#&; i told queue it would work!

[carouselunique]

where the fuck have you been? it's been literal months, have you abandoned your au or something? just fucking say so at least. god.

Sorry my father is ill with serious conditions I have to take care of him while my mom works and do that while finishing my advanced degree, working jobs to earn money we need in addition to my mom’s job and trying to maintain some form of mental health. I’ll make sure to keep you all informed of every single personal detail of my life so you can know why I’m not drawing colorful horses all the damn time.

Also I do write for these things on my downtime but it’s either quality art that I make when I have time again, or less quality art done during my very rare current free time. Feel free to tell me which you want, I’ll adjust accordingly.

[jagi11]

This Is Another Owlyuri Artdump (mostly): A collection of DM wisdoms (we talk about them a lot)

Feat. @xanthers (hi)

[freezegirl]

🌹desc au in which kie is in the audience after the disasterous "love" declaration to m.al happens, and she catches a.udrey's eyes and subtly shakes her head so a.udrey doesn't impulsively tie herself to c.had in order to save face.

🌹desc au in which kie goes to find a.udrey after she flees from the scene and they talk about how the boy king has obviously been spelled and about how much pressure they both have been under because of their respective families before kie starts brainstorming on how to spin this into something else.

🌹(desc au in which kie sticks with a.udrey even though most of her other friends do not, but also makes it abudantly clear where she stands in regards to how the isle borns should be treated by the mainland kids and vice versa.)

🌹desc au in which a.udrey takes a beat, goes to the cottage with the three fairies, has a glow up and then throws herself into (re-)discovering her own latent oneirokinesis as inherited by her grandmother and mother, starts up her own oneiro-therapy business and helps to shape and change the conversation around any and all abilities, be they innate or learned.

🌹desc au in which kie and a.udrey are besties, please and thank you.

[enigmaris]

Another DPXDC for ya fellas!

Pandora, the ghost, was an Amazon from Themyscira in life, losing her life to trap all of those eldritch horrors in her box. In her afterlife, she has kept in contact with the other Amazons, coming to their aid when called upon.

So when the first child of themyscira was molded out of clay, Pandora knew. She liked Diana, admired her stubbornness, strength, and sense of wonder. She knew the girl had left to go to the world of man a while ago, but hadnt heard anything else about her. She wasnt worried about her though, Diana was the strongest of all the Amazons, kind and brave. The world of man would not pose too much of a danger to her.

After the whole thing her box getting stolen and Danny returning it to her. She takes on something if a motherly role to Phantom. She doesn't really know how kids work though, she comes from a race of women where there were no children. Diana is literally the only living child she has ever known. Pandora herself was never even a child. When Danny flees from his life in Amity Park (reveal gone wrong, family dies, or something) he goes to Pandora who wants to help him, but her acropolis is no place for a half living boy. So she tells him about her niece Diana.

"She was the only child of my people, when she grew up she left to the world of man."

Literally the only child??? Danny is imagining like, someone maybe his sister Jazzs age who ran away from home because she lived on an island with all adults and no fun. It does not help his assumption that Pandora talks about Diana like shes still wet from the clay she was molded in.

Danny is given a letter written by Pandora, asking Diana to help care for him and told that last Pandora heard her little niece lived in Washington DC. Danny goes to DC and manages to find Diana based on Pandora description. She is not at all what Danny was imagining, but she takes him to her home and reads the letter describing Danny's heroics with Pandoras box.

Diana Prince takes one look at this human boy and thinks to herself: if Bruce and Clark can just show up with a teenager, then why can't i?

Queue the next Justice League meeting:

"I would like to introduce my son, Daniel of Themyscira, he will be accompanying me on all Justice League missions. No Batman i will no be accepting any criticism from you of all people."

Danny, in human form, waves at the team of heroes with his string bean arms.

"Hi."

[kyri45]

A final letter

Hello Everyone!

The queue is paused and everything is scheduled, which means we are ready for the finale!

I know that, in the end, this was just a silly side project for me, with everything else going on in my life. But for this occasion, I wanted to drop some words here and hope they make sense.

I started watching LMK only because a friend told me there was a "Sonadow-coded" ship. I ended up consuming the entire thing in one sitting on July 10th, 2024. At the time, I was still recovering from a bike accident that had left me with a broken right forearm—unable to draw for a little over a month. (I did try drawing with my left finger, but it wasn't exactly fun.)

Not only that, but it was summer, and I couldn’t enjoy the season or practice my main sport, windsurfing. To say I was feeling the blues is an understatement. I remember being in physical pain just from not being able to draw my sillies. But then, watching LMK did something to my brain chemistry that my little undiagnosed autistic self had never experienced before. It hit so hard that I’ve been physically unable to rewatch the show SINCE that very first day. (And y’all still call me the CEO of this fandom. Bro, I just work here.)

A lot of you have asked what inspired me to start this comic or to draw LMK fan art in the first place. While my usual answer is, "I saw Shadowpeach and thought MK could be their lovechild, given his appearance," the moment that actually started it all was THIS ONE—

(I HAD TO REWATCH THIS SCENE TO MAKE THE GIF AND IT HURT ME ON A MOLECOLAR LEVEL)

I have… a thing for characters who discover their entire identity was something else all along. It consumes my thoughts, my dreams, my every waking moment. I live for identity crises, for characters who thought they knew who they were, only to be forced to rediscover themselves, their existence, and their place in the world. If you give me a story where a character has to go through that, I will like it—regardless of how bad the rest of the story is.

Pair that with loads of trauma, daddy issues, the pressure of a legacy, and world-ending stakes, and congrats! Now I’m obsessed, and I will not stop thinking about it for the rest of my days!

At first, my brain just wanted to release some of that energy with a small, four-panel post about the monkeys discovering that MK was technically their kid.

That was supposed to be it.

But since I never seem to learn my lesson, it didn’t stay like that. Because once I started drawing, I just... continued.

And

I

never

stopped.

A lot of you have also asked how I found the motivation to draw so much, to never take a break. Well, I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it one last time: I am my number one fan. No matter how much you laughed, cried, screamed, or went feral over this story, I did all of that and more. Because I got to think about the chapters months before they released. I got to daydream about them. I got to watch them come to life—first through sketches, then line art, then dialogue. And finally, I got to witness your reactions and see the incredible creations you made, inspired by my story.

So yeah, in a way, it was almost an addiction. A good addiction. Because, for the first time in my life, I actually understood what loving art means.

I’ve been drawing for ten years, working professionally for five, but I never loved art before. I just liked it because I happened to be good at it. But creating this comic made me understand why artists say, "Oh, I’ve loved drawing since I was a child!" This was the first time I allowed myself to create purely for my own enjoyment. Something I hadn’t had the privilege to do for a long time.

Other than making me feel even more single than I already was, this story somehow also helped me a little with my own family relationships. So yeah. Crazy how the gay monkeys changed my life.

Of course, I never could have predicted how much traction my AU would gain. Man, y’all were really starving to latch onto something this silly. /j

But yeah—thank you. Thank you for sticking around until the end, for having the patience and trust to follow the story even when I made you rage with angst and cliffhangers. (The statement in my bio still stands: I am not responsible for any physical or emotional damage my art has caused.)

I’m absolutely shit at thanking people, or at writing, or at talking in general, honestly. I’m the furthest thing from being good with words, so I hope the final chapter will be enough to show you my gratitude.

Through this story, I met so many wonderful, talented people. I watched as fans across different platforms found each other through memes and fanart of the AU. I saw artists start their own AUs inspired by mine, growing their own communities. I witnessed an explosion of creativity and collaboration through our takeovers. And I laughed along with you all.

And yeah—at its core, this story has always been about love. Whether it’s platonic, sibling, parental, romantic, or whatever the hell Mac and Wukong had going on for millennia.

At its heart, it’s a story about family.

And maybe, in the end… the real family wasn’t just the one in the comic, but the one we’ve found together along the way. 💛

See you all at the finale.

Love you all, freaks /affectionate

Jade

[lunar-fey]

$26.30/300

after officially 4 full weeks i am going to be back to work tomorrow! however, i do still need to pay bills before i'll have my first paycheck, specifically by monday, may 5th! i've lowered the goal just a touch since some meds can wait until after i get my check, but if ya'll can still spread this/help out it would be greatly appreciated!! thanks so much for the help thus far!!

please help your local disabled trans man being fucked over by its job

howdy! i'm nate and i currently work as an in-home caretaker for elderly and disabled folk! however, around 2 months ago my longterm client passed away very unexpectedly which left me without work for 2 weeks.

after that i did get a new client, but last monday (march 31) i got a call (at fucking 8:30 am. woke my ass up.) saying i didn't need to come in bc her daughter (who was in the process of moving in w her) is taking over as her caretaker. which like. fair.

BUT between the fact that she was always in and out bc of doctor appointments (also very understandable), and the fact that it has now been another week and a half since i've had hours to work, on top of the initial 2 weeks i was out, i'm uhhhhh hurtin a bit.

i've been checking with the manager every like 2-3 days to make sure there still aren't any clients i can take, literally just called today, but as of now i'm just sitting around with bills to pay and no way to get an income for who knows how long. SO.

IF you'd like to help out and you want something for your money there aint a lot i can offer, but i can do tarot readings, i can kinda draw (very slowly bc my hands r fucked up), do a bit of graphic design, write, and idk if you wanna pay me for something else send me a message and we can figure it out.

links below ˅˅˅

ANYTHING HELPS but for now. lets get through the month

$0/350

[sgkjd]

psych institutions should be awarded for being the most unfriendly places for nd and mentally ill folk. funnily enough. do they not know what demographic uses their services?

[quaddyvoddy]

one crazy night shift and six hours of sleep later, and i'm just now realising that i agreed to pay for a taylor swift vip ticket just so i could make my bff happy

[unladielike]

    "Wow, one of my guesses was actually right? Jocks are truly something else..." Vivian exclaims, allowing pleasant surprise to seep through her voice. Honestly, she wonders just how strenuous practice was for Mizumachi to have enough room in his stomach for ten burgers, but regardless, it doesn't take long for a pensive hum to subsequently slip past her throat.

    "As for me... probably 4 or 5? When it comes to McJunior burgers at McDonalds, though, I could eat 7... provided, of course, there aren't any fries to go alongside them! But the food truck I'm taking you has such filling teriyaki cheese burgers, chances are high you'll be full from eating 4 or 5," Vivian then proceeds to point out before letting out a little laugh.

    "And yeah, I guess I kinda take after my mom in the sense I like ensuring my friends are fed! I also prefer being the one to pay, since... I dunno, it manages to make me feel manlier somehow, as if I'm one of the boys. I mean, usually, girls are never expected to pay for stuff whenever guys spend time with them, right? Hence why I get such a sense of empowerment from using what little money I have on my friends..."

    Then again, to most, her logic may sound incredibly silly; after all, it was now the twentieth century, meaning to genderize the concept of footing the bill itself could come across as extremely outdated. Even so, Vivian always subconsciously had the impression it would feel less like a date or would make her seem that much more 'manlier' if she was the one paying, to the point where she could count on one hand how many times she had recently allowed anyone else to treat her... which, for better or worse, remains a bad habit of hers to this very day. Still, with how much she hated being perceived as a normie, she'd rather her wallet become lighter than be forced to confront the reality she was truly a girl at heart.

    Either way, they'll soon reach Wakwak Burger, causing Vivian to come to an eventual halt ahead of him. "Ta-daaaah! What do you think?" she finally turns to flash a grin at Mizumachi just as the last customer strayed off from the front of the food truck.

