#LiD rp

[randaccidents]

I have been informed that as the death counter person it is my solemn duty to update chat about the death count in the rp HAHA.

Its been, what, 27 days since we started? It's only been a month??? The current death count looks like this:

Host: 22

Heart: 9 + 1

Mind: 2

(oh the plus one? just my harsh little reminder that there is more than one way for Heartless Heart to die :3, the death is not physical or traditional so I gave it a separate counter)

[rockgodklav]

Do you want a goldfish cracker I'm snacking rn

-Log

“Ja, actually, if you don’t mind! They were my favorite snack as a child.”

[petrifiedcrange]

❝ The ship can't survive without its unicorn, Iz, ❞ Frenchie says quietly yet matter-of-factly as he wipes Izzy's feverish brow with a cool cloth, lingering for a moment to brush a loose strand off before turning to the side to soak the warmed up cloth in the bowl of cool water again, both his voice and gestures an aching mix of exhaustion, sadness and tenderness, ❝ We'll crash and burn before we ever reach another shore. ❞

There are tears welling in his eyes and he doesn't want Izzy to see them, doesn't want to distress his already overtaxed system even more, so he takes an extra moment to wring the cloth over the bowl while blinking rapidly to get rid of the tears.

And yet, a sob weasels its way into his words as he adds, almost an afterthought ( that sounds far more bitter than it has any right to be ):

❝ I thought you knew that. ❞

[ OPEN for Izzy post-S2 because ouizzy is something else entirely as a ship and I need more of them and because this phrase about the ship and its figurehead/unicorn appeared in my head and I thought that it would suit Frenchie the most because if someone knows about mythical symbolism of figureheads etc, it’s him also, he's upset his boyfriend seems to be giving up ]

[rvrend]

❝ GEE, I DON'T KNOW, REVEREND, WHAT MAKES SOMEONE NOT HAPPY ? ❝ GEE, I DON'T KNOW OREL, LIFE ?

[reallyrandomtj]

LIKED for a starter: @dupliciti

Serval was on her way back to the workshop until several guards of the city started mobilizing within the area; concern immediately filled her mind with thoughts of why so many were running around the city. Blue eyes caught sight of a nearby trash can 'wobbling' and Serval grew suspicious only for them to be confirmed.

"... Sampo?" The blonde muttered to herself as the lid was very subtly held up just enough for someone to peak out; but she recognized his gloves that was out in the open and holding said trash can top. Serval would approach and stand between the bin and guards, using a hand to 'lightly' tap on the top of the lid before scrambling to shift his hands out of public view before they were spotted.

"Don't come out yet, there are guards in your blind spot ~" She firmly 'hushed' and warned the man in the bin before asking her own questions; how Sampo responds will determine how much effort she was willing to offer to make sure he wasn't captured for doing nothing but existing "Tell me what you've done to rile up the Silvermane Guards... this time?" Serval knelt down beside the bin in case Sampo decided to peak out again just enough for them to chat.

"If the guards aren't after you... who are they after?" The blonde added, Sampo was lucky that she was in a good mood today; but there was clear concern in her tone of voice as Serval spoke - he knew potentially better than anyone how much this city meant to her; if someone was trying to cause trouble SHE wanted to know.

[rattlingmycage]

I apologise in advance for spamming you with reblog notifications, but I was wondering if you happened to have any fav Astarion fics? I've poked at a few but most don't fit my desired 'aesthetic' and I think we have similar tastes. I am unashamedly over here scrounging for content until release so your blog is already a spring in a desert.

Oh don't apologize, I'm thriving off your tags, LOL And I totally get what you mean, I have really specific tastes and it's been hard finding fics or heck, even other people on the same wavelength. There are two I really like from very early on in EA. They're not exactly like the kind of thing I would personally write, I just think they're incredibly unique and well constructed: Pearl Necklace by apple_thief (Wyll x Astarion. His personality is different from what most people are used to. It's more frantic and feral, which I like) The Pale Elf by Ruler_of_Nope_Island (Solo fic that reads almost like a grim fairytale. Mind the tags, it does get graphic)

I'd also recommend these Astarion x OC fics that kept me warm and fed all these years: Sic Semper Tyrannis by fennorians Road to Nowhere by @rheilea

the house of astarion by a now orphaned account :'( And then the one, singular, lone Astarion x Lae'zel fic I have found. It's in Chinese and Google Translate doesn't do it justice: 小狗不会说话 by ChauTreacle I haven't really frequented AO3 that much after my initial crazy phase (Fall 2021) because I felt like I'd exhausted all the fics that fit my aesthetic, so there's probably more out there I just haven't seen.

