#I hate tagging like this but I'll do what I have to

[jacktheeldergod2]

Fuck it I'm answering all of them

1. It's bad

2. A random bird I saw outside. Common city pidgeon

3. Yeah. Not telling

4. Yeah. I'm also the most confident person ever. It's weird

5. Polycule. But all of them are a fucking ocean away

6. Either bleed out somewhere in peace with the whole thing or with my belly full of alcohol and a pretty face on my crotch

7. Green apple

8. Not professionaly yet but I do muay thai

9. I don't bite my nails. I anxiously rip off the ever regenerating skin of my lips

10. Like a few months ago. It was very short cause the pe teacher broke us up immediately

11. Yes. My lovers

12. No but it sounds fun in a way

13. Bigots,my mother etc

14. @mmmmmmky . Kay doesn't talk on the internet much so I miss Kay almost constantly

15. Mind your business

16. Hateful

17. I never made out at all my lovers live seas away

18. Fuck no. Spiders? The cool looking weavers? No I fucking don't

19. Why? To wait like I'm waiting right now all over again? To suffer more?

20. Nowhere. I haven't done that

21. Jacking off to @puppygirllaika 's art and playing hades

22. I hate kids. Humans should fully grow up in a single year like most animals. We'd have so much more time of youthful vigor that way

23. Not yet. I want snake bites and a bunch in my ears

24. I'm not good at school and none of them ever really felt good

25. Some friends from here that deleted their blogs and cut contact

26. Sex

27. No. Well I refused to be my first girlfriend's lover at the start out of fear that I'd fuck it up so maybe that counts

28. My relationships are open. If my lovers are being happy that's good for me whether I am involved or not. I'm a grown man not a 12 year old girl like I once was

29. I don't think so. I've pissed em off a few times though

30. Everything

31. My lovers and my friends

32. Purple,indigo,pink,that general range of color

33. Yes. Severely

34. random shit happened. Among them @sapient-marshmallow-princess had a computer. It was new and all that

35. Mother. Years ago

36. Never

37. Forget. Even if I forget what was done I'll forgive none of it

38. No

39. I haven't had one

40. No although I'd like to. Feels good to be naked y'know

41 through 50 are missing

51. Παστίτσιο

52. Nothing ever happened for a reason except the actions of living beings. The universe itself is just space and the matter within it

53. Masturbation

54. Yeah

55. Very much so

56. Not many,not too little. Never got really bad unfortunately. I wanna bring a human halfway to hell with my hands

57. I am incapable of perfectly differenting sexual attraction and romantic love. Perhaps I love my lovers platonically but have some special connection with them. I don't believe in some "the one" or "fated love" bullcrap. I never was so juvenile

58. Storms

59. Yes but it never snows here unfortunately

60. Doesn't matter to me. @moonsfavoritedaughter wants to so we'll buy some rings and tell the oaths to each other in the woods. This is more to make her happy,I needn't a ring to prove the love I feel

61. No

62. @moonsfavoritedaughter @mmmmmmky @sapient-marshmallow-princess

63. Already did. My name is Jack Spawn. Or the feminine version,Jackie Spawn. Maybe I'll change it more. Jojo sounds kinda good but I'm not sure

64. I haven't kissed

65. Fuck probably

66. If I can't act my complete self around someone they are not my friend. So yes

67. Your mom

68. Bella

69. Do I look like a 5-7 year old to you?

70. All my friends and lovers

@coiled-dragon you tagged me in a "people I wanna get to know better post last month so you can read this if you want

70 horrible questions ... Fuck it

01: Do you have a good relationship with your parents? 02: Who did you last say “I love you” to? 03: Do you regret anything? 04: Are you insecure? 05: What is your relationship status? 06: How do you want to die? 07: What did you last eat? 08: Played any sports? 09: Do you bite your nails? 10: When was your last physical fight? 11: Do you like someone? 12: Have you ever stayed up 48 hours? 13: Do you hate anyone at the moment? 14: Do you miss someone? 15: Have any pets? 16: How exactly are you feeling at the moment? 17: Ever made out in the bathroom? 18: Are you scared of spiders? 19: Would you go back in time if you were given the chance? 20: Where was the last place you snogged someone? 21: What are your plans for this weekend? 22: Do you want to have kids? How many? 23: Do you have piercings? How many? 24: What is/are/were your best subject(s)? 25: Do you miss anyone from your past? 26: What are you craving right now? 27: Have you ever broken someone’s heart? 28: Have you ever been cheated on? 29: Have you made a boyfriend/girlfriend cry? 30: What’s irritating you right now? 31: Does somebody love you? 32: What is your favourite color? 33: Do you have trust issues? 34: Who/what was your last dream about? 35: Who was the last person you cried in front of? 36: Do you give out second chances too easily? 37: Is it easier to forgive or forget? 38: Is this year the best year of your life? 39: How old were you when you had your first kiss? 40: Have you ever walked outside completely naked? 51: Favourite food? 52: Do you believe everything happens for a reason? 53: What is the last thing you did before you went to bed last night? 54: Is cheating ever okay? 55: Are you mean? 56: How many people have you fist fought? 57: Do you believe in true love? 58: Favourite weather? 59: Do you like the snow? 60: Do you wanna get married? 61: Is it cute when a boy/girl calls you baby? 62: What makes you happy? 63: Would you change your name? 64: Would it be hard to kiss the last person you kissed? 65: Your best friend of the opposite sex likes you, what do you do? 66: Do you have a friend of the opposite sex who you can act your complete self around? 67: Who was the last person of the opposite sex you talked to? 68: Who’s the last person you had a deep conversation with? 69: Do you believe in soulmates? 70: Is there anyone you would die for?

[wingedhallows]

— LOOSE TONGUES —

CHAPTER THREE

— ₊˚⊹♡ PAIRING ; 3.2k words vi!basketball jockey x reader!ballerina — ₊˚⊹♡ SYNOPSIS : There was something there—something unspoken, something undeniable. But in one careless moment, it all fell apart. Words were said, pride got in the way, and now she’s left with nothing but regret. She wants to fix it. She has to. Now, Vi is determined to fix what she broke. She’ll do anything—everything—to prove she didn’t mean it. But pride is a stubborn thing, and second chances don’t come easy. Can she turn the tide before it’s too late? Or has she already lost what she never had the courage to claim?

♡ navigation ♡

¸.*☆*.¸ CHAPTER INDEX ¸.*☆*.¸

— ₊˚⊹♡ TAG, YOU'RE IT

let me know below or send me a message and i'll add you to the taglist! :)

“—and her hair is so soft, god. I’d love to wrap it around my hand while we—”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, shut it.”

Vi scowls into her coffee, stirring it with far more aggression than necessary as she cuts Ellie off, it annoys her how well Ellie’s flirting with Margot is going. The heat licking up her neck has nothing to do with the drink in her hands.

Ellie smirks, tilting her head just enough to make it clear—she’s enjoying this. Mocking her. Dragging it out like she knows exactly how deep this frustration runs.

“No need to be snappy, Vi. It’s your own damn fault your birdie thinks you hate her.”

The words hit their mark, sinking in like claws. Vi’s grip on the cup tightens, jaw clenching as she shoots Ellie a glare—one sharp enough to make anyone else squirm.

But not Ellie. And certainly not Abby, who only grins before taking an infuriatingly slow sip of her coffee.

“Exactly. You couldn’t just admit you’re completely gone for her, huh? Now you get to pine. And grovel.”

Vi exhales sharply through her nose. That one lands too.

Pine. And grovel.

The humiliation creeps up her spine, settling into something ugly in her chest. Her first instinct is to deny it—to lean into her usual stubbornness, let her pride save her like it always does.

But for once, she doesn’t.

Instead, she sighs, heavy and resigned, as if finally admitting defeat. Her fingers absently stir the coffee again, watching the way the liquid swirls, like it might hold the answer to this whole fucking mess.

“Pine and grovel,” she mutters, echoing Abby’s words.

Because she knows they’re right.

She knows she fucked up.

But making you see how much she actually adores you? That’s not as easy as it should be.

In your presence, all of her bravado, all of her confidence—gone. Completely fucking gone. And in its place? Awkwardness. Stammering. A heat that burns high on her cheeks, betraying every last carefully built defense she has.

But, christ—she has to have you.

Her fingers tighten around the cup as she finally, finally lets the words slip past her lips.

“I like her a lot.”

It’s quiet, almost swallowed by the café’s background noise, but Ellie hears it. She hears it and grins like the smug bastard she is.

“Oh, believe me, we know.”

Vi huffs, rolling her eyes as she finally takes a sip of her coffee, the bitterness matching the frustration twisting inside her.

“Laugh it up, will you?” Her tone is dry, but the weight in her chest is very real.

Because what the hell is she supposed to do?

You think she hates you.

And the truth?

She’s absolutely fucking besotted with you.

“What the hell am I supposed to do?” Vi grumbles, slumping back in her chair, arms crossed tight over her chest. She looks—god, she’s never looked like such a fucking loser before.

Abby and Ellie, the ever-supportive assholes they are, snicker in unison. The sight of Vi—confident, cocky, star player Vi—reduced to a lovesick mess is apparently the funniest thing they’ve ever seen.

“Talk to her, maybe?” Abby suggests, leaning forward with an amused grin, as if the answer is that simple.

Vi scoffs, her eyebrows knitting together in pure frustration. “Oh, sure. Sounds great. Let me just walk up like—Hey. I’m unconditionally and irrevocably in love with you. Fuck off.” Her voice drips with sarcasm, every word spat out like venom, but underneath it, her chest aches.

Ellie completely loses it, throwing her head back as laughter wracks through her. She even doubles over in her chair, shaking with amusement.

“Irrevocably?” She gasps between breaths. “Didn’t even know you knew that word.”

Vi levels her with a glare, scowling deeply.

“Cunts. The both of you.”

But even as the words leave her lips, there’s no real bite behind them. Just an exhaustion, a helpless frustration that simmers beneath her skin.

Because for all her sharp edges and bravado, when it comes to you?

She’s completely, utterly, and irrevocably screwed.

You’re sprawled out on your bed, limbs heavy, staring blankly at the ceiling as Margot sits beside you, rhythmically running her fingers through your hair.

She’s been ranting for the past ten minutes about your refusal to use the conditioner she swore would work wonders for your oh so dry hair, but you’ve barely registered a word of it.

She notices.

“What’s up with you?” Margot finally asks, her fingers pausing for a beat before resuming their soft, absentminded strokes. Usually, you’d fire something back—argue, tease, at least pretend to care about her ongoing hair care intervention.

But right now? You’re dead silent, brows furrowed, lost in the mess inside your own head.

You exhale, long and slow. Fuck it.

“It’s just… Vi.”

Even saying her name out loud makes something twist in your chest, a dull ache that refuses to go away. She’s stuck in your mind, lingering like the last traces of a dream—one you can’t quite shake, no matter how hard you try.

Margot hums knowingly, amusement threading through her voice. “Ah, Vi. She’s got your mind all twisted, huh?”

Your eyes snap to her, narrowing in irritation. Of course, she’s teasing. She always teases. But god, couldn’t she have mercy just this once?

Your heart is in shambles, Margot.

“I’m fucking confused, that’s a start.” Your voice comes out exasperated, laced with something sharp and uncertain.

“I mean, first she tells me I’m not her type—has no problem embarrassing me in front of every-fucking-body—and now she’s all sweet with me?”

Your hands fling up in frustration before falling uselessly back to your sides. Your heart pounds against your ribs, like it’s trying to claw its way out. You wish you could let this go—wish you could stop analyzing every word, every glance, every fucking thing Vi does. But you can’t.

Margot sighs, tugging lightly at your hair as if to ground you. “She’s an idiot, that’s what she is.”

You scoff, closing your eyes for a moment. She’s not wrong.

Vi is an idiot.

Because if she liked you, she could just say so. Right?

You’re sprinting across campus, your heartbeat a frantic drum against your ribs. Late again.

Margot and her damn gentle hands, lulling you into sleep like some enchantress—she’s to blame for this. Laurel is going to kill you. No, worse—she’s going to make you practice in hell, barefoot, forever.

You round the corner at full speed, barely registering the presence of someone else before you collide, hard.

The impact sends you tumbling to the ground, your palms scraping against the pavement, your white tights now a canvas for green grass stains. Fucking great.

“Oh—shit, I’m so—”

The voice cuts off abruptly, and you don’t even need to look up to know who it belongs to. You’d know that voice anywhere. It lingers in your thoughts, in your bones, in the goddamn marrow of your existence.

Still, you lift your gaze, and—yeah. Of course, it’s her.

Vi stands before you, jersey clinging to her frame, hair damp, flushed from exertion. She must’ve just finished practice.

She looks good. Too good. Unfairly good. Heat blooms in your chest, rising up your throat, and you swallow—hard.

“I’m okay,” you manage, reaching for the hand she extends toward you. The moment your fingers touch, something zips through your veins, electric and dizzying.

Vi doesn’t let go immediately.

"Let me," she murmurs, voice softer than usual. It lacks the bravado she carries with others—feels gentler, like something meant only for you.

She bends down, effortlessly picking up your bag, and you pretend you’re not blatantly staring at the way her biceps flex with the motion.

(Christ.)

You take the bag from her with a quiet, “Thanks,” and step back—because god, she’s too close, and your brain is turning to static.

Her eyes drag over you, slow, lingering, and she wipes her palms on her shorts like she’s trying to rid herself of nerves. She’s staring. You know she’s staring. And you know why.

Your ballet outfit.

It’s practically indecent under her gaze, or maybe it’s just the way Vi looks at you—like it’s some kind of sin, like you’re something holy and untouchable and achingly tempting all at once.

She hesitates, just a moment, before exhaling sharply—like she’s shaking off doubt—and gathers every ounce of courage she has left.

“Are you free later today?”

The words come out low, almost too smooth, but she can’t stop the way her hands fidget at her sides. She bites her lip, heart hammering.

What if you say no? What if you tell her to fuck off? What if this is just another moment where she embarrasses herself and—

“I am, yes.”

Your voice is soft, almost nervous. She notices.

Her pulse spikes. Yes. Fuck, yes.

“We’re hanging later,” she continues, keeping her tone even (or at least trying).

“Share a blunt, maybe. Wanna come?”

She watches you closely, hoping to hell her ears aren’t turning red, but the way you look at her—like you’re considering this, like you might want this too—makes it so much harder to keep her cool.

“Umh… sure. When?”

Vi drinks in the sight of you, the slight tilt of your head, the way your lips part just slightly.

God, your eyes.

They’re going to ruin her.

“Whenever.” She blurts it out too fast, too eager. Fuck. Smooth. Real fucking smooth.

She clears her throat, desperate to save herself. “Just come over whenever you like.”

You give her a small nod, and then—

“Alright, I’ll come. See you later, Violet.”

And then you’re off, sprinting away before she can even process what just happened.

Vi stands there, rooted, a dumb, lopsided grin tugging at her lips. Because one—you said yes. A big fucking plus.

And two—

You called her Violet.

No one calls her by her full name. Usually, it’d piss her off.

But the way it sounds from your lips?

It makes her knees weak.

Later that day, after what felt like an eternity of convincing, you finally managed to drag Flint along to the "get-together" at Vi’s dorm.

You’ve been here before—many times, actually—but tonight feels different. Your pulse hammers against your ribs as you climb the stairs, each step making your nerves tighten just a little more.

“You should’ve worn the skirt,” Flint teases, nudging you with his elbow.

You roll your eyes, scoffing.

“Yeah—so I can flash the entire room when the weed hits? Genius plan.”

You nudge him back, and he just shakes his head, laughing softly before raising a fist to knock on the door.

It swings open almost immediately, and Abby greets Flint with that typical frat-boy handshake—clasped hands, a shoulder bump like they’re part of some exclusive club.

Then her gaze shifts to you, and her expression softens. Like always, you greet her with a hug, the familiarity grounding you for just a moment before she steps back to let you both in.

“Don’t bother with the shoes,” she says, shutting the door behind you and leading the way to the living room.

The space is filled with scattered laughter and the low hum of music. A few familiar faces lounge across the couch and floor—Ekko, Powder, two girls you don’t recognize.

But Ellie is missing, and it doesn’t take long for you to guess that she’s probably off somewhere with Margot.

And then—your eyes land on her.

Vi is sprawled out on the couch, cap pulled low over her pink hair, and for a split second, the entire room fades away.

Your breath catches. Your heart leaps. You swear you feel the ground shift beneath you.

The moment Vi notices you, her entire posture changes. She straightens up, stiffens like she’s been caught off guard.

Her head goes completely static, like she’s trying to figure out what the hell to do.

A handshake would be too impersonal. A hug, on the other hand—fuck it.

Before either of you can think, she’s already moving.

Her arms wrap around you, firm and secure, and suddenly you’re pressed against her. She smells like leather and something faintly floral—an intoxicating mix that seeps into your lungs, making you want to drown in it. Her body is solid, warm, and for a brief, fleeting moment, you let yourself lean into it.

“Hey.”

The word slips from her lips, quieter than you expected, as if the rest of the room no longer exists. It lingers in the space between you, charged with something unspoken.

You barely manage a breath before she pulls back, her arms reluctantly falling away from you.

“Hey,” you echo, voice softer than you intended.

And just like that, the air between you shifts—tighter, heavier. But before you can process it, the moment is gone.

You settle beside Vi on the couch, crossing your legs as casually as you can manage.

But the moment you do, doubt creeps in—are you too stiff? Too tense? Before you can spiral, Vi holds out a blunt, and you silently thank the gods for the distraction.

The conversation hums around you, a background blur of laughter and chatter. You take a slow drag, the smoke burning its way down your throat, sitting heavy in your lungs.

If your mother could see you now…

Vi, on the other hand, is losing her damn mind. The moment her fingers brush yours as you take the blunt, something electric shoots through her veins, igniting every nerve. It’s ridiculous how much a single touch affects her, but she can’t stop herself—she’s been waiting for an opening, for any excuse to keep the momentum between you going.

“How was practice?” Her voice is softer than before, meant only for you. Her stormy gray eyes lock onto yours, and she tries—tries so damn hard—to appear unfazed, like your presence doesn’t unravel her by the second.

You exhale slowly, the smoke curling between you as you hum in thought. Vi swears every tiny sound you make sets her heart hammering against her ribs.

“Horrible,” you finally admit, a quiet chuckle slipping from your lips. “Laurel made me do extra drills because I was late.”

Vi’s brow twitches at that—the ballet bitch had it out for you?

“Because of me.” Her jaw ticks, irritation flickering across her face. “I should’ve looked where I was going.”

You shake your head, offering her a small, reassuring smile. “No, I was late to begin with.”

Vi takes the blunt back from you, bringing it to her lips, and for some reason, your head spins as you watch her take a drag. The way her lips wrap around the paper, the slow pull of her inhale—it’s too much. You look away, pulse skittering in your chest.

“Vi, beer?”

Ekko’s voice cuts through the haze, and you glance up to see him standing from the floor, his head tilted in question.

Vi nods, but before she can even respond, Ekko smirks. “And your birdie?”

Everything stops.

A sudden, suffocating tension grips Vi’s chest.

No, no, no—not that.

Ekko nods toward you, and you blink at him, an eyebrow arching. “What?”

Vi stiffens beside you, her heart lurching into her throat. She panics, speaking before thinking. “Leave her alone.”

Your eyes flicker between them, mild confusion crossing your face. Meanwhile, Ekko raises his hands in mock surrender, amusement dancing in his expression. “No need to get your knickers in a twist over your crush.”

Vi freezes.

A hot wave of dread rushes up her spine, spreading like wildfire beneath her skin.

She can’t move, can’t breathe—can’t even look at you.

A few hours later, Flint announces your departure, and you silently thank the heavens.

Ever since Ekko so graciously outed Vi’s feelings for you, she’s been stuck in this awkward, jittery mess, barely able to meet your gaze.

Not that you’ve been doing much better. Your thoughts have been spiraling, heart pounding in your chest like a war drum.

Because Violet fucking Lane has a crush on you.

You barely register Flint chatting with Abby near the door when Vi shifts beside you, exhaling softly—like she’s working up the nerve to say something.

Then, finally, in a voice quieter than you’ve ever heard from her, she speaks.

“Can I talk to you for a moment?”

Your breath hitches, eyes flickering to hers. She’s not looking at you, but you can see it—the hesitation, the nerves tight in her posture. You give a small nod, and that’s all she needs before turning on her heel, leading you down the hall.

The moment you’re away from the others, Vi leans against the wall, inhaling deeply, like the words are lodged in her throat and she needs to steady herself before prying them free.

“I’m sorry about Ekko.” Her voice is low, the weight of her words pressing between you. “He’s an idiot.”

She still won’t look at you, her eyes fixed somewhere near the floor, and you swear you can see her hands twitch—like she wants to shove them deep into her pockets but is fighting the urge.

“It’s okay, I swear.” Your voice is softer now, watching her carefully, hoping to ease the tightness in her frame.

Vi finally dares to glance up, and at the sight of your small smile, you watch the tension in her shoulders loosen, just slightly.

“Yeah?” she murmurs, almost like she doesn’t quite believe it.

You nod, hands clasped together in front of you to keep yourself from fidgeting.

God, she’s so pretty.

Vi takes a step forward—slowly, carefully—like she’s afraid she might scare you off. Her eyes search yours, drinking in every detail, every shift in your expression.

She’s looking for something—anything—to tell her this isn’t one-sided, that you might want her just as much as she wants you.

And you do.

Your lips part slightly, breath stalling in your chest as she reaches out, hesitating just for a second before her fingers brush against your cheek. Her touch is featherlight, careful, reverent.

A quiet gasp catches in your throat as warmth blooms beneath her fingertips, and she feels it—feels the way you lean into her palm, how your lashes flutter just slightly.

Vi swears her heart is going to give out.

“Can I?” she whispers, her lips now just inches from yours. You can feel the warmth of her breath, smell the faint trace of mint and something distinctly her.

It’s barely a nod—just the smallest tilt of your head—but it’s enough.

Vi doesn’t hesitate this time. A quiet, shaky exhale leaves her just before she closes the space between you, her lips pressing against yours in a rush of heat and longing.

Your hands instinctively grip her shoulders, fingers grazing firm muscle, and god, you wish you’d done this sooner.

Her other hand finds its way into your hair, tugging you impossibly closer as she angles her head, deepening the kiss.

Her lips move against yours in a slow, careful rhythm—like she’s savoring every second, like she wants to commit this moment to memory.

And for the first time all night, the world feels right.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ TAGLIST *ੈ✩‧₊˚

( @foralltheprettygirls ; @sawaagyapong ; @jivimatcha ; @majuia ; @uhmidkmuch ; @savedforlaterr ; @baylegend6 ; @elle-girlylesbian @dazevi @paymeinkash , @jupitism , @lostsouls-mxli ; @xseraphine ; @tdawg2012 ; @norwayromanoff ; @caffeine-pup ; @tuliptu ; @killuomi ; @lin-elizabeth ; @sillyloafff ; @hitmehardmommy ; @cloudy-fay ; @powpowjinxlife ; @antobooh ; @horde9 ; @mikellie )

[gothwineaunts]

I don’t mean to assume or make anyone alarmed but I’ve heard you and flynn are skipping the focus on Annabel and Lenore bc of a group of Montresor fans (as Lenore and Annabel aren’t popular with them).

Is that true??

I’m not asking because of what’s happening in fastpass, I heard about this information around when season 2 came out.

Wow, that's honestly absurd. Sorry hon, I dunno where you heard that but it's made-up nonsense. A rumor, and not even a particularly good one. I think most anyone would be able to see through it, but I'll go through it with you anyway because I've seen some angst on the tag about this. 1. Lenore and Annabel are the main characters of the story, and that has not changed and will not change. If we intended to toss them aside in season 2, why on earth would we have set so much up in season 1? Also all of the promo art is still of them, and we spent a lot of time on it. So I think it's a safe bet to assume they're still the main characters. 2. Nevermore is, and has always been, a sapphic gothic romance. Montresor is a man. Where is the sense in changing the intent of a story, and likely losing readers in the process, just to appeal to a niche group? 3. As for this niche group of Montresor fans, where? Who are they? And what power do they supposedly have over us to force us to completely change the story to their shadowy whims? Idk if you noticed this but people kind of hate Montresor. He's easily the least liked character in the series. And making him the main character would be maybe the most unpopular decision we could possibly make, so how would that be selling out or making fanservice, if everyone... would hate it? Wouldn't that make it the opposite of fanservice? What is the logic there? 4. As far as I am concerned, Annabel and Lenore are popular with most everybody in the fandom (including people who happen to also like Montresor) on account of them being, once again, the main characters of the story. 5. Annabel got the first flashback, and then Ada, then Prospero, then Eulalie, and Will. I feel like there are enough data points there for most people to be able to see the trajectory of the arc. If you can't, I'm not going to explain it. 6. Related to the above point, do you suppose we've passed over Lenore by accident? Or we just forgot about her? Or is it more likely that we're doing a thing? 7. Y'know, it's always Montresor people make up these moralistic rumors about. I'm sick to death of people being weird about Montresor. Some of you out there really need to learn what a villain is, it's frankly wild how much confusion there seems to be around this concept. 8. This rumor smacks of "you don't actually care about the sapphics" but I regret to inform you that Flynn and I are both sapphics. And worse, we're sapphic together. Kinda shoots that idea out of the water. 9. Is this because everyone is mad they haven't kissed yet? Because this is still the same slowburn you read last season. I don't know why anyone thought there'd be a kiss like ten panels into the new season. 10. If I seem edgy, it's because it's pretty insulting to imply that we just do whatever readers tell us to do when it comes to creating the story. We really put our hearts into this series, and our plans for the plot will not change, no matter what y'all say or do. We do not crowdsource our art. And if we did, it would make an absolute mess of things. Thanks for your question, I hope I cleared things up. <3

[lemotmo]

They exist in a world entirely of their own making

Q. I can't believe this needs to be explained to people in the year 2025, but having feelings for someone doesn't mean love and definitely doesn't mean being in love with someone. Of course he loves Eddie in a particular way. Eddie is his best friend and brother. Forcing yourself to see it as romantic is a delusion entirely of your own making. The show is not telling that story and it couldn't be more obvious. You all need a reality check immediately because it's embarrassing at this point.

A. There is a growing part of me that is starting to believe that many of you all are 100% just trolling because it's simply not possible to be this stupid. If the thing between Buck and Eddie seems brotherly in any way to you then you need medical assistance because if that's how your brothers behave with one another something is drastically wrong.

"He doesn't believe he's lying IN THAT MOMENT. He believes what he's saying IN THAT MOMENT. IN THAT MOMENT that is what he believes". - Oliver Stark

"I've written them like that from the beginning. That's just who they are, I just stopped fighting it. Eddie's introduction was shirtless with 'Whata Man' playing over it". - Tim Minear

"Look what I would say is Tommy exists in this universe outside of being Buck's bed buddy" - Tim Minear

"Tommy's part of Buck's romantic past for sure". - Tim Minear

Referring to Tommy as a bed buddy is not a good thing. There was absolutely nothing romantic about a drunken hook up on a sheet less mattress on a literal floor. They're not setting up a rom com for Buck and Tommy. You calling me delusional is the height of idiocy. You all invented an entirely different show entirely from your own delusion. I understand that you went so hard to the floor for the man that admitting your mistake now just feels like something you can't do so you're deciding to just go down with the ship. Well your ship officially sunk on March 17, 2025. They wrote Buck's feelings for Tommy into the actual dialogue. "I USED TOMMY TO FEEL LESS ALONE". "I DON'T HAVE FEELINGS FOR EVERYONE I SLEEP WITH".

Your ship is dead, anon. It was never much a ship to begin with, but its dead. You know it. I know it. We all know it. Your tantrum throwing from inbox to inbox isn't going to change that. By all means continue to shout that the sky is purple instead of blue. It won't make the sky purple, but you're allowed your delusion. The rest of us will stay in reality of the actual show we're watching because the story is quite clear.

Thank you Nonny!

As for Ali's answer?

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

I'm tired of talking about Tommy the plot device. I'll be so happy to finally see the man leave the show in 8x14/15 after he has finished his Buddie plot device role. I sincerely hope that his whole fandom will follow him out the door. 👋😋👋

IMPORTANT! Please don't repost this ask and/or a link that leads straight to my Tumblr account on Twitter or any other social media. Thank you!

Heads up! For anyone who is giving me the shifty eyes for reposting Ali's updates instead of reblogging. Read this.

Remember, no hate in comments, reblogs or inboxes. Let's keep it civil and respectful. Thank you.

If you are interested in more of Ali’s posts, you can find all of her posts so far under the tag: anonymous blog I love.

[the-kr8tor]

Imagine TTN r teaching TTN Hobie how to sew 🥹 so cute!

Thank you for your patience! Ah yes a rare ttn req, I hope you like it! ❤️

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Word count: 1.2k

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, reader has nicknames, set in my thread the needle series, established relationship, a bit of hurt/comfort, fluff!

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Thread the Needle Masterlist

“Do I cut right ‘ere?”

You look up from threading the needle or trying to at least, as Hobie kneels beside a piece of cloth where you pinned a simple pattern of pajama pants. The fabric is flowy and soft, comfortable for a pair and perfect for practicing on how to make his own clothes. He has his wicks in a ponytail, away from his face as he eyes the fabric like it's a maths homework.

“Yeah, right from the hem but make sure you give enough leeway just in case you make a mistake. You can always cut it off if it's too big—”

“But you can't sew it back on if you cut too much.” Hobie smiles smugly at you, shrugging as he eyes the slight shake of your fingers. He takes it as you being tired from all the packing you two have been doing for hours now. Maybe he shouldn't have asked for a lesson today. “I read your textbook once while I was bored.”

“Okay, smartass.” You chuckle, putting your attention back towards the needle and thread in between your shaky fingers. He smiles fondly at you from the other side of the bedroom. “And here I thought you were faking not knowing how to sew.”

You're usually good at this, in a second you grab the tools the thread is already inside the needle, no fuss, no muss. But you're having a hard time with this one while you're surrounded by luggages filled with your belongings. Hobie senses your staggered and frustrated breath. Turning to you, he sees the concentration in between your knitted brows, the way your fingers shake and your eyes seemingly going cross-eyed as you try to thread the needle in. It's been twenty minutes since you've given him the reins to the pattern and cloth, twenty minutes since you grabbed the needle and thread.

The houseboat looks sparse from where you sit on the foot of the bed. There's a lack of your clothes in the closet, a space missing right next to his leather and plaid. Your sewing machine is temporarily placed on his work table after you decided to just leave the heavy thing at home as a promise to come back for it when the time comes. Most of your shoes are packed tightly in a duffle bag. A ton of your fashion school projects are all shoved inside your luggage, and the bathroom looks and feels unfamiliar without your toiletries on the shelves.

It all seems unfamiliar, as if it's the first time you've seen it bare since he bought the place. You didn't live here for too long, but it still has you nostalgic and conflicted for leaving in the first place. It feels unfair to leave, unfair to leave him. But it's for the better good, it's for your future and his. As much as you hate leaving, it's necessary. You'll be back anyways, you don't know when, but you know you'll be sitting on the same floor, sleeping on the same bed, eating on the same dinner table with Hobie.

“I won't put it past me, love, I do love spendin’ time with you.” You sniff and frown at his statement instead of the usual bashful smile you give him. He drags himself closer to you, careful not to mess up the pattern on the floor. “Oi,” his hands wrap around your own, eyes swimming with affection as he sees the slight glimmer of your eyes. “You alright?” His tone is gentle, barely above a whisper.

“I’m sorry.”

“What for, love?” He sits down beside you, still facing you while his feet press against your side. “Are you havin’ second thoughts?”

“I feel awful.” You drop your intertwined hands on your lap together with the needle and thread. He grasps at it tighter, squeezing it three times. “And of course I am.”

“Don’t feel bad on my behalf, I'll be fine. You'll be fine.” He knows you will be eventually, but he truly doesn't know when he will be once you're gone. “‘m just a phone call away.”

You frown, head falling down on his chest, back already aching from the position. “I'll miss you.”

“I know, Gromit.” There's a pin prick pain stuck in his throat, a cry that he refuses to let out. “I'll miss you too.” His knuckles trace the length of your spine, warmth ebbing through his touch as he holds you in place, right in the present.

“I'm dawdling.” You say, muffled against his chest, lips still etched into a frown.

“Hi, dawdling, I'm Hobie.”

You look up, brows furrowed but the corner of your lips wobble into a smile. “You're very funny.”

“I know, that's why you fell for me, innit?” Hobie snickers, poking your cheek lovingly. “Why are you dawdlin’?”

“Because,” you cup the side of his neck, thumb rubbing along his jaw. “I keep postponing this,” you gesture towards the fabric on the floor. “Is it bad that I don't want to teach you how to sew?”

“Love,” He mirrors your movements, thumb brushing along your chin while the pads of his fingers keep the back of your neck warm. “why don't you want to teach me? Am I shit at it?”

“No, no.” You place your arms around him, pushing him closer to you. “It's just that…” inhaling, you rest your head right on his shoulder while he wraps an arm around your waist. “I don't know, it's silly.”

“It's not silly if it's makin’ you feel awful.” Hobie kisses your temple as you close your eyes.

With a brave exhale of breath, you continue. “I think that if I teach you then there's no use for me anymore, that you won't wait for me.”

Hobie lifts your head up with a careful hand on your chin, eyes warm for you and a smile that would have your stomach filling with butterflies.

“You're right, it's silly. It's a bonkers thought, love.” You have every right to frown. “But I understand, feelin’ useless is a shit feelin’. You teachin’ me how to sew a hole or fix a button won't make me not wait for you. Or not love you anymore.” Hobie wipes a fallen tear from your cheek. “I asked because it's my way of keepin’ you with me. Every time I fix a hole or make a jumper, It'll make me think of you. It'll make me feel that you're right beside me, tellin' me that ‘m doin' it all wrong.” You snort, eyes welling up with tears. “Or tellin' me that ‘m doin' alright. But it'll never compare to the real thing, yeah?”

You nod, chuckling as you hug him and nuzzle your nose under his jaw. “Thank you, I love you.”

“Love you too. Now,” He exhales with a shuddered breath, hands cupping your face and kissing each of your cheek before grabbing the fallen thread and needle. “I need an expert hand with these.” His eyes shine under the light, unshed tears refusing to be let go.

“On it, Wallace.” With a brief wipe of your eyes, you take the tools and almost immediately threading the needle.

“That's my girl.”

[elainsgirl]

"it also proves how sensitive gwy/riels are and how they’re the issue 89% of the time." Omg yes, someone said it.

Kind of feel for Eluciens having to be shackled to Gwynriels. That's a bond that should have been rejected! But it seems like Euciens have grown sick of Gwynriels too, at last. Bravo! At least Elucien is a ship based on canon since Elain and Lucien are mates. If I were an Elucien, I'd never tolerate Gwynriels dragging Elucien down to the same level as a literal crackship and then disrespect Eluciens by degrading Elain and literally only using the Elucien ship to validate Gwynriel, literal fanon. Gwynriels have ruined the Elucien tag. I miss the days when it was just Eluciens and Elriels coexisting and discussing canon without a third group mixing in a random crackship and screeching loudly, demanding everyone accept it as canon while they disrespect everyone and their mother. Kindly fuck off.

I mean, I think it's blatantly obvious Elriel is endgame. But at least Elucien isn't pulled out of someone's ass the way Gwynriel is, like anon said. I'll be using that one now btw, that's hilarious.

LMFAO, You had me laughing for a solid minute with “thats a bond that should’ve been rejected!” - im officially going to use this everytine when describing elu/iens and gwy/riels.

Yh, I feel elu/iens are getting over how petty gwy/riels can be. I mean they’re so adamant that a gwy/riel book is next - not even entertaining an elu/ien book, its like elu/iens are getting the short hand of the stick and having to follow along/agree with whatever gwy/riels say bcs how dare they think for themselves and might wanting something different then what gwy/riels have in mind. Its been entertaining to say the least.

Their partnership works because through their ships, Elain & Azriel are seperated from each other therefore there isnt a possibility for elriel but once you get past that - it becomes pretty obvious elu/iens and Gwy/riels are at a odds with how the plots of the books will go, which couple will do what etc. I actually have respect for the elu/iens calling out the gwy/riels that are simply hating on Elain to be petty and whatever else, above everything- I love Elain so to see elu/iens call out other gwy/riels for their treatment of her was nice. You’re so right, most gwy/riels only ship elu/ien so Elain can be away from Az & so she doesn’t pose a threat to their ship. I can imagine how annoyed i’d be as an elu/ien entering my ships’ tag only to see others mock my favourite character, tell me why my ship isn’t possibly next, how unimportant my character is etc. Thank god tho, we dont have to experience that.

Most gwy/riels have genuinely ruined the fandom and they’re always so forceful with their takes and bully those that disagree. I wasn’t here pre-acosf so I dont rlly know how peaceful elu/iens and elriels were before - but tbh, I can imagine us having civil conversations bcs unlike Gwy/riel - at least elu/ien is actually based in canon. There is something tangible connecting elain and lucien together no one can deny or ignore. Also elu/ien at least makes some sense and they have a stronger footing to argue on where gwy/riel dont.

Same. To me elriel is obviously endgame - but I fully understand elu/iens stance and think - if you ignore the last 2 books then their ship has some chance of happening.

[snowseasonmademe]

Golden birthday boy

warning ‼️: smut (masturbation) and mentions of intercourse

word count: 1,785

pairing: william saliba x black female reader

summary: you couldn't be together on wilo's birthday so you sent him a little gift for his special golden birthday

tag list: @sucredreamer @irishmanwhore @dexastres @coffeevacation @goldenngt @btslover117 @kennaskorner @iamquiantrelle @leighjadeclimbedmtkilimanjaro @jessnotwiththemess @thepointlessideas

note: heyy y'all know i had to do a little something for my other french husband!!! it's something short and sweet ;) as always, enjoy and tell me what you think🤍!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

William had always hated leaving. No matter how many times he packed a bag, no matter how many flights he caught, no matter how necessary the trip was—he hated it. And you? You made it even harder.

The morning of his departure, you were up with him before the sun, slipping out of bed as soon as his alarm went off. Sleep still clung to your voice as you murmured, "Go shower, I'll finish packing your carry-on."

He didn't argue. He knew better than to try-just like he knew that when he came back into the room, freshly showered and towel-drying his hair, his bag would be perfectly arranged, just how he liked it. His vitamins and protein bars in one pocket, his favorite cologne tucked into another, his passport right where it needed to be. You had even made sure his headphones were fully charged, anticipating his needs before he even thought to check.

"Mon amour, you don't have to do all this" he murmured, but you just rolled your eyes, pressing a to-go cup of tea into his hands.

"I do" you corrected, smoothing out the collar of his hoodie. "Because I love you. And because I don't want you calling me from the airport, complaining you forgot something”

He huffed out a quiet laugh, sipping his tea, letting the warmth settle in his chest. He watched you move around the kitchen, packing up a small breakfast for him, making sure everything was set before the boys woke up.

But of course, your twins Desange and Gédéon were too restless to sleep through his departure.

As soon as they heard their papa was leaving, they toddled into the kitchen in their pajamas, their curls messy from sleep.

"Papa, you go to work?" Gédéon asked, rubbing his tired eyes.

"Oui, mon fils" William said softly, crouching down to their level. "But I'll be home soon"

"Promise?" Desange tilted his head, his voice hopeful.

"Je promets" William assured, pressing kisses to both of their little foreheads.

"Love you, Papa!" they chorused, and William's heart clenched as they giggled out, "Happy birthday, Papa!" in their sweet half-French, half-American accents, the words a little clumsy but full of love.

He hugged them both tight before standing, his eyes finding yours.

You were already watching him, leaning against the doorway, arms crossed over your chest. Your expression was soft, but there was something else beneath it-something deeper.

"Come on" you murmured, nodding toward the front door.

He followed without question, stepping outside with you, the morning air cool against his skin.

The house was still quiet behind you, but out here, there was only you and him.

You stepped closer, wrapping your arms around his waist, pressing yourself into him. His chin rested on top of your head as he sighed, inhaling the scent of you, memorizing the feel of your body against his.

"I hate when you leave" you admitted, voice muffled against his chest.

"I know" he whispered, tightening his hold on you.

A beat of silence stretched between you before you pulled back just enough to look up at him.

Then, with a soft, knowing smile, you lifted onto your toes and pressed your lips to his.

It started slow, warm, familiar, reassuring. But then you deepened it, your fingers tangling in the hem of his hoodie, and suddenly, the kiss wasn't just sweet-it was lingering. It was full of promise.

Full of longing.

When you finally pulled back, William was breathing a little heavier.

"For the road" you murmured, brushing your thumb against his jaw before slipping something into his hand. A folded letter.

"Open it when you have a quiet moment"

He nodded, his fingers tightening around the paper.

And with one last kiss, you let him go.

Now, hours later, William sat in his hotel room, the letter unfolded in his hands, his heart aching in the best way possible.

He could hear your voice in every word, feel your love in every sentence. His chest felt tight as he read about how grateful you were for him, how proud you were of the life you built together. You had married young, at 21, barely stepping into adulthood, but neither of you ever regretted it.

You had built something strong, something unshakable.

And God, he missed you.

By the time he reached the end, his fingers were gripping the paper tightly.

"Since we can't celebrate together tonight" you wrote, "check the front pocket of your duffle bag, my golden birthday boy. Here's a little something to hold you over until you're back where you belong"

His brows furrowed in curiosity, but when he unzipped the small pocket. He saw golden confetti and then, his breath hitched.

Bright red lace.

His fingers tightened around the delicate fabric, his throat going dry.

A slow, knowing chuckle rumbled in his chest.

Mon dieu...

Then, as if on cue, his phone buzzed on the nightstand.

He grabbed it, unlocking it to see a message from you.

"I hope you don't miss me too much, Mr. Saliba" There was an attachment. A video.

His pulse kicked up as he opened it, the screen filling with an image that sent heat straight through his veins.

You were lying in bed, wrapped in the same red lace, the dim lighting casting a glow on your bare skin. He could see the soft rise and fall of your chest, the curve of your thighs, the way your fingers traced along your waist. His jaw tightened as he pressed play.

"Joyeux anniversaire, mon amour" your voice purred through the speakers, smooth and teasing.

He swallowed hard, watching as you caressed your own body, your fingers skimming over the soft swell of your breasts, down the dip of your stomach. Your eyes were locked onto the camera, dark and full of something wicked, something meant only for him.

Damn.

His grip on the phone tightened when your hand drifted lower, to the hem of your panties-the same ones he was holding in his other hand. And then, slowly, agonizingly, you slid them to the side.

His breath caught.

"You better hurry home baby" you murmured, a smirk playing on your lips.

William exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his jaw. His whole body was tense, heat pooling low in his stomach.

Then, you circled your clit, extra slow, letting out soft, breathy moans that sent fire straight through his veins.

William's jaw tightened, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. He could see the subtle tremor in your thighs, the way your hips shifted slightly as you worked yourself up, teasing yourself like you knew he would if he were there.

"You miss me baby?" you whispered to the camera, your voice like silk, smooth and dripping with desire.

His grip on the lace in his hand tightened. Merde.

You kept talking, your words honeyed filth, meant only for him, meant to break him. You told him how empty you felt without him, how your fingers could never compare, how you needed him, how you ached for him.

Every syllable sent another wave of heat through his body, making his blood run hot, making his patience hang by a fragile thread.

Just when you were sure you were wet enough, you slid two fingers inside yourself.

William inhaled sharply, his whole body locking up as he watched your fingers disappear inside you, your hips rolling to meet every slow thrust.

Then he heard it.

The wet, obscene sound of your arousal, filling the quiet of his hotel room, cutting through the air like a goddamn siren song.

His entire body reacted.

It was like he could feel it.

Every slick push of your fingers, every torturous thrust—you weren't just touching yourself. He was too.

He could feel himself inside you, feel the way your walls gripped your fingers the way they always gripped him, feel the heat, the wetness, the need pouring off you in waves. His muscles tensed as his mind betrayed him, his body tricking itself into believing he was the one inside you, not your fingers. Every soft gasp, every breathy whimper, every desperate plea—it was all for him.

And he needed to be there.

He was painfully hard now, his length straining against his shorts, pressing uncomfortably against the fabric. But he refused to touch himself. He refused to let this be enough. No. He needed you. All of you.

His jaw clenched as you pushed yourself closer and closer to the edge, your back arching, your free hand gripping the sheets, your legs trembling as pleasure overtook you. His name spilled from your lips between gasps, and that-that was almost enough to finish him off right there.

Then, with a final cry, you came undone.

William let out a sharp breath as he watched your fingers curl, your body tightening, your face twisting with pleasure before melting into something softer, more blissed—out.

He watched the way your chest rose and fell, the slow aftershocks still making your thighs shake.

He was utterly wrecked.

And then—you did it.

You slipped your fingers from your body, still glistening, still wet with evidence of your pleasure, and brought them to your lips.

Holding his gaze through the camera, you licked them clean.

Slow. Savoring every second.

And just like that—he could taste you.

His tongue darted out to wet his lips, his stomach tightening at the phantom sensation. He knew that taste like he knew the game of football — intimately, instinctively, like second nature.

He could feel the warmth of you on his tongue, the sweet, heady flavor of you that he had memorized, that he had worshiped more times than he could count.

His body ached with the need to press his mouth between your thighs, to replace your fingers with his tongue, to drink you in until you were shaking just like you were on that screen.

And then, with a wicked little smirk, you blew him a kiss.

The video ended.

William exhaled harshly, his chest rising and falling as he ran a hand down his face, trying— and failing-to get himself under control.

His body was a furnace, burning with need, his muscles strung so tight he felt like he might snap at any second.

Then, his phone buzzed again.

A new message.

"Make another baby or two when you get back?"

His head tipped back against the pillows, a deep, low chuckle leaving his lips, rough with amusement and something darker, something deeper.

"Merde, ma chérie.." he muttered, shaking his head, his free hand rubbing at the tension in his jaw.

You had no idea what you had just started.

And now?

Now, all he could think about was getting home to you.

[theprinceandagcd]

20 Fanfic Author Questions

Thank you so much @anincompletelist and @caterpills for tagging me!! These are fun and I haven't done one in while, so :)

1. How many works on AO3?

77 !!

2. Total AO3 Word Count?

481,726

3. Top 5 fics by Kudos

but daddy, you love him

this is the first time I've felt the need to confess

we broke all the pieces (still wanna play the game)

can this be a real thing (can it?)

one single thread of gold tied me to you

4. What fandoms do you write for?

Red, White, and Royal Blue now! I have written for others in the past but I'm a hyperfixation girlie at my core so just that one :)

5. Do you respond to comments?

I haven't always, but I do now! Sometimes I get behind but I try to go through my inbox and knock some comments out at least once or twice a week.

6. Angstiest Ending?

I don't really do angsty/not happy endings - it's not in my capability, honestly? you can run (but only so far) was angsty up to VERY close to the ending but that's probably the best I can do

7. Fic with the Happiest Ending?

I ALMOST answered this with gay chicken just because they do get a... happy ending. i'm SORRY.

Probably the but daddy, you love him universe - the third installment especially is just sob-worthy happy. (although, perhaps that third installment isn't their final story, either)

8. Do you get hate?

I did get one guest comment once telling me to kill myself? But otherwise not really - I'm really grateful for it, too.

9. Do you write smut?

I do!! I didn't in previous fandoms and didn't when I started with RWRB, but I've got a few now and have a multichap coming soon that is VERY smutty. I've gotten a lot more comfortable with it and it's a nice tool to have, although works don't need smut to be good and I like choosing to do stories without it still, too.

10. Do you write crossovers?

I do not - the hyperfixation is too real.

11. Ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I'm aware of!

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

A few, yeah!! it's super cool. I'm always very enthusiastically supportive of people doing this.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic?

Not yet!! but there may be a doc that exists where someone says "okay hear me out" every five seconds

14. All time favourite ship?

excuse you

probably captain swan but don't tell firstprince i said that

15. WIPs you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

oooh. i have a handful of multichap ideas/outline docs that like, just odds are that not all of them get written. not sure which ones, but I'm sure at least one of them will wind up not working out.

16. Writing strengths?

Dialogue!! my go-to beta thinks it's because I did theater in college and took script writing classes which are dialogue heavy, but I LOVE putting dialogue together. sometimes when i'm in the process of writing, I'll do dialogue skeletons just to feel successful in writing and go back later to add exposition and fill everything out.

17. Writing Weaknesses?

other than having sort of favorite words that I tend to overuse, I think my main weakness is emotional weight in stories. I've read so many fics where I'm practically gasping for breath at the end because it's really hit me in the heart, and I just don't think my writing has that? I tend to think my best writing is when I'm being funny or cute, writing in banter and etc, and when I try to do something heavy or emotional it never feels like it's quite got the same punch to it as what I wanted.

18. Thoughts on mixed language dialogue?

Love reading it - I don't typically write it because of time and not knowing any languages other than English and American Sign Language - which isn't easy to put into a fic. I've looked up small lines before for specific purposes and checked with someone who knows the language, but it's not something I typically have the time to do right - and I am NOT going to do it wrong.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

oh my god. high school musical. don't fucking look at me.

20. Favourite fic you’ve ever written?

Can I say a WIP that I haven't posted yet?? I'm gonna say a WIP I haven't posted yet :)

no pressure tags! @agostobuwan @bitbybitwrites @blueeyedgrlwrites @clockwrkpendrxgon @dreamtigress @everwitch-magiks @fckngyrs @firenati0n @fullsunsets @henryspearl @heysweetheart-writes @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @inexplicablymine @itsmaybitheway @jmagnabo92 @kj-bee @miharaikko @milowren29 @myheartalivewrites @ninzied @nontoxic-writes @onthewaytosomewhere @orchidscript @pinkamour1588 @porcelainmortal @priincebutt @read-and-write- @softboynick @sophie1973 @stellarmeadow @suseagull5914 @thesleepyskipper @thighzp @thinkof-england @tinyarmedtrex @wordsofhoneydew

[caterpills]

20 Fanfic Author Questions

Hi!! I was tagged by the lovely @cha-melodius and @anincompletelist for this!

I've only written 2 (!!!) fics, so you're going to have the excuse the repeats in answers!

1. How many works on AO3?

2 🥰

2. Total AO3 Word Count?

99,315

3. Top 5 2 fics by Kudos

This is More of a Comment Than a Question

If You've Got It, Haunt It

4. What fandoms do you write for?

Red, White, and Royal Blue

5. Do you respond to comments?

I do! If you've left me one, I have probably responded to it. I love getting comments, lots of warm little fuzzies. Plus I'm always so excited to see what others liked or noticed about the fic 🥰 (Sometimes commenters picked up on things that I didn't even realize and that is just awesome.)

6. Angstiest Ending?

Uhhh, I don't really write angsty endings? Comment/Question is angsty (but not terribly so) but the ending is still happy, full stop. I'm probably always going to put characters through it, but they'll end up together. I'm a sap, what can I say?

7. Fic with the Happiest Ending?

Happiest? This is More of a Comment Than a Question. While, yes, If You've Got It, Haunt It is pure hilarious chaos aka "a silly goose time", the payoff (I believe!) is more satisfying in Comment/Question, just by the sheer nature of it being a multi-chap versus a short one-shot!

8. Do you get hate?

I don't think I've gotten hate. I've gotten a few comments that have come off really unkind. Those aren't great either, but they aren't outright hate.

9. Do you write smut?

I do not! I read a whole heck ton of it (😏) but it never felt easy for me to write. The closest I'll get is non-explicit sex and other soft intimacy, but you're probably not going to see my writing venturing into E-ratings because it is not a skill I possess!

10. Do you write crossovers?

Nah. I don't think I ever would either. I love AUs, but most of the time, my fandoms and their characters are staying in their own little separate bubbles! (Doesn't mean I won't read them though!!)

11. Ever had a fic stolen?

Nope! (Or at least, not that I know of!)

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

I have not, but if someone ever wanted to, that would be cool!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic?

Not... yet. 👀 (iykyk — there's a doc with ideas, and me saying "okay hear me out" every five seconds.)

14. All time favourite ship?

I'm not answering this! You can't make me choose.

15. WIPs you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I can't really say. I have docs for all my WIPs (some y'all don't even know!!) with the intention of finishing them. Some have become more work than originally planned and I'm generally a slow writer. So like nothing is abandoned, but it may be in a few weeks or a few months before they are done!

16. Writing strengths?

URGHHH, this question. Narrative voice, I think? I'm confident that the narration, when in a certain POV, is sound and that you can really hear it come across when reading. Also, details. I've gotten complimented a lot on all the research and little narrative bits I throw into fics. (Pulled from the reality of living it, baby *finger guns*)

17. Writing Weaknesses?

Before ANYONE boos at me, I'm going to say setting. You may not think so, but some of the most difficult parts for me to write were/are the descriptions of places. I'm also shit at worldbuilding. Also, I don't really know how to be succinct. And while people may say "it's not a bad thing!" it truly is a detriment because I'll spend three paragraphs describing something that needs three sentences.

18. Thoughts on mixed language dialogue?

Totally cool with it!

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Pretty sure it was me becoming friends with the actress who plays Lex in Jurassic Park, and then us going to Jurassic Park, written on a yellow legal pad when I was eight.

20. Favourite fic you’ve ever written?

It's always going to be my first born, my whole heart: This is More of a Comment Than a Question

I'm going to quickly tag a few others, but zero pressure: @alasse9 @14carrotghoul @onthewaytosomewhere @theprinceandagcd @jafffacakess @porcelainmortal @faketrex @emeryhall @dezinthecloud

[rjthirsty]

Tempting a Tiger

Gilbert/Dahlia (OC)

5k words

Tags: Aphrodisiac, Smut, Vaginal Fingering, Biting, Part 1.

A/N: @alfons-sylvatica wrote a few pieces from Gil's POV, and I was inspired to try my hand at it. This is what ended up being the next Gil piece since then, so here we are.

The little rabbit's footsteps were soft and erratic as she moved closer to the doorway of my study and then retreated again and again. Her nervousness was almost palpable. Dahlia always had big emotions that could be felt without needing to land my eyes on her. She likely didn't even know she projected her feelings so loudly. It's no wonder people were constantly paying attention to her, she exuded comfort and concern to a degree that even the most inept person could sense her empathy. I hated that about her. No, I loved that about her, but hated that others were drawn to her because of it.

Dahlia's pacing stopped and a light rapping came from the door, almost as if she still hadn't decided to come to me with whatever it was that was plaguing her. The familiar scent of sweets hadn't drifted into the room, telling me she wasn't here to negotiate for herself.

It wasn't like the little rabbit to come to me over issues she believed she could handle without my assistance, and I had to punish her often for going to others rather than relying on me. Despite my intense desire to fix any wrongs done to her, I continued to work, ignoring the tentative knocking. A part of me felt the need to continue to test the depth of her love for me, and by pretending I was occupied, I could then see if she would choose to go to another. I might have to kill him this time if it's Walter again.

The latch clicking as Dahlia let herself in was a comfort and eased my momentary murderous thoughts. Mimicking surprise at her arrival, I smiled as I looked up at her. "Visiting me in the middle of the day? How bold my little rabbit has become."

Her smile was faint, forced, and fleeting as she turned to close the door behind her. "I'm sorry to bother you—"

"It isn't a bother." I interrupted. I hated her apologies for things that I wanted her to do. I set down my pen and brought my elbow to my desk, leaning forward to rest my chin in my palm as I watched her cross the large office.

"Okay, I know. I know you always have time for me. But this is…" She trailed off, her eyebrows knitting together and her lips pursing. "Perhaps this was misguided. I'll talk to you about later."

"Tell me." She was attempting to back pedal before she even got out what it was she wanted. Deeply curious as to what she was so vexed about, I gave her the order, knowing it would assure her she made the right choice to come to me. My orders were absolute, even for her. The hint of a smile touched her lips. Relief.

With a small nod of her head - likely an internal approval for herself - Dahlia reached into her pocket and withdrew a glass bottle that fit in the palm of her hand. She bent forward to set it on my desk between the two of us and naturally, my eyes moved to the minimalistic decorated vial. There wasn't much adorning the container, but the glass was crafted with a flare that told me this wasn't something for the average citizen. Inside was some sort of liquid colored a deep redish purple, it looked like a small, delicately designed bottle of wine.

My gaze drifted from the bottle to the little rabbit who gripped the fabric of her dress and hid her fists in the folds of her skirt - something she did to keep from wringing her hands. She dipped her nose towards the vial and donned a neutral expression, flatly stating, "Prince Kasey gave it to me."

I waited for her to explain, as she would feel the need to. It wasn't more than a second later that she launched into her story, though I could already guess several of the details by this point. If Kasey gave it to Dahlia, they knew she would bring it to me and to my attention. It was something I should know about, something that the nobility was dealing in. Likely some sort of drug, and based off the design, it's meant to entice people to indulge like some sort of taboo. It wouldn't be poison or directly harmful - Kasey wouldn't endanger Dahlia like that - though Kasey would also be aware Dahlia would confront me about it.

"It's— uh… Well, you see, I was talking to Prince Kasey and they— I didn't specifically request something like this, and it wasn't like I was talking about our personal life, though they are your sibling and they tend to ask some rather invasive questions much like you."

Note to self: Restrict Kasey's access to the little rabbit. It was easy to keep my genial smile and wait Dahlia out as she fumbled with her words.

"So they just offered me a gift and suggested I slip it into your tea— oh! It isn't poison! Or at least that's what Kasey assured me, but I'm not going to dose you with something— I would never do that. And I considered going to Walter with it, but then I thought it would be much more awkward to explain to him how I came into possession of it and what it supposedly was and I didn't think that was appropriate."

She really has no idea how much it annoys me that she thinks of any other person before me first. "Why is that?" I tilted my head while inquiring.

"Oh…" Dahlia's eyes darted away and her cheeks began to flush a faint shade of pink. She pressed her lips together and shuffled in her footing. "Because… it's… an aphrodisiac." She drew out the words as her gaze circled back around to glance at me, then down at the bottle as if she were too embarrassed meet my eye.

"Ahaha," I couldn't help but laugh at how incredibly demure she was acting. Dahlia was hardly shy when it came to our physical activities, but it seemed that having to speak about them was another matter to her. She was ridiculously cute at the moment, so much so that I wanted to pounce on her right then and remind her of the type of woman she was when pinned in my arms and between my teeth.

"If you're just going to laugh about it, I should have waited until later. At least then I could have escaped to my room without anyone seeing how inflamed my cheeks are." Dahlia fanned her now darkly blushing face with her hands, even the tips of her ears were coloring. This was the reason she was nervously pacing outside the door.

"Heehee. As if I would have let you escape. And how exactly did Kasey come to offer this again?" Picking up the bottle, I lifted it to the light, peering through the translucent glass and deep color of the liquid inside.

"You know how they are." Dahlia answered vaguely.

I glanced in her direction as I lowered the bottle, once again, she wouldn't meet my gaze. Popping the stopper, I gave the contents a brief sniff - it smelled strongly of alcohol and herbs, some sort of tincture if not straight alcohol. "I do know how they are, which makes me worry for you even more, little rabbit."

Dahlia pressed the back of her fingers to her cheeks to further cool her face, her color returning closer to her natural shade. "Please, Gil, like there's any reason to worry about Kasey."

To refute her chiding, I lifted the aphrodisiac between us presenting concrete proof of a reason to worry.

"That doesn't count! I brought it to you! I couldn't bear fretting all day about how to explain later and decided now was the better time— And it was for you anyways. It's not like Kasey had any intent involving me and them." Dahlia's eyes went wide as she realized the slip she had made, quickly clamping her mouth shut and turning to her head to her left in an attempt to shield herself from my grin.

"You're actually interested in testing this little concoction out, aren't you? What a naughty little rabbit."

"I told you they said to slip it into your tea. I think I was very clear and forthcoming from the beginning." Dahlia retorted as she smoothed out her skirts, finding anything else to look at besides me.

"By locating me while I might be busy, you thought you could save yourself from having to divulge your desire to see if it works, right, little rabbit?"

"Oh, I just remembered something, I was going to make you some cookies. Thank you for your time, Gil, I'll be going now." Dahlia patted her skirts and turned her back on me.

"I suppose I have no choice," I heaved a dramatic sigh to emphasize my manufactured resignation to what I was about to do. "I'll just have to drink it now." Upending the bottle, I poured the contents into my mouth, swallowing down part of it. Dahlia spun around to face me and I gave a closed mouth smile, the bottle now empty.

"Wait! Ah! Gil!" Her eyes darted from the bottle to me, her feet carrying her quickly to my side of the desk. "It's the middle of the day, you weren't supposed to drink it now! And I don't even know— oh gods, you drank the whole thing?!"

Frantically she fretted over me. Obviously she was expecting to push this idea onto me for late in the night, and it was clear she thought I'd be more cautious with the contents. I had to hold the chuckle down that threatened to escape seeing her panicked over something so frivolous. However, now that she was within easy reach, I snatched her wrist and pulled her onto my lap, then cupped the back of her head as I pressed my lips to hers.

Instantly she gave into my demand for a kiss, but as her lips closed against mine, I unleashed the mouthful of liquid I had been holding onto, forcing it into her mouth. She gave out a small noise of surprise, but didn't pull away, swallowing down the aphrodisiac I had shared with her. Once her mouth was empty of the tincture, she opened her lips for me to force my tongue inside where she met me enthusiastically, her tongue swirling and caressing mine.

I grabbed at her corset and tugged it lower, letting her breast fall free from the stiff fabric, only covered by her blouse. Dahlia moaned into my mouth, and I roughly squeezed her breast. The thought that she would need some sort of aphrodisiac to gain my affections was ridiculous. I would gladly take her anywhere, any time - it had always been her who would put our fondling on hold for later in a place she was more comfortable. I didn't blame her for wanting privacy, she understood what it meant if someone were to come across us, and I understood why she cared so much for others - it was one of the reasons I fell in love with her. But I didn't have those reservations. I held little regard for the sanctity of life, and if anyone other than Roderic saw the little rabbit in that manner of engagement, I would simply kill them.

Breaking away from her mouth, Dahlia gasped for air, another sweet moan rolling out of her as I wet her blouse with my tongue, toying at her nipple under the thin material. It stiffened immediately, turning into a bud that was easier to catch with my teeth in a bite that had her arching her back to push her chest closer to me.

"Gil, wait." She weakly protested while I sucked her nipple through her wet shirt.

"Why? Isn't this what you wanted?" I bit the swell of her breast, squeezing her softness in my hand.

"Hnmn— yes, but…" Her hands glided over my jacket, sliding to cup my cheeks. She pulled gently, bringing my face to see hers. Her eyelids were heavy with lust, her light pink eyes burning with desire. I knew this look from her. "We're in your office. I thought we'd be— you know, in your room."

"I don't mind." Leaning in, I bit her bottom lip. She flexed her lips and pulled her mouth closed, stealing her lip from between my teeth.

"Mn. But I do. This isn't what I had imagined— and that was so unfair of you forcing me to drink it too!" She pouted, her bottom lip naturally protruding and once again I caught it between my teeth to bite, this time harder.

She drew in a quiet hiss and I knew I had bitten her hard enough to leave her lip swollen for hours, especially if I continued to toy with it like I intended to do. Aphrodisiac or not, I was dedicated to partaking of the little rabbit today - for her to want to turn to some drug makes it seem like I've been neglectful. Though I do confess, I want to see how this concoction might draw out a more lewd side of Dahlia. Even if it turns out to be nothing, the excuse is there for her to let go of inhibitions, and now she has something to blame for showing me a side I haven't yet uncovered myself.

I took Dahlia's mouth again, hiking up her skirts as I pushed my hand higher, grabbing onto her panties to tug them free, but her hands were on top of mine, holding me in place above her skirts. She pulled away from our kiss, the momentary lingering of our lips together not lost on me, she wanted to continue but not here.

"Wait, Gil." She pleaded in exasperation. "Please. Someone could walk in here."

Not just anyone was allowed in the wing I kept my study, but there were enough people that she was not incorrect. Not many of them would enter without my express approval, however, which meant I'd have to answer their knocking on my door. I did understand that it wasn't that someone could come in and see us to Dahlia, but that they would hear her from outside the door, and I did find the prospect to be one I'd be willing to end another person over.

Releasing the band of her undergarments, I reluctantly pulled my hand out from under her skirts. Dahlia slipped off my lap and straightened her clothes, setting her corset back in place as I watched with annoyance. Only her. Only the little rabbit could have me going against my own wishes. Yet, she had no idea how much control she had over me. I was grateful she didn't realize it, but it annoyed me all the same.

I rose from my seat and stood behind her, gathering her long wisteria colored hair and moving it away from her neck. Dahlia seemed to understand what was about to happen because she tilted her head to make it easier for me to nuzzle into the side of her neck. A kiss planted. Another. My gloved hands found her waist and I held her in place. I didn't expect her to move, but I made it clear she was caged in my grasp. Then I sank my teeth into her soft skin and was rewarded with a gentle moan. She had grown to like my love bites, something that pleased me beyond words or reason.

"If you're quite done-- mmmnn," She rolled into another sweet moan as I ran my tongue over the indents I had made with my teeth. She tried to unwrap herself from me, and I once again allowed her to hop freely from my grasp. She swayed as she stepped away, her fingers brushing over the fresh mark I had left in her skin. The way she smiled, the way her cheeks bloomed a gentle pink, I was enthralled and felt myself growing stiff. "I think we should be on our way."

Dahlia's eyes trailed over me in a way that said she was imagining all the things we could get up to once we relocated. "The offer to stay is still on the table," I reminded her.

"Gil," She chided, taking a few steps further from me, her lips still pulled into a smile.

"I am faster than you, you know. I could snatch you up and have you on my desk before you get halfway to the door."

"I know. But I'm not running from you. I'm inviting you along." Dahlia continued to move away from me, watching me cautiously, playfully.

I considered letting her get to the door and pinning her there. She would volunteer to cover her own mouth while I pumped into her. I made most of her clothing these days, I knew the quickest ways to dismantle her dresses. I could have her disrobed in seconds. The thought solidified my erection and I had to shift myself in my trousers while I continued to watch Dahlia retreat.

Perhaps there was something to this aphrodisiac.

When I first drank it, it was clear it was mainly alcohol. The heat that settled in my stomach was nothing new or unusual from having a strong drink. I didn't partake often, but even I wouldn't be laid flat from imbibing that little amount of spirits. Now, however, a buzzing sensation was working its way through me, and while Dahlia held as much command over my libido as she did me, the increasing pressure in my groin was building faster than usual. I was really considering not allowing her to leave.

She spun when she was halfway to the door, quickly closing the last of the distance and escaping from my hungry gaze. I stalked after her, attempting a casual pace that would gain on her as long as she wasn't actively racing down the corridors. My heart rate increased and a tingling began in my extremities. The overwhelming desire to press my teeth into Dahlia again and again - to mark her without a shadow of a doubt that she was mine - it filled up my mind as if I was only capable of a single thought, and that thought was primal in nature.

Dahlia kept a quick pace in front of me, allowing me to watch her atypical movements she was trying to suppress. Her fingers toyed with my most recent mark on her neck, then she pressed on it as if to cover it or prevent herself from touching it so gently. She dropped her hand and crossed her arms, but moments later she would repeat the same toying and attempts to stop herself from touching. I was curious what sorts of things she was feeling due to the tincture we had shared, but it was only a passing thought in the sea of lustful plans I was concocting otherwise in my conquering of her once we were alone again.

Her steps slowed and faltered. Her hand reached for the wall to steady herself, but I was there with a hand on her arm ready to scoop her up if her legs gave out. She gasped as soon as I touched her, her eyes fluttering to look up at me as she panted. Whatever she was feeling from the aphrodisiac appeared to be compounded more than what I had experienced thus far. Her feverish cheeks were a color only I got to see when we were together, and the way she was looking at me with eyes that looked like they could overflow with tears at any moment, wavering with heat and desire— I would kill anyone who saw her like this. This was mine alone.

"I think I've made a mistake." Dahlia admitted and leaned against the wall. Whether she was attempting to use it for support or shy away from me, I wasn't sure.

I leaned closer, fitting my knee between her legs, pressing my hips to hers, moving my hand from her arm to the wall to hold her in place. "It's too late to turn back, little rabbit. We're closer to the destination than where we started."

Dahlia nodded sluggishly. "I didn't expect it to hit me so fast. How are you so normal? That's not fair," She whined.

I was anything but normal at the moment, but decades of covering up my true feelings helped hide that from her.

My gaze moved over her face. So pathetic and needy. So beautiful. Her eyes half-lidded. Her parted lips. Her bosom rose and fell with every labored breath. Even covered by her chemise, I could see her chest laid bare and the rosy nipples that dotted those soft mounds of hers. I pushed my leg higher between her legs, letting my thigh slowly grind against her crotch padded by the layers of her skirt. Dahlia's eyelids sank closed, her head leaned back to rest against the wall, her hands clutched at whatever she could grab, and I felt her weight shift onto my leg to add to the pressure my thigh afforded her cunt.

Her eyes cracked open to hazily look at me, and while I knew the reasonable thing to do would be to scoop her up and finish the last of our brief journey to the privacy of our room, I didn't want to wait any longer before being rewarded with the way my name came strained between her lips as she cried in ecstasy. We were, of course, more prone to being discovered here than my study, but the way the urge to provide her with a little relief clawed at my mind it tore sound reasoning to shreds.

I pressed a finger to my lips in a hushing motion, watching her eyes dip to glance at the gesture then lift with a slow blink to meet my gaze. She didn't offer an answer, but her silence was an answer of its own. I moved that finger to her own lips that she dutifully opened further to let me fit the tip of my glove between her teeth. Biting the seam, she held my glove as I slipped my hand free and lowered it out of sight, below her waist, drawing up her skirts. With my knee positioned between her legs, it was easy to keep her dress bunched high enough that I could fondle her without needing my other hand to manage, allowing me to keep it against the wall, holding Dahlia in place.

My cold fingers grazed her thigh, and a breath shuddered into the little rabbit. She must have forgotten she was holding my glove, or perhaps she didn't care at the moment, because she let it fall at the same time that she brought her hand up to cover her own mouth. Dahlia knew she wasn't quiet with her sounds of pleasure, and either she would have to keep herself in check, or I would. My attempts, however, were half-hearted and often led to her being louder.

Caressing the sensitive softness between her legs on top of her panties, I could feel the moistness that was seeping out of her between her lower lips. Her undergarment wasn't damp, but there was a wetness that had taken up residence near the entrance of her cunt. As tempting as it was to linger, I moved higher to put pressure on the bud buried between her labia, stroking the area a few times until I was certain I had the right spot. I watched as Dahlia's eyes rolled back. I felt her hips rock against my fingers, trying to position herself where she liked it best. I loved that about her, she wasn't shy at all about making sure she enjoyed every moment of our time together.

I didn't want to make her work for her own climax, but I loved watching her take control. It was highly arousing to see this pure and beautiful woman grinding against my fingers and thigh as she worked herself into a lovely mess. It took all my restraint to only provide minimal help and not sink into her where I longed to be. The damp spot in her underwear was spreading as she rutted against me, I could feel it on my knuckles with every slow drag of her pussy rubbing my fingers through the fabric. My cock ached and I pressed our bodies closer together, tucking my face near her ear to whisper to her.

"How bold, little rabbit." Dahlia made a noise of acknowledgment, her hand still clamped over her own mouth. Her hips still working her clit on my fingers.

"Look at you. Grinding against my hand. Such a pervert. Out in the open like this." She whimpered in her throat.

"It's okay, though. I'll accept every perverted part of you." I pulled away from her rubbing and slipped my fingers under her panties, slowly gliding between her slicked lips with fingers and thumb to lubricate her swollen clit. I could feel the way her body shuddered with my touch, close to release, but not quite there. She was throwing a quiet tantrum on the edge of orgasming.

"Shhhh, my little rabbit. I'll get you there." Swirling my thumb around her stiff nub, I pressed into it on the side I knew she preferred. She practically melted between the wall and myself. The first huffed moan was muffled behind her hand. I felt my cock twitch in response. Gods, I wanted to be inside her.

Twisting my wrist, I sank my fingers in her hot cunt, continuing to rub and flick her clit with my thumb. Her hole clenched around my two fingers, but she was already so aroused that there was nothing preventing me from pushing two knuckles deep even with her clenching. Her inner walls fluttered as I stroked inside her while simultaneously thumbing her clit. I could feel the tension building inside her. I could feel every muscle of hers flexing and tightening, winding her core into a taut spring that threatened to unravel violently.

Dahlia choked down her moans, giving only small whimpers and whines that continued to be muffled with her own hand. I curled my fingers, searching for the rougher textured part not deep within her with the pads of my fingers. Pumping inside her a few times, Dahlia's thighs squeezed against my own, she was close. I roughly stroked the rubbery spot inside her, feeling her pussy twitch and throb. Her hand clutching my jacket pulled me closer to her, though we were already chest to chest, there was no way for me to move closer without becoming part of her. A thought I would gladly entertain.

She slowly writhed under me, rising into me as she arched her body, falling onto me as she lowered her hips to help me stimulate inside her. The spring finally snapped, and I felt the recoil rip through her. First on my fingers as she clamped around them, her cunt flexing again and again as I refused to let up on her sensitive areas. I stroked her through every spasm and pushed into her clit to rub roughly with my thumb pad.

Her moans were forced from her throat, but her hand still held them within her mouth, not letting them grow as loud as she could be. I nipped at her ear. I truly wanted to bite her bare shoulder or other part, but she was still clothed and few places were available for me to latch onto. She shuddered and grew still save for her heavy breathing and the throbbing between her legs that urged me to keep caressing her, that begged me to fill her with myself. I was nearing my own limit on keeping myself controlled.

"Are you able to walk?" I murmured, my fingers still nestled inside her, my mind still wrapped up in the idea of making her come again. I needed her to attempt to pull free or I would continue where we were. I needed her to insist on moving, or I would take her where we stood. It wouldn't be difficult to free myself and pull her onto my cock. To drive her against the wall. I could pull most of her clothes off with one hand and carry her weight with the other, she was much lighter than she believed.

"Gil." The way my name dripped from her lips had my fingers twitching inside her, had my cock throbbing against her, had me leaning heavier on top of her, pressing her down into the stone behind her. "You have to… um..." Her cunt flexed around my fingers and I understood she meant for me to remove them, but her tone was weak and I found it hard to believe she meant what she was implying.

For a moment I toyed with the idea of playing dumb, making her either say it or pushing further inside her to coax out her true desires. I doubted she would request I stop if I started again. My entire being was burning to become part of hers.

"Gil…?" Dahlia whimpered, and I knew she was struggling just as much, if not more than I was. She gently pushed against me and I forced a small chuckle as I removed myself from her, slowly unpinning her from the wall and letting her get steady on her feet before I moved fully away.

"I couldn't tell if you wanted more or if you were satisfied." I teased to cover my own momentary loss of control. Her cheeks were still flushed, her eyes still glossy and heated, her breathing still labored. She wanted more, it was easy to tell.

"I… want more, but not here." Dahlia tucked her chin and averted her eyes, her fingers needlessly brushed at her hair as she busied herself before stepping off towards our final destination. "I'm… feeling more pent up— like that did nothing to help, and instead, I'm craving you more than ever."

I was at my limit. She couldn't say something like that and expect me to stay sane.

Without warning, I snatched her up into my arms. Dahlia screeched in surprise and quickly latched her arms around my shoulders, staring up at me with wide eyes. I might have frightened her, but at the moment I didn't care. Carrying her was quicker than letting her shakily lead us to the bedroom, and I simply couldn't wait any longer. I must have been making a scary face because I felt Dahlia shiver in my arms, but my sights were set on the door at the end of the hallway. We needed to get behind it and soon or I'd fuck her in the corridor in all the ways she didn't deserve to be treated.

[abyss55199794]

edd's box

[thekittyokat]

you ever just have a lot, a LOT of feelings all at once about a character and not even remotely enough words or brainpower to FORM the words to describe everything you're feeling. so it feels like you may explode. yeah

[copia]

THIRTY-ONE DAYS OF GHOST ⛧ DAY TWO

the song that made you a fan — Spillways

“This is an elegy for the darkness that most people have inside. When you have a dam, spillways are the run-offs so the dam won’t overflow. That darkness inside us needs to find its way out,” — Tobias Forge

Job 10:1 "I loathe my own life; I will give full vent to my complaint; I will speak in the bitterness of my soul."

[vaggieslefteye]

CHARLIE MAGNE from HAZBIN HOTEL (2019): Pilot - "That's Entertainment" ↳ "So, I've been thinking: Isn't there a more humane way to hinder overpopulation here in Hell? Perhaps we can create an alternative way to change souls through... redemption?"

[amogus-real-not-clickbait]

here's some benreys for y'all!!! it's meal time little ones!!!! nobody starves today. i provide

also random gordo he's here too i guess-

[soullessseraphim]

Circle, dot, heart, shot

(from left to right) their names are Rice Pudding, Milkshake and Mascarpone

Rice Pudding and Milkshake carry out elaborate heists including a lot of costume changes and theft in Parfaedia because they can. And Mascarpone is a sphinx because you know smc beast of knowledge or whatever and her other dad is a black panther polymorph and I do what I want

And Rice Pudding is an aspiring rockstar/metal band player bc I wanted him to be on stage... differently. There's lots of things you can do on a stage. And metal is one of them.

torturing smc with the joys of parenthood /silly