#I think about them so much I’ve had to restraint myself over and over from bringing them up in so many posts you have no idea 😭

[bistaxx]

AND HGDUO/GOSSIPDUO/QMOCKINGJAYS YOU WILL ALWAYS BE FAMOUS!!!

[seafarersdream]

The Art of Braiding (Cregan Stark x Y/N)

In the harsh, unfamiliar North, Y/N Tully struggles to understand the strange customs that surround her. One of them, however, her new husband Cregan Stark knows all too well—and he’s not above using it to his advantage. The Wolf of the North, as it turns out, has a cheeky side.

*Inspired by the braiding traditions of the Vikings

TW // Strong language and profanities, possessiveness, non-consensual restraint.

“Bloody wind,” Y/N muttered under her breath, tugging her cloak tighter around her shoulders as another frigid gust swept through Winterfell’s courtyard. The North had its own bite, and it wasn’t just the cold. It was in everything—the stone walls, the silence, and even the people.

Especially the people.

Especially Cregan Stark.

Her husband.

That cold bastard. Honorable, sure, but colder than the winds battering against her face.

Y/N blew a strand of hair from her eyes, resisting the urge to curse her luck again. The riverlands were nothing like this. In Riverrun, there was warmth. Rivers that didn’t freeze over in the middle of freaking summer. Men who smiled, told bawdy jokes, laughed loud enough for the gods to hear. Here, everything was different. Even the laughter, when it happened at all, felt muted by the heavy weight of the Northern sky.

But this was her life now. A wife of the North. Lady Stark. By the gods, it was still strange to hear it. She knew the match had been made for peace and alliances—marriage between a Tully and a Stark was good for the realm, or so her father had said. But no one had prepared her for the rest of it. The weather. The silences.

And Cregan himself.

He was unlike any man she had known. Rivermen were warm, boisterous. Cregan was the opposite. He was distant, cold at times, the weight of Winterfell and the North resting on his broad shoulders. But he was fair, she’d give him that. And gods be damned if he wasn’t handsome. He had that Stark look, all strong jaw and piercing eyes. If only he’d smile a little more, maybe she’d feel less like she was wed to a block of ice.

Not that he wasn’t good to her. No, Cregan was kind in his way. Gentle in the nights they shared, even if he was quieter than she liked. He was a man of few words, unlike the men of her home, who’d fill the halls with stories and laughter. Still, he made sure she had everything she needed. He listened, even when he didn’t have much to say.

But gods, she missed warmth.

The sound of footsteps crunching in the snow caught her attention, and she glanced up to see him approaching. Cregan. He walked like he owned the place—because he did, of course—but it was more than that. There was a confidence in him, a certainty in his steps. He didn’t need to announce himself. The wind, the snow, the very stones of Winterfell seemed to bend to his will.

He came up beside her, his breath clouding the cold air. “Still not used to it?” His voice was a low rumble, almost lost to the wind.

Y/N snorted, rubbing her hands together. “Used to it? It’s like a gods-damned frozen hell up here.”

A slight smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, but it was gone as quickly as it had appeared. “You’ll learn. In time.”

She shot him a look. “And when exactly will that be? Because I’ve been waiting for weeks, Cregan, and I’m about ready to march back to the riverlands and throw myself into the water. Ice be damned.”

His brows arched just slightly, amusement flickering in his gray eyes. “The riverlands? You wouldn’t last a day without the North, now.”

Y/N scoffed, turning to him fully. “Oh, don’t flatter yourself, Stark. I was born by water, not ice. I think I’d manage just fine.”

He said nothing, but the smirk returned. Silence fell between them again, but this time it was… different. More comfortable, somehow. She studied him, wondering what was going on in that head of his. He always seemed to have something weighing on him, some unspoken burden of being a leader at such a young age.

Before she could press further, he stepped closer, reaching out. Her breath caught, not because of the cold this time, but because of the unexpected closeness. His hand brushed against her hair, fingers moving with surprising gentleness.

“What are you doing?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Hold still,” he murmured, focused on her hair. His fingers deftly gathered strands, working them with a skill that surprised her.

Y/N’s brow furrowed, confused, but she stayed quiet, feeling the tug and pull as he braided her hair. Her pulse quickened as his fingers brushed against her skin, the sensation at odds with the chill around them. There was an intimacy in the act, in the silence that hung between them. And yet, it was just a braid.

Wasn’t it?

“There,” he said after a moment, stepping back. She reached up instinctively, fingers touching the braid he’d woven. It felt tight, but not uncomfortably so. She had no idea what to make of it. “What… is this?”

Cregan shrugged, that infuriating smirk still lingering on his lips. “Just a braid.”

“Just a braid,” she echoed, unconvinced.

His eyes flickered, something unreadable in their depths. “You’ll see.”

Y/N narrowed her gaze. “What exactly does that mean, Lord Stark?”

But Cregan was already turning, heading toward the main hall without another word. Y/N stood there for a moment, blinking in confusion. Just a braid? She huffed, shaking her head as she followed him inside. Northerners and their damn cryptic ways.

It wasn’t until they entered the hall that Y/N realized something was… off.

Eyes turned toward her. And not the usual fleeting glances. No, these were lingering, assessing stares. Several of the women whispered to each other, and a few of the men gave her respectful nods. She caught the eye of a servant who quickly dipped her head in what almost seemed like… deference?

Gods be good.

“Why is everyone looking at me like that?” she muttered under her breath, shooting a glare at one particularly nosy maid.

Cregan didn’t answer, his lips twitching as though he was trying very hard not to laugh. The bastard was enjoying this.

“What did you do?” she demanded, her voice sharper now.

Finally, he met her gaze, and there was that smirk again. “The braid.”

“What about the bloody braid?”

“It’s… a tradition,” he said, crossing his arms as he leaned against the stone wall. “In the North, braids have meanings. Especially for women.”

Her stomach sank. “What kind of meaning?”

He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a low rumble. “A braid like that? It tells everyone that you’re… claimed.”

Y/N blinked, feeling her face heat despite the cold. “Claimed?” she echoed, her voice rising a pitch. “By whom exactly?”

Cregan’s smirk deepened, and he leaned in, his breath warm against her ear. “By me.”

Her mouth fell open. “You—what?! You did that on purpose? You—sly, stubborn—”

His laughter was a rare, low rumble that warmed the cold space between them. “You’ll get used to it, my lady.”

“Used to it?” Y/N fumed, her cheeks burning as the reality of what he’d done sunk in. “You can’t just—ugh!” She shoved at his chest, but it was like pushing a damn wall. “This is the North, Y/N. My North,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “And you are mine.”

A strange warmth bloomed in her chest, mixing with her frustration. The audacity. The nerve.

And yet…

Y/N's face burned hotter than the hearth fires in the Great Hall as Cregan’s words echoed in her ears: You are mine. Claimed. Oh, she was mortified.

She reached up, fingers fumbling to undo the braid that now seemed to burn against her scalp. “Absolutely not,” she muttered, her nails scraping against the tight weave as she tried to pull it apart. “I am not walking around Winterfell with everyone thinking—"

Before she could finish, Cregan’s hand shot out, closing around her wrist, firm but not rough. “What are you doing?”

She glared at him, teeth clenched. “What does it look like I’m doing? I’m undoing this bloody braid before everyone in this hall assumes I’m some conquered—”

“You’re not,” he cut in, his voice low, but there was an edge to it. “And you won’t undo it.”

Y/N blinked, taken aback by the sudden command in his tone. “Excuse me?”

His eyes were intense, a storm brewing behind the calm gray. “The braid stays.”

She tried to yank her wrist out of his grip, but his hold was iron. Not painful, but resolute. “I didn’t agree to this—this.. this claiming nonsense,” she snapped, feeling a wave of embarrassment creep up her neck as she noticed more eyes turning their way.

Cregan leaned in slightly, his gaze unyielding. “In the North, it’s more than just words. It means something. You’re my wife. And you’ll wear that braid like it.”

Her heart pounded, heat flooding her chest. “I’ll wear what I damn well please—”

“Oi, Lady Stark!”

The loud shout from across the hall made Y/N freeze, her head whipping toward the source. One of the Northern men, a burly soldier with a wild grin on his face, pointed at her braid. “That’s a fine weave, my lady!” he hollered, winking.

The hall erupted into whistles, cheers, and hollers. Several of the men banged their fists on the tables, laughing and calling out words Y/N could barely make out. Some of the women were whispering behind their hands, giggling and exchanging knowing looks.

Y/N felt her face go crimson, her fingers still trapped in her hair, halfway through her attempt to undo the braid.

“Looks like the Warden’s laid his claim!” another man shouted, and more hoots followed.

Her stomach dropped. This was a nightmare. Mother save her, this is worse than a nightmare.

She tried again to pull at the braid, but Cregan’s hand didn’t budge from her wrist. “Cregan, I swear to the gods—”

His voice was maddeningly calm, but there was a cocky edge to it that made her blood boil. “You’ll leave it. And if you somehow forget, remember—we’ve got different gods, love. And mine? They’re backing me up.”

Y/N’s mouth opened to protest, but when she met his eyes, something in her faltered. He wasn’t just being possessive. There was something more there—something ancient, deep-rooted. A tradition that ran through his blood, through the very stones of Winterfell. She wasn’t just in his home. She was part of his world now.

But hell if she’d admit that to him.

“Cregan,” she hissed through clenched teeth, trying once more to yank her wrist free. “Everyone is staring!”

“And?” he asked, with that infuriating smirk still playing on his lips. “Let them.”

Her eyes widened. “You—this isn’t funny! They’re hooting at me like I’m some prize at the fair!”

His grip tightened slightly, not enough to hurt, but enough to make her pause. “You are no prize, Y/N,” he murmured, leaning close enough for his words to be for her ears only. “But you are mine. And in the North, we show it.”

Her breath caught at the warmth in his voice, even as her frustration grew. She had no idea what to say to that. What was she supposed to say? That she didn’t want to be claimed? That she didn’t want him? But the problem was… she did. And that was the most frustrating part.

The hall’s noise only grew louder. Some of the men had started clapping, whistling at them like they were some grand spectacle. Y/N wanted to sink into the stone floors.

“Let go of my wrist, Cregan,” she said, her voice quieter now, though it still carried her annoyance.

“Only if you stop trying to undo it,” he replied, his tone softening.

Y/N glared at him, her lips pressed into a tight line. But the heat of the stares, the teasing from the Northerners, was overwhelming. With a frustrated sigh, she dropped her hands from her hair.

“There,” she grumbled. “Now let go.”

He released her wrist, and immediately she wanted to punch him just a little bit. That cocky bastard.