[friendly-local-trash]

Hey so now that I'm out of self-imposed wait-for-my-rival-to-show-up PURGATORY what's your thots on team skull: Kanto edition? I only have a Pidgey and a Charmander rn but I'm planning to head to lavender to see all the ghosties (as soon as I figure out the right route...)

@nich-n-pidge

(ps not sorry for tagging piers in that post 😘)

Figure it's only inevitable til we spread out into Kanto. I mean, what is Johto but Kanto (better) (rural) (full of bumpkins). We even share a League! Johto and Kanto are two kids in a trenchcoat sneaking into an R rated movie.

So yeah, I'm down with Kantonians starting their own branch or even just joining mine for strength in numbers or an easier time starting up or whatever. If you're a member of one branch, you're a member of them all, I say, with confidence, while Guzma still isn't around to contradict me!

Also was your rival seriously stuck in the forest for a month. Are they like. Okay? Did the Weedle get them, or were they just hunting for one of the like seven Pikachu that live there.

[sos-amchespin-sendhelp]

SFR BEEN THINKING TOO MUCH BOUT FOOD

ONLY REACHED FLOOR 12 OF ZERO ISLE CENTER YESTERDAY; SLOW GOING VIA STEALTH TACTICS

RAN OUT OF MOST PACK RATIONS; AUBURN STILL GOT THERMOS OF TRANS SOUP BUT ONLY HE DRINKS THAT SLUDGE SMH

STILL NEED MORE FOOD TO RESUPPLY CARAVAN

RST TOO SHODDY TO UPLOAD PHOTOS RN; BUT MORE COMING SOON I PROMISE

73; A̅S̅ A̅R̅

[randaccidents]

I FORGOT TO UPDATE THE DEATH COUNTER FOR THE RP YESTERDAY I WAS TOO SLEEPY

Deaths: Host: 24 Heart: 9 + 1 Mind: 2 Harmonia: 1

deadass Host dies within the same session so often

[bonkwrites]

Simon’s Fantasy

Simon “Ghost” Riley x Fem!Reader

Warnings: RP (simon’s in his OP Gear), fingering, oral (male receiving), rough, cloth gag, handcuffs, dirty talk, manhandling, minors DNI 

READ PART ONE: CIVILIAN LIFE 

READ PART THREE: GIRL’S NIGHT

Simon can’t believe he convinced you into this. He’s staring himself down in your bedroom mirror and he can’t believe what he’s looking at. His mask is on, there’s a dummy gun in his holster, he’s picked up the gear from a few different places (they don’t let you keep your gear, especially from his covert missions) and he looks pretty fucking identical to how he looks on missions. The gun might be fake but it is heavy, it’s metal, and it’s cocks back like a normal fucking gun does. Accuracy. His handcuffs dangle from his back pocket and tucked underneath them is a blindfold. 

Simon isn’t sure if he wants to blindfold you or gag you. He’ll cross that bridge when he gets to it. 

He comes out of your bedroom, the apartment is small, it takes him barely five seconds to cross from your bedroom door to the dining table where you’re sitting. 

“Hands on the table.” his voice is rough, demanding, deeper than normal to command respect. Your hands shoot up immediately and lay flat on the table, palms down. You’re shaking, from anticipation or from fear, Simon isn’t sure which one he likes more. 

He approaches the table, stands to the side of it, hand on the top of his holster. Your eyes flicker to it and you bite your lip. You look up at him, trying to give him your best innocent eyes, and Simon is rendered fucking useless for a second before he remembers what he’s doing. He comes around your back. His hands trail down your shoulders, your arms, before he’s pulling your hands around the back of the chair and cuffing them. 

