#(actually putting some meaning behind the word rambles in that tag ^^)

[violetsareblue-selfships]

good morning!! <333

[parfaitblogs]

risk ❀ s. reid x reader

in which you have the sweetest regular, and it’s probably too soon to tell him you love him!

pairing: spencer reid x barista!reader genre: fluff tags: s1 spencer. who rambles. biblically accurate career!reader sorry if some of the coffee talk makes no sense to you. reader makes all the first moves. y'all kiss (aww). written in timeskip sorta it's not crazy (like maybe a month). not proofread sorryyy (im not). word count: 2.2k a/n: first instalment of my spencer reid eras tour🙂‍↕️ season 1 spencer reid i freaking adore you. he's so cute. gif!! i thought gifs in this series could be cute lol. envisioned 1x10 spencer bc of his nightmares if that means anything. enjoyyy ily im off to work 🏃 

series masterlist

There are many reasons you come to work each morning. The money (an obvious one), your coworkers who usually make each day a little bit more bearable. And Spencer. A regular who had become a little notorious for having an odd coffee order, that most of the store workers hated making. 

Except for you. 

It wasn't especially odd. But in a store that thrived on making the perfect cup of coffee, sometimes it meant remaking it three or four times because the shots didn't pour at the right amount of time, and recalibrating the machine was a hassle you all didn't want to deal with in the middle of the morning rush he usually came during. 

You had taken note of him the first few times he came in — always keeping to himself, flashing the most awkward smile you think you've ever seen on a human being, and ordering his old order (a large latte with as much sugar as you could fit in the cup). It was by the seventh time that had you thinking of him a little more often than just while you were at work. 

He looked a lot more exhausted than usual. His usually tame hair now loose and hanging over his face as he took a weary step towards the counter, fingers brushing strands away and tucking them behind his ears. 

"The latte, right?" you had asked him, and he had frozen, and you stood in fear of this not being the Spencer you thought he was, and you had just asked a total stranger about a coffee they've never ordered. 

But then he let out a nervous laugh, shaking his head. "Uh, no. Not today. Um—do you guys have a limit on how much coffee I can have?"

Your eyebrows furrowed. "No... we don't. I wouldn't recommend any more than like five shots in our largest size, though. It'd probably taste gross. But we can add as much as you need."

"Five's good. Yeah," he nodded his head, fingers wrapped tightly around the leather strap of his messenger bag. 

"Just... a five shot latte?" you clarified, and he froze again, shaking his head once more. 

"Do you recommend anything else? I—uh, I want it to be sweet enough still."

"I can do you a mocha?" you offered. "White chocolate mocha if you're looking for it to be even sweeter."

"I'll try that," he nodded his head, and out came his awkward smile, which had you smiling back just as awkwardly. 

Which was how he got to his current usual. It honestly became a test to ensure your coffee machines were actually running well, considering pulling five well-done espresso shots at once was no easy feat. And, again, most of your coworkers hated making his drink. 

Which was why it was palmed off to you. Every single morning without fail. And maybe in another universe you would join them in the hatred for this man's frustrating drink order. But then, in that universe, you wouldn't get to talk to him every morning (and slowly break him out of whatever shell he had locked himself up in). 

"I never asked," you began, staring at him over the top of the coffee machine while putting white chocolate fudge into the bottom of the cup. "Why did you change your order randomly?"

He parted his lips and his eyebrows creased together for a few seconds, as if he was deciding whether or not to tell you. You were kind of grateful he concluded on trusting you. 

"I wasn't really sleeping. When I asked about changing my order," he explained, hands letting go of the bag strap so he could talk with them. "Then I guess I just liked the taste of it? And it kept me awake. Which is a bonus."

"I can imagine it would," you nodded your head in agreement, flashing him a small smile, which he returned, bashfully. "Why weren't you sleeping?"

He went silent, and you almost cursed yourself for asking. Maybe you had gone too far. It was why, when you had begun to busy yourself with making his drink a little faster, you jumped when he spoke up again.

"I was getting these nightmares," he said, and your head lifted from the milk you were steaming. "Because of what I do for work."

"Law, right?" you asked, and he let out a small laugh, tucking hair behind his ear. 

"Sort of. I'm with the FBI."

"Oh, that's right," you replied, nodding your head in recognition. He had said that to you at some point in the earlier days when he first started coming in, because you had asked where he works so close by to be coming in as often as he did. "Can you tell me what part? Or is that confidential?"

"No, no, I can. I'm with the Behavioural Analysis Unit," when your face twisted into confusion, he added, "We use psychology to analyse serial killers and catch them. Well, not just serial killers, actually. But that's what we focus on."

"And it works?" you asked, eyebrows rising as you placed a lid atop his coffee, sliding it out on the pick-up section where he was standing by. His face fell slightly, and so you were quick to add, "Not—I didn't mean it like that. I just mean I'm shocked. That psychology is all you really need to catch a serial killer."

"It's not all we need. There's a lot of other elements that go into finding one. But our primary focus is how their brain works and we use behavioural science to figure that out. Actually, we used to be called the Behavioural Science Unit when it was first created."

He was too busy talking animatedly with his hands for him to have picked up his coffee, and you were too busy watching him with a smile to remind him it was ready. 

When he did reach for it, you could feel the familiar pang of disappointment that had started shooting through you every time he was picking up his coffee and leaving. A weird sensation that left you clawing at the walls of your brain to come up with something to say to keep him there. 

It was probably why you blurted out, "Are you seeing anyone?" Which was followed by stunned silence from him, and regretful silence from yourself. What a question. 

Slowly, he began to shake his head, his lips twitching into a confused frown. "No. I'm—I'm not." 

It shocked you a little. He wasn't jaw dropping, per se. But he was attractive. You had said it a few times to your coworkers whenever they asked why you talked to him so much — there was a running joke that you were already secretly dating him behind their backs. Not funny.

"I was just wondering if you wanted to..." you hesitated. "Go out for dinner? Maybe? I'm so sorry if I'm totally overstepping. In fact, I encourage you to say no, because this is a little weird. I'm so sorry," you rambled when you were met with only silence from him, wondering if you had weirded him out of the ability to talk. 

"With me?" he pushed out, his voice a little higher pitched than usual, and you nodded your head, because maybe he wasn't weirded out. Maybe you had just flustered him. You hoped so, at least.

"Yeah," you said. "Is that weird? Or is it okay? To ask that?"

"It's okay. Yeah. Yes. I would love—like to. I mean, that would be nice. Yeah," he stammered, and you smiled. 

"Here," you held your hand out and gestured for his coffee, taking it back and picking up a Sharpie to write your number atop the lid, before you slid it back to him. "I get off work at one. Call me?"

"I will," he nodded, eyes fixated on the number for a few seconds more, before he returned his eyes to you. "I will. Um—bye!" he took a step back, and you let out a loud laugh when he stumbled into a chair behind him. 

He was sheepish as he waved to you, bidding you another goodbye, the sound of the bell above the door ringing once, and then again when it fell shut. 

And you had, somehow, secured a date with Spencer.

Which turned into two dates. Then three. And then, with some weird stroke of luck and twist of fate, you were spending every evening you could at his apartment, and him at yours. 

But you were yet to kiss. 

Not by any particular reason. Really, nothing either of you did ever really called for a kiss. Which was as frustrating as it was understandable. Frustrating, because you felt like you were simply friends, who sometimes went out for dinner, and had feelings for each other. But he had told you very early on he'd never been with anyone before, let alone ever been on a date. Hence; understandable. 

But frustration was more overwhelming than you had thought, because you were on his couch, blanket draped over both of your bodies, as he read you a book — The Chameleon. A short story by Anton Chekhov (an author whom you were only barely familiar with). And yet, all you could think about was kissing him. 

In your defence, he was very kissable, as you stared at his lips while he spoke, your heart stuttering quite uncomfortably in your chest. You weren't sure what it was precisely about him that made him like that. Maybe it was the natural pout of his lips, or how they twitched in humour at the little jokes Chekhov had written into the book that only made sense in Russian, despite him attempting to translate it for you. 

Whatever it was, it was overriding your senses, and in true Spencer fashion, he hadn't noticed you weren't intently listening to his reading until he glanced down to catch a reaction to something he said. You caught as he closed the book and placed it off to the side, jostling you from your haze. 

"You don't like the book, do you?" he asked, and you were quick to shake your head. 

"No, I do," which was true. The parts you were actively listening to you enjoyed. "Sorry, I'm distracted."

"By what?" he shifted on the couch to face you.

You fell silent at that, the answer hanging on the tip of your tongue, unsure whether or not saying it could ruin things. You didn't think it would. "You."

"I'm distracting?" he asked, eyebrows creasing together and a confused frown pulling his lips down. 

Which confused you. "Yes?"

"I don't think I'm meant to be sorry for that," he said. "But I am."

"You shouldn't be," you breathed out with a small laugh. 

"Right," he nodded his head, laughing too, awkwardly. "How am I distracting?"

You studied his face for a few moments, which ended up being a pathetic excuse for a lip study, because you were fixated on them again, and you decided Spencer probably didn't even realise that that was what you were doing. 

"We haven't kissed yet," you told him, instead. 

"No. We haven't," he agreed. 

"Do you just not want to kiss me?" you asked.

He did that thing he does when he's thinking — furrowed eyebrows and parted lips, eyes blinking a few times, before he comes up with his response. 

"I just don't want you to be disappointed. I've never kissed anyone before."

"I concluded that," you answered. "I won't be disappointed."

"You might be," he mumbled, and his gaze averted from your own, which had another smile stretching across your lips. 

"Only one way to find out, right?"

He hesitated before nodding his head, lifting his eyes back up to look at you. It was then that you learned that, like everything else, you might have to make the first move on him. Again.

The thought made you laugh, and though he wanted to, he didn't get a chance to question why you were laughing, because your hands were on his face and you were pulling him into you, lips meeting his in a gentle kiss that elicited a surprised squeak from him. 

"You've gotta kiss me back," you murmured against his lips, and his response was a quiet 'oh'. 

But he was a fast learner, because soon after he was. Objectively, it wasn't the best kiss you've ever had in your life. But it got better by the second, and he was doing enough to make your heart stutter in your chest, his hands reaching up to cup your own face, palms and fingers covering the mass of your cheeks. 

His hands there provided him the ability to keep you there, and you had to pry them off your face so you were able to pull back for air, breaths coming out in short pants. Only for a short second, because he was chasing your lips again, and you laughed, before letting him kiss you again. And again. And again. 

Until both of you were out of air, and he was glassy-eyed and pink-lipped. Though, you were probably his mirror image of that.

And he smiled at you, crookedly. And you wondered if it was too soon to say you loved him. 

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated dearly ♡

[levis-poison-is-my-medicine]

Tea Lovers

A Levi x reader fanfic (Flufftober 2024)

Crossposted from AO3

Maybe your love for tea is the only thing you have in common. Maybe your biggest talent is annoying the shit out of Levi, and still somehow always getting away with it. But maybe he wouldn't have it any other way.

tags: fluff and humor, silly and sweet, tea-obsessed fem!reader with their head in the clouds (word count: 3.33k)

(Levi x reader Masterlist)

"Please?", you asked Erwin for the umpteenth time, making puppy dog eyes while trying to keep up with him as he walked swiftly back towards his office.

The moment he had seen you making his way towards him, his steps had significantly picked up speed, but you didn't even notice, too busy trying to put as much pathos into your voice as possible. This would be your last chance, so you were dead set on convincing him this time.

"Pretty please? Pretty pretty please?"

But as always, your pleas fell on deaf ears. None of your tactics worked on him. You had been begging Erwin to take you with him for weeks.

The moment you heard he was heading to Mitras for work, you knew you just had to go with him, but for some reason, he said no every time you asked him.

Maybe this was because you had no business being there, only occupying a low rank in the scouts. Maybe it was because you had a habit of talking too much. Either way, he didn't seem too keen on the idea.

Erwin let out an exasperated breath. "As I said before, this is a meeting between the military leaders of the three divisions. You won't be able to attend."

He gave you a stern look, but it was lost on you.

"Besides, I am only there for a day anyway, so what would you even want to do there?", Erwin added in a final desperate attempt to discourage you. Needless to say, it didn't work.

"I'm glad you asked!", you said excitedly, a little out of breath since you had to break into a little jog to keep up with his long strides. This didn't stop you from rambling, though. It never did.

"I promise I will stay out of your hair! In fact, you won't even notice I'm there. Because while you're doing your official commander business, I'll be out on an important mission myself, roaming the streets of the city, looking for the good stuff. The kind they only sell in Mitras, you know? The finest, fanciest first class shit only reserved for royalty and aristocrats. I will get it all! Well maybe not all... But as much as I can afford! I saved all of my wages for the fateful day that I would be allowed to step foot into the capital and–"

"So you're saying it was never your intention to attend the meeting?", Erwin interrupted you.

You blinked at him. "Well...no. I thought that was obvious. Why would someone like me be there?" You were just a common soldier, after all. "I only need a ride there and back again."

Erwin groaned.

"Why didn't you lead with that? I can't believe you pestered me all this time because you wanted to go on a shopping spree...", he muttered, defeated.

You perked up at his words, eyes twinkling with hope.

"Does that mean you'll let me go with you?."

He dragged a hand across his face and sighed. "Fine. If that means you'll finally leave me alo–"

"Yay!", you interrupted him, the biggest goofy grin plastered across your face as you broke into a small victory dance. "I promise you will not regret this!"

"I don't know about that...", Erwin mumbled, having finally reached the safety of his office. He unlocked the door, attempting to shut it before you could enter, but you slipped in right behind him, much to his chagrin.

"Is there something else?", he asked, looking between you and the mountains of paperwork he would still have to finish before leaving for Mitras first thing tomorrow morning.

"I just wanted to say...thank you, commander", you said, still smiling widely.

"I'll be forever in your debt! If you ever need help with something, anything, don't hesitate to ask me! Big or small, be it manual labor or administrative stuff I'll–"

"Actually", he interrupted the exuberant stream of words gushing out from your mouth, his eyes on the documents sitting on his desk. "I might have something you could help me with."

