk, which i will get into.
III. This was not an "ass pull."
i don't really have much to say to this. did you think yuuta wouldn't take kenjaku's technique? plus, kenjaku being eaten by rika is probably the only surefire way to ensure that they're dead and won't just hop to another body. i've already said why gojo wouldn't come back, but it makes sense that if yuuta were to copy kenjaku's technique, who else would he body hop into, if not gojo? there's already narrative evidence to support this action, from the guidelines of yuuta's technique, kenjaku's technique, and gojo's technique, to the character of yuuta okkotsu, which i want to do an analysis in a separate post for him, so i won't get into that right now.
idk...to me, all the threads connect, plus i felt like yuuta's return was foreshadowed pretty heavily in 259 & 260, with the mention of yuuta's plan that yuuji couldn't know, and then on the last page of 260, the comparison of sukuna and yuuta, so for me, i always thought that it was not actually gojo, but yuuta at the end of 260.
IV. Themes of JJK: The burden of being "the strongest," or even just strong
even many jjk fans see gojo as "the strongest," and nothing more, doing exactly what the narrative sets up as one of the chief problems of jjk. a lot of gojo's actions are spurred on by the burden he feels from being the strongest modern sorcerer. his entire character is built around this problem of the responsibility and burden that falls on someone who's considered to be "the best" at anything.
in fact, this is also a driving point for geto too, and the conflicts geto and gojo come into with each other, as well as geto's inevitable fall from grace. it all comes from this issue that's at the core of jujutsu society. gojo recognizes that, and, as i mentioned, that is why he became a teacher. so that no young sorcerers will feel the burden of being the strongest alone.
the problem is this is easier said than done. after gojo dies, this burden gets passed down to yuuta, and he feels that immense pressure, which is why he decides to do what he does. he says "haven’t we been pushing the burden of being a monster onto gojo-sensei alone? if gojo-sensei is gone, then who else will be the monster? If no one intends to become one, then I will!" and i think this really powerful evidence of the pressure and burden of being the strongest, and i think the word monster is really important here. the burden pushes people to be something they're not, a shadow of their true self.
it distorts morality, like with geto. it isolates people, like with gojo. it forces people to go to unspeakable lengths to uphold their burden, like with yuuta. it leads people with immense power to doubt themselves, like with megumi. it leads people to feel like a cog in the machine, not a human, like with yuuji.
this is sooo so important and a key theme of jjk, and this chapter in particular, and the driving force behind yuuta's actions.
V. Themes in JJK: Loneliness and Isolation
this one has, in my opinion, a bigger role in the story overall than just in this chapter.
as i mentioned before, gojo is lonely. the only person who could understand him was geto, and he turned away from him, and then died. he seems like a silly guy or whatever, but it's just a mask.
but geto also felt alone and isolated, and that's why he turned away. between gojo and geto, neither of them were able to put share the burden of carrying their strength alone, and it's what kept them apart and made their relationship so tragic.
arguably, and though he would never admit it, sukuna is also lonely, though it's buried deep within him and something he will likely never acknowledge, despite it, and his lack of understanding of love (arguably a symptom of his loneliness), are major reasons for the way he acts.
yuuta, though supported by maki, inumaki, and panda in a way that the previously mentioned characters are not, is still isolated. he alone carries the burden of his strength. he was also alone his whole life after rika died, and then again when he was shipped off to africa, away from his friends (yeah he had miguel, maybe i'm missing something, but i dont see them having that type of relationship.
not only that, but yuuta recognizes gojo's loneliness, and reaches out to tell him not to try to stand by himself once again, and gojo admits that's something he can't do, the reason being his relationship with geto.
even further, yuuji and megumi, the parallel to satosugu, are both deeply lonely, except for when they have each other. i mentioned in this analysis that the reason megumi can't just get up and keep going is because he's alone and has been for over a month. i want to get into this more in my next point.
VI. Where I think (hope) this leads for JJK
a satisfying ending for jjk, in my opinion, would be the resolution to this loneliness and burden of strength issue that has been present throughout the narrative. something like yuuji being able to save megumi and them being able to correct what went wrong with satosugu in their own relationship.
personally would like to see satosugu reach the ending they should have had through the itafushi parallels - let them save each other! but i do know gege said only one of them (the trio + gojo) will die, or only one will live....that was years ago maybe he changed his mind :D
we all want to see yuuji take down sukuna himself, but i think it would be a great resolution to see everyone take down sukuna as a team. no one person is alone, no one person has the burden of the strongest. i know i said this wasn't a "power of friendship" manga, and i stand by that, but i think this would be the perfect ending. yuuta throws his humanity away to do what he did in 261 because he felt like it was the only choice and it was something he alone could do, but yuuji represents unwavering humanity (literally his name), and i think to preserve that, they all need to share that burden. let them realize they need each other.
this is what gojo died for, and this is what he lived for. this is why he became a teacher in the first place- to raise a generation that can be strong together, that can support one another.
VII. "It's poorly written torture porn!" "There's no point if there's no happy ending!" etc
i said this in a separate post but tragedies have existed in literature since the 6th century BCE, 2600 years ago. many of the most popular stories throughout history have been tragedies, for example, orpheus & eurydice, romeo & juliet, even things like the fault in our stars and the titanic movie. here's a quick explanation of what it means for a story to be a tragedy (yeah it's from wikipedia but they want me to pay to access the original source and im not doing that for a jjk analysis)
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one of things i like most about this definition is the use of the word "catharsis," which is to say that the expression of strong emotions is a way of bringing about renewal and relief. in literature, it's used to say that with the arousal and following release of negative emotions relieves suppressed emotions for the viewer. im not gonna get too personal with it, but i know i've experienced this with jjk.
additionally all of the aforementioned tragedies, they have a message, no matter how sad they are. orpheus & eurydice inspires perseverance and faith in the gods. even something like titanic has messages about everlasting love that overcomes all boundaries. jjk has its message too, and it's long underway. we just have to wait for it to reach its conclusion.
it's easy to lose sight of the bigger picture when we only get one chapter a week, and the fact that the pain is so dragged out is a bit tiring, i'll admit. but that doesn't mean it's bad. having negative emotions stirred by a story doesn't mean bad writing. i mean, i would hope you feel sad. i would hope you feel angry. i would be concerned if you didn't. but given that jjk is a tragedy, that just indicates good writing. especially these last two chapters, i've felt moved in a way nothing else has done for me in a long time.
as always, these are just my thoughts!!! im happy to hear from anyone what they think :D
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leovenuslatina · 1 day
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AFTERCARE⭒ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁
!!!!THIS READING IS 18+ MDNI!!!!!!
⁺˚⋆。°✩₊✩°。⋆˚⁺
HOW YOUR FS TAKES CARE OF YOU AFTER SEX?
⁺˚⋆。°✩₊✩°。⋆˚⁺
₊˚⊹ ᰔ౨ৎ₊this is just a reminder that tarot isn’t permanent or set in stone YOU decide how your life goes no one or nothing else now take a deep breath and choose the pile that calls to you ₊˚⊹ ᰔ౨ৎ₊˚⊹
。☆✼★━━━━━━━━━━━━★✼☆。
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。☆✼★━━━━━━━━━━━━★✼☆。
pile one - king of cups , the hanged man
🌧️
shower you with love and affection they’ll be so in love with you afterwards you know post nut clarity? yeah they are the exact opposite after they nut they’re gonna be like so hazy and like so highly in love with you like covering you in kisses worshipping your body and telling you sweet nothings about how pretty you are and much they think you’re beautiful and goddess like. it’s like every time you two make love they fall more and more in love with you if that’s even possible. your FS is extremely helpful they’ll wanna get you snack and drinks i see them even ordering food and just like being super useful and attentive to anything you need. depending on what y’all did 🫣 they’ll be very quick to clean up any mess like deadass it might get wicked in the bedroom for y’all 😈 i’m seeing the two of you guys are definitely kinky. they’ll want you to literally do NOTHING ! immediately after sex they treat you like you’re literally made of glass or like you’re their delicate little flower 🌸🥹 they’re soooooooo helpful pile 1 omgz like if you have to pee they’ll lit carry you to the bathroom. if you want to clean yourself up they’ll literally draw you a bath like they loves to being so sweet to you. i’m getting they kiss you all over they really want to make sure you are always safe and comfortable your happiness is always their biggest priority !! i cannot stress enough how much your happiness makes them happy :)
extra messages- king, satisfaction, clean girl vibes, cookies, desserts 🍮, soft pink , 333
✩。:*•.───── ❁ ❁ ─────.•*:。✩
pile two - ace of pentacles, six of swords
🗡️
right off the bat y’all be i’m the bedroom going games asfff. either one or both of you really likes it rough i mean there’s no holding back for the two of you i’m talking degradation kinks spankings idk y’all might even do some wax play ! after your wild ass sex sessions their after care for you is top tier their main focus and goal is to just calm you and make sure you’re hearts not beating so fast lol. afterward they’re so thankful 🥲 they think they won the lottery with a lover like you you’re hands down so beautiful to them and the two of you are so compatible when it comes to kinks and your sexual desires they know how lucky they are to have you in there mind you’re the best sex they’ve ever had !! they may have a little of experience under their belt so they know what they’re talking about and you’re the most incredible person they’ve been with. they get this giddy excitement when the two of you are finished he feels like he’s winning for life because you’re such an angel. after having sex with you your FS is just so stuck in his mind about how lucky they are to see you naked and how much they hope they hope they made you feel as good as you make them feel. i’m seeing them mainly bringing you water applying any creams and immediately just falling asleep dreaming about you 💤.
extra messages - white sheets, late nights, travel, hotels, luxurious, mental clarity
✩。:*•.───── ❁ ❁ ─────.•*:。✩
pile three - King of wands , knight of pentacles
🧁
you’re just so so spoiled rotten by your FS i’m getting they give hippie vibes like i’m seeing you have hella candles lit and there might even be soft music playing. after they’re all about deep breathing and they might even ask to meditate with you 🥺. this is another pile that gets really rough and crzy so he spends lots of time being so sweet and affectionate with you. their the type of person that may be dominant so taking control is their strong suit and whatever you need they’re there to fulfill your every one. they’re very good and attentive when it come to caring for you at the end of your wild night i think the two of you might even have a specific set schedule for every time he’s such a huge softy for you you don’t even have to ask for things they already know what exactly you need they’ll rub you down with oil or bring you tea or wash you down in the shower anything to relax you more for sleeping. they will be extremely patient with you afterwards because he know how much he puts you through 😉 i think they’re just a gentle genius when it comes to your body and you pleasure they have taken their time to get to know exactly how to take care of you and they live for it 💖.
extra messages- lenny kravitsz, long hair , reds and orange, grunge aesthetic, boho vibes
✩。:*•.───── ❁ ❁ ─────.•*:。✩
pile four - four of wands, seven of cups
👼🏾
you’re princess you’re an angel i know this is a future spouse reading but after y’all fuck they be ready to marry your ass AGAIN !! there’s literally no words for this pile they are so enamored with you. aftercare for the two of you is filled with cuddling and kisses and smiles and hugs and laughs i love this couples energy so much 🥺 the two of you are literally love bugs fr. aftercare is also filled with lots of questions about how they did? and how you felt ? and how they can make you feel even better next time ? i’m seeing your FS is a little insecure about their performance they are just sooo eager to please you because you are their god/goddess. pile 4 your FS LOVES YOU so so much they literally can’t contain themselves asking questions giving you kissing questioning if they did a good enough job or not. everything about you is perfect to them and they genuinely appreciate you so much. aftercare 4 the two of you is so dreamy ☁️ and romantic 💘 i’m also getting the two of you are like very horny even after sex so the two of you might even go for another round 🤩🤩
extra- clouds , green light, sweating, soft kisses, pillow talking , in love , they like you more
✩。:*•.───── ❁ ❁ ─────.•*:。✩
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dudeitiskarev · 1 day
Text
What If… | Aaron Hotchner
Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x female reader
Summary: Aaron gets sick on the way home from a case, and since his symptoms are too similar to pregnancies, Reid introduces him to ‘sympathetic pregnancy’. Which makes Aaron wonder… what if?
Tags/warnings: sick Hotch :(; established relationship; sympathetic pregnancy symptoms; pregnancy scare; suggestive content; Jack and Haley don’t exist in this universe.
Word count: 1.4k
Author's note: something short, sweet and silly to keep my creative juices flowing. Hope you like it!
HOTCH MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST
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The last time Aaron got sick was over four years ago. 
Back then, he had no one to look after him, and he refused to go to the ER because it was just a cold (it took him two weeks to get a full recovery, and if it weren’t because of Penelope’s magic potion, it would’ve lasted a month). 
Now, he couldn’t wait to get home. To you.  
"No offense, Hotch, but could you please sit...over there?" JJ gestured with her head to the empty seat at the end of the jet after Hotch returned from the toilet for the third time. All the color of his face was gone. "I don't want to bring some flu home with Henry."
"It's not the flu," Aaron's voice came out raspy, and chose to sit next to Reid instead of next to JJ. His throat was still burning from puking everything he’d eaten for breakfast. It must’ve been something he ate.
"You've been feeling weird for the two days," Rossi commented, "In the mornings."
"Ugh, morning sickness is the worst," JJ casually said through a small laugh.
Emily laughed, too. "Are you implying Hotch might be pregnant?" 
Everyone laughed except for Reid. "Studies have shown that men can get pregnancy symptoms while their wives are pregnant,” he began. “It's called sympathetic pregnancy."
"You mean Hotch's girl might be pregnant?" Morgan quirked his brows.
A thick silence filled the jet, and then Rossi asked, "Have you guys been trying?" 
Hotch merely shook his head. It had been a topic of conversation before getting married, of course, and the plan of trying for a baby was after five years of marriage (you really liked each other’s company as it was) and it’s only been two. 
The idea of Hotch’s girl being pregnant vanished as quickly as it came, but Hotch didn’t let it go. He didn’t think you could be pregnant, but the constant thought of you carrying his child helped him get through the three-hour journey back home. 
He called your name as soon as he shut the front door, even though he knew you weren’t back from work just yet (he didn’t want to tell you he was feeling sick, or else you would’ve dropped everything to be there when he made it back). 
His entire body was aching by now and all he managed to do was strip out of his work clothes and get in bed, turning himself into a shivering cocoon. 
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The bed sank next to him, and a soft kiss landed on his cheek, pulling him out of his not-so-deep slumber.
“Hi.” Your bright eyes were right there on his face.
“Hey.” He fluttered his eyes open to capture your whole beauty. 
"Why are you in bed?" You asked with half-a-pout. "Are you feeling sick?" Your hand flew to his forehead to feel his temperature, and your face dropped. “You’re burning.”
"I feel better now." He snuck one arm out of the bed covers and caressed your cheek to greet you properly. He’d missed you so much. 
"Why didn't you tell me?” You were quick to reprimand him with a caring frown. “I could've brought you some medicine."
"I don't know, I don't think I need it.” He shook his head, raising his brows. “I feel much better now."
He did feel better now that you were there, but he still didn’t feel quite good. 
"You look pale. Have you eaten?" You asked and he shook his head. "I’m gonna make you some soup," you replied, already getting up.
"No, just…” he grabbed you by your wrist and pulled you back to bed.  “Stay here with me for a while?" 
Your whole body softened. You gave in right away, kicked off your shoes and clasped every bit off you with his body, ending up nose to nose. 
The thought of you being pregnant came to him again and he couldn’t help but smile.
“What?” You frowned.
"You know Reid," he started. "He’s the smartest person I know and he mentioned this thing that happens to men when their wives are pregnant."
"This thing?" you snickered, running your fingers through the side of his head.
"When men show pregnancy symptoms and it's the woman who actually is?"
You paused all movements for a moment. "What are you saying?"
"I don't know." He merely shrugged. "I thought it was...interesting."
You pecked his lips and went back to stroke his hair again. "You think I could be pregnant?"
"I don’t know, could you?" 
"I don’t think so. I haven't felt anything strange." You shrugged, too. 
Aaron placed a soft kiss at the corner of your mouth and stayed there, lips glued on you as he asked, mumbling, "Didn't you say the other day that your...boobs were sore?"
"Yeah?"
"And that food craving you had at almost midnight?" he then teased by your ear.
"We had," you laughed at the ticklish feeling of his deep voice. 
“Alright,” he laughed, pulling back. “You’re right.”
"But I guess it's…” You breathed in. “Unusual."
"A little." He smiled. "How effective is your birth control?"
"Very, but there’s always the risk."
You stare at each other for a moment. There was a gleam in your eyes he was sure it had some reflection of his own. He loved you so much. It wouldn’t be so bad if you were pregnant. 
“I’m gonna go to the drugstore and get you some medicine. You’re not looking very well.” You kissed the top of his head and left him there.
In the store, you looked up and a bunch of pregnancy tests winked at you. You hesitated whether to buy one or not. You hadn't felt anything odd that could point out to a pregnancy—besides what Aaron had mentioned.
"Is that all?" The cashier asked you.
You paused, looking up again. "And two pregnancy tests, please."
Soon, you were back home and found Aaron half asleep in the same position you’d left him. You told him to sit upright as you went to prepare him some herbal tea for his stomach to complement the medicine.
“This can help you for a few hours.” You sat next to him and handed him the warm mug. “But if you get worse we’ll have to go to the ER.” 
“Thanks, honey,” he replied.
“And…I bought these, too." You showed him the pregnancy tests. You’d made sure they were different brands just in case one of them wasn’t of good quality. "You planted a seed in my brain, so I guessed we could rule it out right away instead of having the uncertainty.”
“Sorry, I just…” Aaron shut his eyes for a second in deep thought. “I didn’t think it could happen before our plans since everything has turned out exactly how we want.”
“I know, but if it’s something you want to talk about… make some plan changes, we definitely should.”
He reached for your hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Let’s rule it out first.”
“What if it's positive?" You tilted your brows with curiosity. 
"I don't know.” He smiled. “What if?" 
Maybe it was the tea you’d made him, but the color of his face was back. You went to the bathroom to get it all over with and were in and out in less than five minutes. 
“Now we wait.” You put both tests on the nightstand and set the timer for three minutes. 
Aaron tapped the bed next to him for you to join him and he pulled you close by your waist, kissing your temple. 
"I’m scared, what if it’s actually positive?”
“We’re gonna have to make some… adjustments in our lives. But now or later, I want you to know that I want it all,” he confessed, planting a squishy kiss on your cheek. 
The alarm went off and you reached for both tests right away, holding them up. 
'NOT PREGNANT', showed the first one, and a single line showed the other one.
“Okay, I’m a bit relieved.” You put the tests aside and looked at him. “And you’re… not. Are you okay?”
“I am I just…” he licked his lips. 
“Aaron, do you really want to have a baby soon?”
“No, no,” he shook his head. “We’re perfect like this. Is just… seeing JJ with her baby does make me want to hurry some of our plans sometimes.”
“That sounds like baby fever,” you teased him. 
Aaron shook his head and pulled you down in bed, attacking your face with kisses and making a sweet sound after each one. 
“Oh, someone’s feeling better,” you laughed. “Maybe we could just stick to practicing.”
“Well”—he kissed right below your ear—”I am, in fact, feeling much, much better.”
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