“Here’s how this works, sweetheart,” his voice is in your ear as the cuffs click into place. Simon checks them by slipping a finger between the metal and your skin, not too tight. Good. “you tell me what you know, and I’ll let you go.” 

“You promise? You’ll let me go?” You ask, already squirming and rubbing your thighs together. Simon notes the skirt you’re wearing and he has to adjust his pants to feel more comfortable before he’s coming around to your side and turning your chair. 

“Depends on if you tell the truth.” he replies. 

“I’ll- I’ll tell you anything, sir, i’ll do anything just please let me go.” you beg, staring up at him with your hands behind your back, eyes wide. Simon puts his gloved hand in your hair and pulls back a fistful of it. You already know what he wants and so you lean forward a little, chest nearly spilling out of the tank top you’re in. 

You’re driving him fucking crazy. 

Your eyes flicker down to the bulge in his pants, you lick your lips, and then you look back up at him. Simon runs his thumb over your lip and you open your mouth willingly to pull his thumb in and suck on it. Around the glove, you don’t care, you fucking drag your mouth up and down it like it his cock, still squirming in your seat. Simon cock throbs at the image in front of him. He wants to get it tattooed onto the inside of his fucking eyelids. 

Why didn't he wear a bodycam for this? Because he's a fucking idiot, that's why. 

“Let me suck your cock, sir, please…. let me prove my innocence,” you plead, trying to move your mouth away from his hand and towards his bulge. Simon tugs on your hair, pulls your head back, and you whine with it. Your mouth is open, your eyes are half-lidded with lust. This is exactly what you wanted. 

And Simon thought he was the freak for suggesting it. 

He undoes his belt, hand pulled out of your hair, and you shuffle to the edge of the seat. Your eyes flicker between his cock and his own eyes behind the mask, you lick your lips again. You can't get enough of it, you've told him that before, of the way he pulls your fucking hair and moans when you give him head. You stick your tongue out. Simon's brain is lit on fire. 

"Fuuucking minx," Simon groans. 

Simon watches you take him into your mouth and suck, lips stretched around him. He has to put his head back, he can't watch you, he never can if he wants to last for more than a minute. You whimper, your shoulders twists as your wrists make the cuff jingle and Simon realizes he's supposed to be being rough right now, taking what's his. He pulls your hair back tighter, it forces your mouth open wider, and he fucking sinks every inch of him down your throat. 

You gag for a second, your eyes water, and he looks back down at you to see your wide eyes staring back up at him. 

"I'm gonna fuck your throat, fucking whore," he grits the words out between his teeth before his hips are moving. You moan around him, letting him fuck your throat slowly and going fucking boneless for it. 

He watches as tears slide down your cheeks as you take it with every thrust if his hips. Your eyes flutter closed as Simon's pace picks up. He has to be careful if he doesn't want to choke you, but the pleasure is mounting and he's losing control. 

"That's it," he groans, head tossed back, "oh fuck, that's it," 

He has to pull himself out of your mouth, fist his cock tightly to keep himself from cumming in your mouth and not your fucking perfect pussy. You fight against his hand in your hair to get your mouth back on him. Simon smacks your cheek, lightly, trying to get your attention and test the waters with a slap. You gulp, eyes flitting open. 

"N-no," you say, "no," you whine 

Simon takes your chin in his hand. He's gotta give himself a minute before he can fuck you. Has to. 

"Who's fucking in charge, love?" He asks, voice dangerous, deep, "Is it you?" 

"No," you whimper, squirming, "Y-you're in charge, Ghost, you are," 

"Damn fucking right I am," he growls, he has to pause for a second to remember what you’re doing here, “you ready to talk, sweetheart?” 

“I-I-” you stutter, Simon’s hand grips your hair, tilting your head up towards him, you whimper, “I didn’t do anything, please let me go-!” 

Simon hauls you up to your feet, he pushes you over the table, hand on the side of your head to keep it from hitting the table too hard. You have to press up on the balls of your feet to grind against him and Simon has to pin you to the table quickly to stop himself from cumming on the fucking spot. He lands a smack to your ass as a warning. You squirm, whining. 