[水]

She’d be correct in assessing him as a ‘himbo,’ considering that he didn’t always think before he did anything… and even if he did think, it sometimes wasn’t the most logically sound. It was like most of his IQ points went into sports and athleticism. He had this idea that she could pay for his burgers and he’d pay for hers, but realized the errors of his thought process when she spoke.

“Ah! Uh… I meant to say I’ll treat next time!”

Nice save, Mizumachi. Totally believable and sound reasoning. That’ll work, right? She can pay this time around and he can pay for the next time! That way he can return the favor because she also made some breakfast for him that other time. Hm?

“Let’s go! Say, do you like feeding people?”

He keeps pace with her as she walks them to the promised burger land- or rather, truck. If he had a nickle for each time she’d fed him, he’d have two nickles. It wasn’t a lot, but it was interesting how it happened twice already in the time they’ve known each other.

Selling Japanese burgers already would have him sold. Wakwak burger was going to have a new regular customer who was craving a reminiscent taste of home, no doubt. With how hungry he was feeling, somewhere close was definitely for the better, he’ll get to eat sooner!

“Ah… I could eat 5, yeah. Some days I could eat 10. Depends on how hungry I am. I eat a lot after practice.”

Which was to say that he didn’t gorge himself on food before practice, because it would only slow him down if he pigged out on food. It was better for him to make up for the calories lost during practice by eating his fill on food afterwards.

“How about you? 1? 2?”

Seemed like a safe conservative guess for how many burgers she could eat in a single sitting. It seemed pretty fun trying to guess how much she could eat.

[ruinix]

your writing is genuinely amazing…like we are not worthy….

i humbly ask for a continuation of the bj blurb you did with Quinn where him and reader are 69ing 🧎‍♀️

Hello, anon. Lovely. Yes, of course, but it is I who is not worthy of you for reading my fic. I fear this moved up the queue because…just because. Anyway, for context, Part 1 is [ Payback ] aka BJ blurb. But if you squint…it can be a standalone (maybe? i think it is or I might be delusional). Please enjoy...

Fifteen

TW/CW: 18+ MDNI, Smut, Handjob with spitting, Hair tugging, Overstimulation (both), Cum tasting, Oral sex (m receiving / Blowjob, then both / 69) 🙂‍↕️, slightest bit of Choking, a sprinkle of Dominance, Quinn literally losing it over you 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↔️

Count: 2816 words | Masterlist | Taglist

You’re just staring. Quinn thinks it’s—his proposition—an easy sell, but you look so annoyed, glaring at him from between his thighs. You’re looking at him like he just wronged you. He’s confused.

“You don’t want me to have more?” You huff, crossing your arms, eyebrows meeting, glaring up at him with so much anger.

“My Love, I’m not saying that.” Quinn sighs, flinching when you don’t ease up on raining down hell on him.

"Quinn!" You stand up, mounting his lap, hands grabbing his shoulders, nails digging into his skin. You pout, peering at him with such wide pleading eyes—gone is the glare. You repeat, “You don’t want to give me more?”

“What are you saying?” Quinn groans. The pain is sending heat to his sensitive cock. His mind is hazy. He’s not sure why you’re pouting when he just told you he wants another position. “I didn’t say that.”

Because…why would he get in the way of what you want? When did he ever do that to you?

You want pancakes for morning? Sure, he’ll make you some while he makes his own plate of smoked salmon, eggs, and potatoes. You want coffee? He’ll brew you a cup. You want beer? Even if he doesn’t drink anymore, he always keep the cans of your favorite brand in the fridge. You want a cocktail or mocktail? He has recipes in his phone.

You always get what you want. He’ll make sure you have everything you want. Everything you need. He’ll give it with no hesitation. So why the fuck would you think he’ll not let you have your fill of him?

“Well, you basically said it.” You sniffle for effect which works immediately.

Quinn is sitting straighter, mind clearing up yet he’s still confused. What did he say again?

“I want to eat you out, then I’ll fuck you,” were his stumbling words. Well, that’s the problem, isn’t it? You fucked him too much with your mouth that he didn’t say all of what he wanted to say. No wonder you’re pissed and sad.

“Sorry, my Love.” Quinn brushes a hand over your glistening lower lip that was just around his cock. “I meant to say and to rephrase, I want to eat you out while I fuck your mouth.”

You whimper almost immediately. Your grip on him finally eases. He, kind of, likes the pain, but the release only send more heat to his cock. You nod, grinding your clothes pussy over his aching member, hands rubbing over his shoulders to further your point that you’re pleased. Quinn is too. This is the reaction he was thinking about. Not the glare. Just you, being so needy as him, while his own hands grip and trace circles on your thighs.

“You should turn off the TVs. You’re wasting energy,” you murmur against his lips, teasing him with kisses that you’ll make him work for.

You’re just there, but you’re not letting him kiss you. Quinn keeps trying to kiss, failing and failing because you decide to kiss the corners of his lips. You’re driving him insane.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, willing himself not to come again as you grind over his cock, he turns off TVs, groaning when your hand wraps around his cock. Just tell him if you want him dead. You’re killing him with every stroke. If he hasn’t yet seen stars from the earlier tryst, he is now.

“My Love,” he gasps—shamefully sounding like a whine. “I will come if you don’t stop.”

“It’s okay. I won’t waste it.” You nip at his ear. He can feel your tongue tracing along the shell of his fucking ear. “Just one more. Then we can go to the bedroom?”

“F-fuck,” he breathes, hips shallowly meeting your rhythm. “You’re copying me, aren’t you?”

He feels your grin against his ear. You finally let go of his ear to meet his gaze, mischievous glim in your eyes. Of course, you are. Of fucking course. No way this is unprovoked. This is you enacting revenge on him for how much he teased you before. Isn’t it? Fuck.

He’s so fucked.

Still, he doesn’t mind it, but you’re really killing him. Especially now, because you fucking spit on his dick. The way you immediately slick it down his cock, mixing it with his arousal—he is fucking dribbling pre-cum or maybe it’s already fucking cum. He’s not sure.

“You don’t like it?” You taunt, brushing ghost-like kisses on his parted lips.

Cruel. You’re so cruel.

“Please, my Love,” he pleads.

You’re making him feel so weak.

“I promise. Just one more.” You press a soothing kiss on his eyebrow like it would help him.

Your words are exactly what he whispers when he fucks you—with his tongue or fingers or thigh or cock. Oh, you’ve plotted this so hard, haven’t you? It’s working so much. Quinn doesn’t understand why it does. He’s so utterly confused why it’s so hard to contain himself when he can fuck your pussy and make you come around him so many times without coming instantly. So why is your hand undoing him so easily? A fucking mystery.

It honestly doesn’t even matter.

Fuck. It feels so good. Like a high without drugs or alcohol or caffeine. It’s just you.

“I need your cum, Quinn.” You finally capture his lip, tongue immediately moving against his.

He groans because. Fuck. His. Life. He can taste himself. His cum. God, he tastes so good on you.

“’m close,” Quinn mumbles.

He bites down on his lips because of how fast you part from him, a trail of saliva just breaking and hitting his chin. Curses string past his lips when you greedily licked over his dribbling slit. He’s fucking gone. He can’t stop coming into your mouth. Can’t stop his hands from grabbing your head, down his fucking length so he can spill down your throat. You said you won’t waste it. He trusts you. He does. But fuck, he needs to make sure. Needs it to reach nowhere else but inside you.

He whispers your name, pleading for you to stop sucking, but you keep sucking, flattening your tongue up his underside. His vision turns fucking spotty that he wraps his hands around your hair and forces you off his cock. Pop. The fucking pop of you releasing his cock from your suction. You succubus. Nymph. Minx. Oh, God. There’s no saving him.

“Stop, stop.” Quinn pants, sweat beading on his skin. “Give me a fucking minute.”

“You never gave me a minute last week.” You smirk up at him, scratching his thighs with your nails. “Did you?”

“No,” Quinn groans, letting go of your hair, trying to fix it but failing. “Sorry.”

Shrugging, you stand up, grabbing his hands to help him up. Quinn feels like he ran two marathons. His legs are almost jelly as he walks after you. He can’t stop looking at your ass especially when you push your shorts down, revealing nothing else. You got no panties? Fuck. He almost wobbles when his fucking cock just stands. You tut, pushing him down to sit on the bed.

His lips part, failing to produce words. His throat is fucking dry. Blush heats up his cheeks when you hand him a bottle of water, coaxing him to drink while you strip down to nothing. Quinn has never drunk water so fast. His hands tremble around the plastic, squeezing like it’s a squeeze bottle—it’s not. He made a mess which would normally drive him insane. Not today.

Not when you just sat on his lap, hands going up, from your inner thighs to the glistening flesh where it meets your pussy, to your waist, to your breasts. Like you’re presenting them to him. Evil. So fucking evil like a Demoness.

“You wanna fuck these first before—”

“No,” he cuts you off, his sight darkening, his blood simmering. He’s done playing your games. You can play some other time. “Sit on my face, my Love.”

Quinn grabs your throat when you try to speak. You whimper when he pressses down your arteries, controlling the blood flow to your brain, just how you like it. Your whole demeanor shifts from the teasing brat to helpless and needy whore. Just like that Quinn grabs your rein. So easy when you were so fucking playful.

“Sit on my face or I’ll have your head hanging over the edge to fuck your throat while I eat you out,” he threatens.

Your sharp breath and whine, your hand gripping around his wrist when he gives another firm squeeze, and your arousal dripping on thigh are all signs that you want both.

You’re so hungry today. Still can’t get your fill of him when he already gave you two full loads. Greedy.

“Which one first?” he asks, releasing you, making you whine and grab his hand to put around your throat again. He does, but he doesn’t put the pressure you thoroughly need.

“I want to sit on your face,” you grumble, annoyance leaking out of you.

“What’s gotten into you today?” Quinn asks, gripping your hip with his other hand. As much as he likes the mind-blowing orgasms, you’re not normally like this. Like you’re proving a point.

“I just wanna reciprocate…” You sigh, looking away then back again. “Plus, a bit of revenge. You made me lose it last week. I want to do it too. I chose today.”

He watches your tongue dart out to lick your lips, watches your eyelashes fan as you blink. Your hands rub over his chest like you’re stringing a spell. It’s working. Whatever shadowed his vision clears. All he can see is you. His heart pounds. Quicker. Much quicker than it already did.

You’re staring at him with those pitiful eyes. He can’t help but melt.

“You can do whatever you want,” Quinn groans. “I did go hard on you last week, didn’t I?”

“Yeah,” you huff, biting your lip. “I loved it.”

Of course, you did. Quinn enjoyed it too. He always enjoys his time with you. Whatever you two do. Movies. Cooking. Cleaning. Kissing. Fucking. Sitting down on the couch without doing anything. He loves doing things with you.

“I enjoyed what you did to me,” Quinn pertains to the earlier moments. He instantly gets rewarded with a wide smile. Your smile that makes your eyes crinkle at the sides, eyes sparkling with so much joy. “You made me lose my shit.”

You laugh, so amused, so proud of yourself. You should be. You have that right. He loves you so much, so he kisses you. Less unhurried. Never less of love.

But when you scoot further down his thigh, pussy grinding over his cock, he’s once again a goner. It’s all fucking blink. Now he’s lying on his back, gripping your hips, pulling you down, tongue slowly lapping over your pulsing clit to your entrance. Fuck, tastes like a perfect pussy. A delectable pussy.

Oh, the way you scream, trying to get away when he’s only starting.

“Oh, baby,” he murmurs as your back arches, as you helplessly pant. “I thought you want more?”

Your answering sob drowns out his senses. This is what he needed. Everything feels so right, so fair. He savors your taste, sliding his tongue into your quivering pussy. You’re so wet. You haven’t come yet, have you? He got to fix that. That’s not fucking allowed. He needs to feel you come so hard around his tongue.