“Was that so difficult?” he asked, folding his arms across his chest, the corner of his mouth twitching in amusement.

“You know,” she said, her voice low and dangerous, “you’re lucky you’re my husband, or I’d throw you from the Wall.”

He leaned in, that smirk still present but softer now. “I’d like to see you try, wife.”

The word ‘wife’ sent another ripple of warmth through her, and she cursed silently under her breath. Why did it have this effect on her? And why did he have to look at her like that, with those damned Stark eyes, all cold and piercing but somehow still full of heat?

She crossed her arms, trying to hide her embarrassment under a glare. “Don’t expect me to be all smiles and sweet words because you’ve won this little battle, Stark.”

Cregan chuckled softly, his breath warm in the cold hall. “Who said I needed sweet words? You’re a Tully. I’d be disappointed if you weren’t fighting me.”

Despite herself, Y/N felt the smallest hint of a smile tug at her lips. Damn him. He knew exactly how to pull her in, even when she wanted to stay mad.

The cheers and whistles finally started to die down, though the teasing looks from the men and women of Winterfell didn’t. She sighed, looking up at Cregan. “You’re going to owe me for this.”

He raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. “Owe you?”

“Yes,” she shot back, narrowing her eyes. “For the embarrassment. You’ll owe me.”

Cregan grinned, his cold facade cracking just enough to show the warmth beneath. “Fair enough, wife. I’ll owe you.” He paused, a glint of mischief in his eye. “But that braid stays.”

She rolled her eyes. But a small smile tugged at her lips.

As they finally made their way to the high table, Y/N couldn’t help but glance at the braid once more. The claiming. It was still ridiculous. Still infuriating.

But gods help her… it felt good��brutishly, maddeningly good—to be claimed like this. She was going insane, because part of her didn’t mind it half as much as she pretended to.

A treacherous part of her silently hoped that Cregan would braid her hair again tomorrow. And the day after that. And the next. For as long as they both lived.

[otomehoneyybearr]

Kagari Amagase

XXX With The Spoiled Demon

Ch1 | Ch2 | Sweet | Premium | Epilogue | Bonus

Oh my-- .... NSFW MDNI Please

One quiet night, under the softly twinkling stars—

I was at Prince Kagari's hideout, feeling so nervous that it seemed like my heart was about to jump out of my chest.

Kagari: "Princess, what's wrong? You seem restless tonight."

Kagari: "Are you worried about something? Who do I need to get rid of?"

Emma: "Please stop saying such things! There's nothing for you to worry about, so don’t worry."

Emma: "I was just a bit anxious about whether or not the drink I brought would suit your tastes."

Kagari: "That’s unusual. You don’t normally bring alcohol."

Emma: "I happened to win it at a raffle event they were holding in town."

Kagari: "A raffle, huh?"

I poured the drink into a glass and handed it to Prince Kagari, who downed it all at once.

(He’s not exactly a heavy drinker, but he always drinks so boldly.)

Prince Kagari placed the empty glass on the tray, narrowed his eyes with satisfaction, and licked his lips.

Kagari: "It’s good. The alcohol isn’t too strong, so it’s easy to drink."

Emma: "Really? Then I’ll go ahead and—"

Suddenly, my arm was pulled, and before I could react, my lips were sealed by his.

The bitter taste of the alcohol mixed with the heat of Kagari's kiss, causing my heartbeat to quicken.

Kagari: "Tastes good, doesn’t it?"

Emma: "U-uh… I think… I was more focused on the kiss than the alcohol."

Kagari: "Then how about we try again?"

Emma: "No matter how many times you try, it’s not going to work!"

(Prince Kagari just wants to kiss... Honestly, I want to kiss him too, but—)

(For now, I have to hold back… There’s something I need to accomplish first.)

Emma: "I feel like drinking a lot tonight, so please join me."

Kagari: "So I get to see a drunk princess tonight, huh? That should be fun."

(I don’t plan on getting completely wasted, but I do want to get a little tipsy.)

(There’s no way I can seduce him while sober...!)

....

This all started a few hours ago when I got some intel from Prince Kagari’s close aide, Shigure.

Emma: "…Kagari was seen in the entertainment district?"

Shigure: "I didn’t see him myself, but my subordinates were all worked up, saying they saw Kagari entering one of the establishments several times."

Shigure: "But I’m pretty sure it’s all work-related, so when those idiots start asking me stupid questions, I just ignore them."

Emma: "Hehe, I understand. Thank you for letting me know."

Shigure: "Huh, you’re not fazed at all."

Shigure: "Well, you know better than anyone just how much Kagari is into you, so it makes sense."

Shigure: "I might be worrying for nothing, but really, don’t let it get to you. See ya!"

Emma: "..."

(Kagari’s been spotted multiple times in the entertainment district... The entertainment… district...)

...Was I being too passive in situations like this? It's true that I rely on Kagari a lot.

(No, no, there’s no way Kagari would be playing around in the entertainment district.)

(I can say that with certainty, but… I HAVE been worried about how passive I’ve been…)

(… Right, this is just a way to ensure that he continues to love me in the future.)

(I'll show him a more assertive side of me and make him fall even more in love with me...!)

.....

—At least, that's what I had resolved to do. I thought I’d let alcohol loosen my restraint a little, but I wasn’t getting drunk at all.

Kagari: “Princess, did you finish your drink already? Want another?”

Emma: “Yes, please.”

I had Kagari pour me another drink, and, just like him, I downed it all in one go.

While I could feel the pleasant warmth of the alcohol spreading inside me, my mind was still crystal clear.

(This is bad… I’m too tense and nervous… No matter how many drinks I have, I doubt I’ll get drunk.)

Kagari: “Princess, look over here.”

Emma: “Hm…”

I obediently turned my face toward him, and he licked his lips like a cat before giving me a soft, fleeting kiss.

His fingers intertwined with mine, and even though the atmosphere was sweet, my chest felt tight…

(But if things continue like this, nothing will change.)

There’s no time to hesitate over whether I can seduce him while sober.

(I've drunk enough now that whatever I do will probably be seen as ‘drunken behavior.’)

(If that’s the case…)

Emma: "K-Kagari... I wanna kiss you more. Is that... okay?"

I desperately suppressed my embarrassment and tried to sound a bit tipsy as I clung to Kagari and buried my face in his neck.

Kagari: "...Go ahead. Kiss me as much as you want."

He lifted my chin to encourage me, and I immediately pressed my lips to his, trying not to let him notice that I was faking it.

Recalling our previous kisses, I tentatively slid my tongue into his mouth, tangling and sucking, trying to please him.

(Why... isn't he responding at all.)

Emma: “D-Does it not feel good?”

Kagari: “Who knows?”

(Is he not in the mood tonight? Or is my kissing just terrible…?)

Anxiety and frustration swelled inside me, and in my mind, I began to imagine Kagari standing next to a beautiful woman…

Before I realized it, I had pushed him down.

But he wasn’t fazed at all—he just lay there, looking up at me.

Kagari: "That was pretty good effort from you, Princess."

Kagari: "...But you're not drunk at all, are you?"

Emma: "H-How did you figure that out?"

Kagari: "You’re blinking less than usual, and your eyes are too focused."

Kagari: "Did someone put strange ideas in your head?"

Emma: "No... Nothing strange..."

Kagari: "So, you're worried about something?"

Kagari: “It’s fine if you don’t want to talk about it, but continuing this won’t feel good for either of us.”

(That’s… true. It would just leave me feeling empty.)

Kagari: “Princess, what’s wrong?”

He gently stroked my cheek with the back of his fingers, and my resolve started to waver.

Emma: "...You won’t laugh or get upset?"

Kagari: “No. It’ll just make me want to spoil the sad princess even more.”

So I confessed to him about the information I got from Shigure and my plan to seduce him.

And as a result——

Emma: “Why am I the one being pinned down…!?”

Kagari: “I told you, I’m spoiling you.”

He nipped at my neck and chest like a beast, sending small waves of pleasure through me repeatedly.

(Tomorrow, I’m sure I’ll be shocked by how many marks there are when I look in the mirror.)

Emma: "Nngh... This isn’t any different from usual."

Kagari: "So what?"

Kagari: “I never once though that you were too passive, Princess”

Kagari: “If anything, I love how I can pamper and spoil you every day—it’s like paradise.”

Kagari: "Now your worries are gone, right?"

(They are... but this doesn’t really explain why I’m in this situation right now...!)

With a dreamy expression, Kagari removed his gloves using his mouth, and without a word, began to dishevel my clothes.

He kneaded my exposed chest, rolling the tips with his tongue before gently biting them.

The constant stimulation made my thoughts start to melt away.

Kagari: “Princess, you look like you're enjoying yourself. You’re already so wet here, it looks like I could slip right in.”

Emma: "That’s because you’re touching me so much... Ah, no, I... nngh...!"

(He’s doing this while I’m in the middle of talking...!)

He spread my legs wide and relentlessly teased my wet area with both his tongue and fingers. Even though his touch was gentle, it was merciless, and all I could do was moan in response.

I tried to unconsciously pull away, but he grabbed my hips and pulled me back.

The lewd, wet sounds filled my ears, and the overwhelming pleasure made me grab Kagari’s hand, my body trembling violently.

(My head... feels fuzzy...)

Kagari: “How cute, Princess. Look, you’ve forgotten to breathe again.”

He wiped the tears from the corners of my eyes with his thumb and then sat me on his lap. As his broad chest rose and fell, I slowly tried to match my breathing with his.

Kagari: “The reason I was in the pleasure district was because there’s been a series of thefts recently, and I was patrolling to help a friend who was in trouble.”

(So that’s what it was... And yet, here I was, overthinking things, getting anxious, and acting weird...)

(I want to crawl into a hole and disappear.)

Kagari: “Sorry. I should’ve told you first.”

Kagari: "But I'm happy to know that you love me enough to go through with this whole seduction plan."

Emma: "...Thank you. I feel... relieved."

Kagari casually took my hand and guided it to his chest.

Kagari: "The only person I want touching me like this is you, Princess."

Kagari: "You're the only one I want to make feel good, and the only one I want to make me feel good."

He guided my hand to his neck and cheek, letting it linger there before kissing my palm.

Kagari: “My body, my life--everything. It’s all yours, so you don’t need to worry.”

His deep green eyes were filled with a thick, honey-like sweetness, conveying far more emotion than his words alone.

Any remaining anxiety vanished, leaving me feeling completely at peace.

●●●●●● Flashback ●●●●●●

Kagari: “I’ve never once thought you were too passive, Princess”

Kagari: "If anything, I love how I can pamper and spoil you every day—it’s like paradise."

●●●●●● Flashback End ●●●●●●

(He says that, but honestly, I’m the one who’s being spoiled here.)

(I want to spoil him even more, and I want to show my feelings for him just as much as he shows his for me.)

Just as I made up my mind—

Emma: "Eek!? W-wait, Kagari...!"

I felt the heat of his arousal press against me through our clothes, causing a undeniable heat build deep within me.

Kagari: “I’ve hit my limit. Don’t you think I’ve been holding back long enough, Princess?”

(Ah...)

Before I knew it, his eyes gleamed like a beast, and his thin grasp on his rationality was clearly slipping.

Emma: “Um... I’d appreciate it if you could be a little... gentle with me.”

Kagari: “Can’t. I don’t know how to hold back.”

(That’s exactly what I thought he’d say. But if he’s this relentless every time, my body won’t be able to handle it...)

(Wait a minute...)

(Maybe the reason I’ve been so passive is because Kagari is always so relentless in his demands...?)

Kagari: “Is that a problem, Princess?”

Like a playful cat, he buried his face in my chest and looked up at me.

Though his gaze was pleading, he subtly pinned both my wrists behind me, making it clear he wasn’t planning on letting me go.

(Kagari is, in a way, a hundred times better at seduction than I am.)

In the end, I was overwhelmed by his insatiable love that night, to the point where my voice and tears were completely spent.

Prev

▼・ᴥ・▼

[numinously-yours]

Pick a card: From your Soulmate

Happy Friday! Today's reading is a soulmate reading. Your reading includes: Characteristics of your soulmate & a note from them <3

Pile 1: Ace of Pentacles

I’ve been kicked down in life, but each time I get back up the light at the end of the tunnel gets brighter. I have been trying hard to trust in the universe because I know it’s bringing me everything I could want – and that’s you. You are such a compassionate, beautiful, smart, and wonderful person pile 1. You know how they say to never stop dating the person you’re with? That is my plan with you – to woo you forever. You deserve to be wined and dined. I hope to show you each day how much you mean to me. I’ll bring you flowers. I’ll give you shoulder rubs. I’ll tell you silly jokes just to make you laugh. I will spend our time together making sure you never feel unloved. You are my manifestation and I can’t wait to be with you.

Pile 2: The Lovers

Your love is a breath of fresh air. Being with you brings me mental clarity. It makes me understand that the way I’ve been treated in relationships up until now were not an accurate representation of a healthy relationship. Gosh, it is so refreshing! You may find when we begin our relationship that I am hesitant to make big decisions. Because you are showing me something I’ve never known before, it is going to take a little time for me to be convinced that you’re not going away. But let me tell you, once I am shown time and time again that you show up, it is game over (in the best way). The way that we align will take away all the doubts I’ve ever had about love. And I won’t be able to thank you enough.

Pile 3: The Hanged Man

A lot of my life has been about competition; mainly, competition with myself. I have a need to prove myself. I want to be the best at what I do. And I know that that mindset isn’t always the most productive. With you in my life, soulmate, I am reminded to pause. I am reminded that there are more perspectives out there from my own and that I’m allowed to let go of what I think SHOULD be to open room for what IS. You’re really going to allow me to look at my shadow self and understand why I have this need to be better than the previous version of me. You’re going to help me see the restraints that I’m binding myself with. My competitive nature will always be a part of me but I’m looking forward to the time in my life where I can experience joy just being who I am, where I don’t feel like I need to be constantly winning. My life with you is the ultimate prize.

Pile 4: Two of Cups

I’ve held myself back for much of my life with the fear that I don’t have the tools to succeed. I always think that if I just had that one thing – more money, more confidence, more time – that then I can take the plunge. At times, I also find myself wanting to do everything for everyone. If I put effort into one thing, I feel like I am neglecting the other, and then I stop doing either. I want to be the best RIGHT NOW, no matter how unrealistic. And then you came into the picture. My inspiration, my muse, my reminder that each day is a clean slate. Not only do I know we will grow together, but I know that I will grow personally because of you. You never fail to encourage me to follow my dreams. You have a way of reminding me that, even if I “fail”, I can always get something out of a situation which means I didn’t fail at all. I really hope I can do the same thing for you because you deserve the same, if not more, of the energy you give to me.

[sluttywonwoo]

Skz thot incoming bc I saw u asked oops - seven minutes in heaven with Han who’s secret bf so it goes from kissing to him fingering you with a hand over your mouth in like thirty seconds flat

“thank god the bottle landed on me or i would’ve killed myself.”

you roll your eyes and shove your boyfriend, sending him tumbling into the hamper behind him. he’d been on his knees, unsteady already, but you didn’t mean to push him that hard.

“oi, what was that for?” he grumbles, righting the hamper and himself.

“for being so dramatic.”

“i’m not being dramatic! the bottle was this close to landing on minho and then you’d be in this closet with him for seven minutes.”

“yeah, but we wouldn’t be doing anything, ji. the ‘heaven’ part of seven minutes in heaven isn’t guaranteed.”

“yeah but he’d definitely try something,” jisung mutters.

“oh my god.”

“knowing him! c’mon you know i’m right. have you seen yourself?”

you purse your lips. “do you really want to spend all seven minutes arguing over this or do you want to actually put them to good use?”

jisung sighs and pulls you onto his lap.

“for the record, if everyone knew we were dating, i wouldn’t have to worry so much about one of the other boys trying to get in your pants.”

“first of all, weird way to put it. second of all, you know why they can’t know. and third of all, i thought we agreed not to talk about this anymore.”

“i know, i know. i just-”

“so kiss me.”

he does, cradling the back of your head with his hand. he slips his tongue into your mouth the moment you part your lips in a moan. you want to grind down onto him but it’s hard to through the tight pants you’re both wearing.

jisung had chosen leather out of all things.

sensing your frustration, he snakes his free hand down between your bodies to unbutton your pants. it’s still difficult for him to get his hand down them, considering how big it is, but he manages to wiggle it in so that he’s cupping you over your underwear.

“fuck, you’re wet. what’s all this for?”

“you, duh.”

“well i’d hope so,” he scoffs, “but why?”

“you know i get horny when i drink,” you whine. “and this hair color looks so good on you, and your pants are tight in all the right places-”

“shit, you just got even wetter, i can feel it running down my fingers.”

“touch me, ji,” you plead, trying to grind into his hand.

“i got you, baby. let’s just get these pants down a little… there we go.”

your body slumps against his when he slides two of his fingers inside of you. you feel him chuckle and kiss the top of your head before repositioning you so that your back is against his chest.

“i’m surprised you haven’t already jumped me tonight,” jisung admits. “just knowing how turned on you are right now.”

“i have self-control,” you mumble.

“what’s that supposed to mean?”

“nothing, but if you think it means something then what does that say about your restraint?” the end of your sentence gets cut off because jisung started to move his fingers to shut you up but you know he gets the gist.

“what was that?” he asks.

“fuck you.”

“you already are.”

“i wish i wasn’t.”

“you know that’s not true. just feel how wet you are for me, baby.”

your head lolls back against his shoulder. “fuck, go faster please.”

“that’s what i thought.”

he speeds up and adds a third finger, making you whimper involuntarily.

“shhh, gotta be quiet, baby,” he whispers. “can’t let them know what we’re really doing in here.”

“can’t help it…” you choke out.

jisung’s solution is to hold his other hand over your mouth to muffle the noises you’re making. it’s effective, but it only turns you on even more, and you know jisung can feel you tightening around his fingers.

“how many minutes do you think we have left?” he asks, “maybe three?” you nod against his hand. your guess is about the same. “i’ve made you cum in less time. this should be easy.”

[tortillamastersblog]

𖣂 Not My Commander - Prologue | Lexa kom Trikru 𖣂

Pairing: Lexa kom Trukru x reader

Warnings: Blood, violence, injuries, cursing and some steamy scenes

Summary: Sending a hundred underaged prisoners down to Earth to find out if it’s inhabitable again is undoubtedly immoral, so The Council decides to send you down first, rather than float you for your crimes.

If you survive for more than a couple of hours, they can —in good conscience— send down the 100. If you don’t, well, then good riddance.

Next Part | Masterlist

________________________________________________

How the hell did I get here? I think, as I’m being dragged through the woods half-conscious.

A moment ago I was still in my pod, hurtling through space and now I’m here with a giant gash on my temple from when my head slammed against the control panel upon impact on the ground.

I thought I could take a moment and gather my thoughts once the pod had turned off, but no. The door had been yanked open a couple hours later and I was pulled out by the people who are now dragging me to who knows where.

They’re covered in thick furs and menacing-looking war paint and apart from the short-lived surprise I felt at seeing humans somehow inhabiting Earth, I’m shaking like a leaf now, not knowing what they’re going to do to me.

For all I know they could eat me? I mean, have you seen them?

I scoff internally, watching the forest floor pass by beneath me.

I knew as soon as I was arrested on the Ark that I’d die for my crime of finding out something I shouldn’t have, but I never imagined it would happen like this.

Now that I think about it, this isn’t “mercy”, as Jaha put it. Not at all. . . It’s cruel and I honestly would have rather been floated than be grilled and eaten like a shish kebab.

I don’t know how much time has passed when we finally stop near a stream, but I’m tired beyond belief and my legs are covered in scratches and bruises from being dragged around all day. The sun is about to set, bathing the forest in orange light and if it weren’t for my current situation I would have marveled at the sight.

The Grounders, as I’ve decided to call them, tie up my hands and feet and shove me against the bottom of a tree before setting up a fire and some sleep furs.

I watch longingly as they begin passing around some bread and dry meat, but they don’t even think of sharing with me as they settle down, talking in a foreign language around the fire.

My lips are chapped and my mouth is dry and even though I know they won’t share their food, I’m hoping they’ll share some of their water.

“Excuse me?” I speak up, my voice cracking. “Hello!”

They don’t acknowledge me. They don’t even spare me a glance.

Assholes.

I let myself fall sideways and wiggle toward the stream as best as I can with my hands and feet bound.

My clothes get all dirty and a couple of branches scratch up my face, but I keep pushing until I finally reach the water.

I take a big gulp, shivering at how cold it is before taking another sip, and another, and another.

I drink until I almost feel sick, not having had anything all day. Then, out of nowhere I’m yanked backward.

I look over my shoulder at the Grounder who’s got ahold of my sweatshirt and glare at him. “Hey! What’s your problem? It’s not like I was going to escape! How could I. . .” I whisper that last part dejectedly, but the grounder only grunts and throws me back against the tree.

It makes my back sting and I bite the inside of my cheek to prevent a curse from slipping off my tongue as the grounder gets another rope, wrapping it around my middle and around the tree to keep me kn place.

“What do you even want from me?” I ask, tugging against on restraints.

No reply.

“Where are you taking me?”

Again, nothing.

The Grounder makes sure all my bindings are secure before rejoining the others around the fire.

As frustrating as it is not to get any answers, I’m starting to think that they might not understand what I’m saying. After all, they haven’t spoken anything other than their own language and whenever I ask them something, they just ignore me.

I lean my head back against the tree and close my eyes, trying my best to ignore my aching body.

It’s been a very long day and I feel myself falling asleep to the sound of the Grounders’ chatter and the crackling of the fire.

What is this place? I look around with wide eyes taking in my surroundings.

We’re in a bustling city which has a huge tower right in the middle of it.

The tower looks like a remnant of the old world, falling apart but still intact, while the buildings around it seem to be fairly new. They’re small and look primitive being made out of wood and metal scraps, but they’re sturdy nonetheless and function as a multitude of things. I’m pretty sure we’ve already passed a forgery, a food stand, a butcher shop and a couple of stalls that sell clothes.

Impressive. . .

After a restless night of sleep, the Grounder that tied me to the tree cut me loose at dawn and pulled me to my feet. Then, they wordlessly dragged me through the woods again until we got here.

We’re pushing through the crowd of people gathered in the streets who eye us curiously, and if the direction we’re going in is anything to go by, I’m guessing we’re headed for the tower.

Why? I don’t know, but it seems like they don’t want to kill me just yet. Otherwise they would have done it the moment they found me.

Unlike yesterday, the sky today is covered by low, dark clouds. The wind has also picked up, carrying a metallic smell with it which I’m thinking might be the smell I’ve read about in books that’s associated with rain.

I’ve always wanted to know what rain is like, what it looks and sounds like, and what it feels like on the skin, but now I’ll probably be dead before any of that happens.

What if they throw me off the tower in some sort of ritualistic sacrifice?

My heart drops at the thought, but I’m too hungry and weak to dig my heels into the ground to stop our advancing.

I haven’t had anything to eat since being hauled out of my cell on the Ark, and the only thing I’ve had to drink was the water I managed to sip from the stream last night before being so rudely interrupted.

We enter the tower, the Grounders holding me nodding at the guards stationed next to the doors, and my eyes widen at the sight of the seemingly working elevator we get on.

We descended, the elevator creaking as it moves slowly before the doors open once again, revealing a dimly lit hallway.

Metal cell doors line each side and before I can protest I’m shoved into one of the cells.

The dirt-covered ground is cold and unrelenting as my knees collide with it and I wince in pain, curling up in one of the corners as the door gets slammed shut.

Great, from one cell to the next.

The Grounders leave, chatting animatedly and I drop my eyes to the metal bracelet on my wrist.

It transmits my vital signs to the Ark and because I’ve been down here for more than a day now I’m sure it has already proven that the Earth is survivable which means the 100 will be prepared to be sent down here as well.

I don’t know how long it will take for them to get here though. A day maybe? Or a week? A month? Several months?

I just don’t know, all I know is that I’m on my own and no one is coming to help me.

There’s no window in the cell, the only light streaming in through the spaces between the metal bars of the door is from the flickering torch in the hallway.

I sigh, shivering slightly, and close my eyes. My legs are pulled up to my chest and I protectively wrap my arms around them, pulling them even closer to my body.

No one is coming to help. . . I’m going to die here.

I must have fallen asleep because I wake up an unknown amount of time later with a start when I’m roughly pulled to my feet by the same Grounder who dragged me through the forest.

“Get up,” he growls and the fact that he speaks English after all stuns me so much that he has to shove me to get us moving.

“Where are we going?” I ask weakly. I’m lightheaded from not eating in so long and my tongue feels like sandpaper.

The Grounder grunts and wraps his hand around my upper arm, his grip so harsh I’m sure it will leave a bruise.

“Hey! I asked you some—“

I cringe when the back of his monstrous hand harshly collides with my cheek, sending a sting through the entire right side of my face.

“The Commander is ready to see you now,” he snarls. He pulls me into the elevator with him and I raise my hand to my throbbing cheek, closing my eyes to will the tears that are threatening to spill away.

Who the hell is The Commander?! And why does he want to see me? Why didn’t they just kill me when they found me. . .

________________________________________________

This is just the beginning of the story, people!!

[nctluhv]

Haechan x fem!reader (ft Nomin as Haechan’s best friends)

Warnings// stepcest, noncon, unprotected sex, reader is a BITCH, nomin are pervy, haechan fucks some sense into reader, humiliation of reader by being recorded, video shown to others

Don’t like it, don’t read. You are responsible for reading any further!!

Not proofread

Haechan knew what he wanted, and that was you. It frustrated him every time he would overhear you talking about another guy.

But something else that really frustrated him was the way you treated him. All of those times where you shot a dirty look his way, all of the shit talking you did to your friends, all of the insults that came out of your mouth. All it did was frustrate him.

Anytime his friends would come over they would only dwell in how hot you were and the slutty clothes you wore around them and specially them… short shorts and a tank top that showed so much cleavage it was surprising you’ve never had a nip slip before.

Haechan hates to think about how many times hes has his hand wrapped around his hard cock thinking of you. But he knew it was wrong. For fucks sake, you’re his stepsister. However, it was justified to an extent. I mean you guys have known each other for a while, but not as stepsiblings but as classmates. You have a history of strong hate for each other.

“You don’t realize how lucky you are to have a girl like that living in the same house as you Haechan”

The words slipped from his friends mouth. His friends name was Jaemin. Na Jaemin. The amount of times he’s checked out your boobs is uncountable. He’s also a huge perv and never fails to make comments on your appearance when talking about you.

Jeno nods his head in agreement.

The “He’s right Hae, the only thing she needs is an attitude change. She’s seriously the bitchiest girl I’ve ever met. Out of everyone who’s been inside of her.. none of them have had a good enough dick to shut her up??”

Jeno spews.

“You guys are fucking gross, shes my fucking stepsister.”

Haechan acts disgusted but it’s all he ever thinks about. His tongue lapping your clit while his hands cover your mouth so that you don’t disturb the neighbors.

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

Jeno and Jaemin are well gone and have been for a few hours. You sit in your room on your phone scrolling through tiktok. You soon get out of your bed to stroll down to the kitchen for a glass of water.

Of course when you get there you see Haechan sitting on the couch, doing the same thing you just were. He looks up at you and you sarcastically wave back at his blank stare.

“I don’t appreciate the way you act y/n. You walk around acting like you’re the shit when all you do is let yourself get used by the desperate man whores that walk around this small area.”

You look up at him with a look of complete and utter shock. How could he talk to you like that? Who does he think he is?

“Who the hell are you talking to like that?”

The words come out of your mouth as he rises from his spot on the couch. He walks fast towards you and you feel your heart start to sink. He never does anything about your attitude so what is this all of a suddenness??

Haechan soon makes his way into the kitchen. He wraps his hand around your throat and squeezes slightly.

“This attitude better fucking come to an end or ill end it myself”

You soon push him off of you and he gives a look of disbelief. How dare you put your hands on him??

“Thats it y/n”

Before you even get a chance to open your mouth, he pulls you by your arm into his room. He checks the time.

12:17 AM

Haechan pushes you onto his bed and starts to unbuckle his belt. You’re confused. What the hell is going on??

“You better stay the fuck quiet y/n. Better not hear a single word slip out of your mouth.”

All confusion leaves your body as soon as he uses his belt to wrap your hands in. He’s using it as a restraint… and a good one at that.

He soon pulls out his phone and hits record in one hand as he’s ripping your spandex-like shorts off with the other. You whine and kick and cry out as he strips you naked. The phone makes it a million times worse.

“Say hi to jaemin and jeno !”

You hide your face as Haechan gets more frustrated. You feel a burn tingle in your cheek. He just slapped you. What has gotten into him??

Right as you’re thinking about how to stop him, he pulls his hard dick out of his pants and aligns it with your sopping pussy.

With no warning he pushes in and you scream out.

“Tears running down your pretty face makes me more horny baby”

You cry out more. How could he do this to you?

Haechan thrusts harder while still recording.

[atlasscrumpit]

would u do a yandere joel miller x reader romantic request? he takes them because he thinks he can protect them and keep them safe? they feel less safe with him tho and try escape, idk anything yandere joel wpuld be great!

Metal Chains

You were in so much pain, you felt cold metal beneath you and around your wrists.

“You shouldn’t have been out there on your own, god knows what would have happened to you.” You heard a deep male voice say as you groaned and slowly opened your eyes.

“Where am I?” You groaned, you remembered trudging through a forest and then everything went blank.

“Somewhere much safer than where you were, that’s for sure.” The man said as you groaned and pulled against the restraints.

“I can’t offer you anything, I can’t shoot, or hunt.” You growled as he just stared at you.

“You’re not here for me to enslave, you’re here so I can protect you.” He muttered, you slowly sat up, still restrained.

“You don’t know who I am, I can fucking handle myself just fine.” You replied, pulling at the restraints before he gripped your wrist roughly.

“Enough!” He shouted, suddenly making you freeze in shock.

“Get off me.” You muttered as he sighed and let you go.

“I’ve survived this hell, alone for a long ass time. I think I can do it without a creepy stranger.” You grumbled, he still just stared at you, void of emotion.

“You look like you haven’t eaten in weeks.” He muttered making you chuckle dryly.

“You do remember we’re in an apocalypse right?” You retorted before he stood up and walked away, back up the stairs, signifying that you were in a basement.

“Don’t fucking walk away!” You screamed at him before he slammed the door.

After about five minutes he came back with a bowl of food and a glass of water.

You would kick him and make the food drop, but you were starving, literally.

“You should be more thankful.” He muttered, handing you the bowl before you cautiously took it and looked down to see it was baked beans.

It was better than tree bark.

You kept silent as you began to eat, it was the most flavour you had tasted in a long time.

The man sat back down and watched you eat.

“What’s your name?” He asked as you glanced behind at him.

“Y/N.” You muttered with a mouthful of food.

“Call me Joel.” He replied as you nodded a little.

He noticed how easily your guard had come down, just with some food.

“You’ve been alone a long time, haven’t you?” He whispered as you finished off the bowl.

“Aren’t we all alone in this?” You muttered, handing the bowl back to him before he held a glass of water out to you.

“Drink, and no. We don’t have to be alone.” He grumbled as you skulled the water.

“Easy, you’ll choke.” Joel continued before you handed the glass back to him.

“You need to prove to me that I can let you roam around here without those restraints. But, even if you do try to escape you’ll die pretty fast. I’ll let you think it over.” He said before leaving again, you were speechless.

—

After two hours, Joel came back, but this time he was covered in blood.