– –

The next morning you practically skipped to the carriage which would take you to the ship, barely able to contain your enthusiasm.

Erwin was walking alongside you, eyeing you incredulously. He knew you couldn't have gotten much sleep last night as you had stayed up with him, working your way through all the paperwork, but it didn't seem to affect you much.

Another surprise to add to the list then, since last night he had already been astonished to discover that despite your seemingly airheaded nature, you were actually quite a serious worker with attention to detail.

Quite frankly, he hadn't expected much when he had enlisted your help yesterday, but your ability to focus on such a mundane task for so long made him reconsider the preconceived notions he had about you. Maybe you weren't so bad, after all.

You were still chattering away in joyous anticipation as you climbed into the carriage, not minding the fact that Erwin didn't say much in return, when suddenly you stopped dead in your tracks.

There was another person inside the coach.

He looked up at the sudden noise, a blank expression on his face, and your eyes widened in recognition.

Sitting there with his legs crossed, book in hand, was none other than Levi Ackerman. You never had the chance to speak with him before, as you were part of a different squad, but of course you knew who he was.

Delighted, you thrust out a hand and introduced yourself. He stared at it with raised eyebrows, not returning the gesture. "I'm Levi–"

"I know", you said happily. "You're Captain Levi. I'm so pleased to finally meet you." You slid into the seat across from him, allowing Erwin to enter behind you. "I had no idea that you were coming with us. Erwin must have forgotten to mention it."

His eyebrows wandered even higher at your familiar way of addressing the commander, and he shot Erwin a glance.

"Don't ask", the man mumbled as he sat down next to Levi. This was just the way you were with people. He had given up trying to correct you.

Levi hummed, turning his attention back to the book in his lap. It was a long ride ahead and he was looking forward to reading in peace.

Clearly you had other plans in mind. "So I take it you will sit in on the meeting with Erwin?", you asked, unperturbed.

Levi scowled, looking back up.

"Yes", he said flatly, then attempted to focus on the book once again.

"Figures. With you being humanity's strongest, and all", you said, nodding.

He tutted irritably, eyes still trained on the pages.

There was a moment of silence which actually allowed him to parse the meaning of the sentence he had been re-reading for the fourth time now. However, it was short-lived.

"There's this one famous shop I'm dying to visit, though", you started.

Levi snapped the book shut. He was now full-on death-glaring at you, but you gave no notice, just happy you had his attention.

"You should go there, too, if you get the chance. It has the rarest, finest–"

"You should try to get some rest. How can you be so full of energy after last night?", Erwin interrupted you, trying to salvage the situation. He had watched Levi's eyes growing narrower and narrower and was honestly fearing for your life at this point.

"Why, it's only the power of black tea! Two pots, to be exact", you replied eagerly.

"Two...pots?", Erwin repeated, dumbfounded.

"Well, usually the two pots are reserved for getting me out of the food coma after lunch, and I only have one in the morning. Can't face the dread of getting up without it. But today called for more, since it's a special occasion." You gave him a warm smile. "Thanks again for letting me tag along."

"You're welcome", Erwin said, still a bit taken aback by the sheer amount of tea you consumed. He glanced at Levi, who was still looking at you, the glare on his face now replaced with his usual deadpan expression, and heaved a sigh of relief.

"If you ever need help with paperwork again, just give me a holler. It was actually kind of fun", you said, still smiling.

"You have a strange definition of fun", Erwin muttered, shaking his head. "But I will." He rubbed his eyes, which were dry from the lack of sleep.

"I'm glad. You look a bit...overworked", you pointed out, taking in the bags under his eyes. They were so pronounced that even you noticed them.

"I'm just tired. I'll try to get in some shut-eye on the way."

"Got it. I'll keep my mouth shut." You grinned.

Fortunately for the two men, you spent the rest of the ride glued to the window, quietly taking in the sights around you.

– –

Your silence lasted until you got to the boat, then you just couldn't keep it in anymore.

"Wow, this view is breathtaking", you said as you leaned against the railing of the ferry, looking out onto the river leading you deeper inside Wall Sina with big eyes, hair fluttering in the stiff breeze.

"Don't you think it's amazing how fast this moves? With this speed, we'll be in Mitras in no time."

"You act like you've never ridden on a ferry before", Levi said dryly.

He and Erwin were standing some distance away from the railing to avoid the sharp winds.

"That's because I haven't."

He shot you a surprised look, watching as you craned your head up towards the steel wires suspended above the river which helped the barge move.

"Did you know that these boat can carry up to 150 tons? That's like 300 cows or something."

"I'm sure cows are heavier than that", Erwin said.

"300 horses, then", you said. "My point remains. These wires are strong as hell"

"They are indeed", Erwin conceded.

"I didn't know farm animals were an accepted unit of weight", Levi deadpanned. "You forgot the pigs."

"Hmm", you went, seriously considering the answer. "Maybe about 750? They are much lighter than horses."

Levi shook his head at your earnest response and watched as you leaned even further over the railing, putting your entire weight on your upper body.

"If she keeps this up, she's gonna end up falling in."

Erwin hummed in agreement. Neither of them made a move to stop you.

"I'm going inside", Levi said, taking out his book again. He hadn't planned on being outside at all, but you had insisted, sputtering nonsense about the beauty of nature and taking in the sights.

As he sat down to read, he couldn't help but to take a last look out the window at the deck, half-expecting you to have fallen into the river already.

But you were still there, arms stretched out at the surface of the water like you were trying to touch it, an expression of pure and utter delight on your face.

"Idiot", he mumbled, and turned his attention back to the book.

This wouldn't be the last time he glanced up to check on you.

– –

After you had reached Mitras, you were quick to run off the boat.

"Let's meet here again for the last ferry of the day", Erwin called after you, not sure if you even heard him.

He watched you disappear into the crowd of people and sighed.

"What am I going to do with her..."

– –

You made it back just in time before the boat departed, waving at the two men who waited at the dock as you ran towards them.

Out of breath, you skidded to a halt in front of them.

"You're late", Levi said with apparent distaste.

"I'm...sorry", you panted. "Got lost...on my way back. I didn't know the capital was...this damn big."

"It's fine. I'm glad you made it", Erwin said mildly.

You were still wheezing and clutching your sides, a single bag inside your left hand.

"That's it?", Erwin asked, gesturing at the bag as you made your way onto the ferry. "I thought you wanted to go on this grand shopping tour and spend all of your money."

"Oh yeah, I did! I went all out and splurged everything on this!", you said excitedly. "I can't wait to show you."

Levi watched the exchange with raised eyebrows.

"Everything I heard about the capital was true! In fact, it was even better than I imagined! I actually thought I was in heaven. It was so hard to decide which ones to get. There were so many different varieties", you continued enthusiastically, gesticulating wildly for emphasis. "But I decided to go for quality instead of quantity. I mean, that's what money's for, right? It's not every day that you get to be in the capital, perusing the finest shops for the finest goods this world has to offer."

You carefully set your bag down on the table and took a seat in front of Levi and Erwin.

"Sooo... Are you ready to see the precious fruits of my long and laborious quest for the best of the best?"

You didn't even wait for an answer, taking out tin after tin and placing them on the table with dramatic flourish.

"Isn't this amazing?", you said happily, your face practically glowing with rapture as you took in the sight of your haul spread out in front of you.

Levi nodded, looking actually interested for once.

"Is this all...tea?“, Erwin asked in disbelief.

The table was, in fact, filled with tea canisters of all sizes.

"Of course it's all tea. What did you think I was going to buy?", you asked, genuinely puzzled that he could possibly think you would spend your hard-earned money on anything other than tea.

"I just assumed you meant clothing and the like."

"Huh. I could have sworn I told you", you murmured, still unconvinced.

"You did not."

"If you say so."

"I do say so", the commander retorted, a twinge of irritation noticeable in his voice.

"Okay, whatever. Who cares. Let's return our attention back to what's really important.", you said, gesturing at the tea in front of you.

Erwin heaved a deep sigh as you giddily started to showcase the tea you had bought.

For each one, you started with its region of origin, then you named its grade, which was of course always the finest, followed by a florid description of its aroma, never forgetting to mention what set it apart from other, lesser ones, and finally you opened the tea tin and made everyone smell it.

"How did you get this?", Levi asked in astonishment, examining the smallest of the tea canisters. "This is from Wall Maria. I thought there was none of it left."

"Ooh, I see you know your stuff. I'm always glad to meet a fellow coinnoisseur." You gave him a cheerful smile.

"I was actually planning on saving the best for last, but oh well, since you're interested..."

You took a deep breath. "You're right. It's only the last special finest tippy golden flowery orange pekoe from the most distinguished tea growing region in the south of Wall Maria. I basically had to sell a kidney to get this. Remember that famous tea shop I told you about on our ride here? They are known to have the rarest leaves, usually only reserved for royalty. But I got to talking with the owner and used all of my persuasive power to get him to sell it to me, until he finally caved!" You smiled gleefully.

Erwin could imagine exactly how that had gone. He felt sorry for the poor guy. You must have pestered him the same way you had Erwin when you tried to get him to take you to Mitras with him.

"So it's actually legit?", Levi asked, not entirely convinced.

"Go ahead, open it", you told him with a grin. "And see for yourself."

He did, holding it under his nose to take in the aroma.

"It's exquisite, isn't it?", you said excitedly, watching as his eyes grew wide.

"It is." He admitted, sounding impressed.

"You smell it, too, Erwin!", you said and took the canister from Levi to practically thrust it in Erwin’s face, then proceeded to look at him expectantly.

"It smells the same like the others to me. Rather like tea, as one might say", Erwin said matter-of-factly.

You gasped in horror. "Take that back. How can you even say that? That's sacrilegious."

Erwin shrugged. "It is simply my opinion."

You harrumphed and shook your head in disbelief.

"There is no place for opinions here. This is excellent tea, and that's a fact.", Levi said surly.

"Thank you!", you exclaimed. "I'm glad that at least one person here has taste and is distinguished enough to recognize true greatness when they see it."

You glared pointedly at Erwin before giving Levi a sweet smile.

"Since you seem to be an expert judge on the matter of tea, maybe you can help me decide which one to put in this? It's too big for the little I have of the Wall Maria one."

You reached inside your bag to take out one last item. It was a beautiful dark blue tea canister with an ornate, flowery design. "They had so many gorgeous ones, but I ran out of money, so I could only buy this one."

Levi looked at it, brows knitted. "It's yours, decide for yourself."

"Oh come on, please? I really can't make up my mind."

He clicked his tongue in annoyance, but then pointed at one of the bigger tea tins.

"That one, then."

"Yay, that's a good choice, thank you so much!" You beamed at Levi.

He averted his gaze and scoffed. "It's not like I put much thought into it", he muttered.

But you didn't even hear him, too busy humming happily as you put the tea back into the bag.

"This was the best day ever!"

– –

"This was the worst day ever", you groaned as you slunked into the room you shared with three other scouts. Two months had passed since that trip to Mitras.

There wasn't a single body part that didn't ache from today's intense training session. To top it all off, you had been in charge of cleaning duty. Now the day was basically over.

"So much for having a good birthday", you grumbled. No one besides Erwin had even remembered it, and he remembered everything, so it didn't count.

Sighing with exhaustion, you let yourself fall onto your bed, only to let out a little cry of pain. "What the hell?", you asked as you rubbed your lower back where it had made contact with something hard lying in your bed.

You rolled over, examining the culprit. It was a beautiful dark red tea canister with blue flowers dotting it, the inverse image to the one sitting on the shelves next to your desk.

"Could this be…a birthday present?", you wondered, a happy smile already spreading across your lips. "But from whom?" You turned it over, looking for a clue, but you found none.

You asked your roommates when they came back, but they sheepishly admitted that they hadn't even known that it was your birthday.

"Hmm“, you said. There were only two other people who knew about your prized tea canister: Erwin and Levi.

Erwin, always the fair-minded one, had already told you that he didn't get anyone presents. "If I gave you one, I would have to give one to every scout, and I'm afraid I can't afford that."

So this left you with only one option. It had got to be from Levi.

"That's a fellow tea lover for you", you whispered, touched, as you pressed the present to your chest.

"But which tea should I put in it?"

You knew just who to ask.

Notes: Soo this marks the beginning of The Tea Lovers series, a bunch of loosely connected short and sweet and mostly just silly fluff pieces I am writing for Flufftober. They're all set around the same time (sometime after the fall of Wall Maria in S1, before Eren and co. join the scouts) and feature the same reader. You happily live in your own little world where everything revolves around tea, totally oblivious to what you're doing to Levi, lol. I am going to be releasing the next part soon, so stay tuned!

Click here for Part 2

[kaddyssammlung]

I want to share some thoughts with you.

I really like all the new content that is coming in at the moment. But I posted two pics (so far) that I was very hesitant to post (pic 1 and pic 2).

The thing about them is the elephant in the room. It's what you can see in them. His scars....

That catwalk and the new angles and everything and many now seeing what I always could....well...I'm rambling.

Hiding from here on because some topics are not for everyone.

Vessel and self-harm….those words alone can get you blocked other places.

Recently I talked to so many of you about that topic because I received a lot of messages about that topic (here and other places) and that made me think.

I just want to share some thoughts and some links to YouTube channels that deal with topics like these. That's all.

Psych2go has all sorts of videos about mental health. The videos are short and focus on what's important so that you can maybe understand a topic better.

To me this is almost nothing special in a way. I have struggled with this myself for many years. Mostly from when I was 14 into my early 20s. I know many other humans (real life and online) who dealt with the same issues.

What I fail to realize is though: not everyone knows someone who struggled with this or knows something about this topic in general.

That's why so many seem concerned or don't even know what to do with all of this.

I wrote some stuff about it when I analyized the lyrics but that's just me talking about myself rather then about Vessel.

He has suffered but like he says we all have suffered. The whole album “Take Me Back To Eden” symbolizes a journey of regaining inner strength. “We step into my suffering” it's what I do in my energy work session. I step into my suffering and face it in order to heal it and turn it into strength or something else that's positive. Not that important.

We can learn from our suffering…well..this is actually not what I wanted to talk about.

I just wanted to share some online resources that I like.

Another video that I really like “Heartstopper Gets Therapized” (that Netflix show and that guy is a therapist). It deals with that topic, too and explain it really well.

another video that YouTube suggested to me and that I like

Why do people self-harm?

I have no idea why Vessel did what he did but I'm sure that he is much better now. Of course I don't know that but seeing how much fun he has on stage these days....and also his voice. There is so much strength in it. You can't sing with strength when you feel weak. I find his transformation inspiring.

it explains the biology (in the brain) behind it. But it's more about the link between self-harm and BPD. So...it was meant for me because it's what I have.

And also...I keep seeing so much cool stuff that I want to post but I'm not even sure what to post anymore because of how visible they are. Or if I should put a trigger warning in the tags or if I should just not do anything about it. I would not hide my scars on stage btw. I would wear what I want to wear and when they are in pics then I just would not care. I don't care that much about them anymore. They are just here.

I do understand why other places treat this topic like the plague but for me personally that's not how I want to treat this.

If you have questions you can ask btw. that's what I mean with this.

[youredyingthatsallthereis]

kinktober day 8: aphrodisiac

week 2 lets gooooooooo

roachghost coming across an accidental sex pollen drug on an op and it finally breaks the unbearable tension between them~

additional tags: sex pollen drug, safehouse sex, coming in pants, pussy eating, hand jobs, vaginal sex, trans ghost who has had meta, multiple o's

read on AO3 | nonsenseafterdarks list! |word count: 2355 (ive been dying to write something like this forever i could not contain myself)

"just hold it steady, sergeant, we have no idea whats in there so we can't afford to drop any of it."

roach gripped the small box even tighter, denting the cardboard a bit. he and ghost were on their way to exfil after a particularly nasty intel retrieval op; all the intel they'd had on the warehouse was bad and they'd ended up having to deal with 27 tangos instead of the 5 they'd been assured were at the site. they'd found the laptop they needed, sitting unlocked in front of a now very dead person, with a huge file open with information on some kind of synthetic chemical, the name of which matched the label on the small cardboard box that roach was now death gripping in his gloved hand.

they could tell by the noise it made that whatever it was was in some kind of glass container, so in the interest of not shattering it roach was holding it tightly against his stomach while they booked it out of the old warehouse back into the surrounding tree line.

"alright, should only be a few minutes out once we can get to the l zed, just make sure not to - "

ghost was cut off by a bullet whizzing past him so close it actually grazed his mask, fraying it ever so slightly over the cheekbone.

"WHAT THE - ?"

he and roach instinctively ducked, which would have been alright if not for ghost stumbling on a tree root hidden in some leaves, leading roach to instinctively reach out and snatch him back up, leaving the little cardboard box exposed to -

POP

a bullet ripped through the cardboard and shattered the glass inside. "AAGHHHH!" roach shouted, dropping it like it had burned him.

ghost quickly pulled out a sidearm and whipped around, firing off several rounds quickly before they heard a dull thud several hundred meters back.

"are you alright?" he asked roach.

roach blinked hard and shook his head. whatever had been in the box smelled very strange, almost like... flowers?

ghost stared at him. "what?"

smells like flowers, roach repeated, pointing at the box.

ghost looked between the box and roach. "is that.....i thought it was just being in the woods...?"

they looked around; trees, dead, scrubby underbrush, and traitorously crunchy leaves, but not so much as a dandelion in sight.

"fuck, fuck, okay that means we both inhaled it, shit," ghost looked around desperately for a moment as if a solution would appear out of thin air. "do you feel alright, sergeant?"

roach blinked again and nodded slowly. normal.

"okay; lets put that shit in a bag so we can at least take it back for analysis, we have no idea what its going to do so if it kills us at least they'll have a sample to work with; we've no idea what kind of bioweapon this is..."

roach half listened to ghost ramble while he fished a heavy-duty, water resistant bag out of his pack and carefully put the box in it. he couldn't put his finger on exactly what it was, but wow did ghost look good bent down like that; well, he always looked good, didnt he? not fair really, the way his uniform trousers stretched so tight over his arse, the way his forearm muscles twitched and moved when he had his sleeves rolled up ever so slightly, the smallest sliver of skin visible where his balaclava was pulled slightly up from the collar of his sweater...roach wondered what he tasted like, if ghost would be salty with sweat from running and adrenaline, how he would taste bent over while roach licked up his neck, balls deep inside him from the back -

"roach?"

ghost was staring up at him, gaze inscrutable behind his sunglasses. "are you alright?"

roach bit his lip and nodded, shifting awkwardly as he realized he was already half hard just from seeing a few inches of ghost's skin.

"why were you looking at me like that?"

roach felt his stomach drop 'shit,' he thought. not sure what you mean, he asked, feigning nonchalance.

ghost stood back up, shoving the bag back into his pack. "if i didn't know any better, gary," he said quietly, taking two steps closer to roach, "i'd say you were looking at me the way a dog looks at a fresh piece of meat."

roach felt his face flush under his mask. there was no way; how could ghost know? or could he? how long had he known...?

"not the first time though, is it?" he said, pressing ever closer to roach until they were almost chest to chest. "seen you looking at me like that before. what were you thinking about just now then? watching me bent over like that, what were you thinking about? 'cause i dont think that this," roach gasped as ghost grabbed his now rock-solid dick through his trousers, "is the result of thoughts you'd tell your sunday school teacher about."

roach fought to stay calm; he was now so hard it hurt and ghost's touch was burning even through gloves, trousers, and pants; roach felt like if he didn't get off soon he was going to cum just from looking -

"bet you thought i wouldn't notice," ghost continued softly. "thought i wouldn't notice the way you look at me when you think i'm not paying attention; never occurred to you i might be doing it on purpose, hm? did you not notice how much more often i bend over, take my shirt off, god i even asked you to get me a towel in the gym showers the other day and you still didn't take the hint." the backpack was now on the ground next to them, ghost's thumbs tracing into the seam between roach's mask and goggles. "what the fuck are you waiting for, gary? a written invitation?"

he started to push roach's mask down but roach reached up and grabbed his wrist.

ghost raised his eyebrows.

roach let go. outside? the question was half-hearted; roach was far past the point of caring but the last not-desperately-horny brain cell he had was screaming at him that there might be more hostiles nearby.

ghost considered him for a moment. "safe house nearby, i'll radio in that we were exposed to something and need to wait there for twelve hours," he agreed, taking a half step back. "lets hurry the fuck up, then, or i'm gonna be soaked through my fuckin' trousers before we even get there."

the short hike did nothing to calm roach down; the jostling friction of his cock against the thin fabric of his underwear driving him absolutely insane; all he could think about was what ghost had said: "im gonna be soaked through my fuckin' trousers before we even get there." god he must be dripping, roach hoped he would let him eat him out too, taste him on his lips, dripping down his chin -

after what felt like approximately eight seconds (but was about fifteen minutes) ghost was unlocking the safehouse door and shoving roach across the threshold, slamming the deadbolt shut and immediately starting to yank off his clothes.

roach stood paralyzed for a moment, watching as ghost threw his hoodie on the floor and started frantically undoing his trousers.

"seriously, bug, do i have to hand write the invite or what?"

roach snapped out of it and quickly undressed, only getting his trousers half way off before ghost was on him like a feral animal, kissing all over his face and rubbing on his cock through his pants until -

roach shouted as he came almost immediately, thinking he'd never cum so hard in his life as he felt his pants get wet and sticky with release.

ghost for his part seemed to be eating it up: "thats right, get the first one out of the way now, gonna make sure you last inside me, yeah? believe me when i tell you, gary, i'll take you for the ride of your fucking life if you'll let me."

blinking back to reality, roach looked around and realized they were standing only barely inside the doorway. he scanned for a second for any flat surface and settled on the rickety old cot in one corner.

better than nothing, he supposed.

he dragged ghost over to it, suddenly very aware of how incredibly naked ghost was and just how badly he wanted to be too -

he had no further time to think on it before ghost was pulling him down onto the bed on top of him. his cock seemed to have not softened even a bit; he would later wonder how he even survived staying hard for so long.

"what do you think, love, eat me out first? suck me off a bit?" he looked down at where ghost was toying with his own cock, standing up hard over his cunt that was shining with slick.

roach nodded hard and, shoving his sticky pants off as fast as he could, almost lurched forward and got his mouth on ghost.

"yes yes yes, fuck that's it, i knew you'd be incredible, fuck yes," ghost rambled, seeming totally emboldened by the drug. "christ, gary, you have no idea how many times i thought about this," he said, grabbing roach's head and fucking further into his mouth. "knew you'd suck cock like a pro, fuck that's good."

roach could barely process what ghost was saying to him, too focused on getting ghost totally into his mouth, bobbing up and down with the thought of nothing but getting his lieutenant off.

he whined when he felt the tips of ghost's fingers dig into his scalp. "gonna cum, fuck gonna cum i'm - "

roach got him all the way in and sucked hard while ghost came, working him with his tongue while he throbbed through it.

he finally let up after a moment, breathing hard and getting two fingers up to ghost's leaking cunt.

"don't be a tease, baby," ghost said, "put 'em in there or i'll do it for you."

roach moaned as he easily slid two fingers into ghost, grinding his hips against the thin blanket underneath them as he did. he almost regretted giving in to the impulse as it had him back on the edge of an orgasm in no time; fingerfucking ghost, sucking his cock, licking the slick off his own fingers and tasting his lieutenant like that -

"better save that next load for me." ghosts voice suddenly cut through the fog in roach's mind. "i want that next one in my mouth or in my pussy but either way, its mine."

"AAHHHH - " roach barely made it, but he scrambled up just in time to shove his cock into ghost's mouth while he came again, spurting hot ropes of white onto his tongue and throat that ghost swallowed down greedily.

his efforts were rewarded with a firm grip on his waist as he pulled out, ghost letting his cock go with a wet pop. "think you can fuck me now?" he said, looking at roach's still barely softened cock while playing with his own.

roach nodded furiously; the edge from the drug was was barely starting to go down, but if getting off was what made it better, well, there were worse things he could be doing right now.

he climbed back on top of ghost and let his lieutenant pull him down hard to kiss properly, mindless of the taste of himself all over ghost's tongue and lips, too caught up in the desperate desire to feel him from the inside to even remember how many times he'd daydreamed about doing this.

he got his fingers back into ghosts cunt one more time, slicking them up before using them to jerk him off one more time, wanting to see if ghost was really as physically desperate for it as he was -

roach was rewarded with a breathy moan from ghost as he worked his cock, moving to kiss the side of his neck; he wanted to feel ghost cumming again, hear his pleasure echoing in the small cabin, feel him cum on his hand before he was squeezing around his cock -

"FUCK!" ghost came with a shout, leaking all over roach's hands and the sheet while he tensed and shook through it.

roach was lining up with him quickly, pressing his tip up against ghost's entrance and looking up at him for a green light.

"i swear, gary, when we get back to base i'm going to get the fanciest fountain pen i can find and the most expensive parchment - "

roach thrust in to the hilt in one go; ghost was so wet and ready from two orgasms that he slipped in easily. he had to stop for a moment, staring down at their joined bodies and willing himself not to cum yet, as he wanted to give his lieutenant the dicking down he deserved, but fuck was it hard not to bust from just the realization that this was actually happening, he was really here inside ghost -

ghost tugged him down hard into a kiss again, licking deep into his mouth and wrapping his legs around his waist to hold him in tightly and grind into him. roach thought that no matter what, this was it; there was no way anyone else could possibly feel this good, no way one else could do this to him, he was ruined for anyone besides ghost forever -

the next several hours were a blur. somewhere in the range of ghost's sixth and roach's fourth they were finally able to take a break, neither of them able to completely calm down, but able to relax enough to clean off a bit and drink some water and take a short nap before waking up desperate for each other again.

by the time exfil arrived, roach had a sneaking suspicion that that last round - which had been the slowest of them all, mostly kissing and soft touches before they'd finally put their clothes back on - hadn't had anything to do with the mystery drug.

[justmystyles]

He's Not Me

read my other work here!

pairing: Harry Styles x plus size reader

*i say it's a plus size reader, but it is not something that i focus on explicitly in my fics, because your size should not define you. it will only come up if it comes into the story organically.*

word count: 1.6k

summary: you introduce Harry to the guy you're seeing, and you see a side of him you've never seen before and are shocked by his reasoning.

a/n: this was a dream i had the other night about frat boy Harry, i have been thinking about it nonstop, so i decided to flesh it out and make it a fic!

tags: @abby8694 @allthelovehes @ameerakane20 @ash-craze @bethanysnow @blue-ballad @blueraspberryreader @brightlightsinlife @creativelyeva @cute-as-ducks420 @deannaard @fanficismydrug @gem1712 @golden-hoax @gothmingguk @groovychaosavenue @hillzrry @iceebabies @indierockgirrl @jerseygirlinca @jng4kook @jooniesbabie @kaverichauhan @laurxn-robinson @lexiecamposv @likeapplejuicenpeach @lilfreakjez @mrs-anna-styles211994 @n0vaj3an @potterheadandsherlocked @rach2699 @ravenclawdirectioner @stylesfeverr @superchrystaldrug @tenaciousperfectionunknown @tiaamberxx @thechaoticjoy @theekyliepage @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @youknowwhaaat

“Hey, earth to Y/N?” 

“Oh, sorry,” you looked up from your phone and examined the suit that Harry was modeling for you. Your nose scrunched in disapproval. “I don’t love it.” 

Harry let out an exaggerated sigh and moved back behind the dressing room curtain. “What has you so distracted anyway? I haven’t seen you in a month and a half, and you can’t keep your nose out of your phone.” 

“It’s uh… Jon, that guy I told you about.” You say sheepishly. 

Harry rolled his eyes before peeking his head over the top of the door. “Oh right, your boyfriend.” He said in a teasing tone. 

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you said defensively. “I mean, I don’t think he is. I don’t know.” 

He steps back out from behind the doors, wearing another suit and shaking his head. “You might want to figure that out, love.” He does a quick spin, holding his arms out with a flourish. 

You smile and give him a thumbs up. “That’s the one.” As he returns to the changing area to put his street clothes back on, you call out to him. “He’s actually not far from here. Do you mind if he meets up with us for ice cream?” 

Harry glanced over the door and pouted at you. “But this is our time.” 

You giggle at his dramatics. “Please! I want you to meet him, I think you guys would get along really well.” 

Harry took his time changing, allowing himself a moment to let his emotions pass. While he was on the road, he realized that his constant thoughts of you were much more than just friendly. He had every intention of coming back and asking you out. But those hopes were dashed when you sent him an excited rambling text about finally having your first date. And your first kiss. 

It was bad enough that he was stuck with his feelings while you gushed about him, now you wanted to parade him around. But you were so excited, and happy. All he wanted was for you to be happy, so he agreed to the meeting. 

You stood outside the ice cream shop, talking with Harry when you saw him approaching, the point you were making suddenly lost as you brushed past Harry and into his arms. After an embrace that lasted much longer than Harry wanted it to, you took Jon’s hand in yours and brought him over to meet Harry. 

“Harry, this is Jon. Jon, this is Harry.” You said with a wide smile. 

Jon extended his hand to Harry. “It’s so great to finally meet you. Y/N talks about you all the time.”

“Of course she does, we’re best friends.” You were a little surprised by Harry’s snarky tone as he took Jon’s hand. 

You watched on as the handshake continued for what seemed to be an uncomfortable amount of time, as the two men held eye contact. 

“Okay,” you say loudly, clapping your hands. “Let’s go get some ice cream!” You take Jon’s hand and lead him toward the door. You look over your shoulder, shooting Harry a questioning look and he simply shrugs in response. 

The three of you get in line, looking over the flavors as you wait. 

“Whatever you want, on me babe.” Jon said, snaking his hand around your waist and placing a kiss on your cheek. 

Harry moved to stand in front of both of you. “Not a chance, keep your money Jon. It’s on me today.”

“You don’t have to–”

“Please,” Harry interrupted Jon. “I want to. Besides, it’s not like I don’t have enough money for a couple of ice cream cones. Hell, get a sundae if you want.”

“Harry!” You chastised. You had never seen him like this before, and you didn’t like it. You gave Jon an apologetic smile and stepped out of his arms, pulling Harry to the side. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“I’m just trying to make a good impression.” He said innocently.

“Well try harder.” You said before going back to Jon. 

When Harry rejoined you, he stayed pretty quiet, only glancing over at the two of you a couple of times. He wasn’t initiating any conversation, and when he would respond to you or Jon, it was in clipped, one word answers. 

You got your ice cream and took a seat at one of the outside tables. Jon talked about work, and asked Harry a bit about his life on tour. You were seated between the two of them and couldn’t help but feel an air of tension between the three of you. You were sure it had to do with Harry. 

“So Jon,” Harry spoke up after one of the many awkward silences. “Do you have any tattoos?” 

“Oh, not yet. But I have one in mind, I’m just not sure when I’m going to get it.” 

“Cool,” Harry said, practically scoffing at Jon. “I have a bunch.” He put his ice cream down on the table and lifted his shirt over his head, revealing his tattooed torso and arms. He began pointing out each one and telling their stories. 

You sunk lower in your seat, completely embarrassed by the actions of your so-called friend. You had never seen him act like this before.

After Harry’s tattoo tour, Jon stood from his seat. “I should take off.” You could tell by his demeanor that he was uncomfortable, and couldn’t get away fast enough. You all said your goodbyes, and you promised to give Jon a call later. 

Once Jon was out of site, and earshot, you turned around and glared at Harry. “What the hell is wrong with you? I finally found a guy that likes me and treats me well and you’re on his case every chance you get. Friends don’t do stuff like that.” 

“You could do better.” Harry stated, his voice quiet.

“Oh really? I’m a fat eighteen year old virgin–” 

“I hate when you say that about yourself, you’re beautiful.” Harry tried to interject, but you were so upset that his words didn’t register, and you continued on.

“I just had my first kiss like a month ago. Guys aren’t exactly lining up at my door, so how am I supposed to do better?” You finally paused for a breath, crossing your arms over your chest. 

“You could be with me.” You stared in shocked silence, never expecting those words to come out of his mouth. “I realized while I was away how much I like you, that I want to be more than friends. I hate that it took so long for me to realize, because now I don’t get to be your first kiss.” 

“What?” 

“I wanted to be your first kiss, but I blew it.” He slid his chair closer, taking a deep breath. “I would settle for being your next kiss. And maybe some of your other firsts.” He smiled shyly at the thought. 

You stared at him, searching his eyes, trying to figure out the joke. There was nothing but sincerity in his gaze. “You’re serious? This isn’t some stupid joke?” 

“I’ve never been more serious about anything in my life.” 

You sat looking at each other in complete silence. Harry waiting for you to say something, and you trying to process everything that had just happened. 

“Oh,” was all you managed to say before standing and walking away. Leaving Harry scared and confused. 

An hour later, Harry was sitting in his hotel room, absentmindedly flipping through the channels, not paying much attention to the screen. All he could think about was you, and the possible damage that he had just done to your relationship. 

After you left, he texted and called, but you didn’t respond. He wasn’t sure what to expect when he confessed his feelings, but you walking away without any indication of how you felt about his declaration wasn’t even a consideration. 

There was a knock at the door, but he ignored it, he wanted to be alone. But it didn’t stop, it only got more insistent. He stood with a groan and went to answer the door. His eyes went wide when he saw you on the other side. 

“Okay.” Your voice was quiet, your hands fidgeting out of nerves. 

“What?”

“I’ll be with you… I want to be with you.” You took a deep breath. “I always have, I just figured I never had a shot.” 

His brow furrowed in confusion. “How could you think that? You’re amazing. Anyone would be lucky to be with you. Especially me.” He stepped up to you, cupping your cheek in his hand. “But… you left?” 

“I uh… I went to end things with Jon.” You started getting nervous and rambling. “It turns out first breakups aren’t as fun as the other firsts, and I just didn’t…”

Harry chuckled as he leaned down, pressing his lips to yours. The kiss was soft at first, but he quickly ran his tongue along the seam of your lips, you parted them, granting him access. His free hand moved to your waist, pulling you closer as his tongue explored your mouth. 

You finally pulled apart, resting your foreheads together. 

“Wow,” you sighed. 

“I know it’s no first kiss…”

“It was, though.” He looked at you curiously. “It was the first kiss that mattered.” 

Harry smiled, pressing his lips to yours for one more quick kiss before leading you into his room. “And just so you don’t have any uncertainty this time,” he starts as you take a seat together on the couch. “If we’re doing this, I’m your boyfriend.”

[hypnoneghoul]

Brilliant Mind

WC: 1,2K

Pairing: Rain/Swiss

Tags: Implied autistic Rain, non-binary they/them Rain, anal sex

Rain goes on a ramble about basses while Swiss fucks them. That's the plot.

Read under the cut or on AO3.

“Where’s your head at?” Swiss asked, seeing the absent look in Rain’s eyes, a different one than the one he knows means the water ghoul is far gone in pleasure. They blink at Swiss’ words, shaking themself out of it.

“Just thinking ‘bout something,” they shrugged, way too casual for being impaled on the multi ghoul’s cock.

“About what, Rainbow?” Swiss asked, grinning and resuming his thrusts. That was his mistake.

“I talked with my tech about- ah, basses for the next tour earlier,” Rain started, only a quiet moan interrupting their words for a second.

“You are thinking about basses while I’m fucking you?” the multi ghoul asked, a bit in disbelief, but also with a nauseating amount of affection for his extremely adorable mate.

“Well, yeah,” Rain shrugged, again, “I won’t use the same ones I used now, you know, the white Jazz, black Jazz and black and white Jaguar.”

Swiss just stared down at his partner with wide eyes, absolutely not believing that Rain will go on a rant about basses with a cock up their ass. They didn’t tell him to stop, though, and he did love hearing them talk, so the multi ghoul continued to slowly thrust into them.

“Leaving Jazz, I think, I don't like Precision too much and Jaguar is just… meh. About the colours, I think I’ll stay with the black Jazz for the songs we’ve got in drop C, you know, because it’s fine and it’s a signature by now. But for the rest, I don’t know, the white one was a good balance, because Aether has black Fantomen and Dew black and white. But now Dew will have a whole white Stratocaster, so maybe if I had a black and white bass it would be better? What do you think?”

“I- uh, I think so too, every guitar slash bass in different colours, yeah,” Swiss breathed, not expecting Rain would ask him about anything. “By the way, can we switch positions, wanna ride me, Rainbow?”

“Sure,” the water ghoul agreed, again, way too casually considering the circumstances, and Swiss got to move them. When Rain was settled on the top, they started moving. 

And talking.

“I’m wondering about the fretboards too, what would look the best. Maple is great, but I feel like it’s too light, but there’s something with rosewood that makes me hate it, so I think I’d want ebony. But I don’t know if ebony would fit the black ad white bass, so maybe maple after all? But not the yellowish lacquered one, the softer one. I’ll probably have to try to put all the options together and choose, you know?”

“Y- yeah,” Swiss managed out, barely holding himself together at the display of Rain riding his cock in earnest while still rambling. It was hot, actually, their brain amazed the multi ghoul.

“I was thinking if still tucking my picks behind the pickguard is a good idea, or if taping them to the side like Dew does isn’t better, but that’ll work out later, I guess.” Rain threw their head back then, finally showing some signs of being affected by the cock in their ass. The water ghoul leaned back on their hands, switching their bouncing to a precise grind. “There’s also the strings, I was testing out some flat wounds and half round wounds the last few weeks, and I do like the half ones, the flat’s are too, hm, slippery, but I think I should use the same type of strings they did for the recording, right? So it sounds the same. But they also used Precision, and I won’t do that, so will the strings make such an awful difference if it's a different bass? I mean, the pickups are the same, so the bass itself doesn't make that much difference, plus I can switch the necks, I just don't like the Precision’s body, or more like the pickguard shape, so I still can get really close with the sound.”

Swiss was out of his mind, the drag of Rain’s walls over his cock maddening, his mate’s brain even more. He was so close he was sure if they said one more smart word he totally didn’t understand he’d burst.

“Maybe a higher gauge of the half round wound strings would make up for the lower gauge or fully round wound? I use 45’s to 100’s now, but I could go up to 50’s or even 55’s. I’ll have to test it, do you think Dew would help me? I like my tech but he just doesn’t keep up with what I’m saying.”

“Yeah, I- I wonder why, Rainbow. You’re so smart, it’s so hot, fuck,” Swiss moaned, squeezing his eyes shut.

“But do you think Dew would help me?” Rain asked, seemingly oblivious to the delicious agony their mate was currently enduring.

“S- sure, he would.”

“Great, I’ll ask him later,” they leaned forward again then, bracing their arms on Swiss’ chest, returning to urgent bounces, making the multi ghoul nearly pass out. 

“Hngh,” was all he could muster.

“You close?” Rain asked, so casually it hurt. Swiss nodded, whining. Loud.

“P- please, Rainbow,” he pleaded, shaky hands holding onto the water ghoul’s hips.

“What do you need, love?”

“Talk,” he moaned, “a- and move, l- like that.”

Rain giggled, but obliged, “I could use thicker picks too, they’d give me a rougher sound, more concrete. Combining all that, mixing the elements, I could get so many different tones, there’s just so many possibilities. Add effect pedals to it, and they’re basically unlimited. If I could play fingerstyle, too, that’d make a difference. Maybe I could convince Papa to let me play the new songs like that, or some of the softer basslines of the older ones, like Absolution or Deus. It depends on what stays on the setlist too, but you know how good I am with my fingers.”

Oh, and that made Swiss break. He moaned, long and high pitched, whole body spasming as he came, filling Rain with his cum. 

He did know, very well, how good they were with their fingers, thank you very much.

The water ghoul finally let themself go too, though Swiss doubted they did hold themself back from anything, as their mouth dropped in a silent moan, clenching on Swiss’ cock and painting his belly white. They panted, arms giving out as they plopped down onto the multi ghoul’s chest, nuzzling their face into the crook of his neck.

“Your brain is so hot, Rainbow,” Swiss breathed, slowly coming back into his own body. Rain only purred in response, curling themself tighter around their mate, not caring about the mess.

They both did get up, though, to clean up, getting back to cuddle after. Rain fell asleep before Swiss even fully settled. He took out his phone and was met with a message from Mountain, cringing at it.

M: Had fun?

S: I wasn’t that loud, come on.

M: You absolutely were. Plus we share a wall, so… What did Rain do to you this time?

S: They started rambling about basses [*]

M: Ha, they didn’t stop, tho, did they?

S: Nope, and it was fucking hot.

M: Be grateful they chose basses and not weird deep sea tentacle creatures.

S: U speaking from experience?

M: Yes. Don’t ask more questions.

That’s where their conversation cut off, leaving Swiss grinning, absolutely planning how to find out about Mountain’s own experience. For now, though, he dropped the phone and curled tighter around Rain, kissing their forehead. He’d kiss their brilliant mind too, if he could.

[farmerbebop]

The sun was shining too bright for me to be worrying about my deadline so I guess I'll use this rare occasion to make a pinned post.

When I started blorbo posting it was simply because "If even I, who knows next to nothing about British and American TV series, can see that Patrick McGoohan was criminally underrated, then maybe this blog has a reason to exist."

The only thing I ever learned about blorbo posting is from the Columbo fandom. They have fun, and they love their blorbo. As the kids say: Love and peace on planet earth.

But McGoohan is a challenge and will never stop being one. His public image, both in front and behind of the camera, isn't that of someone who would be pleased with blorbo posting. I don't know how other blorbo bloggers feel, but I just wish I can hold a conversation with my blorbo that doesn't bore him to death or anger him to the point of throwing me out of the room.

Judging someone who talked about his nervous breakdown like it was just a cold isn't something I like to do, especially online. So if I have to talk about McGoohan, I always get quite nervous. I can only say that I regret we didn't get to know him as much as we would like to and I really wish he was still here with us.

I know many of the decisions he made, he made it for future generations. It's my privilege to say that my blorbo's gift to the three-year-old running this blog has been her greatest pride as a blorbo blogger. And her hardest and most honourable task is not to mess it up.

I actually didn't create this blog to please McGoohan (the ladies can testify to that, lol). And I think I make fun of him more than I should. But I hope he knows that life as a blorbo blogger isn't easy when your blorbo is Patrick McGoohan and maybe, just maybe, he wouldn't be too hard on me.

And just in case anyone is wondering what the hell I'm doing on here, here's a short guide to my blog.

my stupid vid My McGoohan fancams are what I personally consider the funniest part of my blog. But they can be somewhat serious too, I think.

my lousy photoshopping This can mean just about anything. McGoohan as The Little Prince. McGoohan in Ingmar Bergman's films. Anything that I made with photoshop. So I have some more tags to categorize it.

mcgoohan at the museum What I love to do the most in photoshop is putting McGoohan into paintings. I don't know why. Maybe because it easily hides my lousy photoshopping skills. Or maybe because my blorbo is as beautiful as a painting.

mcgoohan album covers What can I say? “But you don't really care for music, do you?”

mcgoohan fashion Let's be honest, don't you love a beautiful blorbo?

mcgoohan posters I sometimes try not to misinterpret McGoohan's works, I don't know if I succeed though.

no context mcgoohan Mostly just McGoohan sitting or standing somewhere. But I love it nonetheless.

mcgoohan for kids and mcgoohan anime Well, it's exactly what you would expect it to be.

mcgoohan arthouse One day I'll retire from blorbo posting and go back to watching arthouse films.

mcgoohan stickers They are not as cute as cat or bunny stickers, but they stick all right.

the prisoner redux or anything redux means my lousy photoshopping for that particular series/movie. But when there are so many McGoohans in one post I get tired of tagging and I just give up.

I think that's enough of my lousy photoshopping.

wild mcgoohan in his natural habitat McGoohan as God intended him. Trying to not give away too much information in interviews.

mcgoohan lore McGoohan in someone else's words, including his daughter's. Needless to say, my words should not be trusted. You'll know them when you see them.

my gif McGoohan gifs, mostly for losing tumblr polls. Also for making this blog popular with the ladies on here.

village poetry If there's one thing that McGoohan might like about this blog, this is probably it.

village soundcloud Blorbos and song lyrics go hand in hand - Tumblr proverb.

mcgoogoo and me Just me rambling about my McGoohan dreams and my hard life as a blorbo blogger.

my lousy shitposting It has something to do with McGoohan I'm afraid. But it's fun.

I know this blog has become quite predictable and it's filled with half of my life's story. But if McGoohan was really who I think he was, that would be the least of his problems with my blog.

And finally, my hiatus is a running joke that I'm getting worse at, I hope.

[buildarocketboys]

a tiny random peterick prompt from moi: argument/fight that turns into sex/making out lol (interpret as loosely as you want)

Thanks babe - sorry I took so long to get around to posting this! I'm also gonna use this to fill the prompt 'Punch in the face' to 'Teddy bear' on my hurt/comfort bingo card @sweetspicybingo

Title: wanna sleep on every piece of fuzz and stuffing that comes out of you

Fandom: Fall Out Boy

Pairing: Patrick Stump/Pete Wentz

Additional tags: Smut, Face punching, Rutting, Coming in pants, First time, Sleep Cuddles, Happily Ever After, Getting Together, Non-consensual groping, everything else is consensual Pete is just inappropriate

Posted on AO3 here!

Pete is being particularly annoying today. They're attempting to write some songs, but Pete keeps distracting him.

They're trying this new thing, where Pete writes the lyrics, and Patrick turns them into song.

Except, well, "lyrics" is an incredibly generous way of describing the reams of rambling scribbles Pete writes in notebooks before handing them to Patrick, expecting him to make miracles.

They're good, Patrick has to admit that. Better than anything he's ever written. Secretly he thinks that Pete might be some kind of genius. What Pete writes is poetry.

Not that he'd ever tell Pete that.

The things Pete writes, however, are not songs. 

Even so, the accidental rhythms jump out at Patrick from the page and he gets excited about turning them into one. 

And then he changes or adds a word to make the lyrics fit the melody that appears in his head, and Pete says, "Uh, no. You can't change that."

"Why not?" Patrick whines, getting more frustrated every time.

"Because it changes the meaning. Sounds stupid," Pete says every time. Then he won't elaborate.

The more he does it, the more Patrick feels like he's calling him stupid. Like Patrick is too dumb to get Pete's poetic soul, or whatever.

His face gets hotter and hotter, until he manages to say, "Maybe you can look at them when I'm done? Let me make them into songs and then you can give me all your criticisms?"

Patrick is impressed with himself. He doesn't even yell.

Pete, however, looks hurt. "Fine," he says, and retreats. Into the kitchen.

Where he loudly proceeds to make a smoothie.

Patrick is pretty certain that Pete Wentz is the most annoying guy in the world.

He growls in frustration, then digs his headphones out and shoves them on his ears. They block out most of the noise.

Now he can finally concentrate.

Only...now the moment's gone. When he looks back at the words, the melody's gone. He groans, covering his face with his hands.

He scans the paragraphs, searching for words that jump out at him. He flips through the notebook, determined to find something worthwhile.

Then he jumps as he feels a hand crawling up his back.

He twists round to find Pete with his hands held innocently behind his back. He pulls the one of the headphones' cups off his ear.

"What the fuck, Pete?" he says, putting all his venom into it.

Pete shrugs. "Wasn't me," he says, looking infuriatingly smug. "It was a hot girl."

Patrick sighs and rolls his eyes. Pete does this sometimes. He's not sure if he's making fun of him or trying to make him feel better about having no game but it makes Patrick feel all weird and squirmy inside. Which he does not appreciate.

He eyes Pete caustically, then grits out, "Fuck you, Pete."

Pete has the temerity to act upset. "Aww, c'mon Patrick, I'm only teasing."

"Well, don't," Patrick says shortly. Then, "Did you actually make smoothies? Or were you just being loud and annoying on purpose?"

Pete's eyes sparkle with a worrying mixture of playfulness and resentment. Patrick swallows.

"I did, actually. If you ask nicely, maybe you can even have one."

Patrick glares at Pete, then says, "Fine. Please may I have a smoothie?" He bats his lashes sarcastically.

Pete rolls his eyes but Patrick can tell he's fighting a smile. Pete loves when he's a little bitch.

He leaves the room and returns with a smoothie in each hand. He hands one to Patrick, then slips onto the floor next to Patrick.

Way too close.

Patrick sips at the smoothie, trying to ignore how close Pete is to him - pressed up against his body on Patrick's right side, from his thighs all the way up to his shoulders - and how hot he feels, despite the ice cream in his drink.

Then Pete puts his hand on Patrick's thigh.

Suddenly Patrick is trembling, though he's not sure why. Pete touches him all the time. Mostly he's just being annoying, but sometimes...Patrick's not so sure.

Either way, Patrick is already on edge. He sets his glass down carefully and then puts his hand on Pete's, picking it up and moving it physically off his leg.

He just catches Pete's smirk as Pete immediately puts his hand back where it was, crawling his fingers further up Patrick's leg.

"Would you quit it?!" Patrick explodes.

Pete removes his hand and bats his eyelashes at Patrick innocently. "Stop what?" he asks.

"Stop-" Patrick has to pause to swallow the lump in his throat. "touching me," he says softly.

Pete's eyes widen. "Oh, you mean like this?" he asks, and then pushes his hand under Patrick's shirt, squeezing his stomach.

Patrick doesn't have time to think about it.

He punches Pete in the face.

"Hey, what the fuck man?!" Pete says, sounding really pissed off. Like he hadn't just been groping Patrick's tummy.

"STOP FUCKING TOUCHING ME!" Patrick yells.

Pete does the exact opposite of stopping. He launches himself at Patrick, knocking him backwards and landing on top of him.

Pete looks down at him, clearly at a loss for what to do next.

Patrick is struggling to breathe.

"Well?" he gasps. "You gonna hit me or what?"

What, is the answer apparently.

Pete kisses him.

Patrick doesn't do anything for several long moments, his body and brain going slack with shock.

When he finally comes to his senses, all he can say is, "What the fuck, man?" He means for it to come out as angry as he had been mere moments ago, but there's a whine to the edge of his words. Patrick hears it as they come out of his mouth and he cringes.

"Oh c'mon, Patrick," Pete says. "It's not like you don't want it." To demonstrate his point, he reaches between their bodies and squeezes Patrick's rapidly hardening dick.

Patrick manages to turn his moan into a growl of rage as he pushes Pete off him.

Pete looks up at him, panting  as Patrick gets to his feet.

Patrick looks down at Pete: panting, sweaty, his usually artfully disheveled hair just, well, disheveled. His eyes travel over Pete's body down to his- well. Patrick's eyes widen. Pete clearly isn't unaffected either.

"Fuck you," Patrick spits out, running his foot over Pete's leg, nearly but not quite to his crotch, before, aiming a kick at the point where his ass meets the floor.

"Don't mind if you do," Pete says, waggling his eyebrows at Patrick.

Patrick puts his hands on his hips. "Really." His voice is completely flat.

Pete shakes his head, bangs falling in front of his eyes. It's maddeningly endearing. "Can't you see the effect you have on me, Patrick?"

Patrick looks away, feeling his cheeks burning, before running his foot along Pete's leg again, this time brushing against Pete's crotch. It's not a trick of the light; Pete is hard.

Patrick gulps.

"I've never...I don't..." Patrick says, shaking his head, even as his dick contradicts his words.

Pete shrugs, looking suddenly shy. "Me neither," he admits. "But how hard can it be, right?"

"Pretty hard, I reckon," Patrick mumbles, which makes Pete break out into undignified snort-giggles. "Oh come on, it wasn't that funny!"

Pete just looks up at him. "You're adorable, do you know that?"

Patrick ignores that, like he does every time Pete says something like that, instead offering a hand to help him up from the floor. 

Pete takes it, letting himself be pulled up.

Then Patrick hauls Pete up in his arms with a grunt, carrying Pete to his room and dumping him on his bed.

"Now that was hot."

"Wanna make out?" Patrick says abruptly, because he figures that's where this is heading and he doesn't want to waste time having more embarrassing conversations.

Pete grins wolfishly. "Always, babe."

Patrick narrows his eyes. They'll have to have a word about the petname thing later.

Right now, though, he straddles Pete on the bed and leans down to kiss him.

And then stops, suddenly self-conscious. "Is this OK?" he asks.

Pete gives him a look. "Patrick-"

Patrick feels himself blush. "No I mean...am I OK being on top of you? Are you comfortable enough?" Sure, he'll get all up on Pete when they're fighting, but that's not meant to be pleasurable. Patrick is suddenly very aware of how much bigger and heavier he is than Pete, despite Pete having maybe an inch on him, height-wise.

Instead of answering, Pete leans up and kisses Patrick. Then he pulls Patrick down on top of him and kisses him for longer.

Patrick groans into the kiss. He's kissed girls before, sure (though not many) but it's never been like this. Pete's mouth is warm and wet, his tongue exploratory, his mouth demanding. His kiss is hard, almost biting, but Patrick finds he likes it. His dick jumps in his pants and he ruts against Pete without meaning to.

Pete moans and pulls him down even further, letting his legs fall open then wrapping them around Patrick's ample hips, pulling them flush together.

Pete bucks up against him and they both gasp.

A grin plays over Pete's lips before Patrick dives back down onto Pete, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth, wiping that smile right off his face.

Their making out and rutting is about as awkward and undignified as their fighting, but damn if Patrick isn't getting off on it.

Pete pants directly into his mouth. "So good, Patrick," he moans. "So hot."

Patrick thrusts his hips harder, his dick rubbing against Pete's through the material of their pants. He doesn’t trust himself to speak. He wishes he could feel Pete's skin on his, but that would mean breaking contact, and neither of them are willing to do that right now.

Patrick pokes at Pete’s lips with his tongue and Pete sucks on it, pulling a moan from Patrick that doesn't even sound like him. He's so close. Closer than he has any right to be, considering he's A) still fully clothed, B) not a teenager anymore, and C) not gay.

But Pete just does something to him. He rearranges his insides. 

The bastard.

"Patrick," Pete gasps out, bucking wildly up against him, and Patrick thinks smugly he might not be the only one who's close.

"Not yet," he murmurs. He's trying not to think about it, but he's already scared of what comes next. What comes after.

Pete whines. "Soon," he says. "Please."

The sound of Pete, wrecked, below him, leads Patrick to rut harder and faster against Pete, the friction too much and not enough.

He groans into Pete's mouth and sucks on his tongue.

Pete whines into his mouth and sucks on Patrick's lip.

Patrick gasps and bucks against him, feeling Pete’s hardness pressing back against his own.

"Fuuuuck," he says. He ruts into Pete a few more times, and then he's coming, wet in his pants, like a teenager.

He collapses against Pete, embarrassed and elated.

"Wait, Patrick, did you just-?" Pete says, like he's surprised.

Patrick nods. As if Pete didn't know. If he's a dick about it, Patrick's gonna kill him.

Pete's face lights up with a grin. Patrick braces himself as Pete opens his mouth.

"Me too," Pete says, and Patrick realizes Pete's erection isn't pressed up against his body anymore.

"Oh." Then Patrick laughs. 

Pete laughs too.

"That was your fault," Patrick says, but he's grinning.

"Oh don't worry, I'll be taking full credit."

Patrick takes in their twin grins for a moment longer before rolling off Pete.

"Hey!" says Pete, then he's diving under Patrick's arm and laying his head on Patrick's chest. "You didn't think you'd get away that easily, did you?"

Patrick looks down at Pete's head pressed to his chest, his heart, and says honestly, "I didn't really know what was gonna happen next."

Pete looks up at him adoringly and Patrick can't resist the urge to pet his hair. "Oh Patrick," he says. "Now we live happily ever after."

That surprises a laugh out of Patrick. "Yeah, OK," he says. He means to be sarcastic, but he finds that he believes Pete. He’s always believed in Pete. And if Pete believes in him, believes in the two of them together, then maybe Patrick does too.

He pulls Pete tighter to his chest, playing with his hair.

Pete sighs happily. "I always knew you'd be a big teddy bear," he says. "'m gonna sleep so well now I've got you."

Patrick snorts. Pete's chronic insomnia is no secret to either of them. But to his surprise, Pete is actually dozing off, starting to snore gently against Patrick's chest.

Patrick spends half a second worrying about the state of their underwear before deciding he doesn't give a fuck and letting his eyes fall closed with Pete dozing on top of him. Heart to heart.

[nobodylikety]

Snake hybrid! Rei🐍

I was thinking a lot about Snake hybrid! Rei or Panda hybrid! Rei so I'll made both versions, and you can decide which one you like the most! 💚

tags: snake hybrid! rei x fem! reader, hybrid AU, fluff.

Snake hybrid! Rei, like all snakes, has the ability to smell with her tongue. So don't get mad if you see her sticking out her tongue, it's not personal! she's just smelling you <3

+ Snakes have a forked tongue and multiple receptors capable of picking up different amounts of chemical signals, and even though you read about it to learn how to take care of Rei, for a month you were scared to death of that aspect of snakes! and what was Rei doing? sticking her forked tongue out all day just for the sake of it 💚

When you first met Snake hybrid! Rei, you spent most of the day wondering why you could never find her…until you discovered that she goes to lie on the lawn in the garden, when the sun is at its highest, sunbathing and warming herself up ^_^

→ that's why she HATES when someone say she's a 'cold-blooded critter', she puts on the world's most dramatic expression of offence, before giving the explanation that she is 'actually an ectothermic blood animal', meaning that her body temperature is variable and is regulated by external sources, and that's why she sunbathes! ☀️

Snake hybrid! Rei inside Hybrid! IVE is the most calm and quiet! She is a gentle, kind and somewhat silent soul, but that aspect allows her to observe the emotions of others more closely, so she always knows when someone needs some comfort <3 although she is not always good with words, she likes to sit in silence with you (or the girls) and listen to you venting

Snake hybrid! Rei and Cat! Liz are the best friends in the world! they are somehow obsessed with each other, Liz talks and rambles for hours and hours if you let her, and no matter what topic she is talking about (or how dumb it may seem), Rei just sits and is happy to listen

Snake hybrid! Rei hugs VERY HARD (a trait of constrictor snakes) and she does it especially when she gets excited, so sometimes she's afraid to hug too much for fear of hurting you or the girls </3

+ HOWEVER, Cat! Liz doesn't mind that, she thinks Rei's super cozy and warm, and Rei makes her feel safe. So as nap buddies they are inseparable: Liz loves napping with Rei because she is soft and the best cuddler, and Rei loves napping with Liz because she is always gentle with her 🩷

Snake hybrid! Rei is the perfect balance between 'looks like a cinnamon roll, could kill you' and 'looks like they could kill you but is actually a cinnamon roll', because even if she is very gentle and kind, she will not hesitate to show her fangs if necessary

Snake hybrid! Rei is described by Bunny! Wonyoung as overprotective but in a nice way, because although she is gentle and basically love, puppies and sugar, a single look from her (as she silently appears behind you, that inherently snake-like habit of hers) is enough to: 1) protect you, 2) mark territory and 3) make her potential rivals pack their bags and go back the way they came.

[ Snake squeeze 🐍 ] 

Every morning, Rei practically glides (because she is light on her feet) around the living room, as she greets the rest of her mates one by one with a soft, comforting hiss. Wonyoung hops around her excitedly, making her floppy ears rise and fall in rhythm with each hop, while Yujin —who is certainly calmer than the energetic bunny— greets her with a gentle tail wag.

"Good morning, Rei!" exclaims Wonyoung cheerfully.

"Ss... good morning, Wonyo," replies Rei, with a gentle smile. The morning light causes a slight flash of light, as it makes contact with her snake fangs.

And plopping down on the deck chair in the courtyard, Rei enjoys the morning by lying still to let the warm rays of sunshine warm her up a little. Whenever you look for where Rei has gone, you don't hesitate to go to the sunniest places in the house. Because where there is sun, there is Rei.

Leeseo and Wonyoung start playing chase each other in the yard, running around like a big ball of brindle fur and the other a little ball of fluffy, snow-white fur. You smile as you watch them interact, and as you move your gaze a little, there is Rei: lying on her deck chair, the sun beating down on her usually cool body, watching her mates play in the distance. Her eyes are serene, and her smile exudes love.

For despite her quiet nature, Rei gets along well with all the pets. They are her mates, and she loves them. That's why they often find comfort in her comforting embrace, and although she sometimes tends to squeeze a little tighter than necessary, she always does it with love.

Sometimes, while doing chores around the house or just hanging out, you see Liz joining Rei, quietly sharing her company. The girls know (and you know too) that although they are all quite close to each other, Liz and Rei are a level beyond. Like soul mates, you think.

And when it gets dark, during the quiet nights, when home is quiet and you're quietly walking to your bed to rest, you see out of the corner of your eye a scene that happens quite often: Liz looking for a warm place to snuggle, finding comfort in Rei's arms.

"Thank you, Rei," you hear Liz purr as she closes her eyes.

"Ss... always here for you, Liz," Rei murmurs tenderly.

It's those moments when you feel most connected to them, when their gentleness and reassurance fill your heart with peace.

And so you can quietly close the door of their room, letting them sleep curled up in Liz's little cat bed (Rei assumes Liz's bed as her own), and head to yours to rest as well.

They'll be just fine.

Together.

[somerandomcryptid]

ah no no sorry i confused the words bc i was asking of You wanted to talk more about the cpunz and cquackity and c!cryptid stuff related to your recent art post but i got confused if it was part of You previous au or a new one and got confused, sorry 😓

-cleo

Ah yeah that makes more sense. No problem! actually kinda good you got confused cause I think I may have cooked something kinda fire so before I absolutely lore dump on you have some sketches of an au where Punz is a big doggo I just did

Man’s best friend :)

Anyway onto such less wholsome stuff because yeah those sketches were for Dreaming of death

also tw for implied child abuse and one mention of a child being hit (not contiunasly just twice with different people behind it each time), and one other mention of a child being harmed in a relatively minor way

I really should have clarified this is almost directly after the other Cryptid and Quackity in formal wear arts I’ve done. which I don’t think I’ve ever really explained? because honest i haven’t decided all the details. i just know that a fancy event is held at las nevadas and afterwards the las nevadas crew kinda like, goes around the server? like bar hopping but without the bars? they’re still all deunk though. it’s very chaotic.

They just so happen to run into staged duo (not directly but staged duo can see them, if they actually had awareness they’d probably be able to see them too)

and uhhhhhhh welll Cryptid and Q aren’t exactly.. obeying quaritoine rules?/platonic this pisses both Dream and Punz off. amd wellll Punz is kinda the more confrotational of the two?(he feels like he should fight dream’s battles because he wasn’t there for him in prison)

so he uhhh yoinks his child cryptid. They do not appreiate this. Q also, does not appreiate this. but Punz kept Quackity in his basement for 2 weeks and experiemented on him, safe to say he has the intimadation points. and the height advantage.

Anyway yeah that’s all the context I SHOULD have given. But brain was wprking a mile a minute because dod!Punz is walking contrictions if they were good at pvp. and I love him for it.

to elaborate on that. the guy is one, trying to gaslight himself imto thinking he doesnt want to make out with Dream, two trying to gaslight himself into think he doesn’t care about Cryptid.

which like…. wrong but also he does truly hate Cryptid a bit and is hella jealous of them. He also has tucked them into bed and condsidered for a brief second staying with them when they request him to.

And that’s not even touching how Cryptid feels about him. because he is the reason for aproximately a 4th of their issues. and also their idol a bit.

and they just hate each other but also care about each other in such an interesting mix.

Punz genuinely thinks they are a brat and that they are incredibly dramatic about how bad their lofe is because they have it ”good��� in his eyes. but he also genuinely would never want to see them hurt and seeing them with Quackity makes him seeth because their risking their safety and also that their wasting their potential which he begrudgingly admits they have.

But also. he is the only person on the server to have scarred Cryptid(physically I mean), when they first met properly he held a dagger to their throat. they were fine, it’s just a little scar but it was still signifagant. He is also one of the only people to have hit them, the only other person being Quackity, was only once. still happened though.

Sorry this kinda just spiralled to me rambling about dod!punz with no real end point but he’s one of my favorites for just how convoluted he is. i would ramble more. but also it’s 6:30 am and I should go to bed lol.

(Since I’m main tagging I’m going to put the big ol’ Dreaming of death is an au of the fic penpal by @calamari-minecraft-corner :3)

[yandere-daze]

have you ever think about people who might be defending themselves not to reblog because they have a right to decide or something? this has been bugging my mind... no offense to anyone though, sorry, and love your works !

Rant incoming, just as a warning lol

But yes, obviously people have the right to decide if they want artists and writers to keep being motivated to post works on here for free or not.

As a writer myself, I just don´t understand the rationale behind it. There is literally zero reason not to reblog. It takes just as long as leaving a like and if you have zero patience to type out the tags then you don´t even have to necessarily to do that ( even if I will literally love you if you do!)

Likes do and mean nothing. They´re the equivalent of being left on reading after writing a long and heartfelt message.

Reblogs help our words getting spread around and actually show us that people care about our posts and want us to keep doing them.

But why have some people decided that they just refuse to do the thing the entire website is built around that would actually help their favorite blogs to stay motivated?

They have the choice not to reblog anything but it´s a selfish one and they better not complain when they get blocked or their favorite creators stop posting.

Just think about it: People ( me included) take hours out of their busy lives to write something and then post it because they want people to read and enjoy their works.

Writing sometimes takes hours of time and effort and it´s not always easy. If we were just going to do it for ourselves there would be no need to type out all of it out because the main fun part of the creative process to me is just daydreaming about an idea I had.

Actually putting it into words to tell a compelling story is tough and takes lots of patience. But we do it anyway because we want to share our ideas with other people, we want to talk about them with others. We want to ramble and fantasize about different scenarios. That´s fun.

It´s only natural to want at least some sort of feedback after spending so much time on something. And then it just hurts when people refuse to reblog your posts for ctually no reason at all, other than that they´re lazy or think a reblog is something super rare and special that only the "best" posts get to benefit from.

( Seriously, I don´t understand the sentiment of "Oh I really liked this but I didn´t like it enough to actually reblog and share it with other people. I don´t think the author should get any recognition. Oh but they better keep writing anyway and fast!")

At this point, rambling about ideas in a friend´s dms feels way more fulfilling. You guys have no idea of all the extensive rambles I went on with Korka that most likely will never see the light of day.

Why should I put in the effort and write it down to share with others when they can´t even bother to spend a single second to reblog it to show me that they appreciated what I wrote.

It makes no sense. Feedback and the back-and-forth with readers and fellow writers is what keeps us going. It´s super fun to get a conversation going about a cool idea you had! It´s not fun at all to see the notes on a post go up but no one saying anything. All that tells me is "huh, I guess people didn´t like this one. Guess I won´t post any of that anymore"

This complete lack of feedback from readers combined with work picking up is actually the main reason why I stopped writing for a few months. It didn´t feel rewarding anymore.

The recent yandere Alcryst post is actually one of the reasons why I started considering posting a bit more again. I was pleasantly surprised by all the nice tags and comments that one got and it made me smile every time I saw a new one pop up. I don´t care if it didn´t get as many notes as most twst works, I still felt way more satisfied and proud of it.

And that´s sort of where I come to the conclusion of this post:

Feedback matters, it really does! Likes tell us absolutely nothing, you could have downright hated it for all I know. But rest assured that I do screenshot every nice tag or comment I get, no matter if it´s actually a thought-out comprehensive analysis or just someone going "HJVJMVJM". I appreciate all of these so much. I save all of them in a little folder and look at them to cheer myself up when things might be tough.

So please, if you want your favorite blogs to continue then reblog! Maybe even leave a nice comment! Don´t forget that you get all of this stuff for free, creators are the ones keeping a community truly alive. You would probably be sad if your favorite writer or artist suddenly stopped posting due to a lack of support.

Please. Take that single second out of your life to hit the reblog button. It helps out more than you think and goes a long way to keep us motivated.

[awlimagines]

Day Ten - Rock

“Whoa, what’s all this?” Rock laughed. 

His jovial smile slipped at the sight of the alligators basking in the winter sun from the confines of their enclosure. Where on earth had you brought him? Rock quickly replaced his apprehension with his usual smile when he saw worry flit across your face. 

“You said you wanted to see Santa. I thought this would be the best place,” you explained, shuffling your feet. 

What had he gotten himself into? The outdoor store was a hellscape in his mind. Camouflage decked the racks, and an actual fish tank was proudly in the center of the store. Rock struggled to ignore the fish casually swimming as he followed you to the line for Santa. They were much better when they were submerged out of sight in the river or ocean. 

The sight of Santa raised his spirits. The man was dressed all in red with a natural beard and a twinkle in his eye. He was already a million times better than Santa of his youth. The lumbering Santa that used to visit the inn when he was a child always looked like Van with a fake beard. He grasped your hand as he eagerly bounced on his feet, drawing nearer to the front of the line. 

“After seeing Santa, I thought we could pick you out some fishing gear.” 

“Oh,” Rock realized. “This is where I went wrong.”

He watched as you whispered something in Santa’s ear before sharing a laugh with the jolly man. Rock would have been jealous if he wasn’t so stressed trying to figure out how to escape the fishing section (which looked like a solid third of the store). How could he tell you he hated fish and only tagged along to spend time with you? 

“And what would you like for Starry Night, young man?” Santa asked. 

“Santa! I have a huuuuuge request,” Rock loudly proclaimed as he sat in the big, red man’s lap, arms twining around his neck. “Please don’t put me on the naughty list! I know lying is wrong, but I wanted to spend time with Y/N, so I said I like fishing when I really, really hate fish. I’d like to get a Blue Feather from Y/N for Starry Night instead of a fishing pole.” 

The blonde couldn’t fight his massive grin as he hopped off the flustered Santa’s lap over to you. Your face was beet red after his antics. He loved seeing you like this because Rock knew your thoughts were focused only on him. Didn’t they say any attention was good attention after all? Rock certainly thought so as you grabbed his hand and pulled him from the store. He idly tagged along behind you, gazing at brightly colored shops. Rock wondered where you could be headed next. He was getting hungry, so maybe you were taking him to a restaurant? 

You dragged him from the sidewalk into one of the city’s many little pocket parks. Rock followed, preparing more jokes to ramble off until you laughed. The blonde flinched back as you whirled on him. He recognized the look on your face well from years of seeing the same one on his parent’s faces: exasperation.  This was it. He had finally messed up the one relationship he managed to snag. Where did he mess up, though? 

“I wish you had said something before that,” you frowned, still fighting the public embarrassment. 

“What?” the confused man blurted out. 

“T-that spectacle back there! How could you publicly say stuff like that?” 

Rock’s heart dropped. Were you mad? You sounded mad, mad enough not to fall for his devilish charms. Goddess, how could he salvage this? Rock tried the trick he knew best: play dumb and that it was a joke. 

“Haha, oh man! I wasn’t serious about all the blue feather stuff. I mean, unless-” Rock desperately scrambled to salvage the situation with a half-hearted chuckle. 

You sighed, annoyance gone from your face as it creased with worry instead, “That’s not the problem. Do you like fishing?” 

“No- I mean, yes! I-” Rock fumbled for words as his brain absorbed the question. He thought you were focused on the fiasco of him very publicly asking Santa for a proposal from you. This was about the fish? Relieved, Rock babbled out an explanation, “No, I don’t like fishing. They’re slimy and gross and freak me out. I dealt with it because I wanted to spend time with you.” 

“I didn’t know you hated fish and took you to a place like that. I have to replan everything for Starry Night now,” you groaned. Rock watched you closely as you fretted over new plans. He couldn’t understand making plans in advance, but you seemed fond of doing so. Honestly, Rock enjoyed seeing you take the time to plan things with him. It made him feel wanted. 

“So, does this mean you’re going propose to me?” he asked eagerly, breaking your concentration. 

“You’re getting ahead of yourself,” you blushed at the blonde’s devious grin. 

Rock’s heart jumped with joy at the implication. You were going to propose to him? When? A sly smile crossed his face as he whispered in your ear, “You know, as long as we’re getting ahead. I liked that Santa. We should bring our kids here.”

[mezz-merizing]

hi everyone, i'm mezz!

so!! now that we're about a week into you all deciding that my aimless rambles about hypno things i like are worth a follow, i figure it's probably about time for a belated introduction, and also a pinned post!

i'm Mezzmer, and you can call me Mezz! i'm sure you've caught the general drift by now: i'm an extremely hypnokinky nineteen-year-old enby with a passion for long-winded infodumping about things that interest me, and this blog is my new and shiny place to do that about something that interests me a lot- the infinite art form of hypnosis!

we have to do all the things a pinned post does, so let's get that out of the way! all that below the cut :3

so! first things first, who don't we want around here? to put it concisely, please don't interact with me iiiif:

you're generally cringe (bigot, terf, nazi, et cetera. you know you're not wanted here, don't make me waste my time blocking you)

you're under the age of 18, for my safety as much as yours

you're a completely blank blog (it's nothing personal! i'm just gonna assume you're a bot if you've got absolutely nothing on your blog- as long as you've got something in your name, or a pfp, a description, whatever, you're cool with me! i don't care if you don't post, i was a lurker too, last week xP)

you post medfet content that revolves around mental hospitals and/or institutionalization, and that's not obvious by your blog title (again, not personal! i just like to scan through the blogs of people who show up in my notifs from time to time, and that kind of thing is a major trigger for me. please follow me on an alt account or something)

and that's it!! i'm pretty lenient with all this stuff- don't be Literally The Worst, and don't cross my boundaries, and we're chill :3

some personal stuff i think you should know: i'm canadian, i'm not a man but i prefer masculine pet names (good boy, pretty boy, etc), i'm autistic, and i will not tell you what's between my legs! i've got a decent amount of experience with hypnosis but i'm always learning and always exploring, and i'm almost always on the subby side. almost.

generally i appreciate hypnotism for the actual hypnosis involved- triggers and suggestions are good and fun, but expect to see a lotttt more from me about inductions, about the experience of trance, that kind of thing! i'm also a firm believer in the inherent eroticism of trance, and i don't often find myself needy for actual sex to spice it up, so don't come expecting a ton of that either

my dms and my askbox are always open to cool people!! if you don't want to literally kill me, i probably want to talk to you!! please come and say hello, i promise it'll be nothing but a good time for me <3

and with all that out of the way, all that's left is my special little tags! there aren't a lot right now, but i'll edit this to add more as i need them

taglist:

#not hypno - believe it or not, i think about other things sometimes! if you'd rather keep your mezz-merizing experience as pure as possible, or if you're seeking out my opinions on stuff that isn't, um, hypno, this is for you >:3

#mezz personals - sometimes i talk about myself on purpose! and sometimes the things that i post reveal interesting things about me! when i think that's happened, i'll tag it with this, and you can peruse it to get a better feel for the boything behind the pretty words

#the box with asks in it - posts where i answer asks sent to me!! :3 i always love getting asks and i do my best to answer all of them, so don't be shy! all asks are answered publicly unless you specifically request otherwise

#🖤🦋🖤 - unfortunately i have been through a significant amount of trauma, and sometimes i process that trauma through kink. this tends to get dark quickly! if that's something that's not for you, well, that's why this tag exists

#serious shit - exactly what it sounds like! if this tag is on a post i'm not fucking around. there is no character and there is no horny stuff. i mean to use this as little as possible, so! let's see how low we can keep that count

that's all! thank you for reading! i'll be back to rambling before you know it <3

[warriorend-2]

ok ok since i can't be stupid and gay all the time (<- college student)

putting this shit under a cut bc while it's mostly just me rambling it's. spoiler heavy. & also wound up being 1600 words. sorry

1: possibly the most glaring thing, which makes me doubt the Phantom being a lot of otherwise-possible candidates, is that they would have to be very good at infiltration

-I presume Roxana didn't put the medal in her computer herself, which means whoever did put it there had to get in after she left, get into the computer without waking up Robutler, modify it to put it there, & put everything back (mostly) the way it was & leave a combination. granted maybe they just gave the medal to Roxana to put in there, but like. why

-getting it into that spot in the mines wouldn't have been too hard i don't think, just. knowing where the mine is and then sneaking in during off-duty hours (...assuming those happen)

-tbh the one in blind spot is probably the easiest to place given that it's just behind a license plate, & cars do have to stop sometimes even if it's not often

-i'm. not sure how they got the medal into hot water though. i'm guessing they snuck it in among the materials? (the other option here is that Zor had a hand in getting it there, which opens up a whole other can of worms so i'm not gonna. think about that one too hard)

-the one in cold shoulder is also not too hard to see it getting there. i would laugh if they had to make a mold of that little compartment & then make a block of ice for it though.

-the one in kboom is where i'm like. OK this facility is presumably not super new but it's also not super old given its current purpose. it may have been repurposed but still. how did they get the medal where it is and then also tag the bucket. the volcano doesn't look like it's horribly far away from shore (in the ending credits) but (also i'm aware the medal shouldn't even be able to be where it is but. yknow.)

and odds are that it doesn't matter that much, i'm just. they had a little safe set up in the control point already, they had access to the pneumatic tubes, etc. if the locations have any bearing and aren't just "here's somewhere to stick this puzzle that would be hard to figure out", then that implies some Shit about the phantom (& possibly also their allies. if they have any. if they do I highly doubt they're Agency-related.). given where the phantom gets to i am somewhat leaning towards the idea it may be V. Vitti (also the. insignia), given that we've seen the sort of places Agent Phoenix gets into (...seat of power) & so

2: Zor's goals feel a lot more on a personal bent this game, not just irt destroying the Agency but also. destroying the kinesium & anything that uses it. so whatever their reason, it seems to be a lot more personal (+ they actively Address the player more often, which could be Phoenix's infamy but also in the other games they were barely present, both in terms of voicelines & actual like. Story Push. they were a very passive supervillain in the other games, is what i'm saying)

which leads me up to like. we all know characters can lie, & in this series it's kinda expected, but. idk. i keep circling back to the shield generator. & the lava generators being accessible from Phoenix's cabin, but not the one Roxana was in. & Phoenix's cabin seemingly having all this shit that the others didn't have, & it could have been a tactical choice on Phoenix's part, but.

i mean. Zor does definitely say they want you dead, but they don't say it directly a whole lot (iirc they say "kill you and Prism" but otherwise they don't directly address the player in death threats, it's usually just. agents, plural. or "whatever end you meet" which is also a threat but is vague)

which just. why is Agent Phoenix still alive? Game design aside, of course. It wouldn't be much of a game if the villain kills you in the first level, after all.

But it feels, to me, like the weaknesses are far too glaring to be just missed over, especially in 3, because. if they want you dead that badly, why. why leave things so safe?

Hot Water is one i wind up on a lot, because you could chalk things up to being deathtraps, but Ollie knew about the gas and the grenade trap, & seemed completely unfazed by them (& kinda implied that's just How It Is for new folks), so they're not necessarily targeted, it's just standard practice. Putting aside the fact that even if they were intended to be deathtraps, they're so. Mild. to put it bluntly. Zor knows Phoenix by this point, knows the shit they've pulled & survived, a gas trap & a grenade in a vending machine feel very. yknow. that's like throwing a rock at the back of someone's head, comparatively

and then the KBOOM demo & the shield generator, both explicitly left for you to see. & it's a pretty 1-to-1 comparison for how the actual KBOOM mission goes, except for the telekinesis save at the end. the squid gets involved, but for the most part, considering it's a lab Zor loosely implies they were at, the security is very. lax. & everything is accessible to the "new hire", popsicle-ID necessity aside. (also apparently Ollie has been down there a while, given he doesn't seem to. know about the whole "world domination" thing. which is Eerie because if that's the case then how long exactly has the whole Kinesium thing been a plan?)

to me. & it has felt like this since the end of the second game. When Zor says they want you dead, there's a whole host of unstated conditions to that, which they would be good at given the whole CEO thing.

"I want you dead if you aren't good enough at your job to survive" sort of deal. which also lines in nicely with how they seem to be as an Actual Boss. of course, they never say the second part out loud, but. short of them just being Really Smart in a lot of cases (failsafe in Juniper's mask, leading Roxana along long enough to get her research & then trying to kill her, etc) but Really Dumb in others (leaving the shield generator, making the squid the only real danger to Phoenix down there, not having any failsafes to make sure the missiles launch at the end of 2 even if the briefcase is compromised (or just not using them), etc), it's like. the ways their plans get foiled at the end of 2 & 3 feels intentional.

plus you could make the argument that Roxana was also being used to lead Phoenix along until they were where Zor wanted them, at which point both of what they were using her for (Kinesium research, kite Phoenix around until they're in position, even if that second one wasn't in the deal) was done & they could get rid of her without feeling bad.

would stopping KBOOM have been possible without Roxana's help? Dunno. Not the way it's presented in-game, because in-game she was also instrumental to stopping it.

i'm also going to briefly play semantics for a second. i'm not sure i consider "even the great Agent Phoenix will eventually burn out" to be a threat because. that's what phoenixes do. They burn, and then they come back. Sometimes it takes a while, but. if i'm not just thinking about semantics Way Too Hard, the wording of "burn out" suggests something far different than "die". combining that with Zor talking about the Agency like That, & the Phantom (at least vaguely) implying prior experience with the Agency, & realizing that their involvement would cost them their life, makes me think. maybe "burn out" isn't a threat of death, but a threat of something about Phoenix changing soon. Maybe as a result of almost dying. "burn out" is also used for like. becoming exhausted, stopping trying, & maybe that too. who knows. i don't, i'm not on the dev team, i'm just some 21 year old chewing on semantics.

at the end of the day, my current standing on Theories is. hard to sum up but i will do my best. o7

-The phantom is probably one of a very small handful of candidates, & I'm leaning towards it being V. Vitti or maybe possibly Zor in a funny hat.

-Zor is trying to kill Phoenix, but not inescapably. maybe they're testing Phoenix, maybe they're just trying to almost-kill Phoenix enough times they get tired of the Agency and fuck off so Zor can do the whole "world domination" thing (which i am not. wholly convinced they actually are after.)

-summing those two up made me think of something else. perhaps the Phantom was also testing Phoenix in a roundabout way, by seeing if they could survive everything else, because they only show up in the third game. Their note opening with "it seems you're as good as they say" indicates they are at least familiar with Phoenix & their reputation, albeit maybe not directly (if it is Vitti, i doubt she would have access to Agency knowledge, but post-Rising Phoenix, once the rumors started getting out...)

-this is a silly theory i like to throw around in my head, but i'm very fond of it, so: the "death room" you go to after dying in a mission may not necessarily always indicate Actual Death. in some cases, yes, but in other cases. idk. i've always gotten more the vibe of having been captured as opposed to outright killed (although being able to respawn does throw a wrench in there, but oh well. game has to be a game & all)

[jamiewintons]

Forever (Ariel Conroy/F!Reader)

Summary: You've had a crush on Ariel for a while, thinking that he's a perfectly normal and nice guy. But really, you know nothing about how far he'll go to have you.

Tags/Warnings: Smut (18+ ONLY). Dead Dove: Do Not Eat. Noncon. Mentions of Stalking, Kidnapping, and Nonconsensual Voyeurism. Drugging. Mild Praise. Fingering. Handjobs.

A/N: Please heed the tags! Do not read if this is going to trigger you or make you uncomfortable in any way! Honestly, this is mostly just horny ramblings so I hope it actually makes sense 😆. I hope that those who choose to read this enjoy it!!

Word Count: 3040

Ariel Taglist: As this is a dark fic, I'm only tagging the people I know who will be okay with this; @pink-booty-butts, @demontoucansam, @thingses-and-stuffses!

*

Your eyes slowly flutter open, the dull ache behind your eyes making you groan. Your blurred vision and general grogginess makes you wonder what you drank last night, but then you remember that you didn’t drink last night.

The previous night, you had decided to stay at home for a quiet night in; work had been extra stressful recently and you hadn’t felt like going out. You’d dressed yourself in your pyjamas relatively early, and settled down to watch a film on the sofa. But for some reason, you feel horribly hungover, though thankfully minus the nausea. Groaning once more, you try to bring your hand up to rub your eyes.

That’s strange. You can’t move your arm.

You look down at your hand, and try moving it again. Even with all of your effort, the only movement you can manage is the tiniest wiggle of your fingers. You try your other hand, then both of your legs, but the result is much the same. Your chest fills with dread, and you think that it can’t get any worse, until you take notice of your surroundings.

You don’t recognise them whatsoever.

From what you can tell, the room you’re in seems to be a basement. There’s no windows – the room only lit by a single dim lightbulb in the middle of the room – and the walls are built with grey bricks. You suspect that the floor is concrete, though you can’t move to confirm your suspicions. The last, most terrifying factor that you notice is that you’re lying on a bed, atop a soft duvet. You’re lying immobile in the basement of who knows who, with no means of escape – it’s like something out of a nightmare.

Out of instinct, you call out for help, with as loud a voice as you can muster. Why you decided to do this, you’re not sure. From what you can tell, there’s no one around to hear you, and if there were anyone, they probably wouldn’t be the kind of person to help you. They’re probably the person who put you into this situation in the first place.

So instead, you cease your shouting, and lay there still on the bed – not that you have much of a choice – tears welling in your eyes as you contemplate your current predicament, your mind preoccupied with what horrible thing might happen next. With each dreadful thought, your tears come faster, and soon you’re sobbing, unable to wipe the wetness from your cheeks. Your sobs have become so loud, that you don’t notice the figure walking down the stairs into the basement with you until they speak.

“Don’t cry, pet,” the voice says, with a sympathetic tone. You can barely concentrate enough to recognise that it’s a voice you already know. It’s not until the figure gets onto the bed with you, kneeling above you and wiping the tears off your face with a soft tissue. Your eyes shoot open wide, and you stare up into the face of your captor. Even with eyes brimming with tears, you would recognise that face anywhere.

“A-Ariel…?” you sputter, as Ariel looks down at you with a soft smile. He discards the tissue somewhere you can’t see, and a hand comes to gently stroke your cheek. “Ariel, what’s going on?”

“Everything’s alright, pet. I’ve got you,” he says, as if that’s supposed to bring you any kind of comfort. “You don’t need to worry about anything anymore.”

Though his words and the tone his using seem as if they would be calming, the look behind Ariel’s eyes and the fact that he’s, well, got you trapped in his basement, suggest something a lot more sinister. You’d trusted Ariel, let him into your flat, had him fix your computer when it was glitching out and you’d hadn’t had the money to take it into the shop. You’d seen enough crime shows, you should have known better than to trust random guys who seemed too good to be true. But he was cute and you had a crush on him, it had blinded you to any red flags that may have been there.

“Please… please don’t kill me…” you practically beg, feeling your chest begin to hurt from how much you’ve been crying. Ariel’s expressions shifts, and now he looks offended, like you’re in the wrong here. “I’ll do anything, just… please…”

Ariel’s hand reaches out to stroke your cheek again, and you try to pull away from his touch, but of course you still cannot move. You close your eyes tightly as you feel his thumb brush against your skin. “I’m not going to kill you, princess. What do you take me for?” he gazes at you earnestly, though you don’t see it. “Why would I hurt you? I love you. I brought you here so that we can be together.”

“What…?” you ask flatly, your heart feeling like it’s stopped beating for a split second.

“We’re going to be together. Forever.” Ariel leans down slightly, giving you a brief peck on the lips. You’d always imagined what it would be like to kiss Ariel, but in your fantasies it hadn’t been like this. You always saw it as happening after a nice romantic date, after he walked you back to your place. This couldn’t be further from how you wanted it.

Ariel goes in for a second kiss, much more passionate and forceful this time. His hand firmly grasps your chin, keeping your head still, but you murmur repeated protests against his lips. After a few moments of you not complying, Ariel pulls back, keeping his hand on your chin.

“There’s no need to pretend, I know that you want this. I know that you think of me when you touch yourself.” You don’t have any words left to question him, simply looking at him with terrified, inquiring eyes, wondering how he could possibly know something like that. Thankfully, Ariel seems to understand what you’re asking. “You should have covered up your webcam. Anyone could have been watching you finger that pretty little cunt, but lucky for you, I put measures in place to keep any perverts out. But in return for keeping you safe, I thought it was only fair that I get to watch. Really, you should be thanking me.”

Your cheeks burn with shame, with the knowledge that every time you’d been touching yourself, thinking that you were completely alone, Ariel had been there watching. Did he record your little sessions? Did he have a whole folder on his harddrive dedicated to you touching yourself? You can’t think on the subject for much longer, because it’s only a few moments before Ariel continues talking.

“It was good enough to just hear your moans, watch you fuck yourself… but the first time I heard you say my name? God… I’ve never come so fast.” Ariel groans, his face twisted in ecstasy as if he were reliving that blissful moment. “Every day since I’ve been planning, waiting for the moment where I can finally hear it for real. And now, here you are.”

“Ariel, no…” you weakly shake your head, but Ariel still doesn’t seem dissuaded. His hand comes up to gently grope one of your tits, revelling in how soft it feels in his palm, as his thumb brushes over your nipple. You let out a soft breath; whatever drugs Ariel had used to keep you still allowed you to feel everything even if you couldn’t move. Wanting to feel them for real, he pulls your shirt up, manipulating your arms so he can remove it from your body.

“Still playing hard to get, kitten? That won’t last long. I’ll have you begging for my cock soon enough.” Ariel’s fingers hook into the waist of your pyjama pants, slowly beginning to pull them down. You inhale sharply, closing your eyes. It’s not long before Ariel gets fed up with going slow and practically tears your pants off, pulling them down your legs without any ceremony whatsoever. They’re tossed aside, and then he’s spreading your legs apart and gazing at his real prize.

“Fuck…” Ariel mumbles to himself, laying down between your legs so he can get a proper look. He studies your cunt with great interest, bringing two fingers to swipe through your folds and smirking at the wetness that collects on them. “You’re soaked, love. You can’t try and tell me that you don’t want this.”

You bite your lip, hating how good it feels when Ariel touches you, even a little. He begins toying with your clit, rubbing it in small circles and making you whine involuntarily. He smirks at the noise, taking it as an invitation to delve one finger inside your sopping wet entrance. Ariel groans, feeling how warm and wet and tight you are around just one of his fingers, and already he wants to give up on preparation and just make you take his dick right now. You’d adjust soon enough.

Ariel pushes that thought away. Though part of him wants to take what he needs from you, to use you like a toy; like he had said before, he doesn’t want to hurt you. A second finger joins his first, and he scissors the digits inside of you, stretching you out a little. His thumb begins circling your swollen, sensitive clit, and against your best interests you moan aloud, spurring Ariel on and making his movements become harder and faster.

He’s good at this, and you hate it. Already you can feel your body betraying you; your cunt beginning to clench around Ariel’s long fingers. Your whimpers echo around the basement, as you struggle to keep yourself from orgasming. But Ariel is relentless, his nimble digits moving in and out of your entrance and brushing against your sweet spot each time. The pressure is building in your lower stomach, and almost beginning to overtake you, with no chance of stopping it.

That is until everything suddenly stops. You whine at the loss when Ariel slips his fingers out of you, and you hate yourself for wanting to beg him to keep going. You manage to stay quiet, but Ariel’s eyes bore into you like he can read your mind, and he smirks devilishly. “Sorry, pet, but you’re not allowed to come anywhere but around my cock.”

Ariel sits up, beginning to fidget with the button and fly of his jeans. Once he’s taken care of that, he pulls them down, along with the dark blue boxers underneath, and you get your first glimpse of his cock. It’s long and thick and hard against his stomach, and you try to ignore the tingles that you get from the sight of it. While you’re staring, Ariel takes off his shirt.

“Are you ready, pet?” Ariel asks softly, stroking his cock a few times as he once again stares at your glistening cunt. Still defiant, you shake your head, but Ariel smiles and presses himself against your entrance. “Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle. This time, at least.”

With that, Ariel begins slowly pushing himself inside of you; you can feel him stretching you out and it stings, but still he continues, pressing forward until he’s fully sheathed inside of your tight cunt. You’ve never felt so full, and you open your mouth in a silent scream, as if that’s going to create more space inside of you.

“Oh, fuck…” Ariel whispers, his eyes shut as he adjusts to the feeling of being buried so deep inside of you, finally, after all of this waiting. And it seems he’s unwilling to wait much longer, because it’s only a few moments before he begins moving, rocking his hips against you. He’s kneeling between your thighs as he slowly fucks you, allowing himself to watch you, to study all of your reactions.

For your part, you’re attempting to keep yourself quiet, to not give any reactions, not wanting to encourage Ariel or allow him to believe that you’re enjoying it. It becomes more and more difficult however, with Ariel’s size and his gradually quickening pace, as he digs his fingers into your hips hard enough to bruise.

You close your eyes, biting your lip to muffle the whines and whimpers that are striving to escape you. Seeing this, Ariel decides to take things further, manouvering your legs over his shoulders and pressing his weight onto them so your thighs are pushed against your chest, leaving you practically bent in half beneath him. This new position allows him to reach even deeper inside of you, which you hadn’t thought possible, straining your resolve even further.

Your traitorous moans are music to Ariel’s ears, encouraging him to speed up even more. With each thrust you get louder, and he can tell that you’re already dangerously close to the edge. “That’s it, darling, let go,” he whispers harshly into your ear, pausing for a moment to give it a quick gentle bite. “Come for me, I know you want to.”

You try and will yourself to disobey; attempting to think of anything but Ariel’s cock pounding into you, how good it feels despite everything, how much you want to just let go. But still, you stubbornly refuse, not wanting to give in to him. “I told you to do something, love,” he says, with a much darker tone to his voice than before, which instills even more fear into you. When you once again decline to obey, you hear him growl into your ear. “I’m going to give you one more chance to do what you’re told. Come for me.”

Ariel sits back up, returning to the position he’d been in previously. This allows him to be able to reach your clit, which he rubs in harsh circles, making you cry out. After a few more seconds, you’re unable to resist anymore, and suddenly you fall apart, practically sobbing as Ariel continues fucking you through your climax. Through the fog of pleasure, you hear that he’s talking to you, but it’s difficult for you to make out exactly what he’s saying.

“That’s it, good girl… I knew you’d be good for me…” Ariel’s relentless pace doesn’t let up, if anything he gets rougher and faster, as your cunt clenches around him. He can feel himself reaching the edge, and though he’d love to spend more time turning you into an oversensitive mess, he knows that he won’t be able to hold out. Besides, he has all the time in the world to do that. “I’m close, pet. You’re going to take all of it.”

“No, you can’t!” you struggle to get out, and Ariel looks at you with an irritated frown, wondering why on earth you’re still trying to defy him. Despite everything, you try and make your case. “I-I’m not on the pill, I… we can’t have a baby!”

To be fair, you’re right. Ariel really doesn’t want a kid running around that he has to take care of; all he wanted was unrestricted access to you and every inch of your gorgeous body. A child would ruin that. He’d have to get you on birth control, and then next time, he’d be able to cum inside you all he wants.

“Alright, love. You win.” With a sigh reminiscent of a long suffering husband, Ariel reluctantly pulls out of you, his still hard cock glistening with your wetness. “But you still have to make me cum.”

You’re about to open your mouth to question how you were supposed to be able to do that when you still can’t move, but you’re struck speechless when Ariel shifts on the bed, moving to straddling your stomach with his legs either side of your body. He carefully takes your limp hand in his and wraps it around his cock, using it to begin jerking himself off.

Ariel throws his head back and lets out a low groan of pleasure, overjoyed to finally feel you touching him, even if he’s forcing you to. He sates himself with the knowledge that one day, you’ll do this for him not only willingly, but enthusiastically. The thought of you looking up at him with your sweet eyes, just to check if you’re pleasing him, silently begging for his approval, makes him start fucking your fist faster without even realising it.

Your hand doesn’t feel quite as good as your pussy, but it still feels incredible, a nice change from fucking his own hand as he watches you through the lens of a camera. He quickly gets lost in the feeling of you touching him, of the sight of you so submissive and pliant beneath him. Your hand, guided by Ariel’s, pumps his cock, gliding easily thanks to the mix of his precum and your own wetness. Ariel is letting out quiet moans and a litany of curses, the fingertips of his free hand digging into your side. 

One last buck of his hips and Ariel’s coming, moaning out your name as his cum spurts onto your chest, marking you as his. He keeps you stroking him through his climax until he’s too sensitive to continue, and promptly collapses onto the bed beside you.

You stare at the ceiling and feel dirty, both literally and figuratively. Ariel’s quiet laboured breaths beside you match your own, though he seems to recover quicker than you, as you can soon feel him moving around on the bed beside you.

“I need to get you cleaned up, love,” Ariel says, as he wipes the mess he made on your chest away with a tissue. “Even if you do look pretty covered in my cum like that.” He can’t stop himself from imagining your body completely painted in his essence, and he feels his cock twitch slightly at the image, but that would have to wait for another time. Ariel knows that to get you to accept him, to love him, he’ll have to be careful. He can’t push you into things too quickly, or you’ll push him away.

So for now, he simply curls up at your side, unable to take his gaze off of you as your eyes flutter closed from exhaustion. You’re here now, and you’re all his.