You whimper, grinding down, hands on his abdomen for leverage. Your words are nothing but gibberish, yet he understands it. You want more. More. And more. He’ll give you more. You don’t need to beg. Not now. Some other time, maybe. Before he can start plotting, Quinn swipes his finger over your clit and pussy pulsates.

You let out a breathy scream. You grind down while also trying to run from the pleasure. So Quinn hooks one arm over your thigh. You can’t escape him. Not when he’s the one feasting now. You can’t rob him after he came for you. He won’t let you.

You keep muttering his name, keep trying to get off, keep grinding on him. His pretty girl is so conflicted. That’s cute. You’re cute.

Your thighs are quivering. Your weight on him. Quinn loves that so much. He smells your arousal, your cum, your pussy. He smells everything. He would love to die between your thighs. Die with your taste on his tongue. The only thing that’s missing is your lips around his cock. Where the fuck are you?

You mutter his name in a whiny voice, cursing and sighing. You probably fail to remember why you two are in this position. You always do that, but it’s okay. Quinn’s here for that reason. He traces up his hand over your thighs, your hips, and your back. He put pressure on your arch of your spine.

Finally, he feels your breaths on his cock. Your clumsy kisses on his shaft made him thrust up. Damn. He doesn’t think any of you will survive this position. Both of you are losing it. Why are you two only doing this position now? God, your lips, your tongue, your mouth, your throat. All of them feel so good.

Your wanton moans send vibrations through his whole body, so he makes sure to do the same, humming into your pussy, tongue tracing every crevice in you, sucking and gulping your arousal. Your responding sounds bring him more pleasure. Physically around his cock. Emotionally because he’s the cause.

Fucking perfect.

Quinn replaces his tongue with two of his fingers—the ring and the middle—and his thumb traces and teases your clit. He licks up to your other hole. He can’t neglect any of you, can he? No. Never. He’ll die if he does. Too bad he can’t reach the lube in the drawers. Too bad your arousal or his spit isn't enough lubrication. Too fucking bad.

‘Next time’, he thinks.

Quinn gives it a few more kissed before he’s back to your pussy, because you’re whining for him to stop. If you don’t want his touch there, then he won’t. He knows you. You just don’t want it today. That’s perfectly fine. Whatever you want.

He slides his tongue besides his fingers, stretching you. He knows how much you can take. You can take more than this. Oh, you do. And you love it. It’s the way your pussy clenches around his tongue, his fingers. The perfect squeeze like you’re afraid that he'll leave. He will never. He will—

You kiss his fucking tip like you’re making out with him. Your hand rubbing down his fucking length. Harsher, harder, sucking and playing with him as he does with your pussy.

“Fuck,” Quinn mutters as you do.

“Quinn,” you breathe as you kiss along length. “Close.”

He knows. He fucking knows. He can feel the familiar tremors he felt just minutes ago. The tremors he thoroughly memorized every time his cock is seated inside you. To know you is such a gift he’ll never take for granted.

So, he lets you come again, lets your cum drip into his awaiting tongue, lets you ride your orgasm. He lets you even the playing field, because now, both of you are in the same tally.

Two for two.

A good ratio, but not for Quinn. He needs you to come more than him. He needs you to soak him and lose it because it’s too much. He needs you to writhe and beg for rest. He needs your head over the edge while he fucking uses your throat. He needs to hear you gag. He needs to see your tears on flush cheeks. He needs to see your pussy red and raw from just his tongue while you get overwhelmed.

He already lets you have your control, but you’re always on the losing side here. He has more stamina and more drive to use you. Oh, the ways he’ll use you for what you’ve done to this supposed lazy rest day.

You’ve done this.

You should be prepared for more. The way you whine so softly, you’re still clueless about what you’ve done. You thought he’d just let you get away.

Quinn is kind. He’ll let you have your fill of his cum. You want your stomach to be filled with, so he’ll give that to you. It will warm your stomach, but you would realize that your pussy is not. Not a single drop of cum inside.

He knows it will drive you fucking insane.

You will be begging to be filled while also begging to stop. You will be so conflicted.

That’s a perfect scenario.

Because Quinn will not listen.

You can have whatever you want, but he already decided…not tonight.

<- Previous (Part 1: Payback)

[charliemwrites]

Part 5 of Mister(s) Steal Your Girl

Long awaited, but no Johnny smut just yet. Soon, I promise. (And Kyle will be back. It's been so long since he's gotten to smooch our dear reader.)

Also! A little reminder than you can check the queue to see what I plan to post for next. I try to update it often as the worms wiggle. Next I plan to do the final chapter of Greater Bad. (Unless I get my not-so-secret, no-longer-a-surprise oneshot out first)

Lastly! Please note that I wrote the "posts" from his perspective. So inconsistencies with the actual story and any grammar/spelling errors were purposeful or for "authenticity".

Content: Brandon.

r/CakeEater _OnBrand_ I asked my fiancé for an open relationship before marriage. It worked. A while ago I posted on r/adultery about the affairs (yes, multiple) I was having behind my then-gf’s back. We’d already been dating for ~4 years and I was seeing one of my coworkers (my “work wife”) regularly and one of her coworkers on and off. People on my other post were critical and called me all sorts of things like selfish and pig. I know it’s not traditional, but I genuinely don’t think I could ever be satisfied by one woman. My work wife (Rachel) and fiance’s coworker (Lucy) provide things my fiancé just can’t but I still love my fiancé. She’s the woman I’m going to spend the rest of my life with. When I posted on r/adultery I was trying to figure out how to propose without her finding out. I knew she’d expect me to help with stuff and possibly want to look at my phone more often. It would have been harder to sneak off to meet up with Lucy or Rachel with wedding planning and I was sick of being stressed she would find out. Some nicer people on the post suggested I ask for an open relationship. I took their advice and sat her down to sell the idea. It’s a good thing I’m so good at sales (top 3% in my company for 5 years in a row) because she agreed. Yes, actually agreed. At first she got kind of pale and her eyes got really big and blank. I thought for sure she was about to start crying and run off. Maybe even kick me out. She doesn’t really get angry but she gets upset and it freaks me out. After I explained everything about how good it would be for us though, she agreed. This is my official unlimited hallpass. I’ve been seeing Rachel on weekends and Lucy once or twice during the week for drinks. Tonight I’m going to sign up for every dating site I can. Tinder, Bumble, Hinge. If anyone has other suggestions, I’ll check those out too. Fiance has been kind of off but I think it’s just an adjustment period. Sometimes I can tell she’s been crying but she hasn’t come to me about it so she’s probably just being emotional about all the changes. At least she’s got our house to focus on while she gets used to things. I feel a little bad about running out every night but she’s just so mopey and sad all the time and it’s not enjoyable to be around. I know she probably feels like I’m abandoning her a little but once she starts getting back to normal I’ll spend time with her again. You really can have your cake (all the cakes heh) and eat them too. Edit: no, I never told her that I already had Lucy and Rachel and I’m not going to. What good would it do? She’s already agreed to an open relationship and telling her that I didn’t have permission first would just hurt her for no reason.

Kyle’s been gone for two (long, lonely) weeks when he finally gets a chance to call. So far, he’s only been able to send scattered texts at odd hours. Always something sweet – telling you he’s alright, or that he’s thinking of you. Sometimes you even catch him for a brief exchange before he apologizes and “goes dark” again.

Not that you begrudge it. This is part and parcel of dating him and you knew that going in. You’re not complaining when he’s putting his life on the line so that the public can live in blissful peace.

That doesn’t stop you from missing him though. His hugs, his smile. Getting his voice - even roughened by distance - is a nice compromise though.

“How have you been holding up, chickadee?” he asks after the initial reassurance that he’s whole and hale. 

“Easier this time!” you answer proudly. “I know what to expect with you gone and Johnny’s good company.”

“Yeah?” he asks, sounding pleased.

You can just imagine him now, leaning his hip against the nearest surface, arms crossed over his broad chest. He tends to duck his head when he smiles, and you unintentionally grin to yourself, thinking of him hiding into his phone. God, you miss him. 

“Mhmm! We found a board game bar that you’re going to love. Oh, and we’re going to the Hay Festival this weekend.”

He hums. “I’m sorry I can’t be there to take you, luv, but I knew Johnny would be good to you.”

More than good to you, really. There’s not been a day he doesn’t call to check up on you - if he doesn’t see you in person, that is. Dinner, movies, coffee. He’s somehow both a gentleman and an incorrigible flirt, but only with you. He’s nothing more than polite to anyone else, keeping his focus on you and whatever the two of you are doing.

You don’t know what to do with the undivided attention. If you didn’t know better…

“You two are getting close,” Kyle observes.

“I think so,” you admit, then hesitate. “Is… that okay?”

“‘Course, luv. I’m glad.”

You blink. “You are?”

“He’s my best mate and you’re my best girl.”

An odd pang of anxiety pierces your chest. Johnny calls you that too. His “best girl.” You love hearing it - but maybe you shouldn’t?

“It… doesn’t bother you? That we’re spending so much time together.”

He snorts softly, but it’s not derisive. It’s a noise he makes whenever he thinks you’re being silly, but his voice comes out soft and warm. Not an ounce of condescension.

“No, baby, I’m not fussed. You spend your time with whoever you want, however you want. Yeah?”

Your chest floods with warmth. “Okay.”

“There’s a love. I’ve got a brief, so I have to go. I’ll call soon as I can.”

“Be safe, Ky.”

“Do my best. Give Soap a smooch for us, aye?”

You blink as he hangs up. That’s a new one.

You ponder over it while packing on Thursday night. Was it just a joke? A tease at the little crush you’ve developed for Johnny?

Because it is a crush, you know it is. It’s impossible not to be attracted to him. Not with that smile, that laugh, the goofy humor and sweet mannerisms. He still sends you flowers every few weeks - just as the previous ones are about to die. It’s so thoughtful; you’ve started feeling a bit warm every time you look at them.

But you feel greedy, being even remotely interested in anyone else. You have Kyle and Brandon (even if you two are going through a… patch) and that should be enough for you. Shouldn’t it? You’ve never been with more than one person at a time before; it took you weeks to shake the compulsory guilt when you first met Kyle. It feels almost unforgivably audacious to want Johnny too, especially since he’s Kyle’s best mate.

Still… Kyle’s not a jealous or passive-aggressive guy. You’ve been with him long enough now that you know he’d just tell you outright if he was unhappy about something. And he’s been with you long enough that he can surely tell you’re more than a bit fond of Johnny.

Maybe that’s why he made the joke about “smooching” him.

Regardless, you want to talk to him about it. Things always make sense when you think out loud to him. His levelheaded and practical approach to difficult topics always straightens your panic spirals out into neat lines.

Plus, it’s not as comforting to hold your own hand. (God, when is he getting back?)

“Where are you going?”

You blink up at Brandon, folded pajamas in hand.

“The Hay Festival,” you answer.

Speaking of - you slip past him into the bathroom. He doesn’t follow, rooted to the spot spinning his phone around in his hands.

“Alone?”

You snort. “Of course not, I’m going with a friend.”

The allergy pills are at the bottom of the medicine basket beneath the sink. You really need to organize it the next time Johnny’s too busy to hang out. There’s no way you need three bottles of paracetamol. 

“I need that suitcase.”

You toss the bottle in and pivot for the dresser. “What for?”

He shifts, eyes sliding away. “An… overnight.”

Ah. That’s what he’s calling it now?

You snatch a few (too many) pairs of underwear from the dresser.

“Just bring them here,” you say over your shoulder.

There’s a long, tense beat of silence but you’re too busy rummaging for socks to break it first. Will it be too warm for thigh-highs? Eh, you’ll go with the sheer ones; the little lace roses match one of your dresses anyway.

