#IT WAS ALL A LIE AND I’M STILL NOT OKAY

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

60 / 3.9k / part 4 of shark mermen Gaz and Soap with human!reader

kinktober keywords: dubcon, monster mermen, monsterfucking, teratophilia, overt predator/prey dynamics, hypnosis/hypnokink, praise

...

Gaz's hands slide back down, and his palms are warm and rough over your belly and hips. It's all he can do not to crush you against his chest and take what he wants. He can't stand how helpless you look.

Soap's eyes are on your legs. His hands nearly engulf your calves. He hooks his fingers under your knees to open your legs further.

You watch them softly, offering yourself to them in your trance.

nsfw ⬇

Gaz watches Soap dip his head and run his teeth over your calves. "Stay still," Gaz repeats. "It's easy to do what we ask. Isn't it?"

"Uhm..." You shift your hips at the ticklish feeling Soap's mouth is giving you.

Soap glances up from your legs to your face. Your eyelids droop, breath steady and body warm. He strokes your leg with his thumb and then slides his hand higher, making a low sound in his chest. "You don't need to answer yet."

"Okay."

Gaz's hands shift lower. His claw-tips brush the waistline of your shorts. "I’m curious. You said before--humans mate for fun just like mer do." Gaz's voice is still low and sweet, and his hands slide up and down your lower stomach. He pushes your shirt up an inch. "How long had it been since you've mated with another human?"

"I dunno." A lazy, obvious lie.

"Yeah?" Gaz's fingers move ever so slowly up to your chest. "Have you never been mated before? You want to know how it feels?"

You look away and watch Soap, who in turn watches Gaz lift your tattered shirt higher on your body.

"Or it's been a while," Gaz murmurs. "Long enough for you to be needy."

Soap, to his credit, keeps his nature in check. As much as he wants to seize what he wants with both hands, he's stock-still. His eyes are ravenous at the edges of your torn clothes.

Gaz strokes the hair back from your ear. You're dimly aware of the cold air and sea spray reaching your chest as he pulls your tattered shirt away. His hands feel so good. Soap leans forward, and his tongue, rough and warm, slides up the swell of your breast and scrapes against your nipple. You jolt. But Soap’s weight in front of you and Gaz at your back keep you where you are.

Gaz studies you as you surface briefly and squirm. He’s enthralled with you the way he is with everything else he can see from the water but never touch. Rare and prized. A human--something he's wanted in his grasp for so long, and now that has you in his greedy hands, he's determined to smudge his fingerprints across every shiny inch.

"Let him feel you," Gaz murmurs, a hand sliding up and under your neck, tilting your head up until his breath fans down your neck. "Let me see."

Soap's tongue drifts down your sternum and against your belly as he lowers his head. You shift. The urge to stir within this pleasant dream grows the more their hands and mouths run over you. It’s too good. Gaz's hypnotic suggestions can't quite quell your body's natural instincts to buck and move with idle pleasure under their touches. Your eyelids flutter. Your limbs are full of mercury, heavy and liquid. Gaz's voice floats over you, and his hands roam every inch that Soap hasn't already covered.

Gaz's hand slides from your neck into your hair and pulls your head back to kiss your open, panting mouth. The movement makes your back arch. Soap takes full advantage. He nips at your tits with shark teeth.

You gasp, hips jerking forward, and momentarily surface from the trance with Gaz's tongue in your mouth, Soap's teeth on your chest, his hands squeezing your tits, and two of Gaz's fingers pressing down on your core through your shorts. You're already pushing your hips up against his fingers, waking up in the middle of the act your body has already acquiesced to.

Your groan of confusion is swallowed by Gaz's mouth on yours. He keeps your mouth open and your chin tilted up as his fingers work you over your shorts. You can’t hide how you respond--your hips move to press more sensitive nerve endings against his claws.

Soap feels your chest push out as you swallow your complaints. "She supposed to be waking up?" Soap mutters drunkenly with his mouth full of tits.

But Gaz isn't shocked. "She likes this," he replies. "Feel."

Soap's hand joins Gaz's, and you feel his thick, rough fingers push against your core alongside Gaz's. You're already wet and responsive. He groans a curse against your skin.

As Gaz pulls away, your hips keep circling and your eyes begin to close again. Your wet folds stick to the fabric of your panties, slick and cold. "Nn, what's happening?"

Gaz looks down at your half-lidded expression. "I'm afraid we're taking our time with you."

"Hard to keep your eyes closed when you enjoy it so much," Soap says. His hands slide up your thighs and back down again like he’s deciding what part of you to touch next.

Gaz's thumb slips down against your core again and presses down harder. You pant and let your head fall back against his chest. You try to remember why you shouldn't be doing this, but it just seems so much easier to let it happen. To let it feel good. They're just curious about you. About your human body. Right?

You feel Gaz's hand slide around your torso again, pulling you closer. He guides your legs open and you feel Soap slot his body between them. His body is so warm and heavy. Gaz rubs you from behind you as Soap's mouth works your chest again, all slick tongue and mouth.

Gaz’s clawed fingertips hook the tattered fabric of your shorts and pull gently. The fabric begins coming off in downy strips. Soap's mouth is on your core before it's all stripped away, tongue lapping at you between strings of saltwater-soaked polyester.

Gaz’s chest vibrates behind you again, and his hands slide over your legs and hips. Soap's mouth works between your legs, and Gaz slides his fingers through your hair and over your shoulder. "How does she feel?"

"S'all soft," Soap mumbles. He slides his hands under your thighs to keep you open.

You wriggle against the odd sensation of Soap lapping circles around your hole and finally sliding in. His tongue is so big and wet. It goes so deep. You feel dizzy.

Gaz watches--feels--your hips moving against Soap's mouth with half-open eyes and parted lips. You grab Gaz's arm with one hand, digging your nails into his forearm in your haze. Your other hand goes to Soap's hair, grasping the wet strands roughly. Soap groans against you. His fingers dig into your thighs and he pushes your hips back to him. He wants more. He wants to pull you against his mouth and work you harder, but it’s difficult with you in Gaz’s lap. He hands slide up to grip your hips.

"Ah..." You feel Gaz's cock emerge from its sheath underneath you and squirm, dizzy. You should pull away, but then you feel yourself tightening up around Soap's tongue. "W-Wait, I can't--"

The plea turns into a cry as an unexpected climax seizes you. You clamp down hard on Soap's tongue, your legs trying to squeeze together despite his hands holding them apart. He doesn't stop. Not until Gaz pulls you away from him to lay you on the gravel on your side, your back still pressed to his chest.

You remember again you should protest. But at what? In his hands or Soap's--it should make no difference. Your pussy felt so good with Soap’s tongue inside it. His saliva is all over your slit, mixed with your fluids, coating your thighs.

Gaz’s lust makes him restless. He wants to leave his mark on you. He nips the shell of your ear, his hand sliding to your hair again. You bump back against his cock, standing ready so close to your pussy. Your hips shy away, but he doesn't let you go far.

He bites and grinds against you. The friction isn’t enough. His hand slides down to your hip, his nails sliding along your lower belly.

He wants you but he doesn't want to break you. He has to compromise. With his hands on your hips, he slides his length through your slippery thighs.

You gasp at the feeling against your oversensitive outer core. You stare down to see him poking out from between your thighs, glimmering with your slick and Soap's spit. He's big. So big. Maybe too much to handle. But you can't hide your real thoughts as he slides his hand lower to rub your poor swollen clit and feel how wet you still are.

You squeak and gasp. Every roll of his hips is going to skewer you, you just know it.

"Gods, human," he growls. It has nothing to do with the shark-like parts of his brain. His chest rumbles against your back, and his breathing is heavy in your ear. You have him so riled up that it's all he can do not to bite you hard enough to draw blood now. "I'd hurt you if we did this," Gaz whispers, his breath hot against your neck. He groans softly as he slides through your slickness. "We'd hurt you, wouldn't we?"

You're sensitive and wet and close, and you don't want his perfect hands and perfect voice and perfect length to go away. "No, ah--! Put it in!"

He grips your waist and pulls you harder against him. "You don't know what you're asking for."

"Put it in, please.” You try to angle your hips back toward him even while he stops you.

He makes a sound of heated irritation. The vibrations resonate through your body and make your thighs clench harder.

"You might regret this," Gaz says. The more you beg and plead the more his mind is clouded by the need he feels.

But the look Soap is giving you. Like he wants you just as badly as Gaz does but in a dozen worse ways. And you know he knows what you're asking for, too.

Gaz must see you looking at Soap, because he snarls and thrusts between your thighs, jerking you back roughly in time with his movements. You cry out in surprise and delight. The gravel bites into your arm and hip, but you're too dazed and ecstatic to care.

"Use me," you pant.

Soap looms closer. His hands slide over your body and he licks a hot path up your neck to your jaw. He mouths your earlobe and his shark teeth graze your neck. "You wanna get hurt, hen?"

"Mm!"

Soap pulls your face up to meet his. It's a chaotic kiss--teeth, tongue, open-mouthed and messy the way he likes it. He can't get close enough.

All the while, Gaz's hands are on your hips, your waist, your thighs. He's biting at your neck and shoulders and growling into your ear. "We don't want to hurt her," he hisses. But his claws leave tiny pricks in the skin where his grips you.

You're lost between them. Soap bites your bottom lip and it stings with saltwater. Gaz angles his hips up to keep himself from sliding inside you, and you moan desperately for more stimulation.

You're so close to having him inside. You know how much he wants he wants to stretch his way inside. And Soap's teeth are on your neck again, his hands exploring, wanting to touch so much of you as your mouth is occupied with his. You're so small and soft, so warm and receptive. He wants to do whatever will make you feel good. He's dizzy with it all.

You squeeze your thighs together around Gaz's length. If he won't use you the way you want, you'll just make him feel good like this. You have to.

Gaz groan of pleasure blows through your hair. His hypnosis was too effective. Not only are you docile enough to let them play with you--you want this so bad it's driving him over the edge of his cratering willpower.

Soap's teeth are sharp and his tongue is warm, and for a moment you just lean back to let him take control of your open mouth. He's got your chin tilted up with the pressure of his lips alone, and his tongue slithers along yours to pull the taste of you from your mouth. One hand comes up to squeeze your jaw, keeping your head tilted forward, and your body is so small—so easy—that it's so natural for his other hand to wrap around your neck.

As soon as his hand tightens gingerly, you moan. Gaz tenses up behind you. Then he starts railing your thighs for all he's worth.

They both feel the moment change. It's like a switch is flipped.

Gaz feels how wet you get once Soap's hand tightens around your neck, and he leans down and kisses you. Gaz's lips graze your neck, too gentle at first, and then the kiss turns into a bite. His teeth sink in, breaking the skin and making you cry out. He empties himself between your thighs, thrusting furiously.

You squeal with pain until his movements grow languid. The sharp pain clears the fog in your mind somewhat as his mouth unlatches from your shoulder. Your neck is stinging, your skin and muscles protesting. Gaz kisses the mark he left. Your hips are going to be sore and covered in bruises come tomorrow. You push on Soap's chest, trying to get your bearings.

He hardly notices your comparatively small human hands pressing against him and doesn't budge. He laps at Gaz's bite mark on your shoulder. He needs more. He pulls you forward into him to press his length against your core.

"Help me help you," he says, voice low and rough.

"Wait, it's--” Your voice wavers. Too big. You think it's too big--he wonders if you really mean it, or if you're just afraid. It's big, and big is dangerous. But you're not supposed to say no. You're supposed to agree. You're supposed to let it happen.

Soap glances up at Gaz with an expectant look.

Gaz looks down on you, laid out under Soap, with dark eyes. "Don't fuss," he murmurs. "You remember why?"

You gasp as Soap ruts against you. Your mind is tattered, buzzing with the desire to lay down and be easy--but just as much with the need to orient yourself, Gaz's hypnotic voice be damned.

"Just lie back and let Soap feel how good you are," he says. His voice feels distant now. Your thoughts are scrambled, and it's still too hard to listen to your instincts.

You arch as Soap ruts again, your struggling turning into pleased overstimulation.

He feels the fight going out of you. It's about time. You need relief, he’s certain. You need someone to make the right choice for you. Soap flips you onto your stomach. His hands are all over you, dragging down your sides, shifting your hips, spreading your thighs. "Such a convenient place for a hole," Soap says, smirking. He circles your entrance with a big fingertip.

Before you can decide whether to protest or not, he sinks his finger into your tight heat. You gasp, pitching forward with your forearms onto the rough gravel.

Soap slides his finger back and forth curiously. He plunges another inch every thrust. You're so wet he doubts you can feel anything but the size of him. You certainly don't seem to mind how big his fingers are. Or his claws gliding past your walls. In fact, the deeper he goes, the more you press your hips back into his hand. His smirk turns into a crooked grin. "Think she likes this, aye?"

"No argument there," Gaz says. He coils in front of you on the gravel and pulls your chin up to look at him. With your head angled up, he sees the flush on your face and the dazed look in your eyes. He tucks some hair behind your ear. Your neck is marked where he bit you. It's not even bleeding, but it's bruised and shiny. His eyes darken.

His teeth marks span most of your shoulder. His hands, too, are bigger than yours. He could wrap the entire lower half of your face in his fingers to keep you in place. To guide your mouth where he wants. The idea is more than a little attractive. "She's so small we can touch everything at once," he muses.

"Think she’d like that?”

Gaz looks at him and smirks. "She doesn't seem to be doing a lot of thinking right now."

You gaze up at him as best you can. Your eyes are half-lidded. You grasp his hand with one of yours, your tongue slipping out of your mouth to run up his fingers.

"So, so small," he says. His thumb and index finger pinch your jaw. "Careful," he murmurs, voice low. "Watch those teeth."

His thumb goes to your plush bottom lip, slips into your mouth, and rests gently over your tongue. You hollow your cheeks. The suction is too gentle to stimulate him the way he'd need, really. He shifts to lay out in front of you and presses down on your tongue to keep your mouth open. "You've got no room for me in that pretty mouth of yours, do you?"

"Ahn?" you reply dimly.

Your pink tongue and tiny human teeth fascinate him. He can't believe something so small and harmless is dangerous enough to have earned you a place at the top of the food chain on land. He's even more fascinated by the way you're sucking on his thumb and rubbing it against your tongue’s rough, warm surface. He chuckles and shifts his hand under your chin again to hold you in place. "No, a little human thing like you hasn't got room for one of us," he says. "All I'd have to do is push a little, and you'd be full up."

Soap groans. "Fuck, yes." He worms a second finger into you and you squeal.

He's careful--he really is. Soap might be a bit rough sometimes, but this is nothing compared to his usual way of doing things. Gaz's eyes follow the line of your throat you arch back.

He looks up at Soap and his smirk turns vicious. "You getting something out of this?"

Soap's gaze flicks up. He adds another finger and you whine. "What, it's a competition?"

"When is it not?"

While they bicker, you bend yourself into position after position to better take Soap's fingers. You finally manage to ease all three in and grind your hips back against him with a heavy breath. You're dripping--not just with Gaz's spend, but with your own slick.

Just then, right as you’re starting to rapturously enjoy all three fingers, he's pulling them out of you and positioning himself between your legs.

Soap puts his hands on your hips and looks up to see the stare Gaz is giving him. "I was playing fair," Soap argues, dropping back into the mer-tongue. "You weren't."

"Watch your size," Gaz warns. "Don't play too much and hurt her. She's small."

"Why? You want another turn after I'm done?" Soap says.

It’s not that. That's what Gaz's eyes say. In fact, he doesn’t much care for Soap having a turn at all. Gaz wants to fill you full by himself and keep you that way.

But his lips stay clamped shut. Soap gives him a knowing, sly smile.

"Don't get greedy," Gaz says. There's bite in his tone. "She’s my catch."

Soap lets it go for now. His attention drifts back to you and all the things he could do.

You rut backward impatiently. "What are you talking about?" you ask.

"Don't mind us," Soap says, grinning. "We're just figuring out how we're going to play with you."

He pushes himself against you and the size difference is enough to make him pause. He could just press you into the gravel without any effort. He would love to use you in so many ways, but he's holding back. He doesn't want to break Gaz's apparent hypnotic hold on you.

You sigh and push back against him. You manage to catch his tip in your folds, but you can't quite make it go in. Soap hisses softly at the feeling. It's all he can do to keep from pushing all the way in to your wet warmth. Instead, he leans forward and plants his hands on the hard ground, surrounding your body with his arms and waiting for you to move.

You try bouncing backward, riding his tip, determined to take him in. You don't fully understand how much trouble that will be until you ease yourself back enough to stretch your pussy as far as three of his fingers had. You glance back to see you haven't taken him all in yet--not even close. Then you feel a strange bump up against your clit and look down to see him sporting not one cock, but two.

"Oh," you say in a distant voice.

"Not too observant for a human," Gaz says. But then, it's partly his fault you're too focused on trying to bury some cock in you to notice they both have two.

Your gasp turns into a long, breathy moan as Soap pushes into you a few more inches. You're slick and ready inside, but you slide your legs apart further, needing to take more but unsure how you'll make it fit.

"Easy on her," Gaz says again. "She can't take all of you."

Soap looks back at Gaz, his eyes dark. "You seem awfully concerned about her all of a sudden."

Gaz scoffs. "I just know you. I know how impatient you are."

You ease back and circle your hips until you've seated him as deep as you can. Then an inch deeper. Soon enough you're rocking back and forth, fucking yourself of on him and making terse, dreamy sounds of need. Soap lets out a ragged breath. It's a squeeze, but worth it. So worth it. How'd Gaz find one that feels so good?

You spread your legs as far as you can to accommodate his girth. You feel air-tight, like it should hurt, but every tiny movement you make sets your nerve endings alight. There's pain in your palms against the sharp gravel, dull scraping against your kneecaps, and an impossible heat burning in your lower stomach. Pleasure-pain glazes your already-distant eyes.

Soap begins fucking you slowly. Not that he holds much concern for your strange human senses and boundaries--it's more that he wants you nice and tame. Gaz notices that hesitation despite being distracted with your moaning and begging and wiggling as Soap spears into you steadily over and over.

"Thought you wanted to break her," Gaz says. He speaks your language to taunt both you and Soap.

Soap grins. "You went to all this trouble to hypnotize her. Wouldn't want to jostle her too hard, aye?"

Gaz smirks. "Don't worry about that, mate. You know there's no way to hypnotize someone who's unwilling."

Your breath hitches. "What?"

You hear Soap smirking as he says, "You aren't going anywhere, are you now?"

He presses into you with a long, deep stroke that turns your protest into a shuddering moan.

"Told you she wouldn't run," Soap says.

After that, you can't manage much coherent thought at all.

...

part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / [part 4] / part 5

more Gaz / more Soap / more mer au / masterlist

[kumkaniudaku]

Askew

Summary: Terry makes good on a promise.

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!OC

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: SMUT (18+)

Previous: At Last: Part Two

“I’m gonna fuck the glasses off your face tonight. Okay?�� 

A simple sentence. No fanfare. No lingering touch or a suggestive look. Not even a repeat of his matter-of-fact declaration despite the words nearly being lost to the pockets of conversation in Corey’s kitchen during a rowdier than usual Friendsgiving gathering. Terry calmly whispered the plain statement into Patrice’s ear as he passed by on the way out of the door to join the other men in the backyard. 

Patrice tried to appear unphased while she sipped from her plastic cup of white wine. “Now?”

“I’ll let you know.” 

He’d made up his mind to have her babbling incoherent sentences while he bent her over the living room couch before they could make it out of the house, but holding in his little secret had proven difficult. Terry wished he could blame it on the tequila shots or the haze of weed smoke blown out of mouths far too federally employed to still be dabbling with the plant. Either would be an acceptable lie because the truth was too trivial to share. It was the North Carolina A&T crew neck and black cat-eye glasses Patrice had chosen to sport for the night. His mind dreamt up all the times he’d missed her studying for exams in the sweater a hair too large, and glasses that made her look like a professor during office hours while she bounced around the room making small talk with people he hardly recognized. His social butterfly moving her lips a mile a minute when all he wanted to do was feel those lips on every square inch of his body.

Terry needed her in the worst way. The bathroom might’ve sufficed. Maybe even the backseat of his truck. But neither option provided the sound insulation he needed to fulfill his raging desire. He’d need the privacy of their home and a TV turned all the way up to avoid disturbing the neighbors. 

The signal to leave came with a quick tap on Patrice’s hip in the middle of a spirited talk with her best friend, Vicky, about something he couldn’t care less about. 

“I guess that’s my cue, girl,” Patrice laughed, trying to play her role as the chatty wife being called away by her quiet husband. “Talk to you later?” 

Their exit featured hurried goodbyes and promises to return for the Christmas game night that they likely wouldn’t remember come daylight. Hands fumbled with keyfobs and door handles in their mad dash to somewhere a little more secluded. Blue lights from the dashboard reflected from Patrice’s glasses as they made out in front of their childhood friend’s house like maniacs, too intoxicated with lust to care if someone saw them from the open front door. 

One hand on the steering and the other middle and ring fingers deep in warm pussy had Terry breaking speed limits and running stop signs to turn a twenty-minute journey into ten if he were lucky. 

They didn’t waste time with light switches or picking up discarded clothing on the clumsy journey to the bedroom. A split second of clarity told Terry to flip on the lamp as Patrice made the descent to his dick one sloppy kiss on his chest and stomach at a time. 

“What you got for me?” 

More than he’d bargained for should’ve been the answer had she taken the time to use her mouth for anything more than making his muscled thighs tense like he’d been tased. 

With a pillow folded between her legs while she lay on her stomach and eyes looking up at Terry over the rim of her spectacles, Patrice put on an oral demonstration fit for a professional. Her glasses fogged from the cold air and steamy situation unfolding on their marital bed. 

The corners of her mouth stinging from the stretch of him and the ache building in her core kept her tethered to reality when she wanted to escape into the pleasure of seeing her man so vulnerable from her touch. 

He hissed and cursed as she ran a flat tongue on the underside of his dick. “Fuck, girl. I knew I’d get all of this up out you one day. Damn…” 

Gobbsmacked. Astounded. Sucked into oblivion. Terry had transcended time and space once Patrice made a home for him at the back of her throat over and over again. Spit coated her hands, chin, and his lap while she focused on leaving him too stupefied to utter anything that had more than one syllable. She could’ve swiped every dollar from his wallet, bank account, and retirement fund and he’d still thank her for inviting him into her mouth. 

Low groans and rough requests for more sounded like applause as Patrice went to work on her lover. His approach to the mountaintop matched hers as she desperately searched for friction from the pillow below her. 

“Hell yeah, like that, baby. You know what you doin’. Shit.” Praise came in heeps. Her silk press had long turned into reigns for Terry to keep her head stable. Tears mixed with saliva for extra lubrication. She looked gorgeous under amber light to her husband. 

Up and down, up and down. Take it. Gargle it down. Breathe through your nose. Looping mantras played in her head as he took control to finish what she’d started.  

His release came in a photo finish. His toes curled from pure ecstasy. Body seized up in beautiful suspension, each bulging muscle in his arms and torso on display. Head thrown back to direct his loud moan to the ceiling. Eyeballs rolled behind fluttering lids. Kids drained down the hatch, never to reach their full potential. 

She cleaned up the remnants with her tongue, splitting her attention between Terry and the building orgasm as she swiveled her hips against firm cotton. He stared down at her, taking in the way her jaw dropped to form that ‘o’ he loved so much. Her brow furrowed once her teeth took hold of her bottom lip. 

“That feel good to you, baby?” 

“Mhmm.” Patrice tried to give a more accurate description of her mind state. All she could manage was a slurred hum in the affirmative while he watched her unravel at the seams without his help. 

“Show me. I wanna watch.” 

And watch he did. Dick in hand and back pressed against the headboard, Terry used his refractory period to watch Patrice turn his pillow into her personal fuck toy. Her hips bucked slowly under his attention while she searched for her first eruption. 

His stroke matched her movements blow for blow while she admired her lone audience member. Siren eyes and a confident smirk, hands kneading bountiful breasts, and his name rolling from her lips kept him engrossed in her one-woman show. 

The inevitable approached like a crashing wave against a calm shore. “Let me cum for you, Terrence. Can I do that? Tell me.” 

Patrice knew the trouble she’d started. Using his first name, and asking for permission, it was all to elicit the reaction Terry so eagerly provided. He scrambled to his knees for the chance to hover over her with his forehead pressed so tightly against hers that they shared pools of sweat. 

Intense blue-green eyes peered down at her, wordlessly edging her closer to paradise. 

“Nuh uh, eyes up here,” Patrice instructed when the view of quaking thighs and waxed lower lips became too distracting for Terry. “Tell me when, my love. I’m all yours.” 

Her voice climbed, sounding like a symphony to his ears. He waited and watched until she met the brink of too much stimulation. “Now. Right now.” 

A rush of emotions forever intertwining two bodies flowed between them through a kiss dominated by silky tongues and Patrice’s swallowed mewls. Terry had perfected the art of kissing. Knowing when to suck at her bottom lip, when to wrap his large hand around Patrice’s throat to keep her head angled upward, and when to pull away for other pursuits. 

Normally, hickeys were childish evidence of adult activities, but tonight they were trophies for a job well done. 

“I love you so much.” Even in furious fucking where feelings took a backseat to more carnal desires, Terry refused to miss an opportunity to utter his favorite phrase. He sucked a nipple into his mouth, letting his tongue trace the outline of her areola to his heart’s content before pulling away to show the other the same attention. He listened to her sigh and smiled. “I love the way you sound.” 

“What else?” 

A lick up her sternum before a kiss. “I love the way you say my name.” 

“Yeah?” 

“I love your body. You’re perfect.” An open-mouthed kiss at the base of her neck as he gripped her waist. “I love the way you take dick. Especially tonight. Think you can take some more for me, pretty?”

Like a magnet, Terry’s fingers found their way to Patrice’s slick inner lips as he gathered wetness to drag skilled digits around her clit. Her breath audibly hitched from the contact, making him chuckle with his lips pressed against her cheek. Slow circles, maddeningly slow and gentle enough to feel like nothing at all had her willing to agree to just about anything to get off.

“Whatever you say, baby.”

Terry didn’t say much. It wasn’t his nature. Only short, honey-sweet directions for Patrice to press her chest to crumpled sheets and spread her knees wide. He made it so easy to comply. So easy to contort herself into any position he wanted because she knew what awaited her on the other side. 

He had her at his mercy. Her sat ass high up in the air with her flower on display from a gloriously deep arch. Terry felt an animalistic switch flip to remind him of his promise. Pupils dilated and reinvigorated by the lewd image manifesting at his fingertip, he went to work. 

A relentless pounding. Punishing strokes that made the bed creak from the stress of it all. The sheer force knocked Patrice’s glasses askew without an opportunity for adjustment. She could only claw at the foot of the bed and push her hips back into his to match the rhythm. 

The sound of smacking skin and mixed moans created a soundtrack for rabid, desperate fucking. His thumbs left impressions on the delicate skin of her back, turning his knuckles white as he dug deeper. 

Patrice took every inch like only she could, earning a rough smack as appreciation. 

“That’s my girl,” Terry gritted through clenched teeth. “Stay with me. I feel you.” 

It was all too much. The angle. The vision of Terry’s chest clenching and releasing for exertion as Patrice looked back at him. The way his brows knitted in concentration. The scent of his cologne wafted with every move. His tattoos glistened under dim lights.

“Oh my God!” 

Early sparks of a white-hot release turned Patrice into putty, forcing Terry to hold her close. 

One hand between her legs and the other putting soft pressure on the sides of her neck kept Patrice and Terry tethered on their quest for joint waves.

“I love you.” 

“I need you.” 

“You feel so good inside me.” 

“Kiss me. Please.”

“Cum for me.”

Terry sank his teeth into Patrice’s shoulder as she clenched around him, no longer able to contain himself as she clenched around him. Shared euphoria. A once in a blue moon experience that neither of them had encountered. 

Moans became indistinguishable. Eyelids clamped shut as hips sputtered. Glasses tumbled from the bed to the floor, having served their purpose. Bodies wrapped themselves around the other until they were spent, toppled over, and basking in the feel of each other. 

“Good job, baby.” Terry praised, his voice soothing her mind while his hands rubbed the peaks and valleys of Patrice’s hips and thighs while they lay on their sides. He couldn’t bring himself to pull out, too engrossed in the subtle aftershocks deep inside her body. “You okay? Talk to me.”

Patrice breathed out a delirious laugh as she turned to look at him over her shoulder. “I can’t see! I can’t believe you fucked me blind. You’re insane.” 

“How much time you got tonight? I got some shit I been wanting to do to you for a long time.” 

“Like what?” 

Whispers of new positions and marathon lovemaking made the hairs on her arms stand at attention. A second promise had entered the mix. 

They’d make a baby or spend the rest of the night and into the morning trying. 

---

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged in future content.

TAGS: @planetblaque @wvsspoppin @thatone-girly @avoidthings @slutsareteacherstoo @eilujion @amyhennessyhouse @yaachtynoboat711 @jenlovey @pinkpantheris @blowmymbackout @onherereading @hrlzy @becauseimswagman1 @thiccc-c @urfavblackbimbo @blackburnbook @ashanti-notthesinger @xo-goldengirl @ariiijestertheklown

[hannahluvsbillie]

the only one

casual part 3.

(but can be read as a one shot)

part one

✫ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 ~ you thought billie had moved on, seeing her post like it was nothing, she was fine. maybe it was just casual to her.

★ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 ~ billie eilish x reader

★ 𝐜𝐰! ~ mentions of panic attack, angst, nightmares (?)

ᡣ𐭩 a/n ~ hi! thank you all sm for waiting for part 3!! this one has a little time-skip, i’m thinking maybe 1-2 months since casual part 2. let me know if you like it, hopefully it lived up to your expectations 🥺

it’s been a few months since that last meet up billie and you had. the one where she belittled you and your feelings.

you blocked her the morning after, it wasn’t easy blocking her. someone you fell in love with, but you realized that it was one sided the day she told you it was just causal.

maybe you wanted her to spill her feelings on how she loved you, and didn’t just want you for a quick hook up to relive some steam. but deep down you knew that’d never be the case.

to say you’ve been doing good is a lie, you’ve been.. okay. dating felt pointless as of now, you knew your heart would always belong to billie, even if you two weren’t serious, it didn’t mean you loved her any less.

billie on the other hand, looked like she was doing great. i mean- it wasn’t like you’ve checked up on her, you were non contact. but on her instagram she looked like she was doing great. she’s on tour, her album is still doing good, she has good friends. it was bittersweet to see her now, it still made you cry some nights.

you were laying in your bed, staring up at the ceiling. you had just woke up from your sleep, a dream waking you up. the dream was a recurring one you’ve gotten for the past few months since you ended it with billie.

the dream went something like this: you were in bed and when you turned over, you see billie, sleeping peacefully. you just observe her for however long until your brain wakes you up.

it never went father then that, it was just a constant reminder of her. maybe that’s why you couldn’t get over her.

suddenly your phone starts ringing, waking you from your daze. you shake your head a little and roll over, grabbing your phone off of the nightstand and rubbing your eyes to see who’s calling.

who would call you at 3 am?

you read the number, you don’t recognize it. it’s your area code, but that’s all you recognize. god- they’ve called you 12 times.

you just decide to pick up, hoping they’d stop after that.

“hel-“ you clear your throat, trying to make it sound like you weren’t just asleep. “hello?” you say weakly.

“y/n?” the other person says.

your heart drops, how could you not recognize that voice? the voice that used to sing praises to you, who used to speak to you in the softest voice, the voice you fell in love with.

“billie? what the fuck?” you say, blinking repeatedly. you blocked her, how was she calling you? you pinch yourself once to make sure you aren’t still dreaming, only to be met with pain. okay, so this was real.

“i know im sorry- i just- i really need you right now, i have no one else to call and i don’t know what to do.” billie speaks, immediately apologizing. you can already tell she was in the middle of a

panic attack. her voice cracking when she speaks. you feel that same pang in your chest hearing her like that.

you take a deep breath, running a hand through your hair. “okay- bills- billie, calm down. breathe for a minute” you say. you regret answering, it just made everything come back.

you hear her take a breathe and go silent for a moment, before speaking again. “i’m really sorry- i know you blocked me and we aren’t supposed to be talking, but i just- i dont know what to do. you’re the only one that knows how to deal with me when im like- when im like this.” she speaks softly, her voice still shaky.

you go silent for a second, zoning out looking at the floor. inviting her over would be horrible for you, ruining all of the progress you’ve made. but fuck, you can’t just leave her alone, you can’t help but care about her.

“okay- fuck, do you want to come-“

“yeah.”

“okay.”

your eyes widen when she speaks. that was quick. as soon as she says yes you hang up, putting your phone down. what did you just do?

a few minutes later you’re pacing though the kitchen, waiting for the doorbell to ring. the gravity of what you just did sinks in, you shouldn’t of offered.

but as soon as the doorbell rings and you rush over to open the door- maybe a bit too quickly, and you see a disheveled billie, all of it disappears. god you just wanted to protect her from everything.

her hair sticks to her forehead, the same hair that you used to play with, her eyes were red and looked up at you with so

much guilt. it’s obvious she feels horrible

about coming here. maybe she wasn’t as good as it seemed on her instagram. it looks like she’s back in that place she was in when you first met her.

“oh, baby…” you coo, gently putting a hand on her shoulder and leading her inside. when you close the door and look back at her, she looks like a lost puppy, her eyes still swollen.

“i’m- sorry-“ billie chokes out, starting to cry again. you immediately pull her into a hug, gently cradling her head in your hand, the other hand gently rubbing her back.

“it’s okay billie.” you say, gently kissing her head.

you felt so many things, you let her into your house even when she broke your heart, you truely could never deny her, especially when she’s crying in your arms like this.

you’re fucked now.

[epicbuddieficrecs]

Weekly Recap | November 4th-10th 2024

I think we can all agree that last week was a bit of a rollercoaster? 🙃 At least we still have our emotional support gay firefighter show ❤️

(as always, if you know someone who's not tagged, please tag them in the comments!)

Complete

Good Luck Babe by jesuisici33/ @jesuisici33 (Post-S8E6: Confessions Coda | 1K | Teen): Buck nods. His own face still has that kicked puppy look. But he manages a smile. Even sad, Buck’s smiles light his face up. Eddie thinks he could never get tired of Buck’s smiles. “Why did you shave it off? I need a distraction. A happy one.” “I’m working on no longer denying myself fruit juice.” It’s Buck’s turn to open and close his mouth in confusion. “O…kay? I don’t know what that means.”

watch you win, watch you cry by wenttoafortuneteller (Post-S8E6: Confessions Coda, Pre-Buddie | 1K | Teen): Buck lets out a long, tired sigh and admits: “Tommy broke up with me.” “Oh,” Eddie says. He makes a conscious effort not to smile.

your shoulders brush (no proof, one touch) by farfromthstars/ @doeeyeseddie (S8E6: Confessions Coda, Pre-Buddie | 1K | General): “It’s not funny,” Buck whines. “I just thought– we have– were having a good time together. And he’s been so great through the whole figuring myself out, he made me feel so, um, so secure in my sexuality, you know?” “Well, you’re not any less bisexual if you’re not dating him,” Eddie shrugs. “So I guess he didn’t feel the same way, then?” “Kind of?” Buck turns on the couch and pulls one of his legs up. His knee nudges Eddie’s thigh, and Eddie is suddenly very aware that he’s not wearing pants.

ode to a conversation by markofalover/ @markofalover (Post-S8E6: Confessions Coda, Getting Together 3K | Explicit): “He was right to break it off, because—Josh asked if I thought about him when he wasn’t around, and if his concerns and happiness were important to me, if I saw a future, and, Eddie, I—” “Buck,” Eddie cuts through again, and this time Buck listens. Closes his mouth and stares at him with big blue eyes, and Eddie. Eddie’s heart is in his mouth. It’s right in front of him. “Come here.”

It’s Always Been You by scarmaddiewrites (S8, Getting Together, PWP | 3K | Explicit): Buck and Eddie travel to Texas to pick up Chris and run into some issues, all leading to them finally getting together.

ode to joy by signetsealed/ @gayeddieagenda (Post-S8E6: Confessions Coda, PWP | 3K | Explicit): “Okay,” Buck says. "Let's do that.” Eddie frowns. “Do what? Dance?” “Sure,” Buck says. “That, or whatever else you were thinking of doing. We can…be joyful.”

i must confess, i’m in love with my own sins by inbetweenthestacks/ @organizedstardust (S8E6: Confessions Spec | 3K | Teen): “I just want it to be easy, you know? I don’t want to have to think about if I’m acting the right way or saying the right thing. I just want to have a-a person. I want someone that wants to stand next to me. I want to know someone is always gonna pick me, no matter what, they’ll have my back. Like how it is with—“ he stops short. Buck, he almost says. Like how it is with Buck. — Eddie goes to confession and has a few revelations.

lock me down tonight by lecornergirl/ @clusterbuck (PWP, Getting Together | 4K | Explicit): Buck grabs the bathroom door, but freezes before he can open it more than an inch. Because Eddie is in the shower, but he’s not crying. Eddie is standing with one arm braced against the tiled wall, turned away from the door. The shower spray cascades over his muscled back and the curve of his ass. His other hand is wrapped around his cock.

"What the fuck, make your move." by dylaesthetics (Post-S8E6: Confessions Coda, PWP | 4K | Explicit): When Buck smashes their mouths together, Eddie forgets how to breathe. Then, he isn’t all that interested in basic human necessities such as that. He thinks, at the bottom of Maslow's hierarchy of needs instead lie Kissing Buck, Making Buck moan, and Trying not to come in my briefs. ~ OR Eddie is Buck's last.

Thankful for You by scarmaddiewrites (S8, BT Break-Up, Pre-Buddie): The one where Buck plans Thanksgiving dinner at his place and then breaks up with his boyfriend.

Take The Bitter With The Sweet by fruitsdoesnotknow/ @tayf-ghost (Ravi POV, Gettign Together | 5K | Teen): No one thought to brief Ravi on the Buckley-Diaz situation when he finally joins the 118. Spoiler, it goes about as well as a car crash.

first and last by hispolestar (Post-S8E6: Confessions Coda | 6K | Explicit): And suddenly, like Eddie summoned him, Buck is standing in front of his door. Eddie’s not sure if this indicates that God is real, because He saw Eddie’s quest for joy, or if it’s just Evan Buckley. It’s probably the latter.

The Only Truth by phdmama/ @phdmama (Magic AU, Getting Together | 6K | Explicit): Eddie says, “I fucking hate you.” At least, that’s what Eddie intends to say, because he means it, in that moment he absolutely means it, having just watched Buck rappel four stories down a burning building and hit the ground eight seconds ahead of the roof caving in. What comes out instead is, “I fucking love you.” Luckily, just as he had opened his mouth, the roof had, in fact, collapsed, which caused a lot of commotion and noise and whatnot, and Eddie’s words, his very strange and unintended words, get lost in the mayhem. Huh, Eddie thinks as his body moves on autopilot, racing across the cracked asphalt of the parking lot. That was weird.

a night in early october by brewrosemilk/ @gayhoediaz (Post-S5, Getting Together | 6K | Mature): Buck comes home from an extra shift, and Eddie makes him dinner.

sweet talk with a hint of sin by justhockey (Post-S8E6: Confessions Coda, Getting Together, PWP | 7K | Explicit): He doesn’t want to stop; he doesn’t even want to slow down. He wants this, here, for the rest of his life. And he’s past wondering if he deserves it, past thinking he isn’t good enough for a man like Buck, past being scared of the love that lives inside of him. He wants Buck selfishly, wants him greedily, and if he’s willing to give himself over to Eddie, then Eddie isn’t a selfless enough man to say no. He isn’t strong enough to deny himself such joy. “Need you,” Eddie begs. “Please, Buck. Please.”

said that i was fine, said it from my coffin by justhockey (Post-S7, BT Break-Up, Getting Together | 7K | Teen): Buck leans in so close that Eddie can feel his breath on his cheek when he asks, “Hey, are you sure you’re alright?” “I’m fine,” Eddie lies. And it doesn’t matter that he feels like he’s dying. Like the version of himself that he’s always been is suddenly a stranger to him - just a mask he’d spent his entire life hiding behind, without ever even realising he was wearing it. It doesn’t matter that Eddie is…that he’s gay. Because he knows - as surely as he knows that the sun will rise again tomorrow - that the only person he has ever, and will ever, truly love is Buck. And Buck isn’t his to love.

don’t mention any other name (that doesn’t sound like mine) by bandshirts (Post-S7, Getting Together | 9K | Mature): Or, Eddie flirts with a man at a gay bar. Buck is totally normal about it. (Spoiler: he’s not.)

so only say my name (it will be held against you) by bandshirts (Post-7x04, Getting Together | 10K | Explicit): Or, Buck accidentally says Eddie’s name during sex, figures out some things about himself, and finally gets the right guy this time.

WIP

wicked dreams by hispolestar (Post-S7, BT Break-Up, Eddie Sexuality Crisis, Getting Together | 3/9 | 14K | Explicit): Eddie’s trouble starts with a dream. Well, it actually starts much earlier, when he runs into a woman who is the literal carbon copy of his dead wife. Or, alternatively it starts with a lightning bolt. Or a sniper. Or a firetruck. Or a car crash. Or, realistically, a grenade embedded in a seventh-grade teacher’s leg. It starts with blue eyes, broad shoulders and a tenacity that shocks Eddie to his very core. But right now, Eddie’s trouble starts with a dream. ~ Eddie, alone and confused, is navigating Christopher's extended stay in Texas, while also grappling with feelings he's been repressing for seven years. Buck, who misses Chris dearly, is struggling under Gerrard and his boyfriend's dismissive attitude. In the wreckage of their lives, they find each other.

I guess your mama didn't know the gift she got when she got you by disasterbuck/ @disasterbuck (Post-S7, Fake Relationship | 5/? | 10K | Teen): "He has someone else he can go to," Eddie said automatically, Buck's smiling face flashing into his mind. "Your friend Buck doesn't count," she said dismissively, and Eddie felt his hackles rising defensively. "I'm talking about a partner, Eddie. Someone who will commit to being with you and Christopher for the rest of your lives." "Buck is committed," Eddie said before he could think about what he was saying. "He's not going anywhere." There was a pause on the other end of the line. "When you say committed…" she asked hesitantly, voice trailing off. - Tired of his mom's nagging, Eddie tells a lie that spirals wildly out of control.

Gentle On My Mind by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Canon Divergent, Shannon Lives, Buck/Eddie/Shannon | 7/? | 44K | Explicit): In which Shannon lives, tells a lie, and sends hers, Eddie's, and Buck's lives down a very different path.

& such by colonoscopys/ @colonoscopys (81K | Teen): prompts and spec fics and codas and all the works jumbled mumbled into one place.

Chapter 20: GAY EDDIE REAL (1K)

Podfic

🔥[podfic] a night in early october by half_bakedboy/ @half-bakedboy // fic by brewrosemilk/ @gayhoediaz (Post-S5, Getting Together | 30-45min | Mature): Buck comes home from an extra shift, and Eddie makes him dinner.

Re-read

woke up the girl who looked just like you, i almost said your name by rarakiplin (gmontys)/ @hoediaz (S5, Out Eddie, Getting Together | 9K | Teen): Or, five times Eddie dates a guy a little too similar to Buck, and one time he dates the real deal.

[daisymbin]

warm hues! - xu minghao

warnings: none

pairings: xu minghao x reader

genre: tipsy minghao? friends to lovers!

wc: 1.3k

drunken confessions series

check out my masterlist!

the sun has already set by the time you decide to call minghao. he’d been in his art studio all day, working on his latest project—a piece he’d been tight-lipped about, only dropping vague hints whenever you tried to pry. knowing him, he was probably lost in his own world, forgetting to eat, drink, or even take a break. the thought makes you frown as you wait for him to pick up.

after a few rings, you hear his voice, soft and slightly breathy, like he’d been completely engrossed in his art before your call interrupted him. “hey,” minghao says, a smile evident in his tone. “what’s up?”

“hao, are you still at the studio?” you ask, already knowing the answer.

there’s a pause, then a light chuckle. “yeah, why? missing me already?” he teased.

you roll your eyes, though your lips curve into a smile. “i just wanted to bring you dinner. you’ve probably forgotten to eat again.”

“i didn’t forget,” he argues, though you can hear the lie in his voice. “i just... haven’t had time.”

“exactly my point,” you say, grabbing the packed meal you prepared with him in mind. “i’m on my way. don’t even think about touching another paintbrush until you’ve eaten.”

he hums in response, and you can picture the way he’s probably smiling to himself, eyes crinkling at the corners. “okay, okay. i’ll wait for you.”

–

when you arrive at minghao’s studio, you’re met with the faint scent of paint and the warm, earthy aroma of wine. his art studio is a familiar place, filled with canvases leaning against the walls, paint splatters on every surface, and brushes scattered across the tables. minghao himself is standing in front of a large canvas, wine glass in hand, his cheeks flushed a soft pink.

“you actually listened to me,” you say, surprised to see him waiting by the canvas, paintbrush set aside.

he turns to you, a smile breaking across his face. “of course i did. how could i not when you asked so nicely?” his voice has tipsy lilt to it, and you realize he’s more than just a little buzzed.

you raise an eyebrow, holding up the bag of food. “you’ve been drinking?”

“just a little,” he admits, holding up the almosy empty bottle of wine. “it pairs well with painting.”

you sigh, setting the food down on a nearby table. “come on, you need to eat something. wine on an empty stomach isn’t a good idea.”

minghao laughs, setting his glass down and obediently following you to the table. he sits across from you, and you can’t help but notice the way his gaze lingers on your face, his eyes soft and warm.

“thank you,” he says quietly as you unpack the meal, his voice carrying a sincerity that makes your heart flutter.

“hmm,” you reply simply, avoiding his gaze. “just eat, okay?”

he does as he’s told, taking bites of the food you brought while occasionally sipping his wine. it isn’t long before he starts talking, his usual calm and collected demeanor slipping as he grows more relaxed.

“you know,” he starts, swirling the wine in his glass, “i’ve been working on this piece for a while.”

“yeah?” you prompt, curious. “what’s it about?”

minghao hesitates, his eyes drifting to the canvas he’d been working on. it’s partially finished, splashes of colors blending together in a way that’s both chaotic and beautiful. there are hints of a figure in the center, but it’s not fully defined yet. he seems lost in thought for a moment, then turns back to you.

“it’s... inspired by you,” he admits, his voice soft, almost vulnerable. “or, well, because of you.”

your eyes widen in surprise, and for a moment, you can’t find the words. silence hangs between you, and minghao’s smile falters, a nervous, almost panicked look crossing his face.

“you don’t have to say anything,” he rushes out, his voice strained. “i know that probably sounds weird, or maybe you think it’s stupid, but i couldn’t help it. you inspire me, and i... i’m in love with you. god, i shouldn’t have said that. i’m sorry- i just-”

“hao,” you finally interrupt, your voice soft but firm. he stops rambling, his wide, anxious eyes meeting yours.

“why do you think i remind you to eat and bring you food all the time?” you ask, your cheeks burning. “why do you think i worry about you spending all day in here, forgetting to take care of yourself?”

minghao’s mouth opens slightly, his panic giving way to confusion. “why…?”

you let out a small, nervous laugh, feeling your heart race. “it’s because i care about you, too. a lot.”

minghao’s expression softens, but there’s still a flicker of doubt in his eyes. “you do? you do…,” he answers himself, “but..like as a friend..or…?” he whispers subconsciously, trying to mask his nervousness, his voice barely audible.

you nod as your fingers start brushing against his where they rest on the table. “I would like to bring you food all the time, every day actually. without needing to care or worry if I sound overbearing. if thats..what you want too?”

his lips part, and for a second, he looks like he’s still processing your words. then, slowly, a smile spreads across his face; one that’s full of relief and disbelief all at once. he laughs, a sound that’s almost giddy, and he reaches out to gently cup your face.

“are you sure? will you really do that? you know I love the food you make me.” he asks, his thumbs brushing over your cheeks.

“yeah,” you whisper, your voice steady despite your racing heart. “i’ve never been more sure of anything.”

minghao's eyes search yours, and you can feel the way his fingers tremble slightly against your skin. His smile doesn’t waver, but there’s something soft and unguarded in the way he looks at you, as if he can hardly believe what he’s hearing.

“then,” he says, voice hushed and tender, “i want that. i want everything you’re willing to give me.” his forehead leans against yours, and you can feel the warmth of his breath mixing with yours, a silent, shared exhale that says everything neither of you can quite put into words.

you close your eyes, your hands moving to rest over his, anchoring the moment in your memory. the world outside his studio feels distant, almost nonexistent, as if the only things that matter are his touch, his smile, and the way your heart beats in time with his.

“hao,” you whisper, opening your eyes to find him already watching you. there’s a playful glint there, even amidst the sincerity, and it makes you smile despite yourself.

“yes?” he asks, tilting his head slightly.

“finish your food before it gets cold,” you tease, breaking the moment with a light laugh. “you promised, remember?”

he lets out a laugh, one that’s full and genuine, and the tension between you both dissipates like mist. “right,” he agrees, finally pulling away, though his gaze never strays far from your face. “but only if you sit here with me while i eat.”

“of course, always.” you reply, settling in beside him and feeling his shoulder brush against yours. it’s a simple question & a simple answer, but the meaning behind both of them, so much deeper.

minghao picks up his fork, taking another bite of the meal you prepared, and you sit together in the comfort of his art-filled sanctuary, a newfound understanding shimmering in the air between you.

“thank you,” he whispers, his voice full of awe. “for being here. for always taking care of me.”

“thank you too, for always listening so well & letting me take care of you.” you murmur, your heart swelling.

“only because it's you.”

minghao pulls you into a kiss, he hopes you know that this kiss is an unspoken agreement he promises never to break.

[pixitarot]

lee know as a bf

🅽🅾🆃🅴: ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ꜰᴏʀ ᴇɴᴛᴇʀᴛᴀɪɴᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴘᴜʀᴘᴏꜱᴇꜱ ᴏɴʟʏ. ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʀᴇᴘᴏꜱᴛ

pros

- lee know is big on equal treatment in relationships. it’s give and take for him. if you are someone who takes care of him, he’ll do the same with you. there would be times he can become detached, but will always come back and will give his partner the attention he didn’t give them when he was being kind of disconnected.

- he takes care of his partner. he hates seeing them sick, so he’ll be really cute trying to take care of them. i can see an image of him making his partner soup and making them eat up lol. it doesn’t have to be just physical sickness though. if his partner is going through a time of depression, he would be genuinely worried for them and would try everything he can do to make them feel better. he would not leave them in the dark at a time like that. he can sometimes feel bad that he can’t do more for them. he does go above and beyond making sure they’re okay.

- i had to add this in because it’s sticking out to me. i’m getting something about an unconventional relationship. i’m putting this as a pro because i don’t see this as a con at all. he’s very picky, however, some may think he’d go for the typical beauty standard, but maybe that’s not really true for him. now i’m not saying his partners will be ugly lol. im just getting it’s unconventional in some way. for example: a foreign partner, large age gaps, power imbalance, etc. if that’s not the case, it could just be the example above where his person might not fit the beauty standard, which can make the public surprised. I’m not sure if this is just 1 person i’m picking up or he just naturally attracts people like that.

- i get the feeling that he would like to learn with his partner. maybe they can both attend a barista class. that’s just an example lol. even if it’s something he wouldn’t typically do, if he’s with his partner, he wouldn’t mind. he’s the type to do things with them that he hates lol. like let’s say he hates shopping in person, he’d still go for them.

- i think lee know can sometimes feel bad over the fact that he doesn’t have alot of time to be with his person, so he’d try hard to make time. lee know is really responsible, so he wouldn’t be late because of his partner or would never miss out on practice because of his partner. however, when he finally has time, he could be extremely tired, but he’d still try to fit them in. they would still have to be okay with him needing his alone time. lee know could be a little unpredictable with that stuff.

cons

- i get some possessive vibes from him. i feel like he’d hate the thought of anyone else being with his partner, so he can become suspicious over little things. like, if his partner asked another man for their phone to look up smth and lee know is just there like ??? why didn’t u just ask me ? it would be little things like that. i did wanna add that lee know only gets this way when he’s in a deep serious relationship. if it’s still fresh or still in the dating phase, i don’t think he would gaf.

- im not gonna lie, i really feel like lee know is super detached so depending on the person, they can view this as a con. like someone high maintenance would not be able to be with him. he wouldn’t be the romantic type as well. but hey, ik a lot of people don’t like cheesy romantic shit lol.

- is lee know a homebody? lol it seems like it would be hard for him to take his partner somewhere on dates that’s not his place. he obviously will do nice things and take them to nice places, but this would be kind of …rare? like just on special occasions. his partner can be kind of annoyed by this, maybe they see couples around them go out a lot. this can kind of trigger that desire of wanting to be taken out and shown off too. i don’t think he’d do that tho, it’s just not him lol.

lee know is lowkey hard to read, i think he’s just really private so i just stopped trying to get more info after a while.

astrological dice:

uranus, scorpio, 11th house

uranus and 11th house confirmation on the unconventional thing lol. idk why that’s sticking out so much. lee know is so scorpio coded, so im not shocked scorpio came up.

[legally-allowed-to-slime]

Can’t even lie man I’ve been offline all day and i immediately went to your blog to read your takes on the session and Pearl n gem n co. after watching some wild life. Thanks for having the best takes lol

genuinely, it’s an honour. crazy to me that anyone would come to this blog for good takes, they never make any sense and i’m always suspiciously resentful towards c!scott. i’ll take this opportunity to lay out my gempearl thoughts as well

first of all, it drives me insane the way pearl usually goes along with whatever scott and cleo says, but the only thing she consistently, and has repeatedly, contradicted them on is that she’s been antagonising gem. in fact at the start of the session scott poked her about it again and she laid out a short monologue to assert that his claims were invalid. funnily enough she goes back on this a few seconds later saying that “i’ll make her have a reason to hold that grudge” which honestly is not helping her case. however if gem can make vague threats about impulse i don’t see why pearl can’t do the same. women’s wrongs and all that.

and then after that scott tells impulse and pearl to apologise to gem and joel. again, it’s a bit odd to me how they keep harping on this bit, but every time they do, all they do is scold impulse for rightfully constantly accusing gem over the cows, and then impulse apologises, yet pearl is still implicated (for NOTHING). pearl did protest this point earlier that she was “just existing”, scott counters that “i don’t know what you’ve done but you’ve annoyed her”, so “keep your distance”.

and to think that the argument only happened because scott made a throwaway comment about a “request” he had for pearl if she wanted a life from him. i feel like he meant it as a funny aside and expected pearl to just shut up and take it, but pearl never shuts up and takes it so that’s the problem there.

also, on secret life: pearl argues that she was right to ally with scar, which like, okay, fair enough, but scott says that “it takes time” and that “look we’re together” i’m not sure why he’s under the perception that GGG is in anyway functional or healthy considering he himself is trashtalking impulse and pearl with gem geminitay (ok sorry i’m just salty over him being buddy buddy with gem). at one point cleo goes “we have to be enablers” (lowkey incorrect because pearl hasn’t done anything, you can’t enable someone to just do nothing, but i appreciate the sentiment) and pearl just starts. throwing eggs at the ground. really funny out of context.

now for the actual gempearl interaction (we get like one and a half per episode i’m actually starving). they’re so obsessed with each other. trust me i said so. pearl beelining to gem to say “hi gem! :D” and gem beelining to pearl to punch her and say “go home pearl” oh they make me ill i feel like they’re just constantly on each other’s minds. the problem is that we haven’t gotten a good gempearl interaction because when they’re near each other their allies are also hanging around, so it always ends up with gem getting glazed by scott or pearl getting distracted by bigb or something like that. it’s such a pity because gem specifically went to find the 4Gs’ base but she went to the old one instead of the new one where pearl was hanging around so we could have potentially gotten a 1 on 1 shiny duo interaction this session (i’m not sure about the timeline there) but we DIDN’T because gem’s not talked to the 4Gs enough to know that they moved bases. grrr.

and then gem drops the anger for a bit to encourage pearl to kill grian. i have NO idea what that’s about, i feel like she’s just into bloodthirst in general but what it does remind me of is her trying to convince pearl to kill the ender dragon in SL, coincidentally, when pearl was impulse’s butler. and now she’s encouraging pearl to carry out what impulse wants. i don’t know. maybe her type is murderers and she’s trying to give pearl a chance. or something

anyway as for the other half an interaction where gem finds etho pearl and cleo at her base, gem reverts back to loudly disparaging pearl within earshot. i feel like she’s nailed “ex who really wants you to know that you’re exes”, and pearl getting so indignant about it she can’t even form a sentence for a few seconds is great actually. might be a reach but whether on hermitcraft or life series, pearl tends to stumble over her words a lot when directly challenged by gem, which is probably just because she’s thinking hard on what to say and is sleep deprived half the time. but i find it pretty telling that pearl doesn’t say anything back to gem and just. leaves. it’s very obvious she’s still down bad for gem in a way but gem is intentionally making it very hard for pearl to remain so.

last paragraph. when joel visits pearl at their new base, joel is happy that pearl called his build a car and said she liked it (pearl likes cars fork found in kitchen). so joel and pearl are on good terms, which i expect would lead to interesting dynamics but at the same time joel would definitely follow gem’s lead over maintain that friendship but still his perception of pearl now is positive. so that’s intriguing

song of the day is down bad by taylor swift. trust me guys they want each other so bad

[cherubcameron]

I love you, I’m sorry

Rafe x Sofia

Authors note: this might be a little meta, but reader is in this. She’s not romantically linked to either Rafe and Sofia in this one. So this is almost like an au where she’s just Sofia’s pogue friend. Can yall tell I really like the whole singing thing.. also I won’t lie to yall. My mental health has decline by a lot so here’s something that’s helping me cope.

You’d been surprised when Sofia had told you; she quit. You’d been even more surprised that she had told you that Rafe told her too. You’d told her that was a terrible idea. That rich guys like Rafe would end up fucking her over and she shouldn’t be financially dependent on him. She hadn’t listened.

A rapid knock was heard at your door. You went quickly towards the door. You opened it, seeing a crushed Sofia.

She had told you everything.

You hadn’t realize how deep it’d all been. But now you were with her on the beach. Trying to distract her from all that had to do with Rafe Cameron. You’d brought your other friends. Hoping that’ll cheer her up. But to no avail, she sat on the beach blanket; quiet.

“Ay amiga! I know it hurts now. But you’ll heal from it eventually.” You say, holding her hand. She looked towards you, furrowed brows and a frown.

“I just— I don’t think he’ll ever forgive me. He told me he hates when people break his trust. And I did the worst thing possible. I’m such a piece of—

You stopped her before she could continue. Your hand on top of hers.

“You can’t beat yourself up for it. Even though, was it excessive? Yes, but it’s already been done. You can’t keep hating yourself because you were hurt by his words. You acted out of hurt.” You say, trying to console her.

Her head falls to your shoulders. “I’m still an idiot. I should have known it was a swindle. The whole thing felt sketchy. Now Hollis is dead and Groff ran away with Rafes money.”

You give her a sympathetic look. “It’s like, no matter how hard I try. I always make dumb decisions that hurt the people I care about most. I let my anger get in the way.” She continues. “He did so much for me and I threw it all away. If he never forgives me. I don’t blame him.” She looked down at the ground, a frown on her face.

A Karol g song starts to blast through the speakers and you looked down at her and smile.

“Dame tiempo/que no estoy mi mejor momento.” (Give me time, that I’m not at my best) You start to sing, Sofia looking up at you, a sad smile on her face.

“Y mientras me curo del corazón/Hoy salgo pa'l mar a aprovechar que hay sol/Está bien no sentirse bien, es normal, no es delito” (And while I heal from the heart/Today I go out to the sea to take advantage of the sun/It's okay to not feel good, it's normal, it's not a crime)

Tears start to roll down her face as you continue to sing. Your hand now in hers. You sway a little as you sing. Unaware of someone approaching you two from behind.

“No necesito más/Solo amor, dame tiempo/Yo me sano con tu compañía/Esa paz que me das” (Don't need more/Just love, give me time/I heal with your company/That peace that you give me) She finally is back to eye level with you. She sings along with you. You nudge her, making her smile.

Someone clears their throat, you and Sofia breaking apart. Turning to see who it is. Your eyes widen as you see who it is. Rafe. You turn to see Sofia then back to him.

“I’ll leave you two… alone.”

(Sofias pov)

Sofia looked at Rafe as he sat down beside her on the sand. Rafe looked back as her friend walked away. He turned back to Sofia.

“So..” Rafe starts.

“I’m so sorry.” She sobs, it comes out of her quickly. He turns to her suddenly, his expression unreadable.

Then he sighs.

“Why did you do it?” He asks coldly, he looks towards the ocean. The waves rolling out towards shore. It would have been peaceful, had it not been for the tension between them.

“The deal with Hollis? It was stupid and it’s just going to make you more mad.” Rafes face hardens, his jaw ticking.

“I’ll be more mad if you don’t tell me. Tell me why? I deserve to know that much.” He looks at Sofia intently, she could feel her heart hammering in her chest. She didn’t know how to begin.

“My dad had came to me, asking for my help. He’d— he’d asked me to help Hollis nudge you for this deal.” Sofia sighs, her eyes looking towards him. But he’s still watching the waves roll out, kissing the shore before rolling back in. “ I told him no, originally. That I wouldn’t scam you like that. That it was dishonest.”

Rafe scoffs, shaking his head. “Oh yeah?”

Sofia face screws up, “Yes Rafe, I wasn’t going to do that to you. But then. But then I heard you with Ruthie and Topper.”

Rafe finally turns when he hears those two names. His brows furrow.

“That just because we hooked up didn’t mean that made me your girlfriend. That you wouldn’t live with a pogue… how you have standards.” She says, now being the one who turned towards the ocean. Unable to look him in the eyes.

Her friends had gone towards the water now. Making sure to give them privacy. —Silence engulfs them. The sounds of the seagulls, people laughing, and the waves crashing can only be heard.

“I didn’t mean that.” He says, “I just— when I have something. I don’t want people to ruin it and I just didn’t like how she spoke to me. I was being defensive. But I didn’t mean it.”

Sofia scrunches her eyebrows. “It still hurt to hear, Rafe. I-I know I messed up. I only did what I did out of anger…”

Rafe is silent for a while, he rubs his hand across his face. Biting his lip, which she wasn’t used to seeing.

“I just need time okay.” He finally says.

“Time?”

“Time to forgive you. I know I broke up with you so fast. I should have let you explain yourself. But it’s not like you were dying to say anything.” He says bitterly. Their eyes finally meet. It feels almost like the first time it ever did. Without her betrayal. When things were fresh. She would do anything to go back to that.

He’d been so kind. She didn’t think someone like him would ever notice her. But he did.

“I love you, I’m sorry Rafe.” She whispers, his face can’t settle on an emotion to feel.

“Just give me time.” Sofia nods, placing her head on his shoulder. He lets her. Both of them watching was the waves settles. Smoother than the crashes it had been.

Taglist

@lostsyren

[sunsbleeding]

“I think I’ll just stay with her till I get my birthday presents”, she laughs, sounding more pig than human. I nod along as she continues, “she such a freak she just stares at the wall all day”, I bite my tongue, because saying the wrong thing would get her all despondent and quiet. Agree or be ignored, just like the shadow of my mother and her silent treatments.

But the thing is I used to just stare at the wall all day too, for whole weeks actually. I’d be so depressed that the heaviness in my stomach would anchor me to my bedspread; nothing to do but watch the sun change shape over the walls as it sank. I did this in high school a few months before the hazy night my life was supposed to end. The EMTs refused to let me choose though. Stuffed my soul back in my body and wiped vomit off my face and chest with those cheap paper towels you usually only find in gas station bathrooms.

When we talked ill of her girlfriend I should have said “well you’re using her, you’re manipulating her, you don’t respect her boundaries, you date a wizard created by a terf in your head, and to top it all off you’re in love with a man that lives in LA, for God sakes you write poetry about him for her to see (and laugh when it’s the only poem she doesn’t heart), you make out with me and tell me not to tell her, you can keep her on a leash if she doesn’t know you lie”

So you go, scurry on putrid rat and tell MY stories to your “friends” but boy do I have tales to tell about you, and none of them are even remotely funny or interesting or complex, because you are not any of those things. The stories are just snippets of a girl who was and always will be a boring beige wall of a person, spineless, dreamless, talentless and going nowhere bright. Couldn’t even sign up for university classes properly my ass, you’re just too lazy with a lack of comprehension or a knack for learning about anything that matters. I went through all of university without the money for therapy, without meds for my anxiety or depression, or a diagnosis for my ADHD. You have all the help in the world afforded to you and you still choose to do nothing with your life. Pathetic. You wouldn’t have enough time to read fan fiction anyways so it’s better you just study that, since it’s the only thing you’re remotely good at.

You tell them about your addict, child molested, depressed ex-best friend, who’s seen the world, experienced so much life, built a dream into something tangible, made money you took full advantage of, finished university (it’s not for everyone and that’s okay but let’s be honest you’d rather read smut some horny weirdo on the internet made up than learn about anything real, meaningful or socially relevant).

This all has taught me that I have real friends and supporters in my circle, I have people that’ll sit with me in the bathroom while I’m having a panic attacks. Celebrate being even five days clean. Ask me if I’m okay if I look spaced out (dissociating is something I deal with).

Because of this I remembered I have passions, and taste, and empathy (the word you skipped when you were reading the dictionary). I’ll tell them about you, a waste of space nobody who feeds off the energies of the pretty or cool or interesting girls around her because she hasn’t got a thing going for herself. I have pity for the things you went through but you can only use your trauma as an excuse to be a bad person for so long…. You are a mooch, a liar, a dull woman with the media literacy of an incel and the brainpower of a rock. (Maybe you did do too many whippets in LA smh)

Having a best friend is awesome, having any type of relationship with a delusional psycho narcissist is something I’m done with.

[pedge-page]

aww imagine when ellie is a little older and she has one of those doctor kit toys, and joel gets a cut (or maybe a bruise or something like that) and ellies like "it's okay daddy i'll help you 🥺" and she runs with her little kit and puts on the stethoscope and does a little "check up" and takes his blood pressure and checks his temperature, and then she asks where his boo boo is 😭 and then she gives it a little kiss (bc thats what joel and reader do) and she's like "all better daddy :)" 😭😭😭 please that would send me into a coma that is too cute

notes: oh my god this was so adorable to think about, thank you so much for the baby fever.... I ran a little further with this one based off this ask!

Joel Dealing with Wife: Doctor Ellie

- - - -

Joel’s caught on to something pretty big here. His ever growing littler girl Ellie is quite the caretaker….of him especially. All he tolerated under you and Sarah finally met its match when Ellie quietly entered the world.

He started to realize it after she would burst into tears each time he’d trip on Sarah’s toys, or grunted at your shoulder slaps. But she only ever showed worry when it was him getting hurt.

And he couldn’t get enough of it. Okay sure, its wrong to make your kid worry about things they don’t understand isn’t quite worth stressing over, but he can’t help but fall into a giddy awe spell of greed seeing just how bent out she gets when she thinks he’s hurt. It started with big hugs for long minutes. Then she decided she needed to practice real medicine. The amount of bandaids this family has gone through despite no real injury is astounding to his wallet. 

But it’s commendable. She so carefully puts her warm hands over his forehead whenever he stubs his toe, or checks his pulse when he’s eaten something too hot. Doctor Ellie is always in the house, and ready to assist.

And maybe Daddy… goes a little too out of his way to bring her out.

Joel had just rammed a large plank of wood into his abdomen, not carefully checking its length before swinging it around as if he were still in his twenties. “Ugh--damnit!” He groans, clutching his side. The throb lasted for just a moment before dulling, and he was about to carry on his business when—

“DADDY!!!!” Ellie wails, followed by the patterpatterpatter of her little feet running as fast as they can take him towards his aid.

She’s etched with concern over her chunky face, grasping on her tip toes for his hands. “Daddy okay?” She asks with her high pitched, sweetie voice that gets his soft spot racing.

“Yea—No. No baby…I think—“ he clutches his side, as if remembering the near fatal accident he just suffered. “Uuughh---oh Ellie…I’m hurt. I’m hurt real bad.” He bends forward, one hand over his abdomen while the other covers his face. (He peeks through one squinted eye to see her reaction).

She gasps. “It’s okay daddy! I help make it better!”

She grasps his finger with her entire hand and leads him towards the living room. “Moo!” She commands to Spoon. “Amboolance! WEE WOO WEE!!” She waves her hands around to clear the way of the invisible traffic as Joel followed, half squatted and stiffly wobbling to match her short stature.

She quickly tosses a blanket on the carpet, pointing for Joel to lie down. He obliges, groaning more so from the cracks in his back and knee instead of the fake pain he’s been dishing out.

He watches as she digs frantically through the bin of various toys before retrieving her mobile hospital toy kit. With the stethoscope thrown on her waist (it’s for kids 8 and up and she isn’t quite the size yet), she puts the rounded part over Joel’s stomach. Then she presses her head on his injury as well, causing him to let out an oof and chuckle as she listens futally for his heartbeat. 

“I nee take look.”

She rolls up his shirt a few inches to uncover the invisible wound. 

“How bad is it, doc?” Joel pleas in dramatic desperation.

She tilts her head to the side, closing one eye with her palm before shaking her head.

“Nee sur—Sur gee.”

Joel puts together that’s surgery, and he’s starting to wonder where she’s learning all this hospital stuff….

She begins rummaging around for her other toys before announcing “Knife!”

Joel’s head sits right up, eyes wide in Father-panic mode that she may have gotten her hands on an actual—

She instead pulls her yellow and green kids-cooking toy plastic knife that is meant to part velcroed plastic vegetables, and realistically couldn’t even slice through two strands of hair. He lets out a sigh, leaning back and letting her continue with her critical patient.

“Snack time!”

Of course you just had to interrupt their special Daddy-daughter only playtime with fucking snack ti—oh is that apple slices and peanut butter?

Ellie drops everything, sits on her butt almost like a dog and awaits patiently for her snack. Conveniently Spoon has also come to sit automatically next to her, if the dog-analogy wasn’t evident enough.

“Interrupting surgery, babe,” Joel hums. 

“Surgery can wait after snack.”

Ellie wiggles her feet as you hold out a slice towards her mouth for her to bite and keep her hands clean. The room is silent minus the content, unhurried crunching of apple sizes.

“Okay baby, continue your surgery. What part are we at?” You ask, sucking a slice into your mouth as you also dip one into Joel’s open trap, giggling as he swallows it like an arcade ticket machine crunching away at his spoils. 

“Make cut,” she says plainly, searching around for that knife again.

You raise your brow suspiciously  but let any irrational thought go as she holds up her very non lethal kiddie knife.

Doctor Ellie starts serrating his belly fat back and forth with the dull piece of thick plastic.

It probably looks like real pain to her, were it not for him holding his breath as his chest and stomach puffing up and down, trying to hold his giggles and squirms together.

You watch Joel with raised brow, knowing he’s got tears in his eyes trying to play poker face so hard, knowing you’re there watching him get tickled by this thing and knowing he’s gonna deny it profusely. 

“Shouldn’t you put me under anesthesia—“

She slaps a piece of paper — the phony ticket from her train conductor set (Jesus, how many different toy sets did you guys get her?) — a little too carelessly, but enough to get the idea across that daddy needs to stop talking as she does careful work.

“Sew!” She announces, as if she has a nurse assistant handing her each tool. Although, technically, she does, but you seem more interested in wiping the plate of peanut butter and sucking it off your digits.

Joel’s eyes are closed, enjoying the serenity of lying on the floor. You don’t realize how good it is to be on the ground until you have kids, and now you’re constantly on the floor doing everything with them.

“Mommy…where sew?”

You shrug. They’ve got so many toys, you’re honestly not sure what creative thing she’s gonna come up with the “sew” Joel’s tummy. Given her use of the kids knife, you’re curious what kind of toy—

She pulls out a real sewing needle, point and sharp and definitely not kid approved along with fabric thread. It glints in her little hand for a brief moment as she dips to make contact on Joel’s skin—

“OOKAY Let’s not use that,” you yelp, grasping her arm carefully from going any further. Joel’s still got that stupid paper over his eyes, absolutely oblivious and too trusting of Ellie. 

Something else about kids: you can baby proof the fuck out of everything you didn’t even think needed baby proofing, and yet they will still —what does Jeff Goldblum say in the dinosaur movie?…—f’ind a way’. 

You remove the needle and thread from her grasp, position it inside a cotton swab and high out of her reach. You fashion a string of yarn wrapped around a q-tip instead, and hand it to her like it’s nothing. She takes it and goes back to “sewing” Joel’s tummy up, dragging the cottony tip over his naval.

His belly dips as he lets out a pained breath, trying so hard to act like he’s not tickled. 

“Am I gonna make it doc?” Joel asks curiously.

“Bluey!”

He doesn’t quite understand that answer, until she’s pulling out the packs of varied assortment of bandaids. It takes a few minutes to help her pull each sticky back off, but soon Joel’s got 4 bandaids of Paw Patrol on his stomach, one Bingo on top of his jeans, some chainsaw massacre’s on his arm, and a pretty hello kitty across his forehead. 

“All done!” She boasts happily.

“Nah uh! You need to make sure it stays better!”

“Oh—“ she bends down and kisses his belly, just like you and Joel always do whenever she gets a minor booboo. Kisses make everything better.

Minus the bacteria in your saliva but ya know it’s the placebo in the thought that really counts for the healing factor. 

“Give daddy one on the cheek for good measure,” he commands, pointing sternly into his face. She happily obliges with a fat “mmmmmwah!”

“Yay. Looks like he’ll live,” you muse a little too unhappily. Joel snickers, sitting upright. God, he somehow looks ridiculous and hot with hellow kitty plastered across his forehead. 

“Doc, do you think I need to come back in for a check up, ya know, just to see—“

But Ellie has already concluded her medical services, now hustling away to go find something else to do. 

-

Joel steps out to the backyard, where Sarah is cruising in her remote toy jeep with the 6 ducks packed in the passenger seat and trunk. 

She rolls to a stop, her brightly colored sunglasses peering up at her Dad. She sucks her ring pop silently, knowing the desperation he’s come to seek her out.

Sarah fully well knows Ellie has Joel in her back pocket, and she likes to let that play out. because ultimately… Sarah can also benefit from their needy relationship off one another.

Joel clears his throat, looking around as if he’s making an illegal trade. “I’ll give ya two ring pops if ya pretend to run me over. And not the face this time,” he warms, knowing she’’ll plea innocence to his own askings. “Just for Ellie to see.”

She sucks on her candy before pulling it out of her mouth with a loud pop. “I’d do it for free.”

----

taglist: @harriedandharassed @lola8888673 @its-nebuleuse @zliteraturehoe @merz-8 @joeldjarin @pascalscoffin @pedroshotwifey @ghostslillady @innerpersonunknown @missladym1981 @mrsoharaxx @survivingandenduring @milla-frenchy @cockykookiee @fairytale07 @daddy-din @pedropascalsbbg @spookyxsam @somehopeatlast @millercontracting @pedrostories @mishala005 @theoraekenslover @animez96 @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @puduvallee @cassiecasluciluce @loohoop @himboelover @callsignwidow @wintersquirrel @fluffygoffpanda @picketniffler @bbyanarchist @jeewrites

[just-trying-to-fangirl-in-peace]

Okay I admit I don’t think I would have read this unless I already knew and loved your writing for Sauron but I did and. Um. Holy shit👀

Usually when he drew close, you could feel a warmth deep in your soul, like embers stoked in a neglected fire, made to dance and blaze again with renewed vigour whenever he returned to you.

AAAAAAH I love this sentence it’s so beautiful and poetic and perfectly describes that feeling of connection.

It doesn't take long before his whines of pain become pleasurable, enjoying your touch and the cool water on his skin. His mind is less fraught now, more present, and before long he begins to panic. His sweet wife, his innocent wife, had seen him for what he truly is, a Lord of Beasts, monstrous and terrifying to behold, and here she was, running her gentle fingers over him as if he was the most beautiful creature she'd ever seen.

I too would lovingly pet big doggie Sauron and cherish him with all my heart🥺

I have many ideas, precious one, all you need to do is lie there and relax for me...

He rolls you over, encircling you wholly with his powerful frame. He is so massive that he dwarfs you twice, thrice over. You look down and your eyes widen, blood rushing to your cheeks; how is that going to fit?

It was at this moment that I put down my phone, questioned my sanity for finding this hot af, and dove head first into the Sauron monster-fucking I didn’t know I needed.

Terror grips you, hand in hand with arousal, and the fresh wetness between your legs spurs him on, groaning at the scent of you, all he can think of as you writhe beneath him. You try to get a better look at the flesh that is about to ravage you, but it is hidden in his fur. Perhaps that is for the best, you muse, far-off in your thoughts now, waiting for him to ruin you.

*barely breathing* His flesh is... in his fur. It’s in his fur. He’s a wolf. Why am I... why is this hot...? Fuck...? I need him...? Now...? Help...??

He licks the tears from your face gently, still engulfed in your wet heat, unwilling to be parted just yet. He rears up to get a look at how well you take him, to see how you stretch and mould for him.

That is all he wants after all, for you to be moulded by him, for him.

I am baby. I’m all fucking yours. Fuck. I have no words.

"Forced? What do you mean, forced?" Even in your shell-shocked anger, the notion of your husband forced to do anything hurts you deeply.

"I hardly serve Him willingly, my love, no one does. His will is..." he searches for the right word, the word that will convince you, "insurmountable."

My poor little tortured husband LEAVE HIM ALONE😭😭😭 damn it gets me every time.

"One does not simply leave Melkor's service." His tongue picks over the words carefully, watching for your reaction.

Hehe a little meme reference to lighten the mood. Nice touch.

Yeah, so um... this is beautifully written and scalding hot and it broke me and I loved it. If you’ll excuse me, I need to go touch some grass and scream into the void for the next 3 to 5 business days😳

The Number of the Beast (Sauron/F!Reader)

After his frankly embarrassing defeat at Tol-in-Gaurhoth, Sauron seeks you out;

You discover his werewolf form and press him for the whole truth and nothing but

Sequel to Wicked Game // AO3 Link

Songs to listen to: Animals by Maroon 5, Closer by Nine Inch Nails (obviously Sauron's jam), Teeth by Lady Gaga

Warnings: 18+! Werewolf!Sauron, smut (smh we cannot keep it clean for 5 minutes!!) werewolf sex (I'm sorry!! It's not a lot!! Idk!!!), P in V sex, oral sex (female receiving), dubcon (he is not in control of himself and even though you are up for it, you're still terrified of him and his uhhh size), size kink/size difference, hurt/comfort, manipulation (it's Sauron, he sucks guys idk), angst towards the end

A/N: y'know what, I warned you all this was going to happen. Sauron is a werewolf, and things get interesting weird. Idk I don't feel like it's overwhelmingly filthy, maybe y'all won't mind 😂🙈 there is actual plot to this one, and it will be fairly pertinent to the rest of the story, but you can skip the smut if it's not your cup of tea, I get it!! (Skip the section marked by ***)

Word Count: 4.9k!

Writing playlist here if so inclined 😅

Translation note: Amarië means 'goodness', Uthaessel means "tempting girl' as far as I can tell!

A nameless terror has been stalking your kin in these woods for years, and you are eager for your husband's embrace as you delve further into the woods, heart racing at every tiny rustle in the trees. He would never let anything happen to you, but he was not here, at least not as far as you could tell.

Usually when he drew close, you could feel a warmth deep in your soul, like embers stoked in a neglected fire, made to dance and blaze again with renewed vigour whenever he returned to you. But for the moment all you feel is an icy cold fear in the pit of your stomach; you should not be out here alone.

You think to turn back, to run back to the safety of your fledgling city, but you press on. He promised he would be here, and you cannot disappoint him, not after the long months he has spent in the north craving your touch.

The forest is so quiet as you make your way to the glade that has become so sacred to you and your husband. You keep as silent as you can, footsteps making no rustle in the leaves underfoot; the air is too still, the silence deafening where there should be sounds of birds and insects conducting their nightly business.

You are not far from your meeting place now as even the wind falls still. You breathe a sigh of relief as you catch sight of the rushing water that will lead you to safety. He will be there to assuage all your silly fears, the thought giving you the strength to keep moving.

A sharp howl, long and guttural, pierces the air, and you freeze. It sounded far off, or maybe closer than you think; your head is in a spin as you try to judge what could have possibly made such an unearthly sound. It didn't sound like any wolf you've ever heard; it had an almost sorrowful lilt that drew you to it. Shaking it off, you creep into the glade, expecting to see him there.

Disappointment washes through you; you are alone, and now you hear another howl, closer than before.

He will understand, you think, let's go home.

You start to take the winding path back to the thick treeline, but hear cracking branches, heavy footfall, ragged breath, from the dark undergrowth.

You back up, starting to shake and sweat. You are not made for this, never have you had to protect yourself from such a beast. You look around for anything with which to defend yourself, landing on a large broken branch that looks like it might be lethal in the right hands. Shame then, that your hands have never seen combat.

Dragging your makeshift weapon, you look for somewhere to hide, terrified that the beast might have already caught your scent.

~

He doesn't know why he's here, why he would put you through the horror of seeing him in his bestial glory; all he knows is that defeat has pushed him into your radiant embrace, to soothe the heavy losses he had suffered and prepare the fortitude of his mind to face his master's wrath.

His defeat at the hands of some Elf-Maia and her dog had shamed him; he could not go back to Angband now, not now Tol-in-Gaurhoth was lost, and all he craved was your touch, for you to wash away all his ills.

He pads through the forest, trailing a silent darkness in his wake, all birds and beasts fleeing before him. His black blood drips and pools in the undergrowth, scorching the earth.

His mind is clouded with pain and shame, something with which he is not familiar, and would not suffer again given the option, how it turns his stomach, and makes him crave nothing but your sweet embrace. Where are you? He can think of nothing else, having travelled so far in search of salvation.

The breeze betrays you, carrying the sweet scent of the berries you love to eat, the oils you use on your skin, and he groans, a deep visceral sound that would usually shake the foundations of Middle Earth, if only he were not so deeply tired.

He follows your scent, instinctively, unthinking as to how you might receive him. As he gets closer, his soul sings for you, his heart swells, and he can think of nothing else.

Exhausted, he reaches out to you, tendrils of his mind softly caressing yours. He hears your soft sigh and follows the sweet sound to your doom.

~

The forest around you turns deathly silent, the very air robbed of its oxygen in a split second. You hear only the crack of fallen branches and the heavy movement of something massive in the dark.

You should be terrified, why do you not run?

Quaking in your hiding spot, you find yourself rooted to the spot, crouching and unable to move, doomed to listen to the beast in the dark.

You feel it then; a darkness in your mind, touching your thoughts, and the terror grows. The scent of sweat dripping down your back only helps him find you sooner, and as you hear him approach, the tremor in your fingers grows.

If you can only stay quiet, perhaps it will ignore you, perhaps you will be blessed tonight. You screw your eyes shut and pray.

Alas, a hot huff of breath sweeps the side of your face, and you scream, you can't help but keep screaming, even after you've picked up your weapon and blindly struck the great beast, before you roll out from under it and run as fast as your legs can carry you.

He shakes his head, blind rage now overtaking him, even as he sees you, scents you, wants nothing more than to cover and embrace you.

The pair of you race through the forest; you know it as well as any of your people, all the shortcuts and secret places. But your quick light tread is vastly outmatched by his sheer ferocity, and in your panic, you take a wrong turn, meeting a sharp cliff face where you were sure there was a waterfall you might have lost the beast in. You curse your folly and spin around, awaiting your fate.

Two great paws come to rest either side of you, as its wolven face bears its teeth and snarls, black blood dripping from the gash you inflicted on its temple.

You can do nothing but shut your eyes, shaking in terror as the beast takes you in, sniffing at you and panting. Any moment now, this will all be over...

Amarië... love... need you...

The unspoken voice you hear is somehow familiar, deeper and more guttural, and yet...

You reach out your hand, offering your soothing touch freely. Baleful golden eyes watch you carefully as he closes the gap and leans in to your trembling touch. You should run.

"Mairon..." The beast's eyes soften as you look up at him, and you realise a terrible sorcery is at play here.

You feel his mind caress yours and you relax, easing into the unfamiliar feeling of fur beneath your fingers. You trace the sinewy muscle of his neck a while, assuring him in hushed tones that you've got him, that everything will be alright, that you're here, his horrors are over.

"Oh, my love..." You run your fingers over him, suddenly mindful of the wound you'd inflicted yourself only moments ago.

In your inspection, you find many more, deep gouges and bitemarks that have festered, and your heart aches for him. How could this have happened? Who did this to him?

"Come, love, I have you now," you grasp his fur on his neck and lead him back to the river, careful not to touch the open sores in his sides yet.

He staggers into the rushing current, clear water turning black as he submerges, washing off his defeat and returning little by little to you.

You wade in after him, ripping a strip off your hem; how times had changed since last you did this for him, having now ruined two dresses to tend his wounds.

You soak the fabric and begin to dab away the grime and viscera, so that you can start to heal him with every spell your people know for such injuries.

It doesn't take long before his whines of pain become pleasurable, enjoying your touch and the cool water on his skin. His mind is less fraught now, more present, and before long he begins to panic. His sweet wife, his innocent wife, had seen him for what he truly is, a Lord of Beasts, monstrous and terrifying to behold, and here she was, running her gentle fingers over him as if he was the most beautiful creature she'd ever seen.

You notice his panic and immediately go to soothe him, rubbing circles over his muzzle, trying not to overthink just how strange the situation had become.

"It's okay, love, I'm here, you're okay," you whisper softly, "who did this to you, love?"

Trying to soothe him was proving difficult as anger begins to bubble in the pit of your stomach; who was responsible for this sorcery? You would rip them limb from limb, your gentle nature be damned.

That blasted Elf-Maia hybrid and her brute of a dog, he thinks bitterly, reliving his utter defeat once more.

"My darling, you can tell me, who did this to you? Transformed you this way?" Surely it was a curse that could be broken, that you could face together.

Oh. Oh, no. His blood runs cold. Yes, of course, that's what you mean; how were you to know he could transform himself at will, that this was a form he liked to take in battle. Used to like. It might be a while before he chose a wolfish form again, given everything that had happened with Lúthien.

He goes to stand, to leave the river and avoid your questioning, but his legs give out from under him. Your heart wrenches at the sight of your beloved suffering so, how it pained you.

"I have you, don't move yet," you say softly with an encouraging smile. "I've got you."

More murmuring in Quenya, pressing your hands to his wounds, feeling your energy flow into him, all of your efforts were enough to finally restore him, and you both emerge from the river into the cool night air, sodden and freezing.

He collapses on the river bank, with you quick to follow; your healing had taken a lot out of you. Shivering, you lean into him for his furnace-like warmth, blessedly finding him already nearly dry.

You're so tired, your questions can wait until after you've rested, and so you do.

~

It is still hours before dawn when you wake to the unfamiliar sensation of warm silky fur on your cheek, lining your body, encompassing you in a blissful heat.

Fear jolts any sleepiness from your mind, and you try to stand. But his great limbs keep you from moving, and he rumbles his disapproval deep in his chest.

Suddenly you remember.

"Mairon?" You whisper, "darling, how do you feel?"

I was fine. His words are still unspoken, heard directly in your mind.

"Was? Can I help, love?" You worry that your work is not done, that perhaps there are ills that you have not yet healed.

Go back to sleep, your presence is soothing, my sweet.

"I can soothe you while awake!" Your tone is indignant and his chest quakes with what sounds like laughter, if you're not mistaken.

I didn't say you could not, but now you're awake, there are other urges I'd rather have you satisfy, Uthaessel.

Other urges... you blush as you realise what he means. He only calls you by that epithet when he craves you so particularly, that nothing else might sate him but hours between your thighs. 'Temptation', indeed.

"Well, you've recovered quickly." You laugh, brushing his side and finding his gaping wounds already healed over.

"And while you're like this, my darling, I'm not quite sure how that would work." You do have an idea, but it might be... uncomfortable.

He groans, deep in his chest, making your whole body vibrate with it; maybe a little discomfort wouldn't be so bad?

I have many ideas, precious one, all you need to do is lie there and relax for me...

He rolls you over, encircling you wholly with his powerful frame. He is so massive that he dwarfs you twice, thrice over. You look down and your eyes widen, blood rushing to your cheeks; how is that going to fit?

In an effort to slow him down, you ask him again, "how did this happen, love? You couldn't tell me before, would you tell me now?"

He sighs, a massive huff of breath that seems to scold you for disrupting his conquest of you.

It is no curse, that much you do not have to fear.

"If it is no curse, then what happened? Love, this is hardly natural, unless I am missing something important?" You laugh a little, nervously, wishing for him to assuage your anxiety.

He simply stares down at you with those bottomless golden eyes, concocting some explanation that will appease you.

How would you react, he wonders, if he told you he told you he is in fact Lord of Beasts and Werewolves, able to take on any form he wishes? Or would you prefer a simple lie, or the wiping of it from your mind altogether?

You are his wife, you are bound together in a way no force can sunder, you could not reject him if you tried. But he fears your disgust, would do anything to avoid it.

But the truth would set him free. No more lies, no more deception, he could truly be himself with you. The freedom that would afford, the burdens he would no longer have to carry alone.

So for once, he settles on the truth, mostly.

This is simply one of the forms I can take. You know I am no Elf, I can do things your kind could only dream of.

He nuzzles your neck, licking a long stripe up the sensitive flesh between your ear and your collarbone.

"I know that," you whimper, his rough tongue laving your throat, making your toes curl into the dirt. "But this is new, this is-" a whine escapes your lips as he nips at your neck- "unnatural."

You feel his song in the depths of your soul, how sweetly he pines for you. Your soul cannot help but answer, harmonising with his every touch, until you are squirming under his iron embrace, pupils blown, arousal overtaking you quicker than it ever has before.

*******

His massive limbs cage you in, and panic begins to set in again; surely your husband would never hurt you, but in this state you weren't sure he had the control to keep his nature at bay.

"I need to know-" You brace against him, trying with all your might to release yourself from his roaming tongue, rasping over your skin; sharp teeth snared in your dress pull in one fluid motion and you're left bare under his gaze.

Need to know what, my pet? His tone is adoring as ever, but impatient; he knows what plagues your thoughts and he still isn't sure he wants you to know.

"Need to know... need to know who you are." You force out the words as he seeks out where to lick, where to bite, trying to swallow your pleas; he cocks his head, as if your question is a mystery.

You know who I am, love. His length begins to prod at you insistently, and you clench your thighs together, nervous at the thought of him claiming you like this, stalling for time even as the melody of his fëa seduces you.

"No... no, I don't think I do," You pant, fingers clutching at his neck, drawing him in and pulling him away, your body betraying your mind as you become more and more unsure of what you want from him.

"How? How can you change your face like that? Your entire being? I don't understand..." You trail off with a whine as he begins to worship your body with his tongue, covering your breasts with a swipe, dragging slowly lower until he finds your mound, gods you smell divine.

The bestial part of his mind begins to take over, ignoring your questioning, wrapped in the scent of you, the soft flesh under his tongue that he could so easily ruin with a drag of his teeth if he desired, your panting lips forming words that fall on deaf ears; the only sounds he now listens for are your moans and pleas.

"Mairon... I need to know..." You realise far too late that this is no longer your husband, and that the beast before you is going to rut you into the earth without pity.

Terror grips you, hand in hand with arousal, and the fresh wetness between your legs spurs him on, groaning at the scent of you, all he can think of as you writhe beneath him. You try to get a better look at the flesh that is about to ravage you, but it is hidden in his fur. Perhaps that is for the best, you muse, far-off in your thoughts now, waiting for him to ruin you.

He sniffs at the dampness between your thighs, a groan rumbling through him as he bears his sharp canines, dangerous and gleaming even in the dark of the night; perhaps especially so. Even with the forest at your fingertips, all you can smell is him, musk and smoke and iron, he smells like himself but stronger, every inch of him reeking of the man you love but more pungent, inescapable; a heady mix that does nothing to dispel the coil in your abdomen that he will delight to spring.

"My love, darling, please, Mairon..." you try every which way to get his attention, to bring him back to you.

You shiver as he laps at you, tasting you every which way, your nipples peaking as he runs his tongue over them before letting them chill in the night's cool breeze. He lowers himself slightly to wrap himself around you more completely, your soft skin now pressed against his thick fur, the perfect companion to stave off the chill.

You feel him pant against your neck, his thick length weeping against your legs, firmly pressed shut as you rock slightly to relieve the terrible pressure he has built in your clit.

You bury your face in the green foliage under your head, still pressing your thighs together as if he will yet be denied. He noses at your jaw, demanding your attention; pressing his long teeth against your throat, demanding your obedience.

The inhuman face gazing down on you does nothing to dispel the visceral fear that grips you. This is your husband, the man you love, whose soul you share; but none of this seems to matter now, as empty golden eyes stare you down, awaiting the inevitable.

Tears of fear begin to fall unbidden as your heart hammers in your chest, as you realise that despite every instinct in you telling you to run, you still want him, and he knows it.

The second you loosen your thigh muscles, he is there with his tongue, licking and sucking and making your toes curl. He is too rough, too fast, and before long a tiny nip at your clit sends stars behind your eyes, warmth exploding and cascading through you.

With you distracted at your peak, he takes his opportunity.

Hot breath on your face, soft fur under your fingers, giving you purchase, grounding you, a white hot pain at your mound-

Your scream echoes through the forest as he buries himself within you, no gentleness, just brutal force.

He allows you a moment to accommodate him, but it would take many more to truly adjust to his monstrous size. He pulls back, your tiny sigh of relief cut short as he thrusts back in, deeper, longer, stroking every inch of you.

You feel a tendril of his mind caress yours, and you reach for it, cling to it, make his power your own as you channel every intelligible thought into not being spilt apart.

As his power and your healing magic do their work, the blazing pain lessens, relieved to a dull ache, that only invites him to do his worst.

He would tear you apart, put you back together, over and over if he could. As he reaches the height of his pleasure, he is merciless, rutting you like a mindless animal, emptying and filling you quicker than you can draw breath, gasping around the sheer inhuman size of him.

And you enjoy it.

As the pain recedes, all you can think is of his cock filling you over and over, tongue rasping everywhere he can reach, guttural groans punctuating every thrust, as you drag your nails down his forearms, desperate to ground yourself in any sensation not emanating from your heated core.

With an unearthly growl, his thick hot seed paints your insides, filling you to bursting, and the coil in your abdomen does indeed spring again; as he comes down from his own high, his mind returns to him piece by piece, and he realises what he has put you through. You quake around him, whimpering and clinging to him, nails deep in his heavily muscled back.

He licks the tears from your face gently, still engulfed in your wet heat, unwilling to be parted just yet. He rears up to get a look at how well you take him, to see how you stretch and mould for him.

That is all he wants after all, for you to be moulded by him, for him.

He nuzzles your neck as you lie exhausted underneath him.

Love... precious girl... my Uthaessel... did so well for me...

You give him a sleepy smile, idly running your fingers through the fur on his chest, suddenly overcome with the urge to sleep for a week.

When he can, he slips out of you, curling you into his side, as his seed drips between your thighs. He'll clean you up later, he thinks, but perhaps for now he'll just watch you sleep.

*******

When you wake, he has already transformed himself, smooth skin and golden hair that you love so much, but your sticky thighs remind you uncomfortably of what happened last night.

You crane your neck to look at him, to assure yourself it is really him. He gives you that same gentle adoring smile he always does; your heart melts as you can't help but return it, but your questions still plague you. He had never told you he could take the guise of a beast, and you worry that something wicked lies under that glorious visage.

"Mairon..." You try to keep your tone neutral, but he knows your heart too well.

"I know, love," he gathers you to him, resting his chin on your head. "Can we not? At least for now."

You do wonder whether to indulge him, but the suspicions gnawing at your gut will not cease.

"I want to know... I need to know what happened."

You expect him to fight you on it tooth and nail, but he vowed to himself last night, the truth would out. Mostly.

And so he tells you. His humiliation at the hands of Lúthien and Huan, his command over beasts and vampires, even where he really comes from. Your eyes widen and your breath shallows with each detail, reaching a crescendo as he tells you of Morgoth, his voice low as if his master could hear him even here.

"A servant of Morgoth?" You can't catch your breath, you've long stood up, pacing and wringing your hands more urgently the longer you let him speak.

"Why are you telling me this?" You stop still and ask sharply, making him wince at the tone you've never used on him before.

"You asked, my love," he looks confused, as if the truth weren't more horrifying than your husband simply liking to spend time in wolf's clothing.

"But why are you telling me now? You could have continued your vile deception? Kept me in the dark?" Your stomach drops as you wonder aloud his intentions.

"You've had everything you wanted from me, that must be it. And now you tell me you are a servant of the Enemy-" your thoughts are interrupted as he now stands and moves to take your hands in his.

A churning fear overtakes your anger as you realise he is the one your people only speak of in hushed whispers, his very name accursed to the tongue: Sauron.

"You... you are the terror my people fear in these woods. You have plagued them, stolen them, and then you come to me and ply me with your sweetness and lies?"

"You misjudge me, my love. I will never stop wanting you," he implores, as he takes your face in his hand, willing you to be silent and listen.

"My appetite for you will never be sated, such is my devotion. I could never cast you aside, could never let you leave me." He sounds so damn sincere, your heart pleads with you to listen while your head tells you to run.

"You wanted the truth, so I gave it to you. If I did not think you could handle it, I would not have troubled you with such evils." His eyes search yours for any sign you understand his plight. "I told you my name, I never lied to you. But I could not tell you about Melkor in the beginning, how could I, when you would have scorned me?"

"You don't know that," you mutter, still shell-shocked, world in pieces, but offended by the accusation all the same.

"If this is your reaction, then I am sure you would."

"Are you blaming me? Lies by omission are still lies!" Your indignation stirs you a little, your mind screaming at you to fight back.

He does you the courtesy to look mollified slightly, before grasping your hands once more, tracing circles in your palm with his thumb.

"Amarië, my sweet, even your name is too good for me, how could I have won you if you had known the company I am forced to keep?"

It's that imploring look, the gentle tone, and-

"Forced? What do you mean, forced?" Even in your shell-shocked anger, the notion of your husband forced to do anything hurts you deeply.

"I hardly serve Him willingly, my love, no one does. His will is..." he searches for the right word, the word that will convince you, "insurmountable."

You take a deep breath through your nose, finding nothing in your mind but the sweet scent of smoke and musk and iron, the scent of your husband that softens your heart once more.

Your deep exhale releases much of the tension within you; of course, he is but an unwilling participant in Morgoth's designs, of course.

"This is your one chance, Mairon, you have one chance to tell me everything, no lies, no deceit." You raise your eyebrows at him, daring him to argue, but he simply sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose.

"I have done, love, you know everything."

"No. Details, and lots of them, now."

It takes from sunrise to sunset, but he tells you everything. How Morgoth seduced him to his will; how He alone has the power to change Middle Earth in the way your lover has planned; how Sauron realised far too late that His destruction was not the balance he craved.

"And you cannot leave Him?" Your voice is hoarse after so much time spent listening, but you have to ask.

Sauron grimaces, an expression that twists his pretty face, makes it almost unrecognisable.

"One does not simply leave Melkor's service." His tongue picks over the words carefully, watching for your reaction.

"Morgoth." You interject, "his name is Morgoth." After all the heartbreak and destruction He has wrought on your kind, you cannot stand to hear his divine name spoken once more.

"Forgive me, love, it is... difficult to break the habit when He himself would flay me for even thinking the name your people have given him." He cannot help but smirk a moment when your face drops, and you reach for him as if to comfort him.

He takes you in his golden embrace, holding you tightly as if you'd leave him the moment you were free.

"I was so afeared that you would reject my affections, I could not possibly tell you, and as time passed, I could not bear to ruin what we share." He nuzzles your neck affectionately, as if he has already won you over.

You are so torn, your heart and head fighting a losing battle. If he truly is an unwilling accomplice, then he needs you now more than ever to face the darkness. But the darkness was a terror you never planned on witnessing in all its treachery.

It is a long time before you can forgive his lies, but the truth will indeed set you both free.

[probablygayattorneys]

I’ll take “lines that hurt like a bitch in hindsight” for 200, Alex.

[purecommemasolitude]

Thinking about how if we accept Paul’s narrative of the night as truth (barring the holding hands of course) Bob fully thought Cherry was putting the moves on a 14-year-old

Are you sure he wasn’t a jealous man buddy 🤨

[shima-draws]

THEY DON’T EVEN REMEMBER??? Luffy be walking out of this with LONG lasting trauma of watching all his friends nearly die and the others are just like. Man that was a nice nap! Luffy what are you doing on the ground sprawled out like that? Meanwhile Luffy’s internally having a breakdown because holy fucking SHIT what the hell did he just have to go through,

[goldkirk]

If anyone remembers all the dental work I needed done uhhhhhhh three years ago and never went back and ran away forever…I’m finally going back to a dentist on Thursday to restart the process and face my deep and utter abiding terror. And I also scheduled my COVID and flu vaccines for a couple hours later. And my psych appointment to restart meds.

I figured get it all done in one day, have my miserable immune reaction on Friday that I seem to always get with Moderna COVID shots, and then flee directly into the weekend and never be a person again except when I’m on and off crying. It’s going to be so kind to future me to get these things done and I can do it no matter how much I feel like I am constantly about to Actually Physically Die.

[regular-lord-reckoner]

i’m home !!

procedure went real well, everything was really smooth and almost as soon as they said, “you can count backwards if you want,” i don’t think i even said ten before i was suddenly in recovery and sipping some ginger ale.

honestly the worst part was the iv because they had to do it on the side of my wrist because apparently my veins are crooked ?? i just hate ivs anyway so that’s no surprise but other than that no complaints.

everyone was real nice and made sure i was well taken care of (my nurse even had me pee one more time before so she wouldn’t have to do a catheter which with my history…..thank you)

but yeah, i’ll have a follow up in about a month just to make sure everything’s good and the iud is doing its thing !!

i do have some cramping and bleeding but that’s normal, although a little funny because i literally just stopped my period yesterday but…oh well !! hopefully in a few months i won’t have hardly any so this we can handle and i hace some medicine (and my ~medicine) that’ll help so i’m all set.

mom had to go run some errands so my little recovery buddy is keeping me company. also, a moment of recognition for my new favorite shirt (thank you as always, Boss Dog Art; i’ve already got my eye on another one that says, “i think therefore i am against transphobia around the world” or something like that and it’s got a cool skeleton on it; this is my third shirt from them and they’re really comfy and good quality so not sponsored but check them out, they seem cool):