#| Also damn this post ended up with a bunch of tags

[babybluebex]

looking | joseph quinn x reader

summary: joe catches you looking and rewards (punishes?) you for your efforts pairing: joseph quinn x fem!reader (rpf - don't like, don't read) tags: smut (MINORS DNI), squirting, oral (m! and f!receiving), mostly dom!joe but surprise sub!joe at the end, praise kink, no condom, creampie, cockwarming author's note: yes i have a lecture this morning. yes i am writing this at work. no i will not apologize. enjoy <3 // follow @babybluebex-writes to be notified whenever i post a new story! (also big ole thanks to @freckledjoes for making this gif for me!! thanks a bunch!)

You heard his feet on the landing of the stairs, and then gentle padding as his bare feet sounded on the carpeted hallway as he made his way to the bedroom. These nights were your favorite— Joseph had made you dinner, cheesy pasta with garlic bread, then you had watched an episode of Succession before getting ready for bed. You could tell that Joe was in a sort of mood that night, the kind of mood where he lit a candle at dinner and kissed you and put on Al Green on his record player. He had asked if you wanted to join him in the shower, but you had declined; you had work in the morning, and a randy shower didn't exactly entail an early sleep.

But then, he rounded the corner and darkened the doorway, and you gulped. He looked good; wet curls on his forehead, singlet covering his beefy build, and those underwear, clinging to every curve just right. And he didn't even seem like he knew what he was doing. Joe rubbed his hair dry on his towel as he came into the bedroom, and he went to his dresser, rooting through the top drawer for some pajama bottoms. The silence was deafening, and damning, because Joe turned to you with an amused look on his face.

"What's wrong, love?" he asked. "Cat got your tongue?" He added a dramatic pout to his plush lips, and, fuck, you just had to kiss him.

"You just look really good," you said softly. "Can't I just look at you?"

"Oh, you want to look?" Joe asked teasingly. Oh. So he was in that sort of mood. "I thought it was rude to stare."

"I'm not staring," you told him. "I'm... Appreciating. Admiring."

"Admiring, eh?" Joe laughed. "What exactly are you admiring?"

"Well..." you started, holding out your hand and tracing the shape of his body in the air. He was certified grade A beef that day, finally having regained the weight he had lost to play Eddie, and you loved his plush hips and thick thighs. "And..." You made a cupping motion with your hand, and Joe let out a sputtered laugh.

"So you're staring at my dick," Joe said, shaking his head mirthfully. "I knew I was nothing but a piece of meat to you."

"No!" you exclaimed. Even though you knew he was joking, you didn't want him to think you were doing that for even a second. "I'm just... You just... Y'know? Just admiring every part of you."

"You're drooling," Joe cajoled. He hung his towel on the back of the door and made his way to the bed, and you watched as he grew closer, finally until he was lingering right next to you, his cloth-covered dick inches from your face. God, he smelled so good, you just wanted to take him then and there.

You leaned forward and placed a kiss on his bulge, looking up at him through your eyelashes to see his reaction, and you were overjoyed to see him slowly close his eyes and take a deep breath. "You gonna suck it or what?" he asked in a low voice, and the hot pressure of need slammed inside you belly. You loved when he got like this.

You readjusted yourself in bed, sitting on your knees to reach him properly, and you tugged him forward by his hips to get him closer. Carefully, you pulled down those black briefs, and his half-hard cock spilled forward. He was thick and heavy, beautiful, and you chuckled lightly at the sight before you. "You trimmed," you giggled, and Joe peeked his eyes open.

"Is that a crime?" he asked, and you slid your hands up his thighs, lightly dragging your nails up.

"No," you said. "I just like your bush."

Joe shrugged. "I'll grow it back out," he said. His hand smoothed your hair back, gathering it all up in a loose grip before he flattened his palm against the back of your head, pulling you towards him. You put an end to your games then, taking the head of his uncut cock into your mouth, lightly sucking, just enough to give him a little bit of pressure. Joe made a quiet noise, a sort of hum of appreciation, and you took him further into your mouth. He tasted good, musky but clean, and you moaned around him as your tongue lavished the thick vein that ran along the bottom of his cock.

"That's it," Joe whispered. "What a good girl... You love sucking my cock, don't you?"

You fluttered your eyelashes at him as an answer and took him deeper, then pulled back and suckled at his head for a moment, just to get a reaction out of him. His hand gripped your hair as he moaned, and he gritted his teeth. "Fuck," he whispered. "I knew you liked what you saw."

You pulled off of him with a gasping breath, letting your hand stroke him from balls to tip. "Did you do it on purpose?" you asked.

"Do what?"

"Dress like this," you asked. "Look so goddamn delicious. You know I can hardly resist you."

"That was the plan," Joe admitted. His stomach flexed when you reached up to cup his balls, and you leaned back in, sucking him down again. You didn't usually like giving blowjobs— you hardly ever went down on past boyfriends— but there was something special about Joe that made you want to swallow down his cock every single day, no matter what. "God, you look so hot like this, darling. Love watching you like this."

You moaned softly, then broke away from him, panting to try to regain the breath that sucking him off has made you lose. Joe didn't hesitate to lean down and kiss you, holding your face as his tongue swirled in your mouth, tasting himself off of you. You scrambled backwards to lay on your back, and you tugged Joe in by his shirt, urging him to lay on top of you. He did exactly as you expected, following you and nudging your legs open as he messily kissed you, and he broke the kiss to look down at you. Panties and a t-shirt (his t-shirt), nothing else.

"Fuck," Joe whispered, and he chuckled. His eyes were stuck on your covered pussy, and he wet his lips with the tip of his tongue when he spotted the damp patch on your panties. "Is this all for me?"

"Yeah," you told him. "F'course it is."

"Jesus, I'm a spoiled man," Joe whispered, kissing you deeply again. His hands scrambled to tug down your panties and expose you to him, and his greedy eyes watched as you opened your legs for him, showing him your wet pussy. Your blood was thrumming in every vein with desire, you needed him so badly, and he flicked his eyes up to yours, those lips of his falling open gently. He kissed you once more, then leaned down to kiss your neck, nibbling softly at your skin before trailing his kisses downwards. Ever downwards he ventured, until his warm breath was fanning across your cunt, and he did not waste any time before he licked at you.

The stubble on his chin and cheeks roughed up your thighs as he ate you out like he had never learned how to do anything else. He sucked at your quivering clit and made you cry out in pleasure, his tongue danced on your hole, he even added his fingers to help open you up. By the time the knot in your belly was straining, he was sucking lewdly and shaking his head, making sure that you felt every inch of his fingers and tongue on you. It was so good, it felt so fucking amazing, and you let the knot snap and come undone. You grabbed hard at Joe's hair and almost cried as you came on his fingers; it just felt so fucking good.

"Jesus!" Joe laughed, and you panted as you looked down at him. Something wet was in his beard, and you laughed when you realized that it wasn't just your regular juices. "Good fucking girl, do that again, baby."

"I-I didn't even know I could do that," you laughed breathlessly, letting your head fall back. Joe wasted no time in pushing his fingers back into you, thrusting hard into you and making your toes curl with the sensitivity, and you yelped when the sudden knot burst again, and you were able to watch this time as you squirted quickly on Joe's face. He seemed to love it, smiling up at you and panting, and he pulled out his soaked fingers. He looked at them in awe, wet and glistening, before he touched them to his lips, licking them clean.

You leaned up and stripped off your shirt, and you reached out for him, pulling his hips between your legs again as you shoved his singlet over his head. You discarded it across the room before you kissed him again, tasting yourself on his tongue, and he didn't wait a single second before he grasped his cock and pushed inside you. You were so fucking sensitive from cumming so hard, and you grabbed hard at his shoulders as he instantly started up a pace. He was quick, thrusting messily into you and holding down your hips to keep you where he wanted you, and you hid yourself in his neck. Jesus, he was insatiable tonight; he had made you fucking squirt, and now he was fucking you so hard that you were worried you two might break the bed.

"Baby," you whispered in his ear. "Easy, honey, we have all night."

"I almost came when you squirted," Joe told you. "Fuck me, I'm so close already. Let me cum, and then we can go slower and nicer, but, right now, I need to— Fuck!"

His cock throbbed inside you as he fucked you, and you knew that he was right. He was dangerously close to his release, and you to yours, and you could have sworn that you heard him whimper when you clenched down on him, tightening around his cock.

"Please, baby," Joe whispered. "Let me cum inside you, please, fuck, I need it."

"Fuck, yeah," you breathed. "Cum inside me, please."

Joe's nails dug into the flesh of your hip, and you gasped as Joe moaned deeply, and he filled you. You could feel it inside you, so much thick cum— your poor boy really needed to cum. He moaned in your ear and panted heavily as he tried to catch his breath, and you pulled yourself from his neck to smile hazily up at him. "Was it good?" Joe asked, and you chuckled, brushing back his curls.

"Yes, my love," you told him. "So good. I didn't know I could squirt, that was interesting."

"A surprise, for sure," Joe laughed. "But it was hot. Can you do it again?"

"I don't know how I did it the first time," you chuckled. "I don't know if I can do it again."

Joe huffed out a laugh, and he leaned up on his elbows, rocking his hips into you again. Your nerves were so scorched and sensitive that you instantly let out a yelp, and Joe said, "Well, let's see."

[just-some-random-blogger]

Safe Keeping | 4

Part 1 2 3 4 5

"What say you, lady? Don't you think the Hound would make a fine husband? He would protect you, yes, and you would bear him many babes." I curtsy again but this time, my voice falters when I speak, "I- I think he would," I turn to my left, "Lord Sandor would make a fine husband... a fine father."

Sandor Clegane x Reader | 8k+ | cw: fem!reader, DEATH of characters/animals/monsters, POV shifts, mentions/depictions of violence, forced marriage, enemies to lovers, slow burn, angst, emotional unavailability, emotional constipation, miscommunication, The Hound being abrasive, canon typical casual misogyny/violence, themes/mentions of menstruation/pregnancy/miscarriage, baby fever, angst, typos, etc.

A/N: ❗❗please proceed this chapter with caution. i killed a bunch of characters/animals (well and monsters but i think deserve lmao)!!! ALSO POV SHIFTSS!!!! originally posted on ao3 but felt like posting it on here. also fyi i post this story on ao3 first

Tagging: @otteropera @poisonsage808 @glitterandgoldfinds @the-queen-of-sorrows @j3nn-1

The Hound found himself wrong about the thieving, wrong about the missing livestock. He was so wrong it nearly cost him lives, including his own.

He was so sure about himself when he went into the woods, so sure that he was going to find at least two men, at most five, luring sheep there. It was the men he was prepared for. Fuck the livestock, the farmers can get them back after he killed the fucks stealing them.

Ah, the farmers, barging into his wife's estate... into their house, into house Clegane. 

Fuck 'em, fuck the lot of them, complaining again, complaining about their sheep and their cows. He had enough of their yapping, now was the time to act.

Fuck 'em twice for being shocked when he said he'd go into the forest to kill the fucker causing all of them trouble.

The superstitious peasants warned him. The Hound heard; he even humored them by letting a few spring chickens, boy-soldiers in the making, 'aid' him as he went to the forest.

Between the young farmer's lad, Andrew, and the man-boy, Carter, who he had been training be a soldier, it was actually the Hound who was the one most frightened by that thing that stared back at them.

It looked as though it was twice his damn size. It was darker than tar, and stinkier than shit. It made an unholy sound before attacking them.

He doesn't remember what happened after that in all honesty. His instincts kicked in and he can't recall what he had done. All he knew was, in the end, the two boys were cheering and dragging a black corpse all the way back out of the woods.

The villagers looked at him. They walked towards him and shouted. It was not an unfamiliar greeting-- being pursued by villagers, and yet, it shakes him; it takes him off-guard. They come upon him and begin to weep at his feet. They thank him. They thank them as they hug each other. The thank him as they wave at him. They thank him as they touch his armor like a devout would touch an idol.

The Hound is perturbed.

"Thank you, milord! You killed the beast!"

"You saved our sheep!"

"You saved our families!"

"You saved our lives!"

The Hound was never one to back down, but Sandor found himself taking steps back when a group of children ran up to him and began to ask him how he killed it. Their little hands and big eyes demanded answers from him. His insides rise up to his mouth.

The children begin to talk about how they can go to the woods now.

"Oi!" Carter calls to the ones in front the Sandor, "you do know there's more than one woodland monsters, aye?!"

"But now milord Cligay killed one! He'll teach us how to kill the o'vers."

"It's Clegane. Lord Clegane! And even then, you buggers can't just play in the forest. The brown bears still live here."

"I haven't seen a brown bear!" a little girl cries out. She looks to the Hound, walking up to him, grabbing his hand, "there aren't any brown bears in the woods, right, milord?"

Sandor looks at the small thing. His hand burns at her touch. Her hand was not even hot, not even big enough to grasp half his palm and yet he feels lightheaded. He feels like he's going to pass out.

The Hound finds their sentiment to be all too much at one point. He grumbles he's going home; he's got much work to do. The villagers thank him as he leaves.

When he gets home, just as he gets near the gate, he beholds Lady Clegane, the people's champion, his poor bride. She is outside, speaking to some peasants; it was all she did as of late.

A breeze blows and her dress dances with the wind. Her hair follows as well, and along goes the air from his lungs.

She is the sun. He is a mountain trying to reach her.

Sandor, who hadn't realized that he stopped in his place to gawk, is shaken out of his trance when the stable boy opened the gates for him. The small child named Polly, about as old as his wife when she fled this place, nods at him and motions, "pardon, milord," he says nervously, "I didn't know you were waiting for me to open the gates."

The Hound looks at the boy as he walks in, "I wasn't," he gruffs, eyeing him as he passed, "don't worry about it, laddie."

Lord Clegane looks away from the stable boy when he hears the shrill cry of a babe. He spots the maester walking over to his wife with a wailing child in his arms.

He thinks about the letter he had to write to the Citadel, requesting a maester come to Brown Wood.

Lady Clegane thinks her husband's initiative for it stems from his sense of duty as a Lord, but she'll never know he did it for her, for her to know if she really did have a late blood cycle, or if she lost a baby. Maester Yannick told him it was, regretfully, the latter.

The Hound waited for his lady wife to tell him about it, to ask him to hold a mourning ceremony for the unborn child. She never did.

Sandor watches Lady Clegane willingly embraces the woman who thanked her up and down, over and under, for saving her baby. She tells the weeping woman that it was not her work but maester Yannick that saved the babe. Maester Yannick says it was not his work but the gods.

Sandor tastes something putrid in his mouth when his wife coos at the child, who immediately calmed when the maester reunited the small thing to mama. His insides tingle at the sound of his lady's laugh.

He curses under his breath when she turns to him. He realizes then he had stopped in his tracks again.

The Hound begins his march.

Lady Clegane greets him, but he is not strong enough to reply with a greeting himself. He doesn't know why he stops to tell her that he killed a woodland monsters though. She looked very shocked after hearing that.

He wonders if she was disappointed. He wonders if she wanted him dead.

She touches him and questions if he was injured. Sandor flinches and steps back. She recoils her hand quickly and wipes it on her skirt-- disgusted.

The Hound says she shouldn't worry her pretty squirrel head, then walks away.

His footsteps are heavy as he heads to his office. He didn't want to go through the fucking endless piles of paperwork, but the apprentice he had couldn't grasp basic mathematics quite yet, so, there he went, to go through paperwork in a musty office.

He wonders if doing this shit made a difference to her, or if she'd always see him for what he was: a groom, forced upon her as a joke from a stupid blonde boy; a beast with ill features and temper; a Hound.

He is almost tempted to look over his shoulder at the loud sound of baby's laughter. He doesn't, cause he wouldn't see anything but a wall of he did anyway.

He wonders when she'd ask him again, when she'd ask for a child from him.

He promises he'd be gentler this time, gentler.

He doesn't mean to be so rabid with her.

She just had such an ablaze spirit, she was so fierce, and so vivid that he found himself wanting to devour her whole-- a true predator.

He wishes he could be more than that. He could be more than that to her, but it's so hard to fill in to be someone you're not. The Hound was not a proper lord, he was not that pretty boy Alistair. He can only do so much.

Sandor would do much and more for her than that scrawny, faerie pretty-boy ever could.

She might not like it, but he'll do his best to give her what she wants, to give her a family in stead of the one she lost. She will never love him, but he knows she'll love all the children he could give her, and that was more than enough, more than he could ever hope for or deserve. 

I carefully walk up to the office, clutching my hands together as I prepare myself to knock on the door.

I clear my throat and retell myself what I mean to tell my husband. My palms begin to gush like geyser. I dread the fight I know will be had because of this topic.

I let out a soft gasp when someone calls me from behind.

It was the stable boy, Polly. He had run up to bow and greet me good morning. I smile at him and reach out to him. I brush his hair back, "good morrow, Polly, dear."

The boy grins and bows again, "I'll be learning how to ride a horse soon, milady!"

I link my hands together as I chuckle, "my! Will you now? How awfully courageous of you."

The boy pushes his shoulders back, "it's no'ffin, milady. Just what a man ought to do. I would go to war for you, milady, I would!"

"My boy," shake my head, "I pray you never need to do such a thing. I hope you enjoy riding though. I find that I do not."

"Do you find riding scary? I wouldn't! I'll let you ride with me once I know how, promise," the boy nods as he places a hand on his chest.

"You are very kind," I smile, "I thank you for it, Polly."

The boy puffs his chest out and bows, "I'll be goin' then, milady!"

I chuckle as I watch Polly run off as quick as a rabbit.

My soul nearly leaves me when I turn around and see the Hound looming over me.

I gasp and step back. He reaches out to me and grabs my arm. He keeps me upright and leans down, "you better stop calling the boy dear." He releases me and begins to walk off, "he's already in love with you as is."

I blink rapidly at his words. I turn to him and watch him march away before scurrying after, "he's a child."

"Aye," says Sandor, "all the children adore you."

My stomach curdles at his words; I am unsure why. I rub my hands together, not sure what to make of myself, or what to reply.

"What were you doing outside my office?" he asks.

I run up in front of him and grab his arm, "there is something I needed to discuss with you."

Sandor stops. He looks at my hand on his arm, "can't it wait?"

I pull my hand away and shake my head, "I understand that you are very busy, my lord, but I-"

"Fine," he mutters, "I'll lay with you tonight."

My eyes widen and I topple back at his words, "what?"

The Hound steps forward, keeping me upright again, "that's why you're here, aren't you?" He releases me, "your bloods have waned."

I feel my face burn. I gulp and force a smile, "I-" I chuckle nervously and straighten up, "y-yes. My bloods have waned."

Sandor watches me closely.

I rub my neck and blink rapidly, "I thank you for your thoughtfulness," I dig my thumb nail into my pointer finger. I turn from my feet then to Sandor, "but that is not what I wished to speak about."

His face falls. It's not anything noticeable but I have become quite good at it, reading his face. He purses his lips then says, "be done with it then, I've got work to do, pretty squirrel."

I feel my face burn even more at his horrible nickname.

A group of women had been complimenting my dress when the Hound passed. I knew they did not know he would react that way, but it did not help the embarrassment I felt when the women asked my husband if he thought my dress suited me and he replied 'pretty for a squirrel'.

"I wanted to tell you that I... I still very much wish to be the one to speak to the people about their concerns," I am unable to look at him when I say this, "it is not because I think you are unfit for the task, my lord, but I have seen the way you act around them."

"Like a dog?"

I knit my brows deeply and look to him, "Daisy is a dog. And I love her very much."

"That makes one of us."

We stare at each other for a long, blistering moment. My throat constricts at his words, "... Sandor."

His face contorts. He scoffs and averts his gaze, "don't say my name like that."

My heart begins to race, it twists and clenches. I step forward and reach out to him, "I see how you try to listen, how you try to help, but it scares you-"

I gasp when he rips his arm away before I can even touch him. He grabs me instead though, ripping me close as he leans down, "I'm not scared of peasants."

My eyes water. It's not even because his grip hurt, but because it was as painfully clear as it could get that this man did not like me at all, no matter what I did.

The Hound mutters softly, "do what you wish," he releases my arm, "you want to do my work so badly then? Fine. I didn't want ya to do anything you're not meant to, but have it your way."

I scratch my eyes before my tears could fall. I try to look at him as I speak, but the tears threaten to fall when I do. Instead, I fix my eyes on the floor, "I do not do this to upset you, Hound. I do this because I mean to help you. I swear it."

He is deeply disturbed by the softness in which these words are spoken. Hearing himself be called Hound was unreasonably heart piercing.

"I do not like it when you are angry," I whisper, "it would have been fine if it was only directed at me, but you spur everyone around you."

I flinch when he calls my name.

I shake my head, "if it pleases you, lord, I will do as you said the other day. I will no longer speak to you. I will not bother you. I will not stand in your way." I step back and pick at my fingernails.

Sandor holds back from stepping forward.

"Maester Yannick has been giving me herbs to help with conception, but he said that I should be in good spirits when... consummating... I do not think we should do anything tonight--" I look to him through my wet lashes, "unless you want to--"

"No, I do not," he says coldly.

I gulp. Tears begin to stream down my face. My lips quiver. I shudder. Of course he doesn't want me.

I curtsy and walk off. I break into a sprint after a few steps, as I am no longer able to hold in my sobs.

Sandor watches this. He furrows his brows, unnerved by the interaction, gutted by the fact it ended in tears yet again. He replays the conversation. Was his touch truly that hard? He looks at his hand. He curses loudly and storms off to fuck all.

Sandor wakes before the sky does. He opens his heavy lids and sighs. He turns to his right on instinct; he watches his wife stretch out her arms in the expanse of nothingness between them. He likes to think that she is reaching out to him. He likes to think that if he reaches back, it'll make everything fine between them.

But then again, it had never been fine between them in the first place.

He makes sure not to touch or move her. Last time he did, she woke up. She truly was a light sleeper.

He slowly gets up. He quickly gets dressed. The moment he gets out of the room, he heads to his office.

He's finished his work by the time he hears a dog barking. He looks to the window, the sun looks back at him. He stands, stretches, and walks over to the sill, pushing the curtains open. He sees her, Lady Clegane, cuddling the mutt she named Daisy. Fucking Daisy. Polly, the stable boy was waving a stick, but the bitch could not care less about it, too preoccupied by her master.

He watches Daisy lick her neck. He watches how she scolds the dog for it but giggles anyway. Sandor sniffles. His mind wanders to the one time he had his face pressed on her neck like that. Fucking dog.

He watches the pair go inside. The Hound heads to the dining room promptly after.

He mutters to himself, trying to decide how to start, "I don't meant to make you cry-- I keep making you cry-- Fuck-- .... I know you don't like me," he stops in his tracks before he can get to his destination. He mutters to himself some more.

Fuck it.

He hears the telltale patter of Daisy's paws. It makes his fingers tingle.

When he gets to the dining room, he furrows his brows at the emptiness.

Lucy gasps at the sight of him. She topples back then regains her composure. She puts the plate of food she was holding down on the table with a bang. She looks at him and curtsies, "your food, milord."

"Where is she?"

Lucy's glare darkens, "she is dining with the servants."

He chuckles drily. He feels disappointment. He feels hurt. He immediately plays it off, "pretty squirrel's finally had enough of me."

"WILL YOU STOP CALLING 'ER THAT!" Lucy bursts, taking the Hound off-guard.

They both stare at each other, as if equally as shocked by the outburst.

Lucy fumes. Sandor freezes. The former decides she's already spoken, so she might as well continue, "she is a lady! You took her for this," she motions vaguely. "You need her," she speaks firmly, "just as much as she needs you."

The Hound scoffs. His insides burn and curdle at the idea of the little girl needing a beast to keep her safe. He snaps, "well, go ahead and tell her I will gladly be her hound and breed her little monsters as thanks for her nice, warm castle!"

Lucy makes no attempt to hide the revulsion she feels at the sound of the hound's words.

"You know what," he snarls, "why don't I breed her right now as a thank you?"

Lucy's face drops. She runs up to the Hound when he begins to storm off. She crumples like paper when he shoves her away. He doesn't do it hard enough that she shoots off to the table, but it's enough for her to get the message: he was deadly strong.

Lucy does her best to stop him. She cries and begs and screams. She digs her heels into floor and yanks him back but it doesn't do much, it doesn't do anything.

The Hound only stops when he finally sees her.

Lady Clegane is laughing with the servants as they watch Daisy roll on her belly for food. She feeds the dog just as Lucy runs up in front of him, severely distraught and tear stained. Lucy pushes her hands on his chest and begs him to punish her instead.

The Hound is sickened when Daisy runs up to him and whines. He recoils his hand when the bitch licks it.

"Lucy?"

Sandor flinches at the sound of his wife's voice and turns the other way.

I was in the middle of playing fetch with Daisy when she caught wind of something and ran off to the gate. Usually, this meant Sandor was home. Lo and behold, this moment was not any different.

I turn away immediately when we lock gazes.

The Hound had a large cut of meat on his shoulder. He grunts as Daisy barks and runs up to him, "fuck off, bitch."

He does his best to avoid the dog, nudging her away firmly with his leg as he walks up to a wagon and plops the hind of a cow on there. He hisses at Daisy when she gets on her two back legs and rests one good leg and bad one on his hips.

"Daisy!" I call.

She ignores me.

Sandor looks over his shoulder, "your mam's calling you, dog. Go on!"

Daisy clearly doesn't understand, or doesn't care, and barks at Sandor when he shoves her away. 

"Daisy!" I call and jog up to her when she follows Sandor out of the estate. I run up to the gate and watch as she is chased by the Hound. She runs as fast as her three paws will allow, clearly enjoying what she thought to be a game.

"Come here, you stupid bitch!" the Hound screams.

I turn to one of the men near me. I call Arron over and tell him to tell the Hound not to chase after her. He does just that, "milord! She will stop running if you stop chasing!"

I make a face as Lord Clegane curses and does his final attempt at catching the dog.

"Shall I bait Daisy with some meat, milady?" Arron asks.

I am about to respond but then there is a loud shriek from afar. It makes my blood go still.

The Hound immediately stops, straightens up, and looks at the distance.

I turn to Arron in a panic and tell him to get bait for Daisy. He quickly does that and calls for the dog to come back.

A bunch of peasants run and scream towards the estate; they scream milord.

Sandor goes to them.

When he reaches the panicked townspeople, he tells them all to shut the fuck up and explain what's happening. The old one clamours out that her daughter's been taken, says she was herding the cows then she was suddenly screaming, and he tried to reach her but it was too late. He says his son went to the woods to try and save her sister.

The Hound nods. He easily decides to go into the woods. The man's other son to leads the way.

In truth, the boy didn't have to go with him, he could just head to where the animals were fleeing, but he allowed it because he recognized the boy to be one of the ones in training. He has no idea what his name was though.

He was glad to hear the screams when he did, at least the ones that sounded human.

The Hound sees a lad and a lass running up to him, "RUN WHILE IT'S DISTRACTED!"

The boy by his side screams back, "the Hound is here! He's going to kill it!"

Well, Sandor was only meant to save the girl, and now that the girl was about to run past him, he didn't have to do anything, really. For some reason, he felt compelled to press on. Maybe it was the lack of his sense of self-preservation as of late, or no, don't call it that; it was his need for a distraction, his need prove something.

He sees it, the monster and its fresh kill. It must have been one of the girl's cows, or at least what was left of it. Gods, the abomination was a messy eater. He was glad, at least, it seemed to be starved and solely focused on eating.

His boots stomp into a puddle of blood when he charges at the thing and cuts its head off. That's was quick... and simple...

He's shocked when he hears a hellish scream behind him and gets knocked into a tree.

The Hound is dazed. He hears the battle cry of two voices. He watches the brothers do their best to stab at the thing that towers and claws at them. He promptly gets on his feet and charges at the disgusting fuck, managing to chop off its arm before it chops off the boy's head.

Just as he thinks he's about to get the upper hand, another vile beast pops up from the shadows. He fixes his footing and slashes his sword for his life.

One of the boys get injured. The boy's scream attract the monsters towards him, allowing the Hound to stab through one of them when it's attention is averted.

By the time one of the two vile cretins drop to the ground, the two boys are running for their lives with one monster on their tail. The Hound is forced to chase after them and curses the boys for running. He's not as quick as he was before.

He screams and grabs a rock, chucking it at the slimy tar creature. He throws and shouts some more until the monster is turned back and running towards him.

He slashes the stupid fuck with his sword when its close enough. It still picks a fight though.

He's losing his breath.

The next thing he knows, there's another monster screaming from behind him. The Hound prepares for the one behind him, but it doesn't reach him because its busy ripping something off it with a growl. It chucks something to the side. There is a separate whine that hisses with the wind.

The Hound finally kills the first monster that attacked him. It doesn't take much for him to kill the other as its belly was already gushing with viscous blood.

Once he's the only thing alive and standing, catches his breath and curses. He looks upon the fallen black creatures before him and reckons he ought to get out there before more come out.

But then he hears a rustle to his side. He immediately goes on the defensive and readies for another fight.

He follows the sound of heavy breathing.

His face drops when he hears the way the dog whines when he's spotted.

The Hound sheathes his sword and drops to his knees. He looks at Daisy, her one front paw bent, the other one not. Her hind legs were twisted unnaturally, her side was clawed. She was soaking in red, both hers and otherwise. She was panting and quickly losing blood.

Sandor reaches out to her. Her eyes were wide and teary. She leans into Sandor's touch and licks her nose in a panic.

He begins to feel a rage burn in him. He begins to feel loathe. He whisper-yells, "you stupid dog. You should have stayed home."

Daisy's breath quickens. He realizes see that she is trying not to whine. Gods, the pain she must be in.

He is about to tell her she was stupid for doing that, he is about to tell her she didn't need her help, he is about to tell her she was so fearless for no reason, but then Daisy whines. It was the most horrible thing he's ever heard.

Sandor huffs like he had been stabbed. He grips his hilt tightly, "thank you for saving me, Daisy."

Sandor screws his eyes shut and decides on what he has to do.

He draws his sword. Daisy does not flinch when he presses the sword onto her neck. He thinks about the day they'd first met. 

Fearless.

He strokes her face with his hand once. He screws his eyes shut when he feels her shiver. 

So afraid.

"You're a good dog."

His next stroke pulls Daisy's final breath.

The Hound stands. He looks upon his dog.

He screams.

He screams.

He screams, hell-bent on summoning more monsters. He kills three more stupid fuck, particularly enjoying how he butchered killing a young one.

He takes Daisy's body after. She is rigid against his chest when he reaches the village. He barks out an order to the villagers: burn those fucking monsters he killed. They were more than happy to oblige.

He passes the family he had helped. They are about to come up to thank him but they don't when they see what was in his arms.

He is swarmed with dread with what he is faced with when he reaches the estate. It was very clearly as search party for Daisy.

"SANDOR!" I cry out when I spot him from the distance. "DID YOU SEE DAISY WHEN-" I stop myself when I realize he is covered in blood. Suddenly, I feel awful for not asking him if he was injured before anything else.

His form becomes clearer as I jog up to him and call, "ARE YOU AL-"

I stop in my tracks when I see him adjust something in his arms. I knit my brows and continue walking towards him. Was it a head of a monster? Why was it brownish and not black?

The Hound gives me a solemn look as he inches closer. I furrow my brows at his expression.

It takes a second then suddenly, it clicks.

I let out a horrified cry.

The Hound buries Daisy in the garden himself. Everyone in Brown Wood watches. I force a glance at my poor dog, even though I wanted to do nothing but turn away. Her injuries chill me to the bone. Lucy stands beside me, clutching my arm as she weeps, but does not look at Daisy once.

Maester Yannick speaks some words for her, as per my request, before Sandor covers the grave.

Once it was done, maester Yannick comes to me and says he will plant daisies at her grave come morrow. I cannot find solace, I cannot find myself to care.

"Did you have to slit her throat?!" I demand lowly, voice aching and angry. I eye the Hound with hot contempt and cynicism, "was there REALLY no saving her?!"

"My lady," the maester holds me back, "I saw her body. Lord Clegane showed her mercy."

"Did you enjoy executing your mercy?!" I wail, ripping my arms away from Lucy and Yannick. My gaze does not trail to them at all, as I am intent on getting answers from my dog's executioner.

The Hound's face is blank, it enrages me.

I snarl through tears, "gods, I hope you did! I hope you savored finally being free of your bitch!"

Lucy calls after me as when I storm away. She means to run after me but shoots a glare at the Hound before doing so. She is momentarily stunned when he sees how distraught he looks at the moment. 

Sandor marches out of the estate.

I jolt awake when I hear the front door opening. I wipe my face and quickly stand from the chair in the middle of the living space. The fireplace near me had already burned out.

After the sound of locks disappear in the darkness, I take the unlit candle on the table beside me and walk up to the burning candelabra to light it.

I hear heavy footsteps draw closer.

Boots skid, "fuck."

I look up after lighting my candle. The Hound looks back at me.

"What are you doing?"

I purse my lips and turn to my feet. I clutch my candle, finding it hard to speak. 

"Lucy kick you out of her bed?" he mutters then begins to walk off.

I look up and follow after him. I finally muster out, "you arrive later and later."

He scoffs.

"It's been five days. I fear you'll not return by the tenth."

I pull my head back and stop in my tracks just as the Hound turns and chuckles, "don't worry, little girl. I like the wages of a Lord. Your hound isn't running."

"I know you're not running!" I snap, "I wonder why you think so poorly of yourself!"

"I think poorly of myself?" he hisses and points to his chest.

"Yes!" I bark and push myself up on my tiptoes to prove a point, "and since you are so keen to put words in my mouth, I hope you shove all the fucking pie the unwitting peasants gave you down your blasted throat!"

The Hound is shocked by my profanity. His face slips into confusion.

I heave and pull back, intent on walking away. And I do. I should have never waited for him.

"What fucking pie?"

I snap and turn back at him, "the one you could have eaten fresh had you spared a moment this morning before leaving for a monster hunt!"

Sandor is wholeheartedly confused.

I am aggravated by his expression. I wave my hands, unintentionally putting out the flame of my candle, "they love you, Hound! They're thankful and grateful!"

Though it was darker now, I see his face pinch in to a sort of disgusted disbelief. The sight infuriates me, it squeezes my heart, it pricks me frustration. I wipe my face and repeat the words that were spoken to me, "tell Lord Clegane that without him my children would be dead. Tell Lord Clegane that he has saved me family from hunger. Tell Lord Clegane that me, and my sons, and my sheep are happy to-"

"I didn't do it for them," Sandor cuts me off with a hand raise.

I purse my lips and slowly pull my head back at his words.

He lowers his hand and eyes me for a moment. I see how his gaze drinks my figure. He clenches his jaw and looks away, "you should be asleep."

My jaw slacks.

I wait for him to look at me. I wait for him to ask if I was going to sleep with Lucy again. I wait for him to apologize for keeping me up worrying. I wait for him to bring up Daisy. I wait him to do something, but he doesn't.

My eyes water, "my lo-"

"Good night," he dismisses and turns around to walk away.

"Aren't you-" my voice cracks, "-going to ask me to go to bed with you?"

He stops in his tracks. He does not look back, "do you want me to?"

I furrow my brows deeply. I feel like I was drowning. I let out a shaky breath and wrap my arms around myself. I shake my head and turn away. I chuckle dryly, "forgive me for even asking."

Sandor turns back, jaw hanging, hands clenched. He does nothing but watch.

"Do you know what's going to happen now, little girl?"

"Yes."

"What's going to happen?"

"You're going to fuck me."

Sandor laughs lowly, placing his hands on my cheeks. He swipes his thumb on my lips, "filthy mouth."

He kisses me deeply.

"Tell me honest," he mutters through kisses, "have you ever done this before?" he speaks as his hands paw at my sides, "I would not judge you if you did."

I squeak when he touches me between my thighs.

He draws out a deep breath, "no, of course you haven't; you're a good girl."

I gasp at the sound of thunder. I jolt up from my bed-- I turn to my side, seeing a sleeping Lucy's form-- or I mean, Lucy's bed. I look for Daisy in the room as I slowly push the blankets off me. I still when I realize she wasn't here.

I huff and wipe my face. I try to push away the thoughts of Daisy out of my head. I try not to think of her so much because I end up melancholy and furious. I, instead, find myself drifting to the dream I just had-- been having.

The mind can be so treacherous. I nibble my lower lip and rub my belly.

I tried, you know. I went to the Hound the morning after we fought about his coming home late. I tried to make peace with him. I tried to persuade him. I tried to kiss him.

I gasp again when another crack of thunder echoes through the room.

He wasn't having it though. He pushed me away and told me it was wrong, that we shouldn't be doing that. He left the estate shortly after. He hasn't been home since.

I get out of bed and light a candle for myself. I walk to my bedroom and light any of the candles that went off on my way. I wrap my arms around myself and rub my skin. I open the door to room as softly as possible, though it didn't really matter in the end because it was pouring outside and the noise wouldn't be loud.

With a barely audible creak, the door opens.

And it was also empty.

I sigh at the made bed. I walk towards it and smoothen out the already smooth sheets. I decide to get dressed for the day.

I head to the office, which as empty as the bedroom. I light the candles there.

I sit down on the desk and go through the papers, the letters of requests, the list of complaints, the finances, the works. I rub my eyes, willing my sleep away. I look out my window, seeing barely any hint of sun through the dark clouds.

I don't know how exactly how much time passed between then and when Arron burst in, but it must have been a while, considering how nice it felt to stand after hearing him shout, "HE'S HOME, MILADY!"

I immediately blow out the candles as Arron tells me the Hound was in the living area. I thank him for telling me, gather my skirts, and jog out of the room.

I cannot hear the click of my heels over the sound of the persisting rain-- the persisting storm.

I stop in my tracks when I see a trail of water in the corridor that led to my bedroom.

A crack of lightning bolts through the sky when I walk in and ask "where have you been?!"

The Hound is dripping in rain water. He has his back turned to me. He is undoing his armor.

I clench my fists and storm up to him. I circle in front of him the same time he walks towards the closet. He stops there, still undoing his armor, back turned to me again.

I scowl, "Hound! I'm speaking to you!"

He looks over his shoulder, the one he was trying to undo, "what? I can't hear you over the rain."

I burn hot with anger and march up to him, "I asked where you've been!"

The Hound looks down at me. He releases the grip on his shoulder, "does it matter where I've been?"

"Yes!" I snap, "you haven't come home in 7 days."

He scoffs, "thrilling to know you've been counting," he points to the window, "well, as you can see, it's fucking storming."

"It wasn't storming the day you left," I hiss.

"Well, it was when I decided to come to my beautiful wife," he leans down and jeers.

I knit my brows at him and pull back when I smell the alcohol in his breath.

He takes my chin between his fingers, "come on give us a smile."

I pull away from him, heart racing, chin burning, even though his touch got my skin damp with rain water.

The Hound straightens up and undoes his armor again.

I step away from him, "Job said he saw you in the next town over."

"Who the fuck is Job?" he asks, not bothering to look at me.

"Polly's father."

"The stable boy?" he turns to me.

"Yes," I hiss and I feel anger build up in me.

He says nothing.

I nearly choke when I say the next words, "he said he saw you coming out of brothel."

The Hound stills. He drops his hands to the side.

Both of us just stand there for a moment. The rain seems to intensify, and so does the tension between us.

"Tell me the truth," I mutter, "do you-"

"It was the town with the fucking unavailable inn," he shifts in his spot to turn to me, "I went to the brothel instead and paid for lodging there."

I purse my lips at his words. That was not what I was going to ask him. I battle with myself, trying to find the words I want to say. I revise my words over and over again in my head. There were so many things I wanted to say, yet so little ways to make it easy to speak out.

I shake my head, "am I very hard to want?"

Sandor feels rain water drip from his fingers.

I don't know how I feel about the bewildered and perplexed expression that spreads across his face. I do know one thing at least, I feel too exhausted to cry.

I sigh and shrug, "I am no fool, Hound. I learned through the gossip of my maids and my aunts growing up that men are simply like... this. It is their nature to stray. Of course, I hoped different for myself, but we cannot have it all, can we?"

"But I didn't do anything," he snaps. He deflates, "I swear by the gods, old and new."

I press my lips into a tight smile. I slowly walk up to him. He watches me intently. I hear his breath hitch when I begin to undo his armor for him. I half expect him to make me stop. He doesn't.

Sandor steps forward. There's barely any space between us anymore. His heart is racing. His hands itch to touch. He releases a breath when his hand comes to my side.

My stomach swirls at the feel of his palm but I do nothing. Neither do I look at him when I mutter, "maybe you should."

Sandor watches me remove his armor. He furrow his brows and whispers, "what?"

I drop the steel plate to the ground with a clank. It is loud even with the sound of pouring rain.

He doesn't like it when he receives no reply. He takes my wrist. I stop my task. His hand is warm albeit the dampness, and so very gentle. 

I finally look up at him.

He leans closer and speaks louder. He shakes his head and furrows his brows, "what did you say, pretty squirrel?"

I raise my brows, "maybe you should."

"Should what?"

"Do something in the brothels."

His face falls. We stare at each other for a moment. He is clearly in disbelief.

I pull my hand out of his grip. He almost doesn't let me.

"It's not a trick, I swear it."

"What are you saying?" he shakes his head faster and finds himself playing on the offensive, "you want me to be with someone else?!"

"I want a baby," I mutter.

Sandor's face falls again, but then it twists. It is unbearable to look at.

"Find a woman you desire," I turn away from him, "and give her your seed. You may keep her here if you like, and I will let her take care of the babe, but the babe will be mine."

His lips part.

"You're right. I don't want the memory of my family to be tainted by monstrosity-"

He shakes his head once more.

"-and I am the last of my line. My line lives on with House Clegane. People remember names, not blood."

He takes my hand, "I desire you."

I cannot help it. I begin to cry because of that. I break into both tears and laughter, "you needn't shield my heart, Sandor."

Sandor's stomach drops, both at the fact his own words have been used against him and with how his name was spoken.

I place a hand on his cheek.

His knees go weak.

"We've both hurt enough," I smile, "I know you think otherwise, but I'm not a little girl. I know sometimes winning means admitting defeat when the loss is great."

He grabs both my wrists when I try to pull away. I gasp when he does so. He holds me for a second then releases my wrists to capture my cheeks instead. He wipes my tears with his thumbs. He swipes my lips, "I love you."

I screw my eyes shut and cling onto his forearm. I let out another laugh, "I don't think you hurt people that you love, my lord."

The Hound is pierced through his armor.

He doesn't put up a fight when I pull his hands off me.

I continue to undo his armor. He doesn't move an inch.

"Will you sleep with me tonight?" he whispers. The sound of the rain is too loud that only him and the gods heard it.

Sandor had been out of it ever since his pretty squirrel ate his insides. He was thick faced, literally and figuratively; he's learned to take pride in it, to find solace in the fact all the years of flesh ripping torture-- figuratively and literally, had made him indifferent to what people think, made him apathetic, numb.

And yet her smile that day was worse than a sword through the spleen. Her disbelief in his words-- because she was right, you don't hurt people you love-- was heart wrenching, blood draining.

What do you say to that? How do you fix that?

You don't.

He knows you don't. You can't fix something like that.

And since this truth has dawned on him, since this truth has slit his throat, he's been a headless, mindless fucker. He was a dead man walking, and one more unwitting monster attack away from making it real.

"MILORD!" Carter cries, raising his sword to hack at the monster who managed to swipe his lately-been-aloof Lord Clegane.

The boy is fired up; his blood is pumping enough to enable him to cut the black demon's arm off and sequentially pierce it through its heart. Carter does it with a scream and regrets it a moment later; after all, they were in the middle of the woods.

They have to get out of here.

Sandor makes a pained noise. He feels heat surge down his arm and cold shiver up his spine.

"YOU'RE BLEEDING!" Carter gasps, mortified that his lord's armor was scraped off his back. The boy realizes suddenly that his Lord, the fearsome Hound, was not invincible. This newfound truth rips into his ribs the way, he thinks, the monsters would.

The boy immediately takes the Hound in his arms, though it wasn't like he could actually carry him if he wanted. Sandor steadies himself on the boy; Carter struggles even with that task. 

Still, the smaller manages to support his Lord out of the woods.

The next thing Sandor knows, he's screaming and thrashing. He vaguely hears the sound of footsteps skidding away from him.

"What's happening, Maester Yannick?!"

A deep sigh, "he probably feels the pain now."

Sandor realizes he's sat down on a stool, leaned against a table, or at least he was before he started flailing his arms around. He lets out a guttural cry as he pushes himself up. He realizes he's in the ward, being attended by the maester, and his wife was present and very troubled.

"My lord!" Yannick exclaims, raising his hands in both surrender and an attempt to soothe, "it's alright. I have stitched your wounds closed. Do not tear them open "

Sandor huffs through his nostrils. He turns to his side when he hears the soft way his name was spoken. Lady Clegane walks closer, hand wanting to reach out to him. He almost reaches back but then she digs her nails into her palms.

He sinks into the stool and watches her look at him. Her eyes are glassy. Why are they always glassy?

"My lord," Yannick walks towards him, "I'm going to wrap your wounds now."

Sandor huffs in agreement, or more accurately, acknowledgement. His eyes are still fixed on her though. He watches her hover around him, evidently unsure about approaching him.

He wants to reach out to her. He wants to touch her, to soothe her so, so badly.

He's shocked when she decides to take his hand and whispers, "shall I get you milk of the poppy?" 

Sandor looks up at her. Her voice was shaky and he hates how worried it sounded, how desperate. He hates how her eyes were constantly red. He knits his brows, "no."

She hisses, "are you certain? Your gashes are deep. No one in the world would fault you for wanting something to relieve the pain."

"I want to feel it," he mutters, "I want to feel."

She looks between the two of them in a panic, "but you've lost so much blood--"

"Perhaps," Yannick interrupts firmly. He starts binding his wounds, "he wants to feel precisely because he's light headed after losing blood."

Sandor straightens up slowly as he is instructed to. His attention is solely focused on the sensation on his hand though, on how the jittery squirrel was rubbing her soft fingers on his calloused skin.

She persists with this action until his chest and back is bound, she persists until Maester Yannick leaves the room, she persists until, next moment, she drops on her knees beside him. The Hound reacts in an instant.

He gets on the floor beside her, uncaring how it hurt his back, and clutches her face. He calls her name in horror.

"Are you punishing me?" she whispers as water in her eyes threaten to spill.

Sandor knits his brows deeply. He can't speak. He's too afraid to. Everything he's said up until that point has done nothing but rip them both apart. He was a hound after all.

"Are you trying to kill yourself to get back at me?" she mutters, distressed, pained, and defeated.

His face contorts even more. He hesitates but then shakes his head, "no."

"The boy said you've been acting differently as of late!" she grabs his wrists, "ever since I told you what I wanted from you."

His lips twitch. He looks away.

She tightens her grip, "please."

He is suddenly so acutely aware of his injuries. The pain throbs all the way through his heart.

"Please," she begs softly, "just tell me what you want from me-"

"Everything."

The way he responded was quick, as if it was practiced, as if it was reflex.

He avoids her gaze. He takes a deep breath. He waits for a response he somehow knows will never come.

When he turns to her, he notices how her face dropped. Gods, Sandor. Get it together.

"I want-" he starts but cannot continue because of how guilty he feels over the sight of her wobbling lip.

Sandor's hands loosen. They melt from her cheeks, down her shoulders. He grips the area, as if she was water about to slip through his fingers. He releases a breath, and with it, it seems, his thoughts escape. He mutters somethings that mean nothing. She doesn't understand anything.

She whimpers, "I have nothing left to give; you already have it all."

The Hound freezes when his cheek is touched, when his scar is touched. It's like it's being burned all over again.

"Is there something I can give you now?" she huffs uneasily.

He sighs. He feels the wounds throbbing; he feels his head pounding, "no."

"Then will you let me go now?" 

No. No, no, no, no-

"Or, please, at least loosen your grip."

Immediately, Sandor releases her shoulders. She sequentially lets out a breath and rubs the area. There is an imprint on the area of her exposed skin.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck-

"Do you want me to stay?"

Yes. "Do you want to stay?"

"I had planned to finish some errands before going to bed."

Sandor averts his gaze then slowly crawls back to his stool, "then leave."

It almost hurts as much as his cuts how quickly she stands. She looks down at him, "I will leave you to your solidarity."

Please don't go.

"I will tell Maester Yannick to come back to attend to you, Hound."

Hound. It sounds like shattering glass.

Sandor listens to the click of her heels as she leaves him.

[kibbles-bits]

any voxval fics you’d recommend?

Ah, yes, voxval fics... The one ship that finally made me cave and read explicit stuff. I am now numb to everything.

Everything.

I'll only be posting completed fics. Warnings, almost all of these are explicit. A couple also have Angel, you know, suffering.

And please mind the tags.

First off is a couple of favs that I always go back for a reread:

Corrupted Love by DoveFactory (Words: 149,495)

In a moment of blind desperation to one-up Alastor, Vox puts himself in a compromising situation that leaves him worse for wear. His state triggers something in Valentino who decides to change the nature of their relationship.

The title and summary of this is so misleading I thought it was going to be a dark fic but nope. The Vees are a bunch of goobers and Valentino always wins. I would scream about this every time it updated. I love the characterizations and their banter it almost made me forget there's sex in like every chapter. Honestly I wish there was more tags referencing the character/story stuff.

Virtual Reality by passthevoxcord (Words: 7,634)

Vox gets tired of his cybernetic biology being a barrier to his sex life, so he starts a new project to fuck Valentino in VR. Val will try anything once, but he has something else in mind.

This one ends up being so sweet I want to die. passthevoxcord's other fic, Only a Shadow, drives me nuts but its a WIP and hasn't actually gotten to the voxval yet.

choke behind a smile by gloriousmonsters (Words: 19,881)

"I'm not scared by extreme, although I doubt I'll find it interesting. What is it?" Valentino's eyes narrow slyly over his smile. "If you aren't scared, why do you need a warning?" Vox has everything under control in his new business partnership with benefits. His emotions, his unfortunate desires, the little mind games they play. Even Valentino himself. When Val offers an invitation to a special show he's performing, Vox knows it's a dare, and knows he has to take it, show Val that he can't be scared or destabilized. He has no idea of how deep under his skin the show will get.

Everyone's so normal. I love this Valentino. There's another Valvel fic that has the same Valentino I also recommend called bad girls go backstage.

Great Expectations by MarenRose (Words: 11,280)

“It’s his goal. Those three simple words. If he could get to hear them once, could let the reality of their meaning and spoken existence occupy his mind for only a few indiscernible moments, then maybe, Vox could learn to see the appeal of this god forsaken holiday. He might even learn to ‘love’ it too.” Or: Vox hates Valentine’s Days. His prick of a ‘wife’ is just too damn hard to please.

This miiiight have been the fic that made me Lock In on voxval? I'm not sure. It's sweet. Alastor is hilarious.

biting keeps your words at bay by Subedarling (Words: 1,511)

“You can’t hit me,” Valentino says. He’s practically vibrating with rage. “You’re not allowed to—you can’t hit me!” Vox sneers, cruel and mocking and hopefully masking the way his heart is breaking apart inside his chest. “Baby, I can do whatever the hell I want.” A decade into their partnership, Vox and Valentino have their first and last physical fight.

This might be the only non-explicit fic in this list. I am all for Val being the worst just because he's Like That. But I will not say no to an implied tragic backstory. I read this one a lot and want to die. Can I draw this. I want to draw this. Oh my god I have free time I can totally draw this...

And my other recs:

Just For The Record by PeppermintWalrus (Words: 13,795)

Vox is thrilled about his new film enterprise with his business partner, ready to build a lucrative empire for the denizens of hell to experience true cinema, in the only genre their depraved minds desire. There’s just one problem that he finds out too late; Valentino has never filmed porn before. Vox decides that some... hands-on teaching, is necessary to save their production.

Yeah you read that right.

a putrid feeling that i've addressed by spoondrifts (Words: 5,162)

They weren’t a couple because Valentino was pathologically noncommittal and Vox simply knew better. He tried the whole romance thing with a certain radio demon a few decades back, and he’d learned his damn lesson. Hell just wasn’t the place for that sort of cutesy bullshit. Also, he was pretty sure that Valentino was straight up incapable of love, which was both par for the course for Vox’s friendships and amazingly convenient—things couldn’t get complicated if there was nothing to complicate in the first place. Or: Full Moon, Vox/Val edition.

Haha I love pain. I lied, this is the second non-explicit fic.

Little Miss Hellion by DoveFactory (Words: 10,657)

Hell’s worst married couple spends a day of family bonding at a beauty pageant doing whatever it takes to make sure their daughter takes home the crown, because failure is never an option for the Vees. Pilot AU where Vox and Valentino are married and Velvette is their adopted daughter.

It's more Vees than voxval but they're married so.

The Art of Pimping by MarenRose (Words: 9,161)

Desperate to close a deal with one of the most lucrative investors in Pride, Vox does the unthinkable and pimps out Valentino for a one-time date. What could go wrong?

Val's attitude in this one is funny and Vox. Yeah. Vox made a mistake.

You Found Me by passthevoxcord (Words: 4,338)

Long before Velvette came along, it was just them. Vox and Valentino. Valentino and Vox.

Sobbing.

Something Less Than Dishonest by daphnerunning, Galiko (Words: 33,931)

He isn’t expecting the way Valentino walks, for some reason. Maybe it’s the extra limbs. Maybe it’s the wings. Maybe it’s the heels. Vox had skipped briefly through a few of the slut’s movies, for research, and isn’t expecting the way Valentino moves in person to feel so… Different. “…You must be my four o’clock,” he says, standing and offering a hand. Oh, shit, he’s huge. Valentino towers over him, easily would without the stripper heels. Vox is not afraid of heights.

Vox is so offensive in this it loops back around to hilarious.

Red Skies and Valentino by alternatedoom (Words: 86,050)

"Vox and I are special friends, doll. Go give him a kiss," Val says to the boy.

Angel does not have a good time. But the Voxval is nice.

before you go by xoTsundoku (Words: 4,426)

Before Alastor came into their lives, Vox and Valentino were happy. Maybe they still can be.

A Farewell to Ghosts by Accidental_Ducky (Words: 37,149)

"What do you think that is," Vox demands, pointing at the new guy. Valentino turns, eyes raking greedily over the man's body. He's gorgeous, skinny in a heroin chic way with big blue eyes and blond hair that falls just so across his eyes. "Hot." "Don't fucking call the ghost hot!"

The only human AU I've liked so far. Love the character interactions. Vox and Val are hilarious.

God I hope I didn't miss any. There's definitely some good WIP ones out there.

[animementrash]

AOT veterans headcanons

Characters: Levi Ackerman, Erwin Smith, Hange Zoe

Tags: just random thoughts on the main three vets, they/them pronouns for Hange, some may be ooc?, SFW only

A/N: Here are my headcanons based on how I percieve them, I have some more for the rest of the characters but I'm posting only three for now because they are longer than expected. (I also have NSFW ones but I'm waiting until I get more comfortable with sharing my thoughts before posting those) Hope you like them and thank you for reading!

Levi Ackerman:

Washes his hands constantly, almost too many times a day.

Would rather fight a titan with an arm tied to his back than do the dishes. The mere thought of soggy leftovers sticking to his hands makes him gag.

Avoids going out to public places because he’s aware of his popularity inside the walls and doesn’t know how to act when he’s the center of attention.

Following the previous topic and contrary to popular beliefs, this man would never reject a gift/letter/trinket given to him by a local. It can be the most random thing but he will always accept them with a small nod, he’s deeply thankful for their blind trust in him.

Yawns and stretches ALL THE TIME, he is known for sleeping as little as 3 or 4 hours per night and while he’s able to go on with his day without problems, this doesn’t mean he isn’t feeling drowsy all the time so he’s almost always letting out quiet yawns and stretching his arms to ease the soreness of his body.

Sneezes a lot when cleaning. It’s not rare at all to hear him sneeze when he’s dusting or sweeping, if someone says “Bless you” to him he’ll quietly mumble a “thanks” before getting back to cleaning.

Has a favorite seat at the dining table and gets grumpy when someone takes that place before him.

Speaking of dinner, this man eats SLOW AS HELL, he’s usually one of the last to finish his meal.

Is constantly thirsty because he refuses to drink anything but tea.

Has memorized everyone’s footsteps and knows who’s coming to his office before they even knock the door.

Cleans and calibrates his ODM gear daily even when he’s not planning on using it.

Doesn’t like to be in new recruit’s trainings because he gets anxious when most of them hurt themselves while getting used to work with the ODM gear.

Trims his hair weekly, most people believe he shapes his haircut and has hairdresser-like skills when in reality all he does is trim it to avoid losing the shape it already has.

Can’t read cursive even if his life depends on it. One time Erwin handed him a memo written in cursive and he got so frustrated because he didn’t understand what it said that he ended up ignoring the memo. Turns out Erwin needed him to turn in some reports earlier than usual and got scolded because of it.

Loves eating fruit. Fruit was considered an ultra luxury item in the underground so when he realized how much fruit he could eat once he was in the scouts, he got obsessed with it.

Whines and complains a lot for a person who’s known to be grumpy and stoic. Ask him to do something he dislikes and you’ll hear a bunch of huffs and puffs before he goes to do it.

Talks with his horse. A lot.

Wanders through the empty halls when he can’t sleep and doesn’t bother to bring a candle to light the path, the cadets now believe there is a ghost haunting the headquarters.

Erwin Smith:

Hums and whistles a lot, he’s always making some kind of noise while signing reports or walking down the halls. You can hear this man before seeing him.

Takes more time than he’s willing to admit in styling his hair every morning. He is a firm believer that appearance matters a lot so he puts a lot of effort on his.

 Has a specific pair of glasses he uses when reading, almost no one knows about it besides Hange who helped him choose the right ones.

Talks in his sleep, it can vary between mumbled nonsense to full on speeches.

Has a journal that is more like a diary because he writes all his thoughts/hopes/fears on it but he’d be damned if someone refers to it as a diary and not a journal.

Is lowkey afraid of insects but plays it cool when he comes across one because he doesn’t want to come out as “weak”.

Snaps his fingers when trying to remember something.

People think he’s a very wise and smart man because it’s very common to find him “deep in thoughts”, truth is he just tends to zone out and disassociates like crazy.

Loves dogs, he’s the biggest dog person in the scouts. Often stops and pets dogs he finds while taking a walk downtown.

Cleans and polishes his shoes every night before going to sleep. Whenever his face gets reflected on the shiny shoe a smile appears on his lips.

Not always but sometimes sneaks out behind the barracks to smoke some cigarettes, tries to hide all evidence afterwards because Levi will start complaining about the awful smell.

Would rather be late to an early meeting than go without shaving, has to shave daily because by the end of the day he already has a shadow beard.

Is well aware of his attractiveness and uses it to his advantage when needed.

Visits his father’s grave every Sunday and spends most of the day there. Sometimes brings a book and reads it out loud.

Smacked his face after trying to see through a clear glass Levi had cleaned earlier, after laughing for several minutes Levi scolded him for dirtying his glass.

His wardrobe is full of neutral-colored clothes, he sucks at matching outfits so goes with the safest options.

Knows very well Levi can’t read cursive so when he’s bored, he scribbles gibberish on a paper and gives it to Levi saying it’s important to get it done by end of day just to get a laugh.

Has relatives living inside the walls who refuse to acknowledge him, some of them even pretend he died the same day his dad did.

Has an ongoing bet with Hange to see who makes Levi laugh the most, so far Erwin is winning by one but only because he accidentally fell from his horse and Levi found it hilarious.

Arm-wrestles with Miche a lot, especially after they had a few beers.

LOVES dancing, this man knows how to dance and isn’t afraid to show it. (Sadly for him he also loves to clap when dancing and this makes everyone laugh)

Hange Zoe:

Is both street-smart and book-smart, is the only person who has beaten Erwin in a chess match and also beaten Levi in a wrestling match.

Almost always has pencils sticking out of their hair, they place them there for a moment and totally forget about them.

Levi restricted them from using fountain pens because they would spill ink and stain everything and everywhere.

The reason why their glasses have straps on is not only because the risk of them falling off is smaller but also because according to them “it makes them look cooler”.

Wanted to join Erwin in giving instructions to Levi written in cursive but since their handwriting wasn’t as good as Erwin’s they opted for giving instructions in riddles, this makes Levi even more furious than the cursive ones.

Just like Levi, Hange takes a long time when eating dinner but the reason for this is not because they eat slow but because they talk a lot. By the end of the meal their food is either cold or soggy.

Tried to bite a titan once just to show them how it felt to be “on the receiving side”.

Their horse has tiny braids on its mane made by them when they were nervous.

Refuses to brush their hair because their ideas may “fall off” if they do it.

Tackled Levi once when they saw an “eerie figure” roaming the headquarters halls and thought it was a new species.

Has read more books than anyone in the scouts, knows a little of almost everything.

Says “wait, what?” at least twice when talking with someone, before that person can repeat themselves, they interrupt with a completely related answer and expect the person to continue speaking as if nothing happened.

Almost all cadets go to them for advice, they take this very seriously and never joke around when listening to their concerns.

Just like Erwin, they have relatives living nearby the headquarters but they’re not interested in one another.

Has a tendency to bite their nails when nervous, all his fingernails are short and bumpy because of it.

Is very quick at math and calculations.

Always carry a pocket notebook with them and writes anything that catches their attention so they can investigate about it later.

LOVES bugs, is always trying to catch them and examinate them. One time they trapped a cockroach and created a full design of an “armored suit” based on them, when Erwin asked where they got the inspiration for it, they just placed the cockroach in Erwin’s desk and Erwin almost fainted on the spot.

Randomly goes to Miche and asks him “what do I smell like?”, Miche stopped participating on their little riddles when Hange decided to put rotting food in their pockets before asking.

All their books have little notes and highlighted parts on them. Sometimes has two or three copies of the same book because their view on certain parts changes over time.

Takes pinky-promises as a legit way of commitment.

[fillinforlater]

It’s that time of the year again. What are some of your favorite smuts released in 2023?

Monday of Appreciation: Part 104

Hello everyone, Smite here!

2023 is coming to a close and it's been quite the year, a mixture of "this is a bridge year for greater things to come" and "WE LIVIN' NOW MF!" What is a bit different this year is that the highs weren't as high and the lows weren't as low compared to previous years---maybe that is just me getting older, maybe it's hindsight. Either way, I'm good and this year was good.

But some things are more than just good. I'm of course talking about these writers and their stories that I have featured today. All of them deserve special mention, but I want to focus on two of them specifically.

In a year of great, fantastic and already legendary fics, these two stand out.

Without further ado, let's dive into the final MoA of this year:

-1-

@fanfiction4sooya: Can't Save You Now ft. Chaewon, Kazuha, Sakura

I- I- I just read the damn tags and new I one day had to give this a shot. ff4sooya has crazy ideas, futa galore, different dynamics and kinks, which is SO MY THING. This has Mommy and Daddy involved in an absurd (and absurdly hot) threesome that I couldn't take my eyes off.

Now I definitely need to read more and you should too because I bet there are a bunch of Masterpieces in that long Masterlist!

-2-

@iznsfw: Drunken ft. Olivia Hye

Is it really a Monday of Appreciation post without IZ?

Seriously, what this genius is able to cook up in a commission or in the currently ongoing (HYPE) IZ DAYS OF CHRISTMAS is absolutely incredible. We have long stories with in depth characters and love drama that ends not only smuttily but sweetly. Who the fuck needs books, when you can just binge IZ?

With "Drunken", they have once again hit it out of the FUCKIING park. There is never enough Daddy kink fics, yes, but mine seem like nonsensical cringe porn compared to this beauty of a piece. I love how it plays with my heart, no I'm not crying---okay, now that is hot.

Let me change that: there is three very fucking special stories today!

(I think this might even be better than Levi's Hyeju, wtf)

-3-

@cataboliac: Enkindle ft. Wendy

Firstly: I LOVE YOU CATA, BIG QT!

Secondly: "Enkindle" feels a bit like coming home, like a day in Paradise, like the one person that shines so bright in your life that you don't want it to go. And you know, that is the great thing: this might be Cata's final fic, the farewell, but not only is his life gonna be great and he'll be super happy - we also get to read this again and again, and I'm sure I will one day.

Thank you, Cata, for hanging around!

Thirdly: I'M GONNA KISS YOU, CATA!

-4-

@writerpeach: Delectation ft. Wonyoung, Yujin

1.000 Notes, and it's still not enough for what is my pick for fic of the year (FOTY? FOOTY? There is a scene like that, yep). IZ*ONE truly never dies, but it is IVE and these absolute super stars, bomb shells with flawless faces and different, yet irresistible bodies that have us in a frenzy.

Talking about frenzy, all those 30,699 words are a frenzy. I thought Peach would set it up with a long and painful tease that has us edging the entire time BUT NOPE this has so much fucking smut, so many lines of neediness and horniness, it is impossible to finish in one try or two tries or... I dunno, seven-hundred tries?

It's detailed, it's straight forward, it's sex from every fucking angle, I can never get tired of this. I will go so far and say this is Peach's magnum opus, the GOAT fic by the GOAT writer. At least for that day, I can say this without a doubt.

Peach, you are crazy and thank you for that <3

#PeachPavedTheWay #AnnyeongzForDaddy

[kivino]

CLOSER || SLASHER!SIMON ‘GHOST’ RILEY X M!READER

my masterlist

ao3 link to this fic

Word counter – ~2.9k

Tags/Warnings – very much dead dove do not eat, dealing with dark topics, stalking, unhealthy obsession, kidnapping.

Summary – You hear various dark rumors from your colleagues and you don’t believe them, until there is one particular ghost looking you right in the eye.

A/n – Fair warning, I am not trying to romanticize all those things. Requested by the anon from this post. Not proofread, so i'm very sorry if there are any mistakes.

At first, you didn’t believe all the rumors about ghosts, ghouls, and serial killers scouring every corner of the town in the dark, scratching the brick walls and howling in the tight alleyways. Your coworkers who usually talked about that kind of stuff appeared like gossiping teenagers exchanging something they heard or saw. Whispering on their breaks over lunch, or in those hours when business in the little coffee shop you worked in was slow. 

You thought their talks about some boogeyman hunting on the streets for new victims each night were silly at their best, and just distracting at their worst. You, coincidentally, were also usually the one working night shifts, taking over them after your female coworkers kept complaining about some creep waiting around until the end of the shift and scaring the crap out of them. 

So, how could you not help your colleagues out in a dire situation like this? Those shifts paid more anyway, and you needed all the money you could get. And, to be completely honest, you enjoyed the night. The lack of annoying customers, who’d scream at you for getting their order wrong, not smiling or some other stupid bullshit (whatever it takes to get that glossy paper with the words “20% off”, right?) died down by the night, so it was a breeze. Of course, you’d have to clean up and prep so much stuff for the morning shift, but then again, it was better money. So you could do with stacking some cups and taking out the trash and so on. After closing, you’d walk out a bit tired, but still enjoying the fresh night air, that would knock out any insistent worry straight out of your mind. 

And oh, what a fool you were for that. 

Ghost wanted to laugh, really. It was very amusing to him when you’d bravely head out into the dark, back to your shitty rundown apartment complex, listening to your music in your silly little headphones and not paying enough attention. Not a fucking thought inside this handsome head sometimes. Just perfect. Ghost knew he liked you for a reason. Which, of course, your appearance wasn’t solely why he felt drawn to you like you were a damn magnet. 

At first, he didn’t even notice you. Out and about, searching for any potential victims. Which became harder and harder each time he got bored and finished off the last one – their names fading from his memory as soon as the ringing from their strained, ear-splitting screams died down to a complete silence. They were borderline shrieks of wild, trapped animals that rang in his mind endlessly, day and night, echoes waking him from his restless dreams and lulling him back to sleep. Eyes snapped from figure to figure – searching, looking like a hound dog for something, someone that could satiate his hunger for blood. 

Followed a potentially interesting target to a small, cozy-looking establishment. Tried to look around more, still not completely set on the decision to commit to them. But then he laid his eyes on you and felt that familiar buzz under his skin, the pleasant vibrations that spurred him on like a prized stallion during a race. His blood felt scorching hot in his own body, anticipation for the desired thrill of the hunt already boiling in his veins.  That’s who he needed.

The huge man would follow you home with light, silent footsteps, uncharacteristic for his burly form. He would observe you from the dark corners of the forest, from between trees bunched together in thick, impenetrable layers. Ghost would come in during different times of the day, but wouldn’t ask for you, in fear of drawing too much attention – your coworkers looked like the types to run their mouths for fun, so he figured they would snitch on him to you. And that would just spoil all the fun, wouldn’t it? But then Ghost started feeling something he never thought he would. The more his eyes went over your form, over and over, like fingers picking at a bloody scab, or a tongue grazing gums where the tooth is missing, the more Ghost felt that ache poke needles through his skin, then change and transform into unfamiliar shapes and forms. Prickling on his insides, thorns gashing and bleeding his heart dry, his mind reeling at the mere sight of you in this stupid uniform, or just going about your business, and not knowing what kind of predator was following close behind in the shadows.

He craved more than your blood, your skin, and your smell on his knife, pooling between his fingers and onto the dirty floor of the basement. Etching scarlet lines into your sole being, slicing, cutting, and handling you like he would a piece of precious wood for his woodcarving projects. Ghost’s mind would go rampant with various images of you being with him. Not a victim, but a companion. A worthy one at that. The one Ghost deserves, with your presences intertwining until you two could not be separated from one another, grown together so deeply that you’d find parts of yourselves in each other wherever you’d look.

The only wish Ghost had was to be consumed by you wholly. And to consume you was a natural outcome of that. You’ll come around eventually. One way or another.

The images of his previous trophies resurfaced like thin, melting ice from fresh lake water. Each and every single one of them was an animal. In their life and their death. Scared but swift rabbits. Talkative crows that liked shiny things. Rabid hyenas that bared their teeth at him in a taunting grin. Gorgeous pheasants with their gentle coos. All of them so different, yet same in their dullness and lack of something Ghost was searching for in his prey.

You though, you were special. That’s why Ghost didn’t want to kill you, oh no. He wanted to keep you. All to himself. Lock you up like a wild bird in a golden, intricate cage and hear you sing lullabies and arias for him, and only him. Not for your stupid friends. Not for your idiot classmates. And not for your lazy ass coworkers. Only for him. 

So naturally if he wanted this songbird to be his, he had to get to work. Simon was a man of his words and actions, but Ghost preferred to act, rather than talk. First things first – he had to prepare a “cage”. One where you won’t escape from. One that will keep you safe from any harm. But not from him. He’d never harm you, in a million years. Ghost had to rearrange a room in the basement for that. And while it took some time and care, his feelings only grew stronger, when he would move and carry around so much stuff he had piling up in that dusty room. Then he had to know your schedule by heart, to know when and where he’ll be able to finally get his hands on the beloved songbird. It turned out to be pretty easy, Ghost got it down in a week and everything was working out perfectly. Finally, he had to catch you. Which, he was working on right now.

He waited until the perfect moment came to strike, like a hunter he was. One chance, that’s all it is going to take. And you’ll be his. His gut stirred with anticipation and excitement, that familiar buzz intensifying with each second, he waited to finally start his pursuit while hiding in the darkness. If it was anyone else but you the chase would’ve been lethal. For you, he had to contain his strength. Balling his fists together, beaten and bloody under the rough fabric of his gloves, he could easily snap a neck or break some fingers with the sheer power contained inside of his body, trained and adapted into the perfect shape for his…line of work and “hobbies”. For your sake, Ghost will have to use less force, for once in a long time. You’re only worthy while you’re alive.

The whole shift you felt like something was wrong. That sudden gut feeling, along with impending doom and anxiety that ate away at you was overtaking slowly but surely. Every second ticking away on the digital clock near the register only stretched that unusual, weird feeling like something (you weren’t sure what) was going to happen to you. You even felt a bit of cold sweat pop up right on your forehead, and the worst thing is, you couldn’t even point out what exactly threw you off your usual rhythm. So, all you had left to do was try to pretend like there wasn’t a whole hurricane of worry and panic bubbling inside of you.

You felt like you could snap any minute now from how tense you were. Intuition wasn’t your best suit, but you could not ignore a gut feeling so strong that you felt like vomiting up your lunch each time you were left in silence, alone with your thoughts, that spun around a variety of outcomes where you ended up dead on the side of the road because you didn’t listen to that gnawing dread curled inside your gut.

And you should’ve, really.

Maybe then you wouldn’t have been in the position that you’re in right now. Your chest and throat hurt, cold air burning with every shallow and quick inhale, as you ran, as fast as you could, blood pulsing in your ears with increasing pressure. You were pretty sure your heart was about to jump out of your chest. If it wasn’t for your headphones running out of battery and you having to walk back without any music you wouldn’t have heard the quiet, rapidly approaching footsteps. You couldn’t see your pursuer, too focused on the road, or lack thereof in front of you.

Why did you think dipping into the dark grove at the first opportunity to lose the person who was following you was a good idea? Your feet stumbled over the thick roots that webbed the fresh, wet ground, moonlight barely managed to pierce through the thick layer of leaves overhead and it seemed like any animal in your close vicinity disappeared, with how eerily quiet everything was, safe for your heaving and wheezing, that easily gave away your position.

You’re scared, oh, you’re so fucking scared you could feel the way hairs all over your body stand up from the terror, unknown follower sparkling fear so primal your thoughts are reduced to barely a semblance of your usual self.

You could hear the crunch of the leaves under your shoes, vines, and branches smacking you, as you ram through them in your attempt to get away, to save yourself from whatever wild beast was chasing you, whose heavy breath you could almost feel on the nape of your neck. You were pretty sure your face got smacked by another thorny vine, this time delivering a harsh, stinging cut that made you wince. You didn’t slow down, however, adrenaline made you push yourself to surprising lengths, that you didn’t think were possible in a normal, safe environment. The cut felt warm. You were pretty sure it started bleeding.

That is until your foot slips and you feel everything going upside down, crashing onto you, sharp pain digging into your sides, as you tumble down. And from water in your nose, eyes, and airway, you can give a wild guess that you fell into some kind of creek. If it’s true, then your clothes and your backpack are most likely busted. You try to get up, but your hands slide over slick, wet rocks on the bottom of the stream, making you slip back into the water and sending you into a whole coughing fit, bitter water resting on your tongue like a layer of algae. You yank your foot from under some rock, desperately trying to listen to the footsteps that at the moment were as loud as hell’s bells for you, stumbling to your feet, and through the thick darkness, you see that the path ahead will only be uphill. The ground is wet and muddy, but you don’t care, hands and nails digging into it, crawling upwards as fast as you can. You feel yourself grow cold when you hear a quiet slide and feel a hand grab you by your leg.

And then you start kicking, screaming, howling until a bitter burn on your throat makes you cough, spreading the sharp pain with every collapse of your chest. Fingers digging into the fresh mud and leaves, raking through them, earth sticking to the underside of your nails, as you try to grapple onto something, anything, to hold onto and save yourself from the iron hold on your ankle. Your heart is beating so fast you can hear it pumping the blood through every single artery and vein, and you’re sure that animalistic fear is being spread through your body along with it.

“Sing for me, boy. Nobody will hear you.” The man’s voice, devoid of emotions, littered with deep sighs and grunts of exertion rumbled from above you, as he dragged you down from the insignificant height you managed to climb.

“Fuck off! Let go of me!” You scream, your body contorted into a bizarre shape as you turn your head, trying to catch a glimpse of the man and correct the aim of your kicks. Your neck was weeping in pain and strain, along with every other muscle in your body. Fear scorched your insides. This was it for you, truly. Nobody will find your body in this stupid fucking forest and you’re just going to become the food for local fauna. Beautiful.

You expected anything – harsh blows to the back of your head, being drowned inside this shallow creek, stabbed to death, until you paint the water red, getting your head bashed in, or even shot like a rabid, stray dog who had no one to care for it. Instead, you’re getting your hands and legs tied together, and the man throws you over his shoulder, despite your attempts to scratch or punch him. You scream and cry, burning your throat raw, kicking and writing in the hold of the unknown person. Chanting harsh insults, and trying to kick or punch didn’t work either, but you didn’t care. You weren’t about to find out more about the local serial killer. However, no matter your intentions, you could not see where you were going, dark earth being the only thing in front of your eyes. Your thoughts and presence float far away from here, as the man brings you somewhere, jabbing a needle with something that makes you light-headed and sleepy.

When you finally wake up you’re changed from your dirt-stained, wet clothes, with your body aching like no tomorrow and the cut on your face dressed. The room has barely any light in it, and you feel the warm covers enveloping you, reminding you of home until you turn your head and see…something. Someone. His presence is enough to send shivers through your body.

He’s sitting by the bed you’re tucked into. Skull mask. Large, looming figure. Dark eyes gleaming right at you. You feel your face contorting into an angry scowl when you look at him and try to get out of bed. He doesn’t move. You get yanked back, and promptly turn your head again, feeling the muscles in your back and neck ache. Your hand is cuffed to the radiator. You feel a rough lump in your throat rise and drowsiness floating away. It doesn’t quite sink in yet, but you could feel the anxiety forming once again in the pit of your stomach and that lump rising as if you’re about to vomit whatever was left of your insides.

You hear the man get up from his chair with a quiet shuffle and the squeak of the chair legs on the floorboards. You flinch back, your back pressing into the warm metal of the radiator, almost burning the skin through your clothes. The bed dips down under the weight of the man. He’s not taking away his eyes from you, even for a second. It makes you want to crawl under the blanket that is now resting at your feet, just to hide from the piercing, heated gaze that you want to avoid at any cost.

You close your eyes, trying to calm down and think about anything else, but what surrounded you. Which proved impossible the moment you felt a rough, calloused hand shift from its position on the bed and rest on the side of your face. Warm, scorching fingers stroking your cheek gently, like that same hand wasn’t just dragging you through water and muck in the shallow forest creek.

Ghost felt…Good. Despite the bad first impression, he was sure that he was on the right track. Your skin felt divine, your beautiful eyes made him want to keep you here forever and never let go. And the way you looked while sleeping made him want to abandon observing altogether and crawl into the bed with you, caging in a tight, bone-crushing embrace that would show you just how much he craves you. But for you, it would probably be too fast, too shocking. For now, just being able to look at you and touch you was enough.

Maybe, if Ghost had a little more bravery he would whisper:

“You’re mine, songbird. Forever”

But for now, it’ll do. You’ll come around. One way or another.

check out my masterlist for more fics or send me a request/comment!

[lincolndjarin]

A Little Mishap.

main masterlist ✧ kinktober masterlist ✦

kinktober : day five - afab!reader x dark!francisco morales

prompt : hate sex [ 18+ mdni ]

word count : 1.4k (sorry all of these are so short, there's so many i've been struggling to make them longer)

summary : READ ALL WARNINGS. THIS IS MY FIRST DARK FIC. you and frankie return to base camp after an unsuccessful mission, each of you blaming the other for the outcome.

warnings, etc. : dead dove do not eat, dubcon/noncon, dark!frankie, unprotected p in v, spanking, use of restraints, panty gag, painful sex, degradation, orgasm denial, creampie, ambiguous ending, probably other things lmk if i forgot any tags

a/n : a lot of my october stuff is gonna be barely edited so my apologies for that but this is my first time writing frankie but also my first time writing any sort of dark fic and i'm definitely feeling anxious about posting this but here it is uhhhh yeah. i've been finishing all of these before work this week and having this tiny little time crunch before doing a ten hour shift really wakes me the fuck up lmao.

He shoves you into the tent, both of you fuming at this point. Neither one of you speaks as you take a seat on your cot, putting your head in your hands. After a moment you can see his boots appear in front of you. 

“I can’t fuckin’ believe you.” He growls and you feel your jaw tense as you look up at him. 

“You can’t believe me?” You say incredulously. “If it weren’t for me we’d have nothing.” 

“If it weren’t for you we might have everything.” He hisses, planting a hand firmly on your shoulder as he shoves you back into the wall, you sit up quickly, kicking his knee in retaliation, watching as he slumps to the floor. 

“I did exactly what Santi would have wanted me to do in that situation.” You usually don’t physical when you two fight, (which is happening more and more often these days) but today you’re fed up with him, you’d been on that mission with just him for over a week when he’d fucked up. You could have lost everything if you’d listened to him, at least now you had half the haul. 

“La puta…” He grumbles, grabbing you by your ankles as you lean back to kick him again. “Os voy a dar una lección.” He mumbles, twisting your legs until you stop resisting. You swallow a squeak that threatens to bubble up from the pain, you’re about to swing on him when he pushes you back down, his hands swiftly yank your pants down making you freeze in shock. He doesn’t give you a chance to protest as he drags you off the cot, knocking the wind out of you as you hit the tent floor.

“Asshole!” You yelp as he pins you down with his knees, taking both your wrists in one large hand as you squirm beneath him, trying to flip him off you.

“Fucking- quit it.” He delivers a sharp slap to your jaw promptly halting your struggle as you scowl at him. You’re about to hurl another insult at him when you hear the familiar sound of his switchblade flipping open. “Don’t move.” He mumbles as you feel the cold steel against your hip and in an instant you hear a slicing, followed by the same on the other side, you squeeze your thighs together instinctively as he pulls your panties off with ease now that the sides are torn.

“Frankie!” You shriek and he takes the opportunity to shove the bunched up fabric between your teeth.

“‘Talk too damn much.” You try to kick him again as he tugs your pants the rest of the way down, bringing them up as he haphazardly flips you onto your stomach, binding your hands behind your back with one of your pant legs. You’re about to spit your panties out when you feel the steel on your throat. “You keep that smart mouth of yours stuffed or I’ll find another way to shut you up.” His blade digs into your flesh as a silent warning and you don’t dare. He gives you a minute to decide what you want to do and you choose to just stay still, trying desperately to steady your breathing. 

He digs his knee into your lower back one more time, eliciting a pained groan from you before slotting himself between your thighs. You’re dizzy from everything happening so fast and he doesn’t give you much of a chance to process any of it as he takes hold of your makeshift cuffs, dragging you upright as you kneel, his free hand wrapping around your waist to cup your mound. 

“You know how often I think about this?” He rests his temple on yours as his chin sits on your shoulder, his body heat suffocates you. 

How many times had you reluctantly thought about the same thing? Rolling to face away from him in your shared tent and shoving your hand between your legs, imagining what it would be like when he finally got sick of your shit and bent you over. You’re snapped out of your thoughts as he dips two fingers between your folds with a satisfied sigh. He slides his digits back and forth, scooping up your abundant wetness with a throaty chuckle.  

“You get off on bein’ a brat?” He dangles his fingers in front of your face before rubbing your slick onto your parted lips, forcing you to taste your own arousal. “Then I’ll treat you like a brat.” He tangles his fingers in your hair, yanking your head up as you feel him grind the front of his pants against your ass. “Fuckin’ soaking me.” He bends you over, forcing your ass up and pushing your face into the floor. He keeps one hand locked around your wrist as the other shoves his own pants down. You whine into the makeshift gag. “Maybe I’ll just fuck some obedience into you.” 

You let out a squeak as he slaps your rear. He lets his palm rest there, before roughly spreading your cheeks. You hear him spit, followed by the sensation of it dripping down your seam, you can feel him lining himself up at your entrance, all of his actions are rushed and you just can’t keep up, your body doesn’t even have time to make an attempt at defending yourself as he rams himself into you without warning. A muffled squeal falls from your lips as he beings to fuck you mercilessly, giving you no time to adjust to the sheer size of him. 

With your face pressed into the floor you can’t see him but you can certainly feel just how thick he is. The underlying pleasure does nothing to soothe the feeling of being split open by him. 

“Jesus-” He grunts out, your pussy gushing around him only spurs him on, his movements somehow becoming harsher as he bumps against your g-spot with ever slam of his hips, the combines overstimulation and pain makes your eyes water, a few tears slipping past your lash line. “Dunno how I’m gonna last in such a tight cunt.” He slaps your ass again, hard enough that you’re pretty sure you’ll have a mark, drawing a sob from you. “Fuckin’ choking my cock when I do that.” 

He spanks you again, a loud crack rings throughout the tent as your cunt involuntarily clamps down on him, his hips stuttering forward. 

“You fucking love this, don’t you?” His voice is low and dangerous as the rough denim of his jeans scratches at your thighs. “Is that why you keep squeezin’ me?” You don’t realize he expects a response until he smacks you again. “You love this?” You nod fervently, mumbling something similar to a yes into your panties. “You wanna finish on my cock?” Much to your own dismay you nod once more.

You don’t know how, but against all odds you really are close. The coil tightening in your stomach threatens to consume you as you try desperately to force yourself over that edge to no avail.

“That’s too bad, only good girls get to come.” He growls, readjusting himself so one hand is tangled in your hair and the other is gripping your wrists, keeping you hovering above the tent floor rather uncomfortably, your lurch forward with every one of his brutal thrusts. You groan something that sounds like his name but you know it’s useless to try and reason with him. With a few more long drawn out thrusts you feel him burst within you, his grip on your hair tightens and you shriek as his release begins dripping from your swollen cunt as he slips out of you.

Your tears are drying on your face and you slump forward once his hands release you. Your body continues to buzz with frustration, a small part of you is genuinely upset at your lack of an orgasm. You can hear the rest of your mission party returning as Frankie leans forward and presses a kiss between your shoulder blades, a sharp contrast to everything he just did to you. You can hear the zipper on his pants as he pulls himself together, leaving you wrecked on the floor. 

“Why don’t we see how Pope feels about your little mishap?” He whispers before you turn your head just in time to watch him lean out of the tent, calling Santiago over.

a/n : i would love any sort of feedback on this?? i've never written anything like this before so i'm a little nervous.

[blessyatoz]

longfic (+55k words and on posting) tags: pro-hero izuku midoriya, manager au, falling in love, humor read all on AO3 excerpt from chapter six: how to (try to) do a photoshoot and attend to a hero-con [excerpt w fluff, bit angst, humor; no smut]

MARIN'S POV

The event was nearing its end when we left the special screening of an All Might documentary.

Midoriya-kun, obviously, couldn’t stop talking when there—his eyes practically glowing with excitement and admiration as everything coming out of his mouth was about his mentor. At one point during the session, I asked how they met in the first place. Midoriya-kun spoke so fast, but what I got was that it had something to do with him jumping in front of a villain to save his friend Kacchan (who’s Dynamight?!), All Might taking him under his wing as a disciple, and his late-blooming quirk awakening.

Damn, Midoriya-kun had a crazy teenagehood, no doubt about that.

Someone told us to shut up—so we focused on the documentary and picked up the conversation again after the session ended.

He told me how hard it was—and I didn’t doubt it for a second. Broken bones. Always having to give his best—because everyone was already ahead of him, given how late his quirk had developed. Always having to do more because if he didn’t, it wouldn’t be enough to become the hero he wanted to be. A hero who saved everyone, no matter what, always with a smile; 

“Kitagawa-san, I want to be a hero strong enough that no one would have to worry about me.” as he said at that moment too (That stuck with me. Stuck—Why?). A hero who honored his mentor’s legacy.

As he spoke, I couldn’t help but think about the enormous sense of responsibility he had with all of it: becoming the hero he always dreamed of, fighting to protect people…

Slowly, the outlines for my article started to take shape in my mind. One that wouldn’t just honor All Might’s legacy but would do justice to Deku’s. His own. As Deku.

That’s what I wanted to do—what I wanted people to know. I wanted people to experience how genuine, hardworking, sincere, and real Pro-Hero Deku was.

“Oh! And All Might was also my teacher, back at UA. He was an amazing mentor! He really was! He really took care of me—even when I didn’t deserve it. I learned a lot from him—and from Aizawa-sensei, too.” Midoriya-kun chuckled softly. He seemed to recall those days fondly. “I… I miss him. All Might. It’s been a while since we last saw each other. But we still text all the time!” He stared off into the distance, like he was reflecting for a moment before turning back to me and saying: “I… I hope I can one day be at least 1% of the hero he used to be… I—I already have my own hero path! And I’m following it, o-of course! I’m really happy with that.” He looked ahead, almost nostalgically watching a bunch of kids running around in All Might costumes, holding special trading cards in their hands. I followed his gaze. “But… to inspire people the way he did, inspire them to be the best they can be, overcoming whatever life throws at them… To always go beyond, no matter what…”

Purpose. Determination. That’s what I felt while looking at him now.

“That’s the kind of hero I’m working to be, too.”

The smile of that little girl from early came to my mind—and the gratitude shining on everyone’s faces when they saw him, whether he was stopping a villain or helping out with the simplest task possible. Even the regretful tears of today’s wrongdoers, who seemed like they’d rather die than commit another crime after hearing Deku-kun's words.

The look of admiration from that child who so kindly asked him to sign their school notebook.

“You’re already doing that. A great job. More than that, even.” I spoke softly, kindly—but not as kind as he was. That was impossible for me. I’d known that for a long time. So many smiles, so many admiring looks of ‘I want to be like you’ came to mind, all directed at him. At them. “You know that, right?”

I waited for him to blush, like he usually would. Then I’d laugh and say, ah, Deku-kun, for God’s sake, you need to get used to compliments, man!

But the blush never came.

Deku’s expression seemed to drop—and he became a little distant.

Not shy, not embarrassed—like usual. Just… distant.

“Not enough, though, Kitagawa-san.”

I frowned.

But before I could say anything, one of the kids dressed up and running wildly around Hero-Con bumped into us.

“Oh, sorry, oni-san!” Then he grabbed the hand of the kid next to him, dragging him towards a group of people gathering nearby. “Come on, Tsuki! Let’s go get a Hawks hero tattoo, hurry before they’re gone!”

“I don’t want one of that stupid parrot!” The other one looked surprisingly disgusted. “I want one of All Might! And Red Riot, 'cause he’s so manly!”

“Whatever, dude! Let’s go!”

Midoriya-kun and I watched them run off like two little rockets.

“Oh… Hero tattoo stickers… I always wanted to get one of those when I was a kid…” I heard him say softly, like he was talking to himself. A bit nostalgic, even. He blinked, realizing I was still there. “Kacchan never wanted to get one with me, though, when we were kids. Said it was stupid and useless—since they come off with water. Something about it being for dumb kids—which was funny, thinking about it now. We were kids.” He laughed.

I glanced over at the booth: kids, adults, and teens crowded around it. Some were cheering, others celebrating when they saw the tiny less-than-8cm disposable tattoo fixed on their skin. They were grinning from ear to ear. They looked happy.

I grabbed his hand energetically—I could feel the roughness of his scars, the lines they made against my fingers, the history and effort they carried.

Then I smiled.

“So, what are we waiting for?!” Practically shouting with excitement, practically shouting please, smile like that again Deku-kun, I said: “Let’s go!”

“W-w-what?!”

I was already dragging us over.

“W-wait, Kitagawa-san! W-WAIT!”

Fifteen minutes later, I had a small tattoo of Fat Gum's face hidden on the side of my wrist. Midoriya-kun had one of All Might—comically flexing his muscles.

He stared at the tattoo, a bit goofy, a bit embarrassed, and a bit incredulous.

But he looked happy.

“I can’t believe we did this…!”

“Well, believe it! BELIEVE IT!” I threw my arms up in the air and flexed my muscles. I puffed out my chest—and then struck the same pose All Might was making on his tattoo. Making that face. “YOU DID IT, MIDORIYA-SHONEN! IT WAS YOUR BRAVERY, HOHO.” Then I laughed, all proud, just like All Might would. “It’s never too late to fulfill your childhood wishes, shonen.” I winked.

Midoriya-kun burst into laughter. The kind of loud, genuine laugh that’s just contagious, you know? The kind that makes you want to laugh just from being there, listening to it. His hands held his stomach, tears of laughter streaming from his eyes.

I dropped the All Might pose, grinning widely at him.

Not enough, though, Kitagawa-san.

What makes you think that? That’s what I wanted to ask him as I watched him laugh and laugh, smiling and laughing in that sincere, genuine way he always did. The way he showed it to everyone. What makes you think that, Midoriya-kun?

That’s when I realized: maybe… maybe Midoriya-kun carried more on his shoulders than he let on, more than I had imagined—must be a hero thing… like him. Like them.

Because they carried the same too. They carried the same, and I was too young to understand that back then.

But I’m not a kid anymore.

I can fight to keep others safe now, in my own way. Smiling.

And I don’t need to be a Pro-Hero to do that.

“How long did you practice that, Kitagawa-san?!”

“A month, I think?” I was about to say it was for an All Might cosplay shoot I did a few years ago, but I stayed quiet.

Midoriya-kun’s eyes practically bulged out of his head like they were gonna fall to the floor.

“Whaaaaat?! It took me years!” He sounded half-surprised, half-impressed, and half-indignant. “That’s not fair!”

“I’m a natural, pretty~” I flipped my hair, all smug. “Get over it.”

Midoriya-kun gave me the biggest side-eye in the universe.

“Hey, don’t look at me like that!” He shook his head and started walking toward the exit. I thought I saw a flash of a shy smile on his lips—and that familiar blush again. Huh? “Midoriya-kun? Midoriya-kuuuuun!”

He suddenly stopped in the middle of the path, his head lowered slightly.

“Thank you, Kitagawa-san.” His voice was soft, embarrassed—but sweet, gentle. And when he looked me in the eye, that’s exactly what I saw, too.

I broke into a smile.

“It was nothing, Midoriya-kun! Really!” I winked cheerfully at him, bouncing up to stand in front of him. “That’s what friends are for, right?”

He paused for a second.

And then there it was: that smile again.

“Yeah, it is!” And that laugh, too. “You’re right. It really is.”

“But I’m also your manager, so strike a pose so I can snap a picture of you with that super cool and not-at-all childish tattoo right in the center, please.”

“O-okay.”

“And let’s take a selfie too! Showing off our hero tattoos together! They won’t last long anyway~ We gotta capture the moment!”

[sturnwritess]

Things always end.

[ my first angst 🤨 ] M.S

summary: reader goes to a party and shortly leaves after seeing matt all up on another girl.

warnings: Hard angst, toxic matt, slight mention of alcohol,mentions of drugs, not a happy ending,swearing and cheating.

LEMME KNOW IF U WANT A PT 2.

WC:

pink text: you, purple text: nick, orange text chris

(matt doesnt text in the group chat. since he's tuff)

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

The flashing lights and blasting music and the smell of weed flowing through the house made me nauseous.

Chris and Nick texted me to come to the party in the first place.

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

hey you coming to the party?

i might be, whos all gonna be there?

just a bunch of random influencers and also matt, me and chris are gonna be there too.

ok i will be there, cant wait to see you guys 😚

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

You put on your slim black dress, knowing its matt's favorite dress. You put on your black heels and your red purse. You ordered a uber, and you scrolled through your phone and saw matt, nick and chris already at the party.

You arrive at the house and walk up the drive way, you enter the house and already the smell of weed and the sweaty bodies going straight to your head.

You run straight to the kitchen to find some alcohol, you took a shot of vodka, then another and then one more just for the fuck of it. You leave the kitchen and walk into the living room trying to scan familiar eyes, no luck.

You walk upstairs to see the other living room, you see all three familiar faces but one catches your eye. Seeing that tall,pretty,blonde and green eyed girl on his lap. His face drops when he see's your face drop, he gets the girl off his lap but he's to late. Your already down the damn stairs.

You run down stairs tears falling out of your eyes, fidgeting with your phone trying to call your friend to pick you up. Matt's right behind you trying to get your attention,"y/n! y/n!" no reply from you, your just trying to get out of that damn house.

You feel the alcohol starting to kick in,fuck.You think to yourself. Your hands finally grab the door handle and slam the door in matts face, everyone's attention lands on matt. He doesnt care about everyone else, he tries to get out the door. But that familiar blonde girl taps on his shoulder "matty, what was all that about?" she says. "Nothing, dont worry about it grace." he says in a harsh tone.

He runs back up the stairs telling Chris and Nick that they need to go.

As you walked out that door, your bestfriend nicole was there to pick you up. "hey babes, are you ok?" she asked in a gentle tone. You didnt answer and just nodded, your nose was red, your eyes were red with runny mascara running down. She could tell you were not okay, but she didnt want to bother you now.

2 weeks later..

19 missed calls from chris, 6 missed calls from nick and 2 texts from matt.

You didnt even bother checking your phone. You hadn't even ate in 5 days, hadn't took a shower in 2 weeks.

You just curled up into a ball in your bed in the hoodie that Matt gave you on your first date. Nicole had knocked on your door, asking to come in. You didn't answer so she took that as a no and left you alone.

While you were depressed Matt just partied and hid his feelings, Chris and Nick knew what was up but didn't dare to ask.

You finally had gotten the courage to check your phone and instantly went through Matt's instagram. Just to find,Her.Her.Her.Her.Her. She was in every photo she was even tagged. You clicked on her tag just to scroll to see her perfect body, thats all she posted.

After a hour you were done,you threw your phone and just cried into your pillow.

Matt had cried and sobbed, just never so anyone could see it. He always tried to text you and call you, he just never could hit the damn button.

You knew posting Gracie on your story would torment y/n and you always tried not to press that damn button. But you always did, Gracie wasn't the one you wanted. You wanted y/n and you fucked up that night. You were drunk and Gracie was there, you knew your brothers weren't gonna interfere but you damn well wish they would've.

You had issues and she had issues, you two loved each other to the point it hurt. You wished you could've prevented what happened that night, you had wished it never happened.

I always came to Nick always trying to get his opinion and screaming into his face for not stopping me from all of this. At the end of the night I would curl into his arms and bawling wishing he were y/n.

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

SO WHAT DO YALL THINK?

@christinarowie332 @strawberrysturniolo @mattitties @nicksnosering @chrisenthusiast @mattsgirlie @mattsnymphette @chrissolosa @chriscumsworld @sturncrazy @sturniolopowers @sturnioloskies @sturnisposts @mattsturnioloarchive @chrissturniolosbitch @mattsturniolosworld @chrissturniolosbf

Lemme know if you guys want a happy ending in part 2

[bloopitynoot]

Reading SVSSS: Chapter 19

For those who don't know, I am reading SVSSS for the first time and sharing my thoughts!

If you have not read it, there will be spoilers! Consider this a warning.

Also- if you want to follow along, I am aiming to post updates daily. You can find all the posts in the tag bloopitynoot reads SVSSS. You can also check out the intro post for context on my read.

Good morning!

Weird time for me to post this as I normally post at night- I know, but I am off work today. The reason for no tea, no work, and only water this morning is because I am getting tattooed this afternoon!

I'm getting a full sleeve in parts; today we are outlining half of the sleeve. I will for sure for sure post photos in my next chapter! I'm so stoked. Oh I did not mention it, but It's a sleeve dedicated to tea so really tea in spirit with today's chapter :P

Let's get into Shen Jiu:

oh god. He went from one dream realm to another dream realm! p205

Oh shit; meng mo really saved his soul from being torn up in that other dream. p205

Honestly SQQ, I too would want to immediately see LBH after that experience. If anything, I would just want to make sure he was still the nice LBH and not the horror show I had just experienced in there. p206

ah! Meng Mo did interfere with Qiu Haitang in the mausoleum. I was wondering what all was happening with her hysterics in there; but dang that was dark showing her SJ's memories. Poor girl had her entire worldview switched p208

I am not emotionally ready to know what SJ went through. Ugh, here we go anyways.

Okay but I kind of really feel bad for Qiu Haitang- the girl really didnt know what was happening. her own brother from the very first day hid the mistreatment. SJ was really treated so fucking awfully. :( p213

Not his name being the number of him being trafficked :(((((( p213

Damn. I was really hoping we would find out who SJ's friend was. Though I do feel like it is someone we know already. I feel like it's Liu Qingge (don't actually tell me though!) -> we will find out later I suspect. p217

The way I exhaled at "You don't even count as human, and you want to be an immortal?" p219

I felt so bad during that "murder scene". Like fuck, I don't even blame SJ, when it all started. He finally killed the guy after almost a decade of abuse and he was once again trying to protect himself from harm. p221-222

Well. The bloodbath after his initial escape and slew of murders was a little unhinged LOL. p223

ooof. "no more waiting". p225

LOL this memory just turned into the plot of holes there. A bunch of children digging holes without end. Is this where SJ finds luo Binghe??? p227

Okay yes he did find him here and he was already peak master at this point (not for long but still). p228

I am glad that the generational naming convention was explained! Similar to MDZS jin's, the Cang Qiong Mountain sect names generationally. I was really wondering why everyone had "Qing". yay for explanation. p229

What the heck. Liu Qingge is rude as fuck: Shen Jiu said mildly, "Good talent doesn't guarantee success." Liu Qingge didn't even grace him with a sideways glance. "But certainly more success than a nobody who only began proper cultivation at age sixteen." p230

I'm having complicated feelings about OG SJ. Like -> his story is fucked and he was very badly damaged as a child, HOWEVER him treating Luo Binghe the way he did and just creating a cycle of violence is not okay. :( p234

My HEART! Luo Binghe's baby tears :(( p235. also him only crying the first day being 'punished' and when he had to bury his mom himself. what the fuck.

Bro that's so awkward for SQQ; waking up to find out he was crying and calling for LBH in his unconscious state and everyone knowing about it. p237

LOL SQQ not upset that LBH is manhandling him but that LBH said his eyelashes were long XD p239

<SCREAMING>

That last page! AAAAAAH. Him admitting he really missed LBH while hugging uuuugh.

[setaripendragon]

Okay, now I'm kinda interested in what the Kingsman "The King's Whores" wip is about...

=D I am so glad you asked!

Basically, it's a post!Secret Service (not Golden Circle or King's Man compliant) fic where Harry gets found alive and comes back to take the position of Arthur, and the first thing he has to do is replace a bunch of agents who died because of the four minutes of murder.

Eggsy decides that his own appointment wasn't scandalous enough, and not only does Kingsman have a classism problem, it also has a sexism problem, and goes trawling the east end's street hookers for his candidates for the trials.

The story is told from the PoV of a street hooker called Emma who is Massively Confused about this rich-ass chav who's paying her and a bunch of other girls a lot of money for the privilege of... taking them to dinner at the Ritz?

The plan is to have Eggsy run a couple of 'tests' to check for general comatibility (the ritz), physical ability (free running? laser tag? adult-sized jungle gym? I haven't decided yet), and some sort of puzzle-solving/detectiving skills (city wide treasure hunt? some sort of pin the tail on the asshole rich guy??? still a bit vague on this one, ngl) and Emma eventually gets bonus points for pretty much figuring out what Eggsy's looking for and possibly catching him bugging them all and such.

And the grand finale is going to be Eggsy presenting these three to Merlin as his candidates, and ALL of the other agents and candidates pulling faces as the girls fly through the Kingsman tests in a little epilogue montage and, like, two out of three of them getting the job or something.

(Harry thinks it's delightful, and fist-bumps Eggsy when Emma's knighted, much to the agony of all the other stuffed-up inbred aristocrats in Kingsman)

Have an excerpt:

“If you want us to get in your car, you’re gonna have to tell us where the hell you’re taking us.” Emma informed him with a grimace. So far, he’d been remarkably polite and respectful, but she knew full well just how quickly that could change once a bloke didn’t need to be. And sure, there were more of them than there were of him, but she couldn’t guarantee on it staying that way.

Eggsy thought about it for a moment, then nodded in a ‘that’s fair’ sort of way. “Dinner at at the Ritz.” He informed them blandly, and then grinned with mischief.

“Bullshit.” Emma snapped.

Eggsy sobered up at that, but he didn’t look angry to be called out, or even irritated. He just looked sombre. “I give you my word, that’s all. Dinner, two hours, and I’ll drop you all back here in exactly the same condition you’re in now, only better fed, and maybe a little bit tipsy. They got good wine there.” He put his hands up in a gesture of surrender. “And you don’t have to come. The money’s yours whether you do or don’t, but hey, when else’re you gonna get to make all the waiters at the Ritz uncomfortable as hell?”

That was tempting, Emma had to admit, but she also had her kids to think about, and if she got abducted, who the hell would look after them? “Your word?” Laura challenged, unimpressed.

“A true gentleman never breaks his word.” Eggsy replied sincerely, and it was an odd thing to hear in such a common accent, but Emma was pretty good at reading people, and she was pretty damn sure he meant it.

[sunwarmed-ash]

🔥Sinful Sunday🔥

heyooooooooo this week has been really tough mentally and physically as I've been healing so I got a shorter post this week for you. But I also posted a bunch of wips earlier this month.

HOT TO GO!

This prompt comes to you from @tentoriumcerebelli!!! Harringriveson pool party, for this hot summer weather!

Ship: Harringroveson Fandom: Stranger Things Rating: Mature(for now) Tags: Post season 3 everyone lives, lifeguard Billy, pool/summer time, flirting, established Steddie, pre slash, gay billy hargrove, queer eddie munson, bi steve harrington Preview:

Steve’s gonna kill those gaggle of dipshits for making him come here. Because really, since he found out Hargrove was lifeguarding the pool again, through an unfortunate eavesdropped conversation at the Wheeler's house, the last place he wants to be is in the man's presence again.

They haven't spoken more than a few compulsory words to each other since October. Of ‘84. It’s currently June of ‘86. In that time Steve has graduated, officially ended things with Nancy, discovered he’s bisexual, and started dating Eddie Munson on the down low. Not because either of them are ashamed of the other, but because in a town like Hawkins, discretion is required for survival.

That also may have been a factor when Steve allowed the kids to drag him here. He knew Eddie would also be here, he had shown up damn near every day since the pool reopened. Because, well, turns out, Steve wasn’t the only one with unresolved ‘feelings’ for Californian Dickhead Billy Hargrove.

[lilac-hecox]

ok i was going through your speculation tag bc i wanted to know what was up with kimmy and then just ended up catching up on the whole anthony/mykie speculation and then did some of my own detective work. i saw that someone assumed that anthony and mykie are living separately rn and anthony is staying in the smosh/pressalike studio while mykie is staying at their shared place, and i wanted to see if i can find any evidence of this.

so basically through looking at a bunch of pics i can say that anthony is definitely not staying at the smosh/pressalike studio but he may also not be staying in his space with mykie?

here are pics we have of the smosh/pressalike kitchen, from this member community post and the sleepwalking disaster bts. the things to note about this kitchen is the way the knobs for the stove are on the right of the stove and how the shelves of the kitchen are white in color and there's white cabinets.

here are the pictures of anthony in a kitchen during the iconic ian-gives-anthony-frozen-soup saga. this is clearly not the same kitchen as the one in the smosh/pressalike studio bc the knobs of the stove are on the bottom of the stove and there are light brown cabinets in the kitchen. other things to note about this kitchen in the vent on the wall and what might be knives in the background behind anthony? hard to tell bc blurry af.

and now for the real kicker, what i am assuming is anthony and mykie's kitchen in their shared home (also an ian for vibes bc how could i crop him out). at first i though maybe this is all bs bc of the knives in the background of the above being similar to the below pic, but there's some stuff that makes me think it's a different kitchen. the most obvious is that there is not air vent above the cabinets in the picture with ian, which is pretty damning unless he like added another air vent to his kitchen. Also the color, pattern, and shape of the soup cabinets are different from the cabinets in the pic below. there is no upper lip on the soup cabinets, and the way there seem's to be a longer cabinet that extends down on the left of anthony is just not seen in the picture below. the soup cabinets are also a lighter brown, and i don't thinks it's just because of the lighting bc the ones below are also stripey while the soup cabinets seem to be more of a flat color.

anyways, all of this is me basically wondering the age old question: where's anthony? ian gave him frozen soup, this is a fact. so where tf did anthony end up reheating it? it def isn't the smosh/pressalike studio and i would say i'm 95% it isn't the kitchen in the background of the ian with dog photo.

sorry this was super long and i probably seem absolutely batshit insane, but being a long time supernatural fan truly did change my brain chemistry and caused me to develop an extremely unnecessary skillset.

This is Sarah Christ levels of detective work and I applaud this! I also did see a theory floating about that Anthony is staying in a new place that is neither the new Smosh house nor the the house he and Mykie bought. This was because of his interior shots and also the videos of him smoking weed out on the balcony of what could be the new place.

This is all very interesting and I appreciate and salute your hard work!

[animementrash]

Sigh too much

Pairing: Levi Ackerman x Reader

Tags: Fluff, she/her pronouns for reader, they/them pronouns for Hange, implied canonverse scenario, Levi is DENSE

A/N: Heya! This is my first time posting my drabbles, I made my New Year resolution to get out of my comfort zone and post what I write, so any comment/feedback is really appreciated! Hope you like this short drabble! ♥

Levi’s heavy footsteps echoed through the hall as he walked towards the meeting room turned into office at the end of the hall. Without knocking he opened the door, his frown deeper than usual.

“Erwin, I want to switch offices. Now.” His raspy voice sounded annoyed and almost desperate.

“Pardon?” Answered Erwin as he looked up from his paperwork and towards the angry Captain at the door.

“I know you heard me. I need that done now.” The tone in his voice made it clear he wasn’t negotiating but demanding that action.

This whole situation surfaced after all the higher ups from the Scouting Legion were asked to evacuate their offices due to a much-needed renovation; thanks to the latest expeditions and the success on capturing not one but two titans, the Scouts had regained popularity among citizens and this leaded to a rise in their government subside which was eventually used to renovate the headquarters, starting by the offices.

“Levi, I understand your new office isn’t as neat or big as your previous one but…” His words were cut short by a loud snore coming from the desk next to his, there laid a sleepy Hange, pen still in hand and a bunch of papers scattered across the desk. “What I mean to say is, we all made sacrifices for the sake of the renovations…” Erwin looked at him with a blank stare, not intimidated by the enraged stare from the captain.

“You can send four-eyes in my place” Levi offered, still fixed on his target.

“Hange must remain next to me, for they are the next in command after me. And you know it.” Erwin was still unfazed by Levi’s persistence. Levi groaned and slammed his fists on the desk with an angry look. “I can’t work under those conditions” He mumbled still upset.

“What conditions?” A sleepy Hange spoke while they sat up and fixed their glasses.

“Enlighten us Levi, what conditions are you talking about?” Erwin added and leaned back into his chair.

Levi removed his hands from the desk and fixed his uniform before speaking.

“She, she sighs too much…” He spoke in almost a whisper, his attitude totally different to the one he had when he entered the office.

“I’m sorry what?” Said Erwin confused. “Sigh too much? What are you even talking about shorty??” Added Hange with a chuckle.

“You heard me! She sighs too damn much, it’s distracting” Levi’s voice sounded desperate and somewhat confused, was he really complaining about a sigh?

“Levi, do you have super hearing or something? Because honestly, I have a hard time hearing people talk, let alone sigh!” Hange barked a laugh, it was obvious this whole thing was very entertaining to them.

“Levi, I don’t think sighing is a problem as big as you see it” Erwin finally spoke as he tried to hide the smirk this whole situation put on his face.

“But it’s annoying and distracting! Also, she always has this silly smile on her face and her dumb perfume is too sweet...” The more Levi spoke the more stupid he felt. Why was he complaining about this?

“There, I sighed! Did you hear it, Levi?” Hange said still laughing, Levi didn’t even bother on looking at them, his piercing gaze fixed on the Commander. “So, I will have to just deal with it?”

“Levi, I’m afraid there isn’t much I can do regarding this matter…if you want, we can maybe…” Erwin couldn’t even finish his sentence before an enraged yet flustered Levi left the room.

Again, his heavy footsteps echoed as he walked away, Erwin let out a sigh and cleared his throat before continuing with his paperwork.

“So, how long until he finally understands why he’s hyperaware of all her movements?” Asked Hange with a soft voice.

“Not sure, but one thing I do know and that is that putting them both in the same office was the best decision to speed up whatever there is between the two…” said Erwin with a chuckle.

“Hope she manages to take the first step before Levi comes here again complaining about the way she breathes…” Added Hange and both chuckled before returning to their tasks.

[brynnmclean]

in the core of everything drums a beat - snippets round up post

Actually, not a bad idea to have some kind of post with all the Hellblade fic fragments I've posted so far. In vague order of how they should fit together chronologically in the fic:

Chapter one

Rough draft of chapter one where Thórgestr is having a lot of fever dreams (there was an earlier post with a small section that I think is still my favorite in the chapter)

Also from chapter one, but I think @eisoj5 asking me for "and" as a word in that WIP meme remains hilarious, so here's that post

Chapter two

Part of chapter two and the introduction of my Irish healer OC Iseult

Thórgestr awake and making a very bad joke about getting stabbed, my beloved

First Senua Giantsbane name drop!

"Is my father dead?" "He's alive. He's an exile."

I'm really fond of Fargrímr and I do think he cares about Thórgestr, so this is a nice little moment for that

Chapter three

Intro to the chapter where half-asleep Thórgestr eavesdrops on a conversation between Senua and Fargrímr

There is so much in the game about Thórgestr's dad so why not feature a dream of his mother, here's her introduction

I gave her some very specific spirit vibes :)

You know, lot of emphasis on being your father's child, but Thórgestr is also his mother's son and I think that's important. Also I know surnames are patronymic, but there was that whole thing in the game about the importance of names, chosen names included, and so I really dig the idea of Thórgestr privately thinking of himself as Eindridson. (Also I like prophecies and love the idea of Eindrid as ghostly fate-spirit predicting how Áleifr will die... Honestly, chapter three is a fave!)

Thórgestr probably forgot what his mother's face looked like, so of course he's afraid to look away from her when she appears in his dreams

You ever write a bunch of fun images and then have a friend brainstorm plot developments with you later when you're at a loss on what kind of object you might need characters to go find, so of course your friend is like, "hey, you already wrote what you need." Just me? (thanks @allatariel <3)

Chapter four (current one I'm working on)

The beginning of the chapter

Part of a midnight conversation between Senua and Thórgestr, early in the chapter

A moment I think is cute at the end of that scene

"Your father is gone. So is mine. But I’ll have what I’m owed. Tell me, Thórgestr," Ástríðr says, "what is your regret worth? What of your word?"

UPDATED: This is now Chapter six because I have lost control of my outline again!!!

A funny part of a conversation with another OC, this one a Bjarg skáld who pitches a marriage of convenience between Senua and Thórgestr to his utter bewilderment

Chapter... uh, current outline says eight... JUST KIDDING it's Chapter ten now

One of my favorite parts I've written for the whole damn thing even now -- Thórgestr doing sword drills alone on a beach near Bárðarvik

Thórgestr and Fargrímr conversation snippets one and two that are actually part of a larger scene

Other posts:

My fanmix / fic playlist post

Others Narration transcription posts (6 total)

My video games screenshots tag

The overall tag for this fic is hertan writing tag

Feel free to author subscribe on AO3 if you want to catch the fic drop whenever that happens in the future

[rocketyship]

So what’s the deal with Harlan and Autumn? I remember Harlan being apart of a different AU and Autumn being more robot-y

So glad you asked anonymous darling! Harlan and Autumn are what I like to call artificial humans. As in this reboot I really want play around with ideas of organic machinery. As stated in the post about the trumpets, one of the angels has gone missing and his garden fell. But to what? Well a bunch of humans who don’t like being ruled over by the angels, and thus have been going about their time by trying to figure out how to kill one and build an army that the angels won’t expect coming.

The two of them are experiments within the facility and are very close to each other. (Much to one particular guy’s dismay). And when they are not in training simulations, tests, or other experiments, they just kind of hang around each other as much as they can.

Harlan is his own crazy thing, but simply for this tumblr post, he is like this world’s “AM” well more like a part of him (truth be told the true Hate filled menace in this world is Marah). After the war, the ai that caused it and destroyed practically everything was dismantled by the trumpets, who have pretty much outlawed it since and have a way of detecting and destroying it as soon as there is a slight spark of life. But our darling “we don’t need no angels” came up with the idea of putting bits of the old machine into artificial android like creatures that could blend into the other gardens as well be some damn good soldiers. Harlan is one of these. Personality wise he is also very different. He is quiet (to the point most believe him mute) , calm, calculating but still very petty and a massive jerk in his own special way.

Autumn is not the same thing as Harlan, they are very different creatures. Him and a few others were originally an ai meant for data analysis, code development, and accounting. However one thing I have kept from the original is that Autumn still has every sensation turned all the way up, and is for no better ways to describe it. Tortured by the humans running the garden.

(Mild gore warning!)

Now if you are wondering how they have ended up with BE. It’s a matter of both Harlan and Autumn are under the impression she is the same thing as them. Autumn believing she is war machine like Harlan, Harlan thinking she’s one of the living calculators/analysis drone that Autumn is. As to them she just showed up one day like a newer versions often do. Yet she was very set on hanging around Autumn, one night telling him that she knows a way out and that they should go. Autumn, already afraid of literally everything, didn’t really want to go but also didn’t want to be rude to BE, and said he wouldn’t leave without Harlan. And the rest is brilliantly summarised in this single image.

And thus these three escaped the fallen garden, and are currently driving around whilst having to deal with Angels, humans trying to capture them, and the other odd duo that decides to tag along as well at some point.

Fun fact: BE and Harlan haven’t had a single conversation, and BE firmly believes that Autumn must be lying when he says that ol’ Harley is actually very funny.