“Make your decision yet?” He muttered as you looked up at him in fear.

“I’ll stay, I won’t try to escape.” You whispered in response, making him smile.

He grabbed a cloth and began wiping the blood off his face before taking away the restraints on your hands.

You rubbed your wrists before you acted quickly and pushed him away from you, you darted towards the stairs hearing him yell out.

You barely made it up the stairs before blood covered arms wrapped around you, causing you to scream.

He manhandled you back down stairs and to the metal bed where he threw you down and restrained you again.

“Try that again and it’ll be your blood all over me.” He growled as you panted.

“Fuck you.” You muttered before he slapped you across the face, you kept your face turned away from him.

“Looks like you’ve got more thinking to do.”

[city-tickles]

Got tickled for the first time in a while the other day!

A few months ago, I met someone at a kink party who was curious about tickling and having a tickle sub. I told her I was interested and we would chat periodically and get to know each other. She told me about an upcoming party and since I was free that weekend I decided to go. Before I went, we discussed doing a tickle scene there and she was open to it:

I arrived at the party and since I’ve been to a few of these, I wasn’t as taken back as I initially was. I relaxed, and scanned the area until she showed up.

We got to talking and about the tools we brought with us this weekend. I had some feathers, blindfolds and light brushes and she had brought restraints. We surveyed the area and looked for a spot to play.

The best option ended up being a massage table. There was also a cross but it wasn’t very comfortable so the table was the best option: I laid on the table and had to remove my dress shoes and socks. I laid back on the table as she hooked my wrists to the restraints. The best part about this was I wasn’t able to see anything but what was above me. This helped me out because this scene was happening in a public setting so everyone around me knew what what was about to happen and could watch if they wanted (they allow people to watch scenes)

As I was restrained and comfortable, she began testing my spots, lightly touching all over my upperbody, with my tummy, ribs and armpits being the worst spots this time. All I could do was look up and laugh as I could barely see where she was coming from. She was surprised how ticklish I was and she came over to my view with a big bright smile and told me we were going to have fun.

She continued mostly targeting my upperbody but brought out some tools as well. One of those tools was that little pinwheel, which I’ve seen but never experienced and Oh My Goodness does that thing tickle! She first rolled it up my leg and onto my stomach. I didn’t laugh much. I assumed it was the clothes I was wearing. Until she started rolling it on my ribcage and armpits. I exploded with laughter, screaming “Get it out of there!” As she rolled the pinwheel up and down before moving to the next one:

We periodically took breaks and she asked me which level the tickling was at. The highest I think it went to was an 8. She also would try harder tickled but the light ones were working the most today.

When it came to my feet, they weren’t as ticklish as my upperbody this time: she would dance her feather up and down my toes or underneath them and tease me that I’m “tickling myself” since the feathers were making me kick and move in it’s direction. While it wasn’t as hard as the upperbody, it still tickled a lot. One of the tools I brought was multiple feathers in one and it got damaged along the way so I don’t think it was as effective as when I bought it. One feather might have been more effective but this still had me giggling. She would also switch those up with fast hard tickles on my soles and light touches and tapes on the top and underneath my toes.

The worst (best part) was another pointy tool she had. It was like a poker or one of those claws from TA. She put it on her finger and once again I couldn’t see what it was, so when she attacked my upperbody with it, I was hysterical. Especially in the armpit/ribcage area.

She tickled me for I wanna say 20-25 minutes. I didn’t keep count, taking breaks and checking in, making sure I was okay and if I wanted more. I could’ve gone longer but she had other people to play with too. After the tickling was done, we laid together (I couldn’t move anyway lol) and talked about how much fun we had. That was her first time doing a full tickling session. Usually she incorporates it with other types of play, so for a first time, she did an excellent job and I let her know that. She untied me and I cleaned off the massage table (You have to clean off what you used like how you wipe off a machine in the gym) and we decided to hang out a little more.

Also after the session was done one of the people watching was like “I loved that!” And loved how ticklish I was. We didn’t get to play but it was nice talking to her.

As much as it would’ve been nice to do more scenes, I was very happy with the one scene I did since I’ve gone to these parties before and gotten 0 play or attention. It was probably the best one I’ve been to and hope to go back again! And maybe get someone to be a lee but it is much easier to talk someone into tickling you than it is into you tickling them lol

[virescent-v]

Part One

Summary: Tragedy strikes Emily, leaving her with a life or death decision. Tempted by a stranger, enticed by a life she knows nothing about, Emily has twenty-four hours to decide. What fate beholds our beloved agent?

Word count: 1.3k

Warning: Nothing for this, I think? Light talk about restraints, maybe a little blood/gore if you squint?

A/N: I've been dreaming of a vampire!Emily fic for ages. I'm taking the stake to the heart and writing it myself lol. This is Emily x OC. I'm curious how everyone will feel about it, so leave me some comments! This first part is going to be kinda short, just a glimpse of what is happening in my head. Lmk what you think!

A quick, shadowed, blur brought a searing pain across Emily’s abdomen. With the adrenaline pumping through her veins, the pain took a few seconds to hit her. A draft in the darkened, damp, warehouse highlighted the fact that her sweater had been sliced across the middle. Putting her hand across her belly, however, made her aware that there was blood. 

A lot of blood. 

She tried to take a few more steps, push further into the warehouse to meet back up with her team, but the pain caused her to crumple to the floor. 

“Fuck,” she whispered, trying to put pressure on the bleeding. Emily could feel it ooze from around her fingers, dripping steadily onto the floor below. 

Trying to keep her voice down to not alert the unsubs they were chasing, Emily brought her wrist up to her mouth, trying to communicate through the mic that was hidden in her sleeve. “Officer down. I’ve been stabbed. I repeat, officer down.” 

She wasn’t sure how exactly the team had ended up separated, other than the warehouse being a maze full of shipping containers stacked almost to the ceiling. She could’ve sworn Derek was behind her, but when she turned around, she was alone. 

“Emily, where are you?!” Hotch’s voice came through on the ear piece. 

There were echoes of hurried footsteps all around her, becoming more and more indiscernible as seconds ticked by. She wasn’t sure if they were her team trying to find her or assailants trying to escape. 

Emily blinked rapidly, her vision becoming blurry around the edges. With a groan, she lifted her arm to speak into the mic. It took more effort than she cared to admit, each breath feeling like fire in her lungs. “Gah, I don’t know, Hotch!” She laid down on the floor, the coolness seeping into her overheated body. “I don’t think I’m gonna make it.” 

She was vaguely aware of Hotch’s panicked voice in her ear, her brain refusing to focus on the words. 

The echoes of footsteps were getting louder, but she had the sinking feeling it wasn’t her coworkers. She tried to drag her weakened body across the floor, push herself against the shipping container to hide as much as possible. Trying to give her team more time to find her. 

Another shadowed figure appeared, staring over her body with their head tilted. The body was slim, and couldn't be much bigger than her. 

The hairs on Emily’s body stood up, a warning. She didn’t know this person, but something about them felt almost familiar. Like she could trust them. Not that she had much choice, her muscles in her extremities falling limp, buzzing with the loss of electrical impulses as her body tried to save the major thoracic organs. 

“Grab her,” the figure said. “She won’t make it before the ambulance arrives. Leave the others.” 

From the darkness, a taller, broader, more defined body came into view. Emily tried to focus on their features, but the spots in her vision made it impossible. 

A rush of wind, the feeling of floating before a hard surface at her back. The slam of a door. A  car? Her breath coming more slowly, her pulse faintly drumming in her chest. 

The last thing Emily remembers before darkness is a pinching sensation at her lower neck. 

** 

With a grimace, Emily shifted, her body heavy, like trudging through a thick layer of mud. Overwhelming sensations prickled across her skin, almost as if she could feel each fiber of her shirt against each single cell of her body. 

She tried to blink, but her eyelids felt glued shut. She went to rub at them, only to find her hands tied down. 

As the panic started to overtake her, a slam of a door thudded in whatever room she was in. 

Slow, steady footsteps – heels? –  echoed on what seemed to be marble flooring. She tried to slow her breathing, but realized she was already holding it. 

Where was she? What was happening?

The last thing she remembers is the warehouse, all-consuming pain, and then nothingness. 

“I know you’re awake,” the voice said. “I can almost hear your thoughts.” The voice chuckled, a melodic sound definitively belonging to a woman. “You need to open your eyes. We have much to discuss.” ‘

Emily swallowed dryly, utterly confused.  She tried again to open her eyes, to no avail. 

“Oh, sorry. They’re still taped. Gimme a second.” 

Emily flinched as extremely cold hands lightly touched her face, slowly peeling tape from her eyes. Cautiously, she opened them, her eyes focusing sharply. 

“Where am I?” She said, tilting her head around, trying to figure it out, but nothing looked familiar. Marble floors, expansive windows, decor that even she couldn’t afford. 

“Agent Prentiss, you need to listen to me. I will answer all of your questions, but we’re running on a tight time frame right now.” The woman moved closer, staring directly into Emily’s eyes. 

Emily’s brow furrowed at the color of the stranger’s eyes; a deep cognac color, hints of a golden honey. Unnatural. Contacts, maybe? 

The woman smiled. Somehow, this put Emily at ease, her tense muscles relaxing slightly. 

“My name is Adelaide Turner. You may call me Addie. Two nights ago, you were stabbed in a warehouse in Boston. You had gotten separated from your team trying to catch a prolific serial killer.” 

Memories flooded Emily’s mind, the vision of a darkened blur, the feeling of the cold, wet floor beneath her. A slight, hooded figure and a larger henchman. 

“The wound across your abdomen was extensive. Your organs barely kept inside by the fascia. You would not have survived if I hadn’t found you when I did. No living medical person would’ve been able to save you.” 

Emily’s eyes cut to Addie’s. “Living?” 

Addie smirked. “Caught that, did you?” She cleared her throat. “Stay with me, Agent. What I’m going to tell you is absolutely true, no matter how unbelievable it may seem.” 

Emily felt her walls go back up, distrust starting to overtake her. Who was this woman? 

Addie took a deep breath. “I bought you more time. I–,” she faltered for a second, eyes downcast. Emily watched her steady herself, before catching her eyes again. “I am a vampire. I bit you to buy you time.” 

Addie watched as Emily processed her words, stopping her before she could object. “You know it to be true. You remember the bite.” 

Another glimpse of a memory. A pinch at her neck. 

Addie nodded. “I know it sounds made-up. Trust me, I’ve been there,” she rolled her eyes. “The only thing keeping you alive right now is the virus  coursing through your veins.” 

At this point, Emily finally felt a slight burning sensation continuously running up and down her body, flowing with her blood. She winced, not enjoying the way it felt in her toes and fingers. 

“The virus takes time to take hold. If I leave you as is, you will turn into a vampire, just like me,” Addie said, smiling. She waited for Emily’s full attention, opening her mouth and letting her fangs descend, the sharp points overtaking her canines. They weren’t much longer than her other teeth, but definitely noticeable. 

Emily struggled to believe what was clearly in front of her. Vampires were supposed to be myths, legends, costume ideas for kids at Halloween, and fun, action-packed horror movie characters. Not real beings. 

Trying to wrap her head around the new information, Emily paused. “What do you mean if you leave me as is?” 

Addie shrugged. “I could give you the antidote to the virus and you could die.” 

Emily scoffed. “That’s it? I have two options?” Her brow furrowed deeper. “Dead or deader?” 

Addie darkly chuckled. Emily tried not to bristle at the noise. “I know, neither are great. It’s up to you.” Addie turned and started walking to the door. She paused, her hand on the handle. “You don’t have long to decide. The virus will completely take hold in two days time. After that, you will become one of us.” She turned and looked back at Emily, still strapped to a table in the middle of the room. “You have until tomorrow morning to decide, Emily. I’ll come back in a few hours and answer any questions you may have,” she said, closing the door quietly behind her. 

[pixie-in-a-moonlantern]

WIP Wednesday

Apparently, writers post their WIPs on this glorious day. Why not, I'll bite - I'm in the middle of something right now ;)

As some of you know, I have this fun little thrupple of f!Durge, Gort and Halsin. I've written 2 smutty Durgetash fics, so now it's time for a Halsin-only interlude fic before I mix them up more.

So I share with you this smutty and fluffy snippet 💛

Explicit NSFW 18+, f!Durge, loving smut (inexperienced blowjob), angst, fluff. (No aggressive abs and dehydrated muscles 😘)

His breath catches when my teeth gently nip at his earlobe. The tips of my fingers run along the swirly lines of his tattoo, then down to his chest to tangle in the bushy body hair. I press my palms into his flesh, enjoying the perfect ratio of firmness and softness of his impressive muscles.

I toss all restraint aside and bite into his scrumptious breast. He chuckles, but I sense the tremble of his hand as it comes up to rake my hair. Encouraged by this, I gently bite into his skin lower and lower, over the mild hill of his plush tummy, right down to the hem of his trousers.

I hear him gulp above me and I grin to myself, my mouth already watering at the sight of the bulge of his cock straining against the fabric.

I look up and he knows what I’m asking. One corner of his mouth curls upwards and he nods, his hazel eyes wild.

I’ve only done this to him twice and I was bad at it—I couldn’t fit much of him in my mouth and I gagged way too soon—but I loved tasting him and he seemed to enjoy letting me. So I free the thick shaft from his trousers and lie on my stomach with my head in his lap, so I can use both my hands to play.

It’s long and thick and dreamy. A delicate pattern of veins stretches across the delicious purplish velvet. The head is like a bell hat on top, already softly glistening, sporting the clear bead of his excitement as a fancy accessory.

“Has anyone ever told you your cock is gorgeous?” I can't help but ask.

He’s watching me with hooded eyes and seems taken by surprise by my question. So I wait for nothing and wrap my lips around him. I hum in approval, tasting the musky goodness. Then begin unhurriedly licking and sucking, taking in as much as I safely can.

The sounds I’m drawing from him are music to my ears. The vulnerability of a man with his manhood at the mercy of a lover’s mouth… there’s something divine about it. I’m almost positive a chunk of my enjoyment lies in the desire to have power over people in an entirely different situation: torture and murder. But the majority of me loves it for these sounds.

And for the chaotic, unfocused way his hand is softly grasping for my hair; not to control, but to caress.

“Nara,” he manages to grunt as I’m mindlessly swirling my tongue around the head, tasting his musk. “I need to be inside you.”

My eyes widen in a silent question. Oh well, I shrug to myself. I can give it a good try. I angle him into my mouth, try to relax my throat as much as I can, and slowly slide more and more of him in.

I feel his fingers touch my chin as he chuckles. I let go of his cock and look up.

“I had something else in mind,” he smiles and gently guides me up to his mouth. “Your turn,” he whispers and kisses me, his hands already pulling my clothes off.

“Oh,” I snicker. “Not getting better at it, am I?”

“You still need practice,” he rumbles, amusement in his tone. “But it’s not that I didn’t enjoy it. I just want to repay you.”

“You’ve kept me alive through the worst case of my murderous urges, I think there’s nothing to repay,” I shake my head.

“I would have done that regardless of the shape of our bond, Nara,” he looks me in the eyes, mien serious. “I want to repay your love. You could have been with your old flame right now, getting treated like the deity you are. Instead, you’re here with me, worried about my feelings. I fail to put into words what that means to me.”

“Halsin,” I breathe out, hugging him. “That just makes me want to shower you with love even harder. I want you to feel loved. Do you feel loved when you’re with me?”

He gulps and softly sighs, “Yes.”

I can tell he’s scared. Perhaps expecting me to disappear. I can’t even imagine what would make me do that if I was free—but Bhaal can still make the choice for me. There’s really nothing I can promise as long as I’m puppeteered by his hand.

So I hug Halsin tighter, running my fingers through his hair, inhaling their scent. He slowly finishes undressing me, his fingers electrifying every inch of my skin they touch. The air is getting cool as the sun is slowly setting, but his enormous form is like a furnace, keeping me warm against the breeze.

[whump-me]

Martyr, Chapter 28: Not Over Yet

Chapter 28 of Martyr, a novel-length sci-fi whump story about a captured Martian rebel with a secret and the renowned interrogator who has waited a decade for the chance to break him. This series is best read in order. Masterpost here.

Contains: whumper POV, restraints, interrogation, aftermath of severe injury, verbal sparring, emotional whump

---

Isadora

“Then your rebellion meant nothing to you?” Isadora asked, testing him, even though he had given her the answer she had expected. “You would abandon it so easily?”

“You’re the one who just got done telling me how stupid it would be for me to go back.”

“Well, yes, but you rebels tend to have more conviction than brains. I’ve talked to a lot of you over the years, and the way you tend to talk, you’d think you were all champing at the bit for the chance to martyr yourselves.”

“The way you did, you mean?”

Why did this man, even now, have the power to ignite a flame of hot anger in her cold center? “Even if I were foolish enough to chase death based on an ephemeral emotion, I have enough brains to know staying alive to fight another day would be far more effective.”

“Oh, really.” Half his lips twisted on one side in a faint, bitter echo of his old grin. “You mean to tell me you haven’t given up anything of yourself for what you believe in? So you were born this way, huh?” He shook his head. “You must’ve been a strange child to raise, if that’s the case.”

The flame of fury grew. She ruthlessly tamped it down. She took a deep breath—in for four, out for four.

She knew why his words got to her the way they did. At this point in the game, it was pointless to deny it. He wouldn’t have been able to get under her skin this way if he weren’t right.

She loosened her hands around the arms of her chair. She hadn’t realized she had tightened them. “We were talking about you,” she reminded him. “If anything you said in our first real conversation was true, you’ve been with the rebellion from the beginning. Even if you’re not as eager to sacrifice yourself as your compatriots, could you really walk away from something you’ve devoted your life to for so long? Was it really only ever about the pull he had over you?”

“That’s a complicated question,” said Wraith. There was no artifice in his voice. Strange as it seemed, she had the impression he was giving her question the consideration it deserved.

At last, he continued. “It wasn’t just about him,” he finally said. “I watched people die, the same as a lot of us did. I was angry. But not everyone who was angry took the route I took. Even before I knew I loved him, I was trying to be what he wanted. If I had, maybe I would have taken some brief futile revenge and flamed out quickly. Or maybe my anger would have burned bright and hot for a while, and then faded away as I let myself forget about those early days. Would that have been better? I don’t know. I’m proud of the work I’ve done, no matter why I did it.”

“You’re proud of the people you killed?” Isadora couldn’t resist cutting in.

At that, he graced her with a cold smile. “I may not be a true believer, but I still take satisfaction in justice. Not to mention revenge. So yes, I am.” Then the smile faded from his face as he continued. “The rebellion would be better off with me, I know that for certain. But let’s be honest—that’s not an option for me anymore, no matter what I want. Even if I were to walk out of here today—and we both know how likely that is—you people would track me right back to them. Back to him. I can’t let that happen.”

“Only if you let them,” Isadora pointed out. “You haven’t kept yourself alive this long by being easy to track.”

He acknowledged her words with a half-shrug. His face showed how much that simple movement cost him. “I could go back. It’s what a true believer would do; it’s what he would do. What you would do, I’m sure. But me? I’ve spent half of the last ten years trying to be everything he wants me to be, and the other half keeping him and everyone he cares about alive by being everything he can’t be. I wouldn’t mind being selfish for once. I’d like to figure out if there’s something else I can love the way he loves the cause. Something—someone, maybe—that would love me back.” He lowered his head. His hair fell across his eyes. “Or at least not break my heart.”

His lips curved in a wry smile. “Not that it matters, because you and I both know I’m going to die here. I’m going to die for him, just like he planned—just like I planned. It’s a shame we only figure these things out after it’s too late, isn’t it?”

An unexpected burst of laughter, sharp and jagged as the shards of ice she could feel snapping loose in her chest, left her lips at that. Wraith’s head jerked up. His eyes went wide. For a second, before he covered it up, pure panic shone in his gaze.

He smoothed out his expression a second later, but a dark glimmer of fear remained. His ragged breathing filled the room, breaking the silence left in the wake of her outburst.

Of course he had reacted that way—he probably thought she was losing control again. And who could blame him? After all, it wasn’t as if he was wrong. The only thing that had been holding her together—the image of the noble crusader she had clung to for so long—was gone. Even she didn’t know what was left.

Wraith stared deeply into her eyes. Whatever he saw there, it intensified the fear on his face, creating lines of tension where none had been a moment ago. But his voice, when he spoke, was weary and resigned. “Get on with it,” he said. “But do me a favor and finish the job this time, will you?”

“Don’t worry,” she said, “I’d rather not damage you all over again. It was hard enough healing you up the first time.”

Wraith didn’t answer for a moment, but the look on his face broadcast his skepticism clearly enough. He watched her without blinking, as if looking away for the slightest fraction of a second would bring her fists raining down on him all over again. Her gut tightened with shame.

Then she took a deep breath, and released the tension with her exhale. The time for shame was done, along with the time for self-deceit. Today, she was trying something new.

A sharp pain shot through her chest as another crack erupted in the ice that had held her together for so long. The pain was all in her head, she knew, but the felt real enough. Under the ice, dark water surged, rippling with emotion she didn’t understand. Was it a good feeling or a bad one? Was this joy she felt in her heart, or dread, or blind panic? Maybe some mix of the three. Maybe it didn’t matter.

“If we’re done talking about the future I’ll never have,” said Wraith, “how about you tell me who won your little game? You did beat me nearly to death. And you’re probably going to do it again. That’s a pretty clear victory for you, I’d say. On the other hand, I made Isadora Pope lose control, which has to count for something.” Unexpectedly, a flicker of his old grin played across the corners of his mouth. “Besides, you didn’t get what you wanted from me. And you won’t.”

“You’re still capable of your old bravado,” said Isadora. “I didn’t expect that.”

“Are you kidding? I don’t have the energy for that. I’m just telling you the truth.”

And she had to acknowledge to herself that it was true. She had never failed to make a prisoner talk— and yet, looking into Wraith’s tired eyes, she knew she would never get the information she wanted from him. Even if she destroyed him utterly, the way she had once planned to. He would take his secrets to his grave.

She wondered how it would feel to love someone like that. Did he feel about this leader of his the way she felt about her duty to Mars? Or did it feel more like the alien surge of emotion that ran through her body when she thought about the thing she had really wanted when she had demanded to come back to this place?

Because it had never really been about saving this benighted rock. It hadn’t been about about preserving Mars’s exports for Earth—who in the world had ever chosen to sacrifice their life for exports? No, she had sacrificed herself for the chance to be more than just one more grunt guarding a factory door. To fight for something greater than herself, like she had dreamed of when she had put on the uniform for the first time—even though back then she hadn’t had words to put to her desire, aside from some impassioned declarations about freedom and justice that made her cringe now. But the underlying desire had never faded.

Huh. Even as empty as she was, it seemed she could still feel something after all.

And yes, she decided as she looked into Wraith’s eyes—what he felt for his leader had to be something like that.

Despite what he had said, despite what she had thought, it looked like the two of them weren’t so different after all.

She didn’t share that thought with him.

He was still watching her, waiting for an answer. “I can’t answer that question,” she said, “because the game isn’t over yet.”

---

Tagged: @straight-to-the-pain @soheavyaburden @gala1981 @whumpacabra @sacredwrath @suspicious-whumping-egg @sonder35 @decahedron-crabclaw @seasaltandcopper @tremendousenemyhideout @bloodinkandashes @whumplr-reader @whatiswhumpblog @delicateprincepaper @sunshiline-writes

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[beatsboy]

7.28.24 / day 35 of romanticizing my life until i love myself again

it’s almost 2am, i woke up about an hour ago from a 5 hour “nap” after going to a queer day market to support my friend selling their art, and it was really cute and i was honestly super social as i have not had that much social interaction lately (getting used to living alone and having to actively go out and seek social interaction has changed my capacity when i do have it so much, like crazy not feeling drained every time i leave the house because i’ve already been like 5 people’s father/therapist/cleaner/etc before getting to the place i’m going to be supportive/present for someone else) but god damn it was so f u c k i n g hot and tbh i’m very proud of myself for making it as long as i did i only made it thanks to the ice cream vender who put my ice pack necklace (shoutout to my mom who has these for menopause and told me about them) in her cooler so it could get cold again and the lemonade vender who gave me a giant cup of ice to hold against various parts of my body to stay cool af and i got to talk about the music video, and future music videos, the more we talk about this stuff, the more motivated i feel to work on music i want to get to the part where i get to be the thing i’ve been building mostly in my brain for so long

originally, we were going for summer release, and then everything got all fucked up with my roommate situation and moving but i think it was meant to happen this way; this project is better suited for the fall, regardless, and clearly brat has taken over this summer in terms of music, on all levels, especially in the hyperpop scene there are still brat parties going on in la, smaller artists are still reaping the benefits of this album (though not getting much credit, as per usual) love seeing the dare dj a petal supply remix of a brat song and getting all the credit, it’s fine we can continue letting cis white dudes get the credit for queer artists, it’s fine i was literally at a brat market today, where everyone had brat merchandise it’s hard for any other music to break through the brat noise in pop/hyperpop right now, not to mention, boypop is kind of fucking freaky, so i do think sept/oct release would be good for the theme

i rewatch the assembly of the first minute or so of footage and literally cannot believe that that is me these are the movements i practice in the shower, in the corner, in my room, when no one’s looking, movements, expressions, i rarely actually see and the thing is, when i do see, i often shrink from them when i tried to practice performing like this in front of a mirror, i always lost it, the authenticity of it, the commitment, giving fully into the performance, the character, the self that’s the only way, in my opinion, to perform, because any level of restraint pulls you back to reality, that i am just a human, an insecure boy, going through puberty for the second time in his life of 27 years, afraid that he hasn’t done enough in his short time on this earth and wishes he’d taken a life-altering journey to a faraway planet where pop music was the harbinger of liberation instead of a stint in rehab and a coke addiction

anyway, market was fun, although so so hot, and after not going out all weekend, especially after thinking i was going to go to the rave on friday night and not, i really needed some socialization, with friends, and new people, and really needed some real time spent out of my apartment i got a really cute trucker hat that says “gay son” that i’m obsessed with and a really beautiful zine made by a trans guy about his gender journey (originally to raise money for his top surgery, which he had evidently already had, as he was standing there, fearlessly, with his shirt off) i honestly didn’t want to spend another $10 (i literally still have to make my rent in the next 3 days but telling myself i got this) but i think i just feel this intense awe when i see other trans guys post op shirtless, so free in a way i cannot imagine being so, naturally, i was blinded and overcome with this feeling, so i paid the $10 for the zine, and of course i do not regret it at all another vender had a kitten cafe with two 2 week old kittens inside (pictured) because they were too young to be left alone and while i was worried about them and the heat, they were quite cute

after being at the market for over 4 hours, af and i came back to my place, where i made us greek wraps with ground turkey and homemade tzatziki and cucumbers after we walked to h mart to get fresh tortillas i showed them the latest version of “boypop” which is so close i can taste the final mix (and am a bit mad i didn’t work on it today, but it’s fine, i was exhausted) they noticed the automation, the changes i’ve been making, i feel like i’ve actually been moving forward in my work this past week instead of just hyperfixating and going in circles, which is a danger i face in the finishing phase it’s hard to let go of a project, to let it be done i still listen to “king” and think of different harmonies i could record now with my current voice and i can sing whatever i want live, but the recording is done, the mix is done, there are no more changes to be made

i think, in the same way that i love people for their potential, and not always for who they are right now, i see a song as it’s potential, which is why i can imagine so much more than what is actually in front of me, and translate that symphony in my head into the daw, and i also why it’s so hard to let go, to stop, to step away from the infinity of changes and evolutions each project could still face sometimes it feels like i could just work on something forever and as i learn new things it will keep getting better and better, but at some point, i just have to let go

when i was a kid, my dad told me that an artist’s first album is always the best because it’s the cumulation of only their best works at the time, but then they just have to keep creating and they slowly get worse and worse i don’t know why i let this stick with me, more insidious influence from my father on a career i hadn’t even chosen when i knew him, it was just some dumb musing from a middle-aged man making himself feel smart by making a comment about maroon fucking 5

his birthday was 2 weeks ago i wonder if it makes him sad, on his birthday, at the age of 66, knowing he’s grown to be the kind of man who would offer back his relationship to his child, who has grown to hate him more than he hates himself, at a price, who has grown to be a man who can put a price tag on anything, even his love and support knowing he is one of the only people left in this planet, soon including even TSA agents and the DMV, to call me that name to wonder if i will ever come back, if i will ever call, if i will ever reach out, if i will ever show up and say i’m sorry dad you were right all along i got off the path and i sold my body and i want to go back to my normal life with a check for $5000, crying, and return to his control (i won’t) he tells my brother that it’s on me, ball’s in my court, if i want to come back that’s all i have to do, say sorry and pay the fine my terms have always been more simple, which i have communicated let’s talk, with a therapist present you two (parents) schedule (since they have crazy schedules) and i will be flexible (even though i too have crazy schedule) “he said he’s willing” my mother claimed, but it never came to fruition, of course not i blocked his number at first, i had to he wouldn’t stop calling, threatening me, telling me i’d made my mother sick with my behavior (becoming financially independent after realizing i was being financially/emotionally abused) i responded to his emails for a while, but they got worse, so i stopped then, his dad died, and i unblocked him just to call and give my condolences i left him unblocked after that. he could have called any time he wanted, but he didn’t i would know if he’d even tried

i wonder if my dad, too, ever sat alone in his first solo apartment journaling about his thoughts and reflecting on the ways his actions impacted other people mostly i hope not, because i don’t want to know if he did good things before he went bad, i want his fate to feel impossible for me to come to i already know that he read the tao te ching and the four agreements, things i’ve read as a young adult, that have brought me peace, that have taught me ways to move through the world, that don’t make sense when i think of him, and it makes me uneasy i don’t want to envision him being a morally good person and suddenly turning it makes me fear that i could still face the turn, when i want to believe that i have avoided it, that i am not capable of becoming a man like That

but, in truth, we are all capable of becoming like that, of selling out to some idea worse than what we believe in because it’s easy, because what we’re doing now is hard, because the rat race is tiring on the ground because our bodies are tired because maybe our fathers were right and the world’s a hard place and maybe i won’t because i know he wasn’t right, he never was, he was a professional bully who practiced on his wife and children but it is in every decision we make, daily, hourly, minute by minute, that determines who we are, and in ever decision, we can make the turn, we can cave and be cruel, we can give in and take the easy route, knowing that each of those decisions pulls us closer to That which we fear becoming the evil you fear lies as much in buying all your furniture on amazon as it does saying something cruel to someone who doesn’t deserve it just because you’ve had a stressful morning as much as the goodness you chase lives in being friendly to the coffee employee who’s taking forever on your drink when you’re late because it’s not their fault and their morning is just as important as yours as much as it lives in buying from local artists every decision determines how you move through the world, connecting each step and choice like a river, that is where you find where you’ll end up, which ocean you end up submerged in, which fish you will find yourself swimming into the dark night with and i crave free, calm waters for when i my end

[murmuur-vanilja]

On cocaine, identity and autonomy.

I do drugs. That is not some kind of secret, and that’s pretty much something I mention every other day without showing much restraint about what I reveal on it. In theory, it is my special interest, it’s something I have a genuinely insane relationship to, both as a practice and as my little niche inside the bigger interest that is biology. Therefore, in theory, I am in love with all of them, from the sedatives to the psychedelics, from the dissociatives to the amphetamines, and would be down to try each and every at least once. However, there is no doubt, when it comes to what really tickles my mind, to what I really vibe with: those are the stimulants (with or without hallucinogenic properties).

This has been a surprise to some people in the past, and continue to be, occasionally. Specifically, the main curiosity about this would come back to that point: why would I, already experiencing “schizophrenia” and chronic dysregulation of my sympathetic nervous system (tachycardia and throwing up a lot, notably), would willingly expose myself to the same effects, nay worsen them? To which I couldn’t quite answer, because it was more of an urge than a premeditated essay. I’ve thought about it though, and even when I couldn’t really explain it, I’d somehow mumble it had to do with autonomy, and somehow, identity.

That is to say, in a life where experience has proven time and time again that, whatever I shall do, my health concerns would never be listened to anyway, I would always be stuck with the symptoms. Under such circumstances, if whatever I do will result in tachycardia and arrhythmia anyway, I suppose I’d rather choose to go through it and give it positive connotations than merely suffer through it at random. That choice, yes, made my general health worsen; my heart is behaving in stranger ways than it’s ever been, and more frequently. Yet, as a personal way of living, even though it doesn’t benefit the general health, I do feel happier taking back autonomy over it for a bit even if it’s not “good”, or even if it were to shorten whatever my life expectancy is.

On the other hand, although there is no saying when I’ll get sick from something different again, no saying when I’ll be in pain from the chronic pain again, even “negative” effects such as throwing up on drugs feel nice. They do, because I’m in control. It doesn’t matter if swallowing a pill of ecstasy got me to get rid of everything in my stomach within an hour, because even if it weren’t also associated with a positive experience, I would know those effects fade within eight hours or so (or any other time frame depending on the exact effect and substance and dose, yada yada). And that is the only time I know when it ends.

In a way, you might call stimulants an aid to me. In my case, it’s not really anything like coping, or at least that’s seriously not a big part of it at all (in fact, in a bad mood, it might make me worse, and cannabis with the aim of relieving pain, for example, actually makes me more aware of background pain I had somehow forgotten about).

There are other reasons, very much related, for which they also help. I could name the memory loss as something that I live as positive, when my habit is to remember most everything, to be unable to forget. I could name even the hallucinations, for they’re closer to a happy fever dream than to the fears I sometimes get at night.

In addition to that, there is another big part to the why of drug use, in my eyes. As I mentioned previously, I do have a strong interest in them, and that’s to such an extent you might call it a core part of my identity. I do not believe drugs have to be a big deal, at all, whether it be positive, negative or anything in between. However, I think that just because they don’t have to be that doesn’t mean that they’re not effectively a big deal to some people.

In my case, because they allow me to thrive in an interest that define me (biology) and because they allow me to live at all, they’re definitely something that are deeply intertwined in my personality, and I was craving the stimulants from before I even got my hands on them. On top of it, you have the subcategory of psychedelics that play a major role in identity in the way that they (especially psylocibin) allow me to introspect and figure out some pretty important decisions and directions in life. You know, the rearrangement of the entire default mode and all.

I mean, if you were to lie down in the middle of a public park with birds and see a bunch of trans flags in front of you, would you want to think about how your identity and your drugs feed into each other? I sure did. Well, from this point on, it’s more like I could go on and on about a bunch of anecdotes and explain each of them, or talk about how they made me realise how a lot of my own psyche would work, and I guess I’d love to grow them too to complete the mad pharmaco-biologist finally in touch with all that was lost and grieved part of my deeper self.

Plus, you know I’m disabled. Of course, I’m disabled and mad (as in the kind of “mad” from mad pride). That isn’t going anywhere, both because no one’s helping, and because it’s simply something that will always be there. Both disabled and mad because they don’t fully overlap, especially as the reason I put “schizophrenia” in quotation marks is because I acknowledge the psychiatry survivor story that I have, but wouldn’t actually interpret my experience with that framework; if anything, it’s more of a spiritual thing to me (which in turn, informs my relationship with drugs).

Really, the final point I’m introducing here is that I have preexisting conditions that already defined me, so I might as well define myself further. In that way, it’s true still, “I do drugs” and “I’m interested in the topic”, but it goes beyond that, way beyond that, to the point that it barely is true when you put it like that. Rather, I embrace them and I love them like I love myself.

July 2nd. 2:27PM - 7:46 PM

[slightlyaboveaverageiq]

Connor and the Brat {Part 1}

A/N: After having random ideas for blurbs I have decided that I will turn Connor and the Brat into a full series so the blurbs aren’t fully out of context anymore. Trigger warnings: Brat will have NSSI (non suicidal self injury), eating disorders will be mentioned, childhood sexual abuse will be mentioned. Slight daddy/brat undertones but not a daddy kink I don’t think. Brat just calls him daddy jokingly when he tries to get her to do stuff. I haven’t decided if I will be talking about them in length or just a general overview so please read at own risk and remember to love yourselves ❤️

This is Brat ❤️ ^^^

“I said I’m fine! It just needs a few more gauze wraps!” Connors attention was taking away from the charting in front of him to the screaming woman currently being wheeled in by Sylvie and Chelsea.

“Connor you’re in trauma 4” Maggie had called out to him without looking from her brick, which conincidently happened to be the room currently hold the woman who was still screeching like a banshee at Sylvie.

“What do we got?” The woman was struggling from the two paramedics as the tried to get her into the soft bed restraints Connor went to reach over but we met with a quick kick to the jaw and lower chin.

“26 year old female, superficial NSSI, roommate called when she couldn’t get the bleeding stopped herself. Good luck.” The last part was whispered as they walked out the door and Connor turned back to the woman green eyes staring into his and he pulled a stool up next to her but far enough away as to not startle her again.

“Those are some nasty looking cuts.” No response, he reached behind him and started digging around for a suture kit and antiseptic wipes. “What happened?” Still no answer but she didn’t flinch as he reached for her wrist to clean it and give her a shot of lidocaine, numbing the areas before starting her sutures. “ Have you ever had-“

“NO! I mean…no…I’m sorry. I’ve just been really overwhelmed with work and life and this…this is the only thing that makes me feel bette. I wasn’t trying to kill myself, I just wanted to feel something other than chaos.” He watched as she took her lower lip between her teeth and tugged on it a little, a clear sign her anxiety was getting the best of her and he nodded.

“Alright well you’re all cleaned up and since you’re showing no signs of suicidal or homicidal ideation there’s no reason to keep you here. I’ll get your vitals and then your discharge paperwork started. Do you know how tall you are?”

“About 5’2”

“Okay and how much do you weigh?” She mumbled something unintelligible and Connor could tell she was starting to get uncomfortable again. “I can do things the hard way but I’d rather not get another kick to the chin.” She laughed a little but it didn’t do much to help calm her nerves. “Can you please tell me how much you weigh?” His blue eyes searched hers and he watched as her pretty green ones filled with tears and she looked away.

“You’re gonna make me stay here if I tell you.” She whispered so softly he wasn’t quite sure he had heard it. He nodded and sat his tablet down before walking to the door and turning the lights off.

“Why don’t you rest for a little bit? Dr. Charles will be by later to evaluate you and get you admitted.” She didn’t say anything just nodded. “What’s your name for the paperwork?” A small smirk made its way to her face and he suddenly wished he hadn’t asked.

“You can just put Brat, I’m sure all the nurses and doctors will be calling me that when they come to complain.”

[darkestdalliance]

Submitted by a follower

“Finally,” I sigh. You finally started stirring; I was nervous the chloroform had been a bit too much for you. You’d taken the short way home through that alley, one where I watched you pass dozens of times. I’d like to think that you never saw me in the dark, tracing your footsteps through the snow and the dirt, but I knew you sensed me. And that you kept coming back despite knowing I was there. A few hours ago, I decided to act. You slipped past my normal hiding spot, and I smoothly approached you from behind with my rag in hand. As I firmly planted it on your nose and mouth, I wrapped my arm under your breasts and held tight as you quickly relaxed. I thought I caught a twinkle of recognition before you blacked out.

As you came to, you found your restraints. I had brought you to the old barn on my hunting property up north, just 45 minutes from where I caught you. I placed you in a table in the barn and tied you down with silk cloth, attaching your arms and legs to poles at the corners of the table—a sort of makeshift canopy bed. The roof tiles had started crumbling under their own weight, so you’d get a good view of the stars as the shone through the darkness of the rural night. With the old oil lanterns providing a warm glow, I was hoping the mood would make sense.

Your eyes widened as you pulled at your restraints with no give. I stood and came to you, and as we locked eyes, you relaxed. I was a little surprised, given the situation, but I saw a small smile form on your lips.

“It’s good to talk,” I said.

“It is. I’ve been wondering when we could. Maybe not…quite like this.”

“Should we go inside?”

“No. Just tell me what you’re going to do.”

I turned around and unfurled a sheath containing a number of hunting knives. I felt your eyes wandering towards them, and then away as you scanned the walls. You had to strain to see the trophies adorning the barn but I heard a soft gasp as I pulled a few tools out of the sheath.

“They’re…what is this?”

I smiled. She wasn’t the first.

“They’re my loves. Well, tokens of my love. All of these women were where you are now.” I walked over to where you lay, 5-inch hunting knife in hand. “I find women like you so…I don’t know, attractive isn’t it. But I found you and I want you. And I feel like, you want to stay with me.” With that, I ran the full edge of the blade down your side, I heard your breath shudder.

“I don’t know what to say.”

“Let’s see how you like this, then.” I turned the knife in my hand and placed it between your breasts. I dragged it gently, leaving a thin line about two inches long. There wasn’t any blood yet, but I saw you bite your lip, hard.

“Another?”

You shook your head, vigorously. I took the same knife to your torso, just beneath your bottom left rib. I dragged the knife along the bone’s edge, leaving a longer mark. I saw you biting harder, drawing blood from your lower lip. I pressed a bit deeper and drew a bit of blood myself.

“I can do more, but now it’s going to hurt.”

You were silent, but for a tiny nod. I took the knife by it’s point and placed it at the base of your neck. I pushed in, maybe half a centimeter and dragged it a solid foot, this time leaving a deep, weeping wound. I smiled—this would make the latter stages of this process easier.

I saw a few tears well up through a big smile. And so I continued—cut, after cut, after cut. I asked you before I did anything that would cause lasting damage but you were in ecstasy—as I cut your face, your arms, your hands, your forehead. So many wounds were dripping and heaving after the hour.

I was getting tired when I asked if you were ready for the finale. And with a simple nod, I reached for a longer blade, a short sword measuring maybe a foot and a half. I placed it right above your beating heart. I looked into your face and found peace, and so I pushed and pierced it through and through. A few twitches and, that was it.