“Bring who here?” Brandon asks slowly.

When you turn, he looks paler than usual. You shrug, trying to project casual comfort.

This is a totally normal and reasonable conversation to have. Just a couple in an open relationship, discussing a stranger coming to the house for a shag. Nothing to make a fuss over.

“Whoever you need the suitcase for? I know you’ve had people over before anyway, and I’ll be gone all weekend.”

He stutters, color returning to his face in bright pink blooms. “Why do you think I’ve had people over before?”

You arch an eyebrow. “I do the laundry, remember? And there was lipstick on one of the wine glasses.”

That had sent you into a tizzy at the time, disgusted that some stranger was in your bed, with your fiancé. You washed the sheets twice on the hottest setting and tossed in a bit of bleach for good measure. Hadn’t been able to look at him the whole week - not that he was there much to not look at.

Now, though, you seem to have adjusted to the idea, even if you’re still not thrilled. Brandon can have his… whoever over, and you’ll goof around with Johnny in Wales.

“Just toss the bedding in the wash afterwards,” you add.

“I thought you do the laundry,” he sniffs.

“I’m not traveling all day just to do chores when I get home,” you answer. He does a double take like you’ve started speaking a new language. “You’ll be here all weekend, I’m sure you’ll have time.”

He opens his mouth, and you can tell already that he’s about to argue - though you don’t really know what about. It’s not like he can’t do laundry or dishes, after all. He lived alone before you moved in together.

Thankfully, his phone distracts him before he can form the words. He spins away to tap at the screen and shuffles out of the room, shoulders till tense. You go back to packing and teasing Johnny about the amount of hair gel he’ll bring.

Friday afternoon can’t come fast enough. Even though you’ve taken a half day from work, the few hours seem to drag. You’re practically daydreaming about the food and drinks, music and activities. There’s a baker’s dozen art stalls you want to check out as well, and a gift to pick out for Kyle…

“Hope yer thinkin’ o’ me when ye make tha’ face.”

Your head snaps around so fast, you nearly give yourself whiplash. Johnny grins down at you in all his casually handsome glory – ripped jeans, green tee, and brown boots. Angels are singing somewhere, you think. Or maybe that’s just your nosy coworkers ogling from their own cubicles.

The reality of him sinks in a moment later and you leap up from your cushy chair – and right into his arms. He’s like a furnace compared to the cool, conditioned air of your office, a welcome source of warmth for your chilly fingers.

“What are you doing here?” you giggle. “Who let a rowdy guy like you in?”

He smells like bergamot and pine. It takes active thought to resist pressing your face into the crook of his neck. It looks cozy there.

As always, he squeezes you a bit tighter just before letting go.

“Hey now, Marcy’s a discerning lady. She knows a fine gentleman when she sees one.”

You snort, belied by the smile curling your lips. “She may need new glass then.”

“Och, don’t go talkin’ poor about my second-best gal now.”

“Is it that easy to get in your good graces?” you scoff, glancing at the time on your computer. It’s later than you expected; no wonder he came up to retrieve you. You spent so long daydreaming that you’ve lost track of time.

“Aw don’ be green, dove, you’re still my number one. Send ye flowers ‘n all.”

You roll your eyes at him. “Yeah, and now I’m wondering just how special that is.”

He stands close, proclaiming his case for how obviously special you are while you shut everything down for the weekend. You’re only half listening to the bit, admittedly. Mostly just basking in your excitement for the mini road trip and the weekend to come. You have no doubt that it’s going to be fun, even if it would be better with Kyle along too.

“Where are you headed off to?” Lucy asks.

“Hay Festival,” you answer shortly.

You’ve never been a big fan of Lucy, but lately she’s been insufferable. Talking over you during meetings, leaving you out of emails, throwing away papers at the printer. (Okay, you haven’t seen her do that last one, but you know.) Worst of all, she can help but make backhanded comments about every flower delivery.

“You’re not taking Brandon?” she simpers. “Something wrong?”

“He’s hanging out with a friend this weekend too,” you correct, “and he doesn’t like hay.”

“Shame that,” Johnny adds, sounding like it’s not a shame at all.

You haven’t told him much about Brandon – but you’re sure that Kyle has. From the face Johnny makes the rare times your fiancé comes up in conversation, he doesn’t think much of Brandon.

“Have fun you two!” your manager, Selene, calls.

You wave and shoot Lucy one last, unimpressed glance before stepping onto the elevator with Johnny.

r/CakeEater _OnBrand_ My fiancé is going on a weekend getaway with another man. I’ve posted in r/adultery and r/cakeeater before. I’m not looking for judgement or insults here. I really just want advice.

A little context: my fiancé and I are in an open relationship and it’s been like this for a few months now. I originally asked her to ope the relationship and for a while she was weird about it but lately she’s been getting sbetter. I thought she was finally getting used to me going out with other women and things were getting back to normal.

A few weeks ago, I noticed she was on her phone more. Like, all the time. Even at dinner when she used to be really picky about phones at the table. One day I came home from work and she was talking on the phone to someone. Giggling and laughing. When I turned the corner she was kind of blushing too. It kind of bothered me but I figured she was talking to a friend and just hot from cooking or something.

Lucy texted me pissed off one day, asking why I was sending my fiancé flowers but not her. I told her I hadn’t sent any flowers. I think they’re way too expensive for how long they realistically last and that they take up a lot of unnecessary space. But I thought it was weird that someone was sending my fiancé flowers and got kind of uncomfortable. That’s a pretty romantic gesture and her family isn’t the type to randomly send flowers either.

I tried taking her out on a date but she was all mopey again and turned her phone to ‘do not disturb’ so I wouldn’t even see if she was texting someone. We don’t have much to talk about now. I love her but she’s not a good storyteller or into very interesting things. All her ‘funny stories’ are just mundane things that happen during the day. We’ve run out of interesting topics about because we’ve been together so long. (That’s why I like having more than one partner.)

Yesterday she randomly started packing for a trip. I don’t even think she was planning to tell me until I asked her. She was packing a bunch of cute clothes too. Like dresses and tights and things like that. Stuff she only used to wear on our dates. I asked who she was going with and she just said ‘a friend’ which is weird because she would usually say the name of someone even if I don’t remember who they are.

Well today Lucy sent me a picture of my fiancé leaving her job with some guy. I couldn’t see his face because he was turned away, but I could see the side of my fiancé’s face and she was smiling at him. I got this awful sinking feeling in my chest like it was hard to breathe. It took me a few minutes to process that she’s going away for a weekend with a complete stranger.

Doesn’t she know how dangerous that is? Where did she even meet this guy? They’ll be gone all weekend so are they sharing a room? A bed? I nearly threw up thinking all these things as I called her.

I asked her to cancel her plans and come home. She seemed confused and reminded me that her plans were with someone else and it would be rude to ditch last minute. I told her I wanted to spend the weekend with her and that I’d been missing her. She seemed surprised and said that she’d see me on Sunday night, but she was looking forward to the festival with her ‘friend’ and wanted to go. As a last ditch effort I asked if her friend was more important than me, nearly begging at that point. She must have heard the desperation in my voice, but she just told me that she was already on the road and it was too late.

My fiancé doesn’t like lying but it’s hard to believe this guy was just a friend. Even if she sees him as a friend I know how men think and I doubt he sees her the same way.

She said some other weird stuff before she left about having someone over while she was gone. I don’t get it. How could she just casually invite someone else into our house like that? Has she had other people over? Is she dating now?

I’m not sure what to do. I don’t like that she put this trip over me. Should I talk to her about how bad this makes me feel? Should I call again and tell her to come home more forcefully? Am I blowing all of this out of proportion?

Edit: she doesn’t know that I’ve been seeing Lucy. I haven’t told my fiancé about any of the women I’ve been seeing. (mostly just Lucy and Rachel. I’ve done a lot of texting through apps and gone on a bunch of first place, but most women don’t put out right away and I usually can’t be bothered to get to know them better). Even then, I wouldn’t tell her about lucy. They don’t get along and never have. It would cause a lot of unnecessary drama.

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[mostlysignssomeportents]

How the world's leading breach expert got phished

I'm on a 20+ city book tour for my new novel PICKS AND SHOVELS. Catch me in PITTSBURGH on May 15 at WHITE WHALE BOOKS, and in PDX on Jun 20 at BARNES AND NOBLE. More tour dates here.

If you can't spot the sucker at the poker table, you're the sucker. Also, if you think you can't get phished, you're the sucker.

I've been successfully scammed six times in my life. Each time, the scam relied on the confluence of several factors that yielded a fleeting moment of vulnerability that some scammer was able to exploit by being in the right place at the right time. I had to be lucky always, they only had to be lucky once.

The first time I got scammed was in 2008, on my first trip to India. As I walked toward the Mumbai airport taxi queue at 2AM, I was approached by two uniformed airport security guards who told me that the taxi rank had been moved in the wake of a recent terrorist bombing in Islamabad, which had resulted in all the regional airports going on high alert. The bombing was real, the airport high alerts were real. The security guards – not real. They were scammers, working with a fake cab that charged me $200 for a $20 taxi ride.

I got scammed again this way in Shanghai, at the Pudong taxi-rank. I was with my wife, daughter and parents and we split into two cabs and the drivers colluded to turn off their meters and charge us extremely high cash fares, dropping us across the street from our hotel so we couldn't enlist the doorman to interpret. Again, it was very late at night, things were confusing, and we'd had to wait for more than an hour for the cab, so we were exhausted and sweaty and divided into two groups so we couldn't coordinate strategy.

Then there was the time I got successfully phished by a Twitter account takeover worm:

https://locusmag.com/2010/05/cory-doctorow-persistence-pays-parasites/

That was also a miracle of timing – for the scammers. I got hit on a day when I was running late, when I'd just reinstalled my phone's OS and was being prompted for my passwords all over again, when I had just done a bunch of major publishing and was getting a lot of messages about my new articles. When a friend got infected by a worm that took over his account and messaged me, "Is this you?" with a link that took me to a webpage that asked me to log back into Twitter, I re-entered my password. If I'd been five minutes later in getting to that DM, I would have seen three more identical messages from other infected friends and twigged to the scam. But I just happened to look at my phone in the two-minute window when the scam wasn't self-evident, and I just happened to be distracted and flustered about running late, and I just happened to have had some life circumstances that made the generic phishing lure seem plausible.

In 2023, I got scammed by a fake restaurant. I was on the couch with a friend from out of town who'd come by to watch a movie. We were chatting and decided to order from our local Thai restaurant. The top result on Google was a paid ad (marked out with the word "ad" in 8-point, grey-on-white type) that had a plausible domain name, which led to a replica of my local place's menu, only with the prices set 15% higher. I didn't even notice – not until the restaurant called me to say that they'd had a flood of orders from these scammers, who charged their customers' credit cards 15% over the odds, then placed an order for delivery using their own credit card numbers. I ended up contesting the charge with Amex, getting the scammers' Wix and credit card accounts canceled, and shaming Google into blocking their ads:

https://nypost.com/2023/02/25/cory-doctorow-duped-by-fake-thai-restaurant-scam/

Then there's the guy who used leaked data from my credit union to impersonate their fraud department, calling me up and social-engineering me out of the last seven digits of my card number (not the last four, as is common – most banks use the same nine-digit prefix, so the final seven digits are all you need to derive the whole card number). The scammer called right after I used two dodgy ATMs in New Orleans, during my last hour in town when I was rushing around to get my most favorite sandwich in the world before leaving. It was the day that a Boeing 737 Max lost its door-plug so the airport was a zoo and we barely made the flight, so I lost the hour I'd planned to use to call the bank's fraud department back. Again: if, if, if. If he'd called an hour earlier – or later. If there hadn't been a giant aviation disaster. If I hadn't been traveling. The scammer had to get lucky once, I had to be lucky every time:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/05/cyber-dunning-kruger/#swiss-cheese-security

I got scammed again last Christmas week. I was in NYC with my wife and daughter and I'd gotten great tickets to see The Outsiders on Broadway. It was my kid's first musical and to her surprise, she loved it. In the cab back to the friend's place we were staying at, we talked about what other musicals she might want to see. She loves South Park, and I'd seen banners advertising The Book of Mormon (which was created by the same people) in LA. So I looked up "book of mormon tickets los angeles" on my phone in the cab and found the production's website and ordered the tickets, working quickly in the cab because it was one of those websites that has a countdown timer so you have to finish your transaction in five minutes.

It wasn't the real Book of Mormon website. It was a scam website, reselling Book of Mormon tickets at a 200%+ markup. That fact was noted in infinitesimal writing on the main screen, which I missed in the crowded taxi backseat while I raced the countdown timer. I figured it out about 20 seconds after the transaction cleared, and immediately emailed the vendor to cancel it. All I got was a series of smug "all transactions final" emails from outsource customer service reps (in the end, I was able to get my credit card issuer to reverse the transaction, but it took months). But yeah, I got scammed by a sleazy company called "Bigstub." Fuck those guys.

Every time I got scammed, the con that got me was nearly identical to a con that I'd avoided on numerous occasions. The fact that I'm actually pretty good at spotting this kind of hustle, 99.9% of the time, didn't mean I was immune it it. It just meant that I was vulnerable under very special circumstances, and those very special circumstances do crop up from time to time.

This is the most important lesson of scams: that no matter how well-attuned you are to cons, you can still be conned. The belief that you are immune to a con actually makes you a mark. It's for that reason that I recount the tales of how I got scammed – to help other people understand that being sophisticated, alert and even paranoid is no guarantee that you will be safe.

I'm not the only person for whom a detailed knowledge of scams created immunity from being scammed. Troy Hunt is the proprietor of HaveIBeenPwned.com, the internet's most comprehensive and reliable breach notification site. Hunt pretty much invented the practice of tracking breaches, and he is steeped – saturated – in up-to-the-minute, nitty-gritty details of how internet scams work.

Guess who got phished?

https://www.troyhunt.com/a-sneaky-phish-just-grabbed-my-mailchimp-mailing-list/

Hunt had just gotten off a long-haul flight. He was jetlagged. He got a well-constructed, plausible counterfeit email from Mailchimp telling him that his mailing-list – which he absolutely relies upon – had been frozen after a spam complaint, and advising him to click on a link to contest the suspension. He was taken to a fake login screen that his password manager didn't autopopulate, so he manually pasted the password in (Mailchimp doesn't have 2FA). It was only when the login session hung that he realized he'd been scammed – and by then, it was too late. Within minutes, his mailing list had been exported by the scammers.

In his postmortem of the scam, Hunt identifies the overlapping factors that made him vulnerable. He was jetlagged. The mailing list was important. Bogus spam complaints are common. Big corporate sites like Mailchimp often redirect their logins through different domains, which causes password manager autofill to fail. Hunt had experienced near-identical phishing attempts before and spotted them, but this one just happened to land at the very moment that he was vulnerable. Plus – as with my credit union scam – it seems likely that Mailchimp itself had been breached (or has an insider threat), which allowed the scammers to pad out the scam with plausible details that made it seem legit.

Hunt's forensics on the scam are very interesting. Of especial note is the fact that Mailchimp had retained the email addresses of thousands of former subscribers who had already unsubscribed, meaning that their data was exposed as well. It's not clear why Mailchimp would do this, but I will note that the company is extraordinarily spammer-friendly and goes to great lengths to make it easy for spammers to add you to their lists, and impossible to get off of all those lists;

https://pluralistic.net/2024/07/22/degoogled/#kafka-as-a-service

Getting scammed doesn't mean you were stupid, or careless. Frequently, it just means you were distracted, upset, or distraught. We're living through a moment of total, all-consuming chaos, and the scammers are sharpening their blades – not least because the people running the show are unabashed grifters who openly boast that when they get one over on you, "that makes me smart":

https://pluralistic.net/2024/12/04/its-not-a-lie/#its-a-premature-truth

Buyer beware – it's ugly out there, and it's gonna get a lot worse before it gets better.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2025/04/05/troy-hunt/#teach-a-man-to-phish

Image: Cryteria (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:HAL9000.svg

CC BY 3.0 https://creativecomms.org/licenses/by/3.0/deed.en

[radlovesfics]

ok but what if the Variants had their own version of childhood best friend reader where they DID meet and fall in love (somehow bc we freaky like that) except in every reality besides mainstream you:

Die to Nolan/ Get mercy killed/Eaten bc u know cannibalism and love metaphor or u die before he can do that/ get a terminal illness/ overall just something horrible happens and ur gone and it’s BC OF THAT the variants go “fuck it we ball” cuckoo bananas then after going to mainstream marks world are like “wtf u get to have her but alive???? naw that’s not fair “ and just basically it’s a free for all or with their collective crazy caveman brain they decide some sort sharing custody agreement LMFAO

OR LIKE ANOTHER SCENARIO WHERE U

still fall in love with mark in every reality but mainstream Mark is the only one where he pushes u away for ur own safety and won’t tell u the reason why (if he’s just not told u about his powers) or if he decides to be like fake mean and nasty and pulls a “you’re just a distraction and make me weak” *cut to him flying away sobbing like a baby bc he didn’t wanna do it but felt like he had to* so u hate him and love him but also hate him so much and now all these variants are pulling up and mainstream mark realizes he’s FUCKED when all these other assholes are obsessed and hellbent on finding u bc why would they not love u to their fullest ability?? they’re too selfish for that so queue funny/horrible interactions with all of them bc you’re still so mad and pissed at mark but also so in love with him it’s insane

Same scenario but kinda different: let’s say like u had ur own powers and could actually go toe to toe with mark and that shit he pulls pisses u off BAD bc u can take care of urself!! like mark gets u angry enough to attack him/make u hate him bc he’s such a martyr ofc and u fuck him up!! u both never interact again in any positive form and idk if he still gets with eve here but there’s def still pinning on his end for u anyway ofc the variants invade and reader gets sent out to deal with them while mark is MIA and maybe the variants’ reader was weak/powerless in every reality except the mainstream one so this is like. hard drugs for these crazy marks who are like “oh my god you’re so hot please beat me” u know?? and ofc u do bc u hate mark here and take out ur aggression on them

but I’d like to think (for added drama) ur superhero costume involves a mask to hide your identity and since ur were weak/dead in their realities, as these variants are fighting u they have no idea who u are and are not going easy or pulling punches and are being just awful but u know!! one sends ur mask flying or breaks it somehow and suddenly everything comes to a dead stop and whichever one ur fighting will freeze in disbelief bc wtf this is the loml??? the last person they expected ?? and she’s so strong?? and even more amazing than they remembered ??? u however will not give an actual shit and continue beating their variant asses as they all immediately change their attitude when fighting u and it’s just a LOT of flirting/ snarky compliments/ actually mark being gross and horny on main but this obvs sets u off and they realize mainstream mark never ended up with u and u in fact HATE him as they witness u literally crush one of themselves and well obvs they see themselves as better to the mainstream mark so they’re like “ok we can work with this :)” and blah blah blah run a train on u, kidnap u, lotta hate sex, whatever

and for the mainstream mark (to those that love him including myself): the above scenario ends with him trying over and over to save u and finally some epic and dramatic love confession with lots of yelling and then y’all fight together and have ur cute wholesome reunion and then fuck like crazy LMAOOO

I need to be sedated

[anmwrites]

Beneath the Surface

Azriel x Reader

Hi All! So this isn't one of the Az requests unfortunately, but this is one of my private fics I already had written. I'm still working on the Az request that's in the queue, but I'm lowkey hating everything I've been writing so it'll probably take me a little longer to perfect it.

In the meantime, I wanted to get something put up for you all. Sticking to the fandom that was requested I decided to post this Az fic! Probably very stereotypical trope, but this was what I got. This one is a little heavier than my Xaden fic, so please read with caution. I hope you all enjoy!

Content Warning: Mentions of Suicide, self-sabotage, depression, & guilt

Again, I apologize if I missed any other warnings. Please read with caution.

Talk soon, and please enjoy!

“I’m getting her back,” a low growl cut through the tent. Y/N’s head whipped to the Shadowsinger. “I’m going with you,” her High Lady’s voice intervened. “Then you will both die,” her sister’s cold voice replied. 

Y/N’s head was reeling. In just hours after scrying for the Cauldron, the Inner Circle and then some were gathered around in the middle Archeron’s tent. She was stolen away. Lured by the promise of her human past. And…and Azriel was the first to throw himself into harm's way. 

Y/N was barely there as she watched Feyre shift into the dead priestess. Barely there as everyone began moving, readying themselves for their departure. Azriel hadn’t glanced once at her. His best friend. 

A silent brush of claws filled the Illyrian’s head. Y/N dropped her shields momentarily allowing Rhys’ voice to float into her mind. You are awfully quiet. Y/N snorted. He can do whatever he sees fit. A bemused feeling washed over her as Rhys carefully crafted his next words. I heard what happened. Quite a nasty little argument you had with him earlier. Y/N’s eyes shot to Rhys who was conveniently studying the daggers Cassian was equipping Feyre with. He started it. Trying to sideline me. I may not have wings but I know how to fight. 

Rhys finally met her gaze, You need to tell him. 

Tell him what exactly, brother? Y/N quirked her brow. 

You know. The fact that you are in love with him.

Feyre’s eyes darted back and forth between her mate and Y/N clearly noting they were having some form of silent conversation. He made his choice Rhys. Just as it’s always been for the past five centuries. There’s no point in telling him now. 

Truth be told, Y/N had known this story. Had lived through it with Mor. And now she had to live through it again with Elain. Her best friend, for centuries, after Rhys’ mother had taken her in regardless of her lack of wings, was hopelessly in love with another female…as usual. It was nothing new to Y/N. He only saw her as a friend. A sister perhaps. 

Y/N wasn’t really sure when her own feelings had shifted. Her and Azriel were always more than just siblings like she was with Rhys and Cassian. Everyone around knew there was something special between them. So much so that Y/N had even felt a spark of hope until Azriel met Mor, and then the whole incident with Cassian, Eris, and Mor’s father occurred. She slowly realized he would never see her as more than a friend, and Y/N began to be okay with that. And then she watched him do it again when Feyre’s sister entered the picture. It stung, but she was used to it. 

There is the point that we all may die or he may die. Rhys’ voice cut into her thoughts. Rhys. Stop. I can’t think about all of this right now or I will break. He’ll be fine. Rhys merely gave her a sympathetic feeling before she felt his presence exit her mind. He was right though. Azriel could very well die. She needed air. Or she would lose it. The initial shock of his announcement wearing off, nervousness settling in. 

Y/N quietly retreated outside of the stifling tent. The cool night air brushed over her clammy face as she took a deep breath. Something tickled at her ankles. She glanced down to see a single tendril of a shadow wrapped around it. She gave it a small smile. “I’m alright,” she whispered to it. “Go tell him I’m fine.” 

The little wisp of darkness hesitated before retreating back into the tent. Y/N grimaced, that old, familiar feeling of heartache seeping into her chest. She didn’t want him to go. Nesta and Rhys were right. They most likely would die. Everyone saw what the camp looked like. Elain could be anywhere. And selfishly, she did not want her High Lady and Shadowsinger to go in there. Especially her Shadowsinger.

A single tear slipped down her cheek, and Y/N took a shaky breath. A quiet rustle behind her signaled someone had stepped out of the tent. She felt him before she saw him as she always did. Slowly, Y/N turned around and saw Azriel standing behind her. His face softened as he took her in. “Y/N I…” he started, approaching her. “I–I’m sorry about what I said earlier.” Y/N sighed before meeting him halfway. Her heart crumpled. He was still her best friend, and she still cared. “It’s okay, Az. I understand,” she said quietly, gazing up into his warm eyes. Eyes she was so, so familiar with. His warmth engulfed her, as they were standing maybe just a hair closer than any normal friends would stand. 

“No. It’s not. I just–you’re not incompetent. I know what you can do on a battlefield. It’s just–I just don’t want to see you get hurt,” he signed, taking his hand in hers. Y/N watched as his gaze fell on their intertwined hands. He fiddled with her fingers as a nervous habit. 

“I know. I don’t want to see you get hurt either,” Y/N whispered, her unspoken selfish words hanging in the air. Azriel’s eyes flicked back to hers studying for a moment. Were they closer? Y/N thought to herself. “Say it,” he replied. “Say the words and I won’t do it. I won’t go.” 

Y/N’s heart picked up. She knew if she told him not to go after Elain he wouldn’t. He would drop it immediately. But Feyre’s face flashed in her head. Nesta’s moans of pain ripped through her. They were a part of their family now. Y/N shook her head, more tears slipping down her face. “I can’t do that,” she let out a shaky laugh, casting her head down. His other hand felt warm as he caressed her face, wiping the tears away with his thumb. 

“You’re the only one who has a chance to get in and out without being noticed. You have to get both of them out. They’re family now,” Y/N whispered. Azriel didn’t say anything, but when she met his intense gaze, those three little words felt heavy on her tongue. Looking into his eyes, she wanted to tell him. She wanted to tell him so bad it was like her skin was on fire. Y/N couldn’t breathe. He could very well be walking right into his death. 

But she couldn’t do it. She couldn’t drop the biggest bomb on their friendship when he needed his sole focus elsewhere. So, she stayed silent. She stayed silent even as he nodded and said, “I’ll be fine. I promise I’ll come back to you.” She stayed silent when he pulled her into his warm body and hugged her a little tighter. Y/N stayed quiet even when he led her back into the tent and she watched him disappear with their High Lady in the blink of an eye.

•••

Rhys let out a shaky breath after the departure of his mate and brother. As everyone dispersed, he noticed Y/N was still frozen in place, staring at the spot where the pair had just disappeared. He could see her visibly shaking. Cassian passed her and gave her a sympathetic look and pat on the shoulder before he exited. Rhys slowly approached her. 

“I couldn’t do it,” Y/N said without turning to him. Rhys could hear the tears in her voice. The uneven breaths she took. “He told me to tell him to stay and he would’ve in a heartbeat. I couldn’t do that to Feyre. To you. To our family,” she continued. Rhys opened his mouth and then closed it, unsure what to say. His heart was so full of emotions. Terror, absolute terror for his mate and his brother. Love–love for his unselfish sister. The baby he saw that day his mother brought her home. All in a frantic rush to warm up this little, tiny fragile thing she found in the snow, abandoned by her blood relatives because fate was cruel and did not give her wings. 

Y/N let out another shaky sigh. “I’m sorry. I’m sure you’re also trying to keep it together. I can’t imagine what you must be feeling right now.” 

This. This was why he felt he had to take it all on himself. Rhys’ heart was breaking for her. For his most kind and caring, living sister. This beautiful soul who has slowly fallen in love with Azriel for all of the centuries spent together. He didn’t understand why the Mother didn’t make them mates…his train of thought paused. It was as if he was hit with a brick. Sifting through all his memories and countless conversations with her, it finally clicked into place. 

“How long have you known?” Rhys asked quietly. Y/N slowly turned to face him. Pain and anguish, only that of which someone with a mate would know. The same pain and anguish he felt watching Feyre disappear. Y/N let out a bitter laugh, “Since Starfall five years ago. When you were…away.” Rhys was slightly shocked. He noticed the smallest shift in their relationship when he had returned. But after all it, he expected everything to be different. 

“Why didn’t you tell him? Me? Does Cassian know?” Rhys asked. Y/N shook her head, “I didn’t tell him because we were all dealing with the loss. I didn’t let myself find peace while you were gone. I couldn’t. I knew there were horrors you were enduring. Horrors I couldn’t even fathom, and I just couldn’t let myself be happy. And Az, well Az went to a dark place when you were gone. The only thing he clung to was his love for Mor, and I couldn’t disrupt his entire life. I wouldn’t. We didn’t speak for a few months after you were taken. We were all a mess,” tears flowed freely down her face as she spoke to him. 

Rhys could barely contain his. 

“So I buried it. I buried it so deep inside of myself no one would pick up on it. Or at least notice it without having to scrutinize me. I wanted to tell you. I really did, but I saw how you were when you returned Rhys. I couldn’t do that to you. You were trying so hard to pretend like you were okay and then your mate was with another. I just couldn’t do that to you, so I didn’t. I continued to bury it, but it just…just all got away from me.”

Y/N let out a choked sob that had Rhys moving. His arms wrapped around her engulfing her in a hug. “Oh you sweet, sweet thing,” he whispered, “My sweet sister,” he started, pulling back a bit to look at her. “You never need to hide anything from me. No matter what I am going through, you can always come to me. I am so, so happy for you. Although, I do need to kick Az around Velaris a bit since he cannot see what has always been right in front of him.” Y/N let out a garbled laugh before burying her head back in his chest. 

“We’ll figure it out, Y/N. Whatever is going on in Az’s head. We’ll figure it out together. When all of this is over. We’ll both get our happy ending. I promise you that,” Rhys concluded. Y/N only nodded, before stepping out of his arms and wiping her face. “Cassian suspected it and I’m sure Amren knows. She has never mentioned it to me but Cass has. I didn’t confirm anything with him and he hasn’t mentioned it to Az.” Rhys nodded, guiding her outside of the tent for some fresh air.  

•••

Y/N knew she should have told someone about the mating bond. It was something she could only suppress so much. But the guilt she and the rest of the inner circle felt when Rhys sacrificed himself ate at her too much. How could she let herself be happy when their High Lord and brother was subjecting himself to the horrors Under the Mountain, willingly, to protect them. 

There was no point dwelling on it now. Not as she paced in front of Rhys who was sitting tense in front of his war tent. The minutes ticked by all too slowly as they silently awaited Azriel and Feyre’s return. “Tell me about when it happened,” Rhys said quietly, interrupting Y/N’s nervous pacing. She stopped and looked at him. His eyes were glazed over like mind was somewhere else. He needed a distraction. For her brother, she would tell him everything. 

Y/N took a breath. “Starfall wasn’t the same without you. We knew how much the celebrations meant to you and so did Velaris. We never hosted a grand party anymore. The House was opened to those who wished to join, but it was almost as if the city was mourning the loss of our High Lord. Some came, but it was another quiet celebration.”

Rhys’ gaze flicked to hers. 

“I–I was upset that five years had already gone by and you weren’t able to see this and be there with us,” Y/N continued, “I was close to breaking by that point. My hope was running out. I was up on the private balcony where you and Feyre celebrated. Azriel of course found me. Sitting there, silently looking at the stars or spirits or whatever. Wishing on them so hard that they would return you to us.”

“He sat with me for I don’t even know how long. Let me cry on his shoulder and just be a comfort. Everyone held it together a lot better than I did, Rhys. You were my brother. My first family and the one who took care of me when I had nothing. When we lost your mother and our sister, you were the only thing I had left of them.” 

Y/N sniffed, more tears running down her face as she took herself back to that night. “I honestly debated pitching myself off that balcony that night,” she muttered bitterly. Rough hands immediately grabbed her face. Rhys’ anguish poured off of him as he seethed at her, “Do not ever think that. Even when I am gone. Never.” 

Y/N gazed at him for a moment before slowly nodding, continuing her story, “But Az came up. His presence was like a lifeline. And when I finally stopped moping and looked at him he gave me one of his rare true smiles. Sad, but also his true smile. I felt it then when I looked at him. Like a beautiful golden thread tethering him to me. Pulling me out of that abyss. I don’t know if he knew it, but I knew.” 

“I’ve always loved him. From when we were kids. I can’t tell you when my feelings shifted, but I have always loved him and I always will,” Y/N concluded. Rhys looked at her with a mixture of sadness and pure joy. He was about to open his mouth when commotion snapped them both out of it. 

Y/N’s head whipped so fast to the outskirts of the camp. There they were. Covered in mud and dragging along two petite figures. Y/N let out a strangled cry before tearing away from Rhys. The latter hot on her heels. She smelled the blood before she saw it. 

As she approached the puddle of people, her blood ran cold and she stopped dead in her tracks as she watched Elain plant a gentle kiss on Azriel’s cheek. She heard a faint “Thank you” before Elain was being swept up by others. Feyre reached Rhys first, letting out a strangled, “I’m alright…Azriel’s wings.” That kicked Y/N back into motion. 

She flung herself at the Shadowsinger causing him to let out an oomph. Though her heart ached at what she just witnessed, she still needed to make sure he was okay. “You–your wings,” she cried after releasing him. She frantically began inspecting every inch of him. “Hey, hey…” he said, grabbing both of her wrists. Y/N was too much in a state of horror. “Y/N look at me,” Az said quietly. She finally snapped her gaze to him. “I’m okay. I’m right here. I’m alive,” he said, giving her a strained smile. His hand reached up, brushing a stray hair out of her face. Y/N merely nodded more to herself than anything as Rhys came around and helped lift him. “We need to get Madja before anything permanent sets,” Rhys grunted, hoisting him up. Azriel swayed a bit. Y/N let in a sharp intake, flinching a bit as she felt some of his pain. 

Az gave her a weird look but she just shook her head, burying that golden thread down and down once again. Rhys began moving as Cassian took up Azriel’s other side, leading them away from her. Y/N noticed Feyre and hurried to her. She looked as if she was still in a daze. Y/N gently took her hand and led her to her tent. “You’re okay,” Y/N whispered gently as she settled in to help clean her up. Feyre merely nodded. 

The minutes flew by and soon Feyre was curled in her bed, cocooned by her sisters as Rhys ushered everyone out. 

Y/N took a deep breath once she was away from the commotion. Her mind was reeling between the conversation she had had with Rhys to the state that her family was in. Alive. That thread hummed from deep within herself. She almost felt as if it was calling to her. Tugging her. Her head turned slowly, spying the tent from which that feeling was coming from. Y/N’s feet were moving before her brain. 

The tent was thankfully silent except for the soft crackle of faelights illuminating the space. Azriel’s large form was sprawled across the cot on his stomach. The glimmer of salve and magic lingering on his shredded wings. Y/N’s voice got stuck in her throat. His beautiful wings. 

His head lifted as she entered, a soft smile gracing his lips. “I’ve had worse. You’ve seen me have worse,” he said, trying to comfort her. She still could not speak. “Come here,” he urged, trying to sit up. His muffled groan of pain set Y/N moving. “Don’t–don’t try to move,” she said, shakily sitting on the floor near his head. His eyes softened as he took her in. “You were worried about me,” Az chuckled a bit, reaching his hand up to brush that stray hair out of her face again. His shadows pooled around her, rubbing and twining up across her body in a soothing matter. “Of course I was worried about you,” Y/N hissed.

“Why?” he asked, matter-of-factly. 

Y/N glared at him. “You are my best friend, Azriel! Why wouldn’t I worry about you!” She couldn’t comprehend why he was acting like a snarky bastard right now. “I mean look at you!” Y/N plowed ahead, “Your wings are shredded! You could have died!” She wasn’t really sure what came over her. Maybe from speaking with Rhys, that bond she had spent years shoving down, surfaced again and was not going down without a fight this time. “Imagine if you had!” she exclaimed, “What am I supposed to do if you die?”

Azriel just gave her a small smile before trying to sit up again. “No, no, no. Don’t try to sit up!” Y/N seethed. He started laughing, pushing himself up anyways. That bastard was laughing. “Azriel!” Y/N pleaded, clearly noting the grimace as he fully pushed himself up. Once he was sitting his laugh dimmed. Y/N pushed herself up to her knees so she could at least be near eye level with him. He would always tower over her no matter what. 

“Tell me the real reason you have worked yourself up,” Azriel murmured, taking both of her hands in his. Y/N froze. He couldn’t know. 

“Because you are my best friend,” she whispered, feeling more tears well up in her eyes. “And your mate?” he replied gently. She couldn’t find it in herself to respond or look at him. “Sweetheart, look at me,” he gently placed a finger under her chin and made her head tilt up to look at him. And for once in her life, Y/N saw the love shining so brightly in his eyes. One that mimicked how she would always admire him from afar. If she was being honest, maybe more emotion than he ever let on was swimming through his beautiful face. 

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” Y/N muttered pathetically. The Shadowsinger let out a quiet chuckle. “I think you do,” he said. Y/N just nodded. “How–how long have you known,” she rasped. “Subconsciously…well probably awhile now. Consciously, I felt it snap into place as you were leaving the tent before we left. That’s why I followed you out there,” Azriel stated. Y/N said nothing. “That’s why I asked you to tell me to stay,” he admitted quietly. 

Y/N finally took all of him in. All of his beauty and intensity. So broken yet still somehow put together. She studied his intense gaze on her, those hazel eyes seemingly glowing in the soft light. His tattoos across his very bare torso, and those wings. Oh, those beautiful wings still shimmering with healing magic. 

“How long have you known?” he asked, breaking her out of her stare. “Starfall. Five years ago,” she whispered. Azriel studied her harder, more emotion filling his eyes. “That night. I felt your sadness that night. I think part of me knew then and was scared to admit it,” he confessed after a moment. “Why didn’t you tell me then?” 

“I–I just couldn’t,” her lip trembled before her story finally came tumbling out. 

After she explained, Az slid to his knees on the floor before her, gathering her in his arms, “Oh my sweet girl.” Sobs racked through Y/N as all of the feelings she had bottled up ran rampant through her. Relief, sorrow, love. All of her bleeding heart finally pouring out. 

When she finally calmed down enough to get a word in, she pulled back out of his embrace, “I just didn’t think you would ever see me as more than a friend. With everything you told me about Mor, and then I saw it shift to Elain, I figured you deserved to be happy. Even if it would break me. Your brothers have found two sisters–” Azriel raised a brow at that. Y/N let out a small laugh, “You can’t tell me there isn’t something between Cassian and Nesta.” “Fair enough,” Az joined in with her quiet laughter. 

Y/N sighed and continued, “But I just know you and I didn’t want to ruin anything we had with a mating bond. To me especially. An Illyrian without wings.”

“Y/N,” Azriel said sternly, “Just because you were born without wings doesn’t mean that I will never love you any less than I already have my entire life.” 

“I was an idiot and I was in denial. You have been my entire world since I don’t even know when. I have loved you for so long, but I just didn’t think you would ever see me as more than a friend. I-I thought to myself that you would never love me like that. I have done things, you know what I have done. And I just couldn’t imagine a beautiful soul like yours falling in love with me. A part of me did love Mor. I won’t lie to you and say I didn’t, but I was finally able to admit to myself that I was in love with you. Was finally able to see that my stupid crush on Mor was a way to suppress all of my feelings for you. Every piece of me is consumed by you and belongs to you,” Azriel pressed.

“And Elain?” Y/N could only see that moment when they first returned. When she placed a kiss on his cheek. It made her blood begin to boil. “The thought crossed my mind when we met. It was the only thing that made sense. Three brothers, three sisters. But, I still couldn’t shake what I was trying so hard to hide from myself. And seeing you tonight. Seeing you go through all of this hell has finally given me the courage to be honest with myself and you,” he said. 

Y/N was pretty sure she had gone into shock. This was the most honest the both of them had been to each other in years. He actually loved her. She hadn’t dared to let herself dream of this moment. Especially not in the circumstances they were in with the war and all. 

“Please say something,” Az nearly begged, shaking her out of her stupor. Y/N focused back on his face. There really wasn’t anything she could say except surging forward and pressing her lips gently on his. Az tensed in shock for a moment before processing what was happening. And soon he was fervently kissing her back. 

Her lips molded perfectly against his as he explored every inch of her mouth. They were just as soft as she had dared to let herself imagine. His hands quickly found her waist, roaming up and down savoring the feel of her pressed against him. Over 500 years of knowing each other and they hadn’t once kissed. Even when Cassian put them up to stupid games like spin the bottle. Azriel couldn’t get enough. 

Y/N let out a moan as his tongue found his way into her mouth, shooting a blast of heat through her spine. Az reciprocated the feeling, pulling her closer, leaning back on the edge of the cot. He stiffened, suppressing a groan of his own. But well, mostly of pain. Y/N froze before pulling away. Az tried to chase her with his mouth and whined when she moved out of reach. “Azriel!” she hissed. “I’m fine,” he shrugged, trying to lean in again. “Az,” Y/N said, sticking a hand on his chest. “You are in no condition.” Azriel scoffed, leaning forward and thoroughly attaching his lips to her neck. Y/N shuddered. “Azriel I am not having sex with you when you can’t even lay on your back,” Y/N huffed. He was leaving a sloppy trail of kisses up and down. 

“Don’t need to lay on my back,” he mumbled. “You can hardly sit up,” she responded. “Don’t care. You’re my mate. My newly found mate,” he said into her neck. “Been dreaming of this for a while now,” he sighed dreamily, sucking on the one spot that made Y/N melt. She could feel the bastard grin before he continued his assault. 

It took a lot to shove him off of her. An extreme amount. All sentimental feelings from their confession were out the window and replaced by need. Pure, lustful need. But he was in pain. And he was her mate, so she pushed him off her. He let out the most un-spymaster like whine. “Y/N why are you doing this to me love?” he groaned. “Because you are injured and like I said, I’m not fucking you until you are at one-hundred percent,” she quipped, standing with more clarity than she had in years. She went over to the little table littered with food. 

“And so I can give you this,” she turned, holding a little apple in her hand. Az’s face softened as she approached. A silent request as she held out her hand. “Are you sure?” he whispered. “Azriel, every piece of me has always belonged to you and it always will. I have never been more sure in my life,” she replied. 

He smiled, grabbing the apple gently from her hands taking a slow bite. Y/N smiled in return before ushering him back down on his cot. “Time to rest, Az,” she said, nestling in next to him. “But I’m perfectly fine for other activities now,” Azriel pouted. Y/N just laughed, running her hands through his soft locks. “I promise when you are fully healed we will partake in those said activities,” she smirked. Azriel grinned and pushed himself upwards, stealing another kiss. Y/N giggled, before placing his head back in her lap. “Sleep now,” she mumbled. Azriel hummed softly as she resumed running her hands through his hair. “I love you,” he whispered before his steady breath evened out. “I love you too.”

[soppingwethog]

Not A Perfume by Juliette Has A Gun

I am terribly sorry. I don’t mean to take up too much of your time, but I do believe that providing a thoughtful, careful review of this fragrance is required to do it justice. As such, it feels necessary that I give a little bit of background information concerning my first experience with this particular perfume. I hope you can forgive me.

About six hundred minutes ago, I found myself waiting in an exceptionally long line. I was in a city several hours from my home and I had travelled here with the express purpose of attending an evening performance of musical songs by a somewhat well-known performer whose name I will not be listing in this review as I do not know how to spell it properly.

I intended to arrive at the performance venue almost a full twenty-four hours before the scheduled opening of the doors, but alas, I was delayed by many infuriating events that I shall not bore you with right now. I will simply say that I was mistaken for not one, but two different bank robbers all because of my sense of fashion and style. Needless to say, it took up a great deal of my time and caused me to arrive at my destination much later than I had desired.

When I finally did arrive, I found, much to my dismay, that a line of like-minded concertgoers had been forming long before my arrival and thus there was little chance of me securing a seat anywhere near the stage where the performers would be performing. This infuriated me to no end, but I quickly realized that there was nothing to be done about it so I solemnly took my place at the very end of the queue and did my best not to vomit with frustration.

I checked my wristwatch in an attempt to ascertain how much more time I would need to stand motionless surrounded by hungry, rude strangers when I noticed that it had stopped. I can’t say for certain, but I assume that it must have been damaged during the two tacklings I had received by bank security officers earlier in the day. This upset me even more. This was a watch that I have owned for many years. It was gifted to me by a man I had the pleasure of working for on a small farm some time ago. It was a special watch and not one that I wore with any regularity. I saved it for special events like concerts or ribbon cuttings and it upset me to no end that it was now inoperable.

The longer I waited in line, the angrier I felt. Nothing was going as I had hoped. I did my best to calm myself. I like to think that I was able to internalize my violent rage and that nobody near me was any the wiser about the horrible fury which thundered in my bones, but I soon learned that this was not the case when a bearded, hulking gentleman standing directly behind me tapped on my shoulder and asked if I was alright. I told him that I had no idea what he was talking about and turned back around, even angrier than before. Then, I heard him say that he was only asking because my body was shaking so intensely.

I hadn’t noticed that I was trembling until he said something about it, but I then quickly realized that I was shivering like a sick horse. My entire body was tensed with displeasure. I looked down and saw that I had sweated through my trousers and that my hands were balled into tight fists. I loosened my fingers and blood immediately started pouring from my palms where I had unconsciously dug out great scoops of flesh with my fingernails.

It’s amazing what the body can do without you noticing when you are extremely annoyed. This wasn’t the first time I had inadvertently torn open the palms of my hands, but it was certainly the most severe. In my embarrassment, I quickly stuffed my bleeding hands into my trouser pockets, but the thin cotton was no match for the great quantities of blood which weeped forth from my self-inflicted palm gouges.

I began feeling faint. I turned to the bearded man behind me to apologize for being so curt and to ask if he had the time. That is when I must have fainted. Luckily, I fainted right into his hairy, muscled arms and was quickly revived when he splashed my face with cool, clear water. My luck continued when he, still cradling me in his exquisitely strong arms, bandaged my unsightly hand gashes and fed me a bag of shrimp that he happened to have in his backpack. He said that it was his favorite concert snack. I was in no shape to argue with that.

He was kind enough to chaperone me into the venue and spend the entire concert by my side, ensuring that I was alright and singing the performer’s most popular songs with me. On top of that, he smelled of a truly intoxicating fragrance. I asked him what it was that he was wearing during a break between songs and he removed from his trousers a small white bottle of Not A Perfume by Juliette Has A Gun. “What a confounding name,” I thought. He thrust the warmed bottle into my wounded hands and said that I could keep it. I was delighted. I couldn’t believe that such a difficult day had turned into such a magical night.

Unfortunately, my luck ran out when, after the concert ended, he asked if I could loan him the tidy sum of fifteen hundred dollars. I explained to him that I did not own that many dollars and it was unlikely that I ever would, but it was no use. He was irate and showed his dissatisfaction by punching me nearly to death. He then left me on the sidewalk in front of the concert venue, wet, exhausted, and with a broken bottle of perfume in my blood-soaked trouser pocket.

[sparklystarrrr]

One shot request:

Word gets out that MC is dating the Vice House warden of Pomefiore, and Vil is NOT impressed. While you may not be officially a member of the dorm as someone close to his second-in-command he can't have you just running around. Whether you like it or not Vil now considers you a representative of Pomefiore.

Queue a disgruntled Vil showing up at the step of Ramshackle with a basket full of care products and a neatly pressed Pomefiore uniform for when they enter the premises. After all it would be poor etiquette to arrive in a slovenly state.

It's especially bad if MC struggles with hygiene in general; never fear though, he will make sure you attain mastery in the subject!

Oh and you get a micro dose of the Epel treatment.

STOPPP this is so good, I've been WAITING to do a Pomefoire oneshot for ages THX SM FOR THE REQUEST ANON!

Simple Touch-ups

Synopsis: As Rook Hunt's partner, it's Vil's job to make sure that you, as his unofficial Pomefoire member, look absolutely parfait!

Contains: Rook Hunt x Gn! Reader, Vil Schoenheit x Gn! Reader (platonic), reader gets the Epel treatment, Vil refers to (y/n) as Potato, Rook uses a plethora of French nicknames for (y/n)

It was rather calm today considering word had gone out that you and Rook were officially dating. Pretty much everyone supported you and absolutely shipped the two of you! It was honestly quite refreshing. You sat scrolling on your phone in bed when all of a sudden the doorbell rang. "Huh? No one told me they'd be coming over, I wonder who it is?"

You hopped to your feet and scurried down the stairs of Ramshackle, opening the door to see Vil looming over you with a large basket cradled in one arm and a black garment bag in his other hand. "Good evening, Potato. It has come to my attention that you're in a relationship with Rook, yes?" He said while slightly grimacing at the sight of you in over-sized pajamas and hair sticking out from every direction, plus the lack of makeup or skin care gracing your clearly exhausted face.

"Yup! Is there a reason you have these... giant packages?" Your eyes scanned between the items in his hands. "They are for you Potato. Now, scurry up to the bathroom. I must fix whatever's going on here." The man dramatically looked away as your current ensemble disgraced his eyes. In the name of fashion and all things beautiful, your outfit was a disaster, even for lounge wear.

He ushered you up to your bathroom as if it was his own dorm and looked around sadly at the minuscule size of the bathroom. "There are seriously no chairs, not even a stool?" He said, clearly shaken. "Yeah... Crowley didn't provide me with much so this is all I have." He nearly fainted. "Well, Pomefoire would never treat a young Potato to such impoverished dormitories and petite washrooms. Now, sit on the counter."

You propped yourself up on the counter and he set the basket of goodies next to you, unwrapping it and taking out everything while explaining them to you in great detail. "This is a toner, you must use it before every product you add onto your face." The bottle was dark purple, seemingly from his own brand. If it was by Vil, it was sure to work.

Along with the toner, he pulled out makeup removers, serums, moisturizers, eye creams, lip masks and balms, ect. The whole nine yards. "You will use these every day. If you need more just give me a call. I'm here to assist Potatoes like you in need of a makeover." You honestly thought he was just calling you ugly in the fanciest way possible, but whatever, getting to work with Vil was practically an honor! Especially since this was your boyfriend's best friend making sure you looked good for him.

"Now, we shall commence the makeover." Pardon..?

It was like he pulled the makeup bag out of his back pocket with how quickly he wiped it out in front of him. "Vil... What are you doing?" You asked skeptically. He looked at you like you were actively growing another head"...You thought the makeover ended there? Don't be silly Potato, you will need more than skincare products. Close your mouth so the foundation doesn't crease." He spoke after adding a cool primer to your face. He applied the light weight foundation to your face that was somehow your exact shade.

He held the bottom of your jaw up with his fingers while he patted it into your skin and blended it out flawlessly. "Suck in your cheeks. I must do the contour, blush and highlighter." He pulled out a few pallets and some bottles of blushes and contours and highlighters along with many different brushes and blenders you thought you've probably never seen before. He glided the brush with warm brown contour onto your cheekbones and along the sides of your nose, blending it into your skin with the faint red blush on his brush. He dusted shining white highlighter on the tip of your nose, brow bones, cheekbones and cupids bow. He set in the base with a setting powder that happened to go perfectly with your skin. How did everything match your skin tone so well? That was a question you'd never know the answer to. But knowing Vil's extensive makeup skills and Rook's obsession with everything possible about you, you had a good idea of how.

He muttered a small close "Close your eyes." before spraying your face with a setting spray. While your eyes remained shut he opened a pallet of neutral colored eyeshadows and shimmers. He gently applied warm browns to your lids, adding a dark purple shimmer to the center of them as well. He pulled out a smaller, more angular brush and tapped it into the black eyeshadow, adding it to your upper lash line and stretching it out like eyeliner. "Open your eyes Potato." He then grabbed a lash curler and went straight in. You didn't know what to do when suddenly seeing this new tool that sort of looked like pliers, so you stood still in fear. Luckily it was quick. He grabbed a bottle of mascara and wiped the excess off at the rim,"When I say blink, you blink." It seemed more of a threat than a request when he said it, but you followed his lead nonetheless.

He held the black garment bag in front of you. "The makeup is done. Put this on and meet me in your room." He shut the door with just those few words and you heard his heels clicking to your room. You sighed.'Beauty is... confusing.' You thought to yourself. Hanging the garment bag on the shower rod, you unzipped it. There hung a perfectly ironed Pomefoire uniform. The purple was deep and velvety and the pants were a shining black leather. It didn't have any shoes to go along with it, but you had a good pair of heeled boots that Rook bought you which would look perfect with it!

When putting it on, the pieces were confusing. You didn't know what piece was supposed to be added first or where each accessory went. You tried to remember what Rook's uniform looked like and how he would put it on in the morning when he would sleep over at Ramshackle. At last you came to the conclusion that it would be shirt, pants, that jacket/robe thing, and the wrap belt. Buttoning the shirt and wrapping the little ring holes around your fingers was a lot harder than you expected it to be. How on earth did Rook manage to make it look so easy?! The next step had been much easier. It was simply putting on the pants which you did with ease.

Then came the jacket. You had heard that Epel had a rough time putting it on to this day, so you hoped and prayed that this would just be a him problem and not a you problem too. You were wrong. It was 100% a you problem as well. You practically got tangled in the long purple fabric while trying to make it look perfect, then at one point you gave up. Vil would most likely nitpick at it for you and fix it on his own accord. Putting on the belt was no easier. It was once again a fight between you and the fabric. You felt pity for all the Pomefoire students who had to endure this pain every single day because this was WAY too much for a dorm uniform. It was like a puzzle, and you were absolutely lost doing it.

After a few too many minutes of being stuck in the bathroom and struggling on your own, you decided to get Vil's assistance. You shyly walked down the hallway with the floorboards creaking under your feet. You opened your bedroom door to find Vil going through your closets and dressers, grimacing at the clothes or lack of clothes you owned. You had only your school uniforms and clearly not enough clothes, four or five outfits max. Outfit repeating was an absolute must in your situation. "Potato, we will go shopping another day. This is clearly not enough to last you the rest of the school year. You're practically wearing threads!"

"Yeah, I haven't really had enough money to splurge on any clothes recently. I just need to get by with food and rent, clothes come second. Y'know?" You sighed out, a bit embarrassed at him shuffling through the few pieces you had. He looked at you gobsmacked and leaned a hand against the wall to stabilize himself. "...Are you serious?!" He said between deep breaths. He clutched his heart in true actor dramatics. "Uh yeah..." He shut his eyes to take in this newfound information."Potato, we will go shopping. Tomorrow in the first crack of sunlight. We both know you need it." He quickly shifted his eyes to the uniform on your body that was unfinished in assembling."The uniform has yet to be fully assembled. Why is that?"

"Oh uhm, I just needed some help with the belt.." Your voice lowered in volume as you explained your current predicament. He snorted a small chuckle "I see. Come, I will assist." He walked toward you and examined the whirlwind of a Pomefoire uniform that lay before him. He whisked the leather belt around your waist and tied the golden and red intricate rope around the belt easily. He adjusted the collar of the jacket and black shirt and made it look nice and sleek. "You'll wear this uniform exactly this way every time you step into Pomefoire, are we understood?" He said sharply. "Yeah Vil, but why should I? I'm not a Pomefoire student." You questioned. "Though you're not sorted into Pomefoire, you are in a relationship with the Vice. Therefore making you an unofficial member. You indirectly represent my dorm." He spoke as if common sense while his hands trailed from the collars of the uniform to your hair. He twirled the locks of your (h/c) hair in his fingers while he looked at it in clear deep thought, his brows furrowed.

"We must style this. Turn around for me." You turned around and he got right to work. The man didn't even need a brush to style your hair as perfectly as he was. He carded his fingers down the (h/c) strands of your hair and pulled them back. He pulled a hair tie and a few hairpins from his pockets and began his work of styling. He pulled your hair into a low ponytail and wrapped your (short/long) strands into a bun, setting them in place with a pin every time he wrapped a new piece. He would occasionally move to look at the front of your face and adjust the strands of hair that circled around your face quite messily.

Once he was done he styled your hair as he saw fit. He'd framed your face with your hair perfectly and completed the low bun that made every strand of hair sit perfectly upon your head. When seeing your final Pomefoire look, he smiled to himself. "Shall we go to Pomefoire and show you off to Rook now?" He asked, a bit more cheerful than before when he saw you in your comfy clothes since you now dawned the Pomefoire attire he had made specially for you."Of course! But... do you think he'd like me looking like this?"

He sighed at your lack of confidence like an older sibling, "Why would you discredit my work? He will fawn over it for years to come, Potato. Do think of yourself as lowly as an insignificant worm. Especially in Pomefoire attire. Come along, we are going." He turned towards the front door of Ramshackle, expecting you to follow. In a nervous state of wondering how your boyfriend would react, you followed."Ah, before we embark, let me apply this lipstick to you." He pulled out a wine red lipstick from his pocket and dabbed it on your colorless lips. "Perfect. Now, let's go."

~ In Pomefoire~

Once you stepped into the doors of the Poemfoire living room, you saw Rook keeping watch of the underclassmen including Epel. They'd been having a bit of fun while Vil was out of the dorm giving you a makeover. He'd sat on the plush silk couch with his back turned to you, giggling at the slightly rambunctious freshmen of his dorm. "Hi, my love! How's your day going?" You spoke in a sweet voice while calling to him. He turned around, disregarding what he was previously engrossed in and suddenly the world around him stopped and you were the only thing he could focus on. "Ah, mon amour, tu es très beau! Oh la la~ Magnifique mon cœur, absolutely magnifique!!" He spun you around in the air with glee, his hands firm on your hips as he smiled so big at you.

"Though your beauty as of now is absolutely radiant, I assure you that your style of over-sized lounge garments and messy (h/c) locks is much more endearing to me and ignites a fire in my heart no amount of matches and wood could come close to, mon trésor!" He spoke heartily before pressing a passionate kiss to your soft rouged lips. "Thank you Dear, Vil gave me a makeover before coming over!" You said with a smile while he placed you on your feet again with his hands gripping your waist gently."It was a challenge at first, but (y/n) is quite compliant to my help. They're a true Pomefoire student at heart." Vil said with a small smirk.

It was like Vil said earlier, Rook would be fawning over this look for years to come. He had taken a picture of you in his dorm's uniform and set it as his wallpaper on his phone. He printed it and framed it TWICE, putting it on the wall above his bed and on his vanity. He even put a picture of it in his wallet so that every time he spoiled you again he could see your beautiful face and effectively spoil you more. He made it a point to show every one he could, no student at NRC was safe from the wrath of Rook's undying devotion and love for you, and to be honest, you wouldn't have it any other way.

Can ya'll tell I love talking about makeup and skincare...