"G-Ghost-" you try to look at him over your shoulder but he's got a hand between your shoulder blades. He pulls the blindfold from his pocket and then pulls you up off the table roughly to stand on your shaking legs. 

“I have ways of making you talk, love,” he whispers, voice dark, in your ear. Simon wants to rip his mask off and mark up your neck and shoulders. He withholds. 

“P-Please, please-” you babble, legs shaking and threatening to give out beneath you with every passing second. 

“Open your mouth.” You do as he says without hesitation. His cock throbs. Simon wraps the blindfold around your head, the thick of it between your open lips. You whimper, grind your hips back against him. He drags a hand down your side to take a fistful of the fabric of your skirt and hike it up. 

“If you’re not gonna talk, there’s no point in letting you, is there?” you make a small sound of distress as his hand finds your ass. He takes a handful, his own hips grinding against you now. 

No panties. Not even a tiny lace thong. Nothing. Simon groans at the sight, he trails two gloved fingers over your folds and you shiver with a moan. You stay still, only the uncontrollable shaking of your thighs and tiny twitches of your hips moving. He rolls your clit in slow circles while he finally fucking sinks his cock into you. 

You lift your hips, trying to pull him in. He lowers you back down over the table and you whimper, legs spread wider. Simon takes your hips in his hands, fingers leaving your clit, and he decides he's not holding back. He lines himself up, and you moan around the gag. He's going to fuck you exactly the way you always beg him to. Like you're his fucking toy, made to take his cock and do nothing else. He picks a brutal pace, fucks you into your dining room table in his fucking op gear and you cry out for him. 

He doesn't let you move, doesn't give you a chance to grind your hips back on him, to fuck yourself on his cock like he normally does no- you wanted to be treated like this. You want it rough? He'll give it to you fucking rough then. 

"That's it, fuck, good fucking girl," he growls, "this what you wanted, yeah?" 

"Yes!" You sob behind the gag, it garbles you words, “pleath, pleath don't thtop!”  

How could he ever fucking stop? 

Your thighs shake, your eyes roll back, and Simon can't hold back either. He fucks you right through your orgasm and then right through his, fucking his cum into you until it starts to hurt. He pulls out, a right fucking mess all over his pants, your thighs, and the fucking floor. You must think he's finished with you, by the way you relax and slump against the table. Not a fucking chance. He undoes the cuffs and the gag and throws them both to the floor. They clatter and you pant, gasping for enough air to slow down your racing heart.

He turns you over on the table and you look up at him, confused. You had expected him to lift you  Simon spreads your thighs open and sinks two of his fingers into you. You gasp, push at the table, trying to get away. 

"S-Simon!" the façade drops, you can’t keep it up when you’re in a panic. Simon's hands jut out, he pins you to the table with his hand around your throat. Your hands jump to his wrist, gripping it tightly. He’s not cutting off the airflow, he’s just pinning you. He watches your chest raise for a moment to make sure you can still breathe. 

"You're gonna cum again, around my fingers this time,” the tight hold on his wrist relaxes but Simon keeps you right where you are. It’s a good fucking view. “Got it?” 

“Y-Yes, sir,” you whimper. Simon feels his cock give an interested twitch at the sound of your voice breaking while you call him sir. He puts his thumb to your clit, rubs it quick but not hard, watching you kick your feet uncontrolled and listening to you babble your pleas of his name. 

Simon pulls his mask up to the bridge of his nose and kisses you. You gasp, surprised, and then you bring your hands up to cling at his fucking tactical vest with a vice grip. He can feel you spasm around his fingers as you cum again, pull them in and try to milk them like it’s his fucking cock inside you. Simon groans into your mouth. 

He’s fucking hard again. You’ve gotta be a fucking witch, you’ve put some fucking spell on him. There’s no other reason he’d be hard again this quickly. Simon ignores it, he hauls you up into his arms and carries you towards the bathroom. 

“Nooo…” you moan, arms weakly looped around his neck, “want to lay in bed, Simon, I can’t stand…” 

“Don’t need you to stand for long, love, just need to clean you up.” he replies. You grumble something he doesn’t quite catch and he gives you a menacing glare through the mask. You blush. 

“Alright, fine, I'll take a shower,” you grumble louder this time. Simon chuckles. 

Quick shower done, you wobble on unsteady legs back into the bedroom where Simon is taking off all of his gear. He throws the shirt, pants, and his boxers into the hamper and puts everything else in a box in the closet. Your hair isn’t wet, but it’s a lot less messy. You pull one of his shirts, a fucking dress on you, over your head and climb into bed, arms outstretched to him in invitation. 

“That was amazing,” you say as he pulls you to his chest, “I liked it when you.. Uhm..” 

“Now you’re shy,” Simon rolls his eyes. You shove his shoulder playfully as he chuckles. 

“I liked it when you choked me, at the end, and when you… when you grabbed my chin and asked me who’s in charge,” you look like you’re playing it back in your head, Simon is too, “yeah, that was hot.” 

Recapping (“We can’t call it debriefing, Simon.” “Why not?”) was part of the aftercare you’d both wanted. Simon knew it was going to be rough and he knew you were both going to need to debrief after the fact, as well as the normal post-sex cuddles, a good long nap, and take-away for dinner. You were going to need to relax, the both of you, and remind each other that despite his rough hands and your teary eyes, you still love each other. 

“Love you,” you tilt your head up, your lips brush against his. He pulls the blankets over your shoulders. 

“You too, love,” he whispers in reply, kissing you.

[stardust-poet]

Overworked.

°•~《☆》~•°

Pairing: Leo valdez x gn!reader

A/n: Sorry for not posting a fic in awhile, I got a huge wave of demotivation (I'm also running a jason grace rp blog ( @jason-the-kabob ) )

Warnings: nothing!

Enjoy!

°•~《☆》~•°

When you walked into bunker 9, all you saw was a mad house.

Empty soda cans littering the floor, screws, scrap metal, and tools. Anything you would find in a hephestus kids' hands was littered around Leo Valdez's workspace in Bunker 9.

"Leo?" You called out after not seeing him in his usual seat. The reason you came into bunker 9 was to find leo after he missed lunch for the 4th time this week.

"Over...over here!" You heard his familiar voice call out. He sounded tired, worn down, frantic even.

You frown as you walk over to the source of Leo's call, where you find him rummaging through scrap pieces of metal and other machinery while mumbling under his breath.

"Uh, Leo? ... I brought you food." You said, your concern increasing with every mumble that escaped his lips.

"Yeah, yeah... thank you, I'll eat it later." Leo mumbled like he was in a trance. You were 95% sure he was going to forget about it until he accidently knocks it over.

You set down the plate of food on a nearby work table and grabbed Leo's arm to steer his gaze towards you.

Leo turned to meet your eyes. You saw the bags under his own half-lidded eyes and the pure exhaustion in them.

You immediately knew he needed rest. No matter how much he'll say 'he's fine' and 'doesn't need it'. Leo Valdez will be taking a nap, even if you have to knock him out.

"Leo." You said, your tone serious and yet concerned. Leo hummed in response, his attention focused only on you. Or at least, his eyes were solely focused on you. His hands were fidgeting with a piece of scrap machinery and metal.

"You need rest. You haven't slept in awhile—and dont try lying and saying you fell asleep while you were working, that does not count, Leo Valdez." You told him, looking him dead in the eye to try and get you point across.

Leo huffed and started on a ramble. "But—but i have so much stuff to get done! The demigod-safe phones, i-i just need to tweak a few things and then i promise I'll—"

You grabbed his chin, your face inches from leos, putting him in enough temporary shock to get him to stop talking. You could feel his breath spreading over your face.

"Sleep." Was all you said.

Leo whined but gave in.

He sleepily stumbled over to his couch in the corner of bunker nine which was covered in both pillows and blankets, plopping down on his back with a loud 'mmph!'

Leo looked to you with pleading eyes, and you knew what was coming next. You wished you would've left as soon as he hit the couch.

Leo made these grabby-grabby hands towards you with a whine.

"Cuddleeeee." He whimpered.

"Leo, this is why there are rumors spreading around camp about us having an affair or something."

"I don't care. C'mere or I'm not sleeping."

"Your siblings will find us here. They'll–"

"C'mereeee."

Well, you weren't just gonna let him die of exhaustion.

With a dramatic groan, you walked over to Leo, who was laying comfortably with half-lidded eyes and waiting for you to join him.

You sighed deeply before plopping down onto Leo's chest and wrapping your arms around his torso.

Leo's embrace was rather... warm. It was comforting, like how a home should feel.

Leo wrapped his arms carefully around you, tracing circles around your back. You shivered at the soft, yet hot touch.

You're a little glad you didn't leave so soon.

This was nicer than you expected.

You carefully nuzzled up into Leo's neck, triggering a shiver out of him.

Gods, he was so warm. Why was he so comfy? It seems a little abnormal to feel this much like a home.

"Maybe," Leo spoke all of a sudden, though his voice was quiet and sleepy.

"Maybe this should happen more often." He whispered.

You took In his words, slowly memorizing the way he pronounced every word subconsciously.

"...maybe. though, you shouldn't be one step into the grave next time." You retorted back, a little... relived he was just as eager for other moments like this.

You had never been more peaceful.

Leo chuckled. "Alright, alright. I'll take better care of myself. For you, love." He whispered into your ear, his breath hot against you.

"You...you better." You mumbled, a little thrown of course by the petname. You snuggled into him further like it was the only thing keeping the both of you alive.

Leo only chuckled, but you knew the truth.

On the inside, he was estatic to have this with you again.

And maybe, just maybe, something more.

°•~《☆》~•°

Finally, I finished a little blurb :)

[lookinghalfacorpse]

Okay now you got me really interested SO here's the itwall prompt: cphil and cdream doing scar care

well if you insist..... (context)

/dsmp /rp

"On your stomach, lad."

Dream chuckled at the gentle command, his robe hitting the ground as he shrugged it off. Commands like these were casual and comfortable between the two of them; Dream knew that he could disobey if he wanted. He usually settled on a bit of playful back-talk. "You could take me to dinner first?"

"I cooked your dinner myself three hours ago."

"Okay, fair."

Slowly, Dream lowered himself to the mattress, gathering a pillow in his arms and placing it beneath his chest for a bit of extra padding. The candlelight danced across the dramatic valleys of his skeleton and the rips and tears of his skin, casting uneven shadows across his pale back. The sun dropped below the treeline a while ago, and the arctic enjoyed a peaceful and windless evening. Philza proposed that they try a bit of anti-scarring treatment before bed, and Dream agreed to give it a try.

Philza removed a bit of dressing-- a piece of gauze taped over a fresher wound on Dream's side-- and Dream could feel Phil's weight shift on the mattress as he leaned back and observed.

Feeling eyes on him, Dream peaked over his shoulder. "Yeah?"

"You'd think I'd be used to seeing your scars by now." The lid of a container popped open. "But it still hits me sometimes."

"Do they gross you out?"

"Nah. They're just scars. I have them, too." From his limited vantage, Dream saw Phil's blonde hair spill over his shoulder, pooling at his collarbone. His hair was loose. He was dressed for bed. "I'm just... always surprised by how deeply humans can hate."

Dream didn't hate his scars. Well, he hated some of them. The worst of them were on his back. A bracket smile, drawn with unsteady lines. The word "bitch," written in a broken, brutalist font.

"I'm going to massage some silicone gel on the scars," Phil said, "in little circular motions. It might take a while, mate."

"Mm-hmm."

Dream flinched when Phil's fingers, cool from the silicone, touched between his shoulder blades. The temperature simply surprised him. Phil whispered a quiet "You alright?" before proceeding, and upon getting permission in the form of a nod, moved his fingers firmly across the expanse of a scar. It might've been the bracket smile. Dream didn't quite remember its placement.

"The pressure will help the edges flatten," Phil explained in a low voice, "and the jelly moisturizes it to help the discoloring."

The skin was sensitive. As Phil pressed his fingers in, the nerves responded by breaking into chills. Dream's next exhale was shaky.

"Tell me if I'm hurting you."

"No-- No, you're not. I-- fuck, it's just sensitive."

Philza recognized the effects of pleasure when he saw them. "Mm."

It took twenty minutes to finish the massage. Twenty long, vulnerable minutes of squirming and sighing, fighting back the urge to groan. Something about it was so primally satisfying. His skin has been begging for gentle treatment for months. Begging for Philza's fingers along his ribcage, his stomach, his chest, his hands. Even the deep scar along the edge of his jawline got Philza's attention. The slime of the silicone was cold in the winter air, but not uncomfortable.

The candlelight illuminated Phil's golden eyelashes. "Still alright?" he asked, his fingertips on a long scar across Dream's lower abdominal muscles.

Dream nodded, a small smile on his lips.

[beatingheart-bride]

Eventually, the lateness of the hour caught up to June and Wilhelm, and with nothing out of the ordinary to be seen outside of the window, the two decided to turn in. In an act that was becoming increasingly common as of late, Emily would spend the night in the Pace family's guest room, but for now, she opted to stay up a little bit longer with Randall by her side. It was still early for her to turn in, after all, and with so many thoughts running through her mind, trying to fall asleep would be moot.

"I'm sorry about tonight," she sighed, leaning against Randall and resting her head atop his shoulder. "I don't know what got into me. I don't know what got me so paranoid after we left the shop...I'm sure that there was nothing to worry about. I'm sorry that I caused you and your parents so much stress. Maybe...maybe things have just been going so well that a part of me can't help but worry that something's bound to go wrong."

She'd gone and made her loved ones fret and all over nothing, something she'd never wished to do. She only hoped that Randall and his parents would all be able to sleep well, despite the idea of an unknown person in the shadows watching them had been planted in their heads....

@beatingheart-bride

"They're really not so bad," Randall admitted with a half-smile; despite his best efforts to squirrel his way out of it in his youth, he eventually buckled down and accepted that he had to do it, and for what it was worth, he wasn't so bad at it. He wasn't the fastest runner, nor did he excel in sit-ups and push-ups, but he was an excellent climber, and that had to count for something, didn't it?

As they continued to talk about it (with June and Wilhelm bringing up their own athletic experiences), Randall's mind wandered back to his previous train of thought-that of an uncertain future, and how much he hungered for a little one of their own. How exciting it would be, to teach her how to walk, how to talk, how to play, how to be everything she wanted to be and more...

Her. She. Would we have a girl?

He distantly recalled having that particular conversation with Emily, many moons ago. They hadn't talked about it much (having not had the chance to), but he admitted, when thinking about raising a family with her, he imagined them having a cherubic little girl, the very image of her mother...funnily enough, even after all these centuries, he still imagined the same.

He wondered if Emily still imagined what she told him-instead of a girl, having a little boy, the spitting image of his father...

[silantryoo]

BONUS [ RP STONT ] —  epilogue, after three months (pt. 2)

WARNINGS ; n/a

y/n loved being around minji.

the two had been dating for a decent amount of time (though both hyein and eunchae were insistent that those months they spent 'fake dating' should've counted). things were different, but the same. minji's schedule became packed with comebacks and brand deals, and with the preparation of le sserafim's upcoming world tour, y/n barely had time to even see the younger girl. but even though they rarely saw one another, they would always find a way to talk, even if that meant spending some of their entire off days with each other.

(y/n had her own drawer in the newjeans' dorm, and minji vice-versa.)

it was difficult, but they knew at the end of the day, they would be there for each other.

y/n opened the door, her girlfriend on her phone as hanni shouted from the living room, telling the girl to put her shoes away properly.

"minji." the older girl rushed to close the door, throwing her jacket on the floor as she jumped on top of her girlfriend.

minji grunted at the impact, her arms wrapping around the older girl. y/n sighed happily, feeling the warmth of minji against her tired body as the latter kissed the crown of her head.

"did you hear?" y/n hummed, looking up at minji smiling down at her.

"yeah, i did." minji stroked y/n's hair out of her face. "at least we don't have to worry about sneaking around anymore."

"but it was so fun!"

minji shook her head, thinking about the many close calls where dispatch nearly caught the two on a real date. "it was stressful."

y/n squinted her eyes, smiling teasingly. "that's not very fearless of you."

minji rolled her eyes. "you're so annoying."

"and you still love me," y/n kissed minji lightly, earning a hum from the other girl. "so who's the loser here?"

i am, minji thought to herself, i'm a coward.

she swallowed back her nerves. although it was no doubt that the younger girl did, in fact, love y/n deeply, there was something so scary about admitting it to her. it was nothing like telling the other girl how she felt back then. love was vulnerable, and raw, almost as if minji was letting y/n see into her soul.

if minji could just muster the courage to tell the older girl, she would.

"i love you too." y/n whispered.

minji's mind went blank.

"what?"

minji looked at her, y/n's eyes sparkling just like their anniversary back then. she wished that she could stop time to look at her girlfriend like this a little longer.

"you don't have to say it back, by the way." y/n sighed, resting her head against minji's shoulder, listening to her heartbeat. "i know how hard it is to come to terms with it. it took me weeks to admit it to myself, and even then, i needed yunjin-unnie and ka-chan's help."

y/n felt the weight of the world lift off her shoulders. it felt great to finally tell minji, and even better that minji knew how she really felt now.

"at first, i wanted to wait for the perfect time to tell you, but every time with you is perfect." minji nodded, ignoring the cheesy smile that y/n sent her (something that both her and kazuha had complained about to each other regarding their girlfriends). the taller girl's grip got tighter, trying to pull y/n closer to her. "but yeah, no pressure, okay?"

minji leaned down, placing her lips on y/n.

"so i can say it whenever i want?" she muttered, her eyes lidded.

"whenever you feel ready."

"well..." minji felt her heart swelling. "what if i'm ready now?"

y/n hummed, a smile on her face as she kissed her girlfriend once more. "then you should say it so your girlfriend can hear."

"you're so pretty." minji muttered to herself.

"i love you, kim y/n."

"i love you too, kim minji."

THE END.

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taglist (CLOSED)!!

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[moonlightisdancing]

Dancing With the Devil/ s.f.k

Pairing: Sam Kiszka x Female Reader

Word Count: 2243

Warnings: NSFW MINORS DNI 18+, drinking, touching, teasing, masturbation (f), priest rp, defo some sort of religious trauma, rough oral (m receiving), begging, slapping, unprotected sex (wrap before you tap!), overstimulation, praise, daddy kink

A/N: this fic was a collab with @belovedsamuel she gave me the sauce and i wrote it out <3

~~~~~~~~~~~🩵~~~~~~~~~~~

As you walk into the bar, you’re met with your boyfriend's brothers already several drinks in. You were supposed to be there an hour ago, but Sam looked criminally good in his priest costume. As his little devil, you just had to take care of some business before leaving.

“Hey! Look who finally showed up!” Josh pops up out of his seat to give you a hug. “Ahhh! It buuuuurns!”

“Shouldn’t I be saying that?” You gesture to his pope costume.

“Touché.”

You walk over to Danny and Jake at the bar. Danny’s dressed in an all too short pharaoh costume with now smudged eyeliner. Jake is dressed as Westley from The Princess Bride, his partner seated next to him dressed as Buttercup.

“Ordered you guys drinks.” Jake points over to two glasses on the counter.

You thank him and take a seat, Sam sits between the two of you. His cologne catches in the air as he settles in, filling your nose with the familiar scent you’ve grown to love so much. Josh finds his way back over and starts telling one of his stories, everyone paying half attention. They’ve all evidently had a few drinks before you and Sam arrived, but you feel yourself not too far behind. The liquor surely was working its way into your system as you continued sipping down mixed drink after mixed drink. Past a slight buzz, you only find yourself paying attention to Sam. Watching how his fingers wrap around the glass as he nurses his drink, lips perfectly parting to take in the liquid. The familiar fuzzy feeling finds its home inside of you, getting lost in his mannerisms. Josh goes on with more stories, Jake joining in now that his liquor had hit him enough to crack his introverted shell. The noise in the background is exactly that, Sam being the only thing to fully consume your thoughts. You reach your hand over to Sam and place it on his knee. He turns enough to acknowledge you without drawing attention from the others.

“Hey, sweetheart. Doin’ okay?” He asks, placing his hand on yours and caressing your knuckles with his thumb.

“Yes, I’m okay.” You nod.

“Okay. I love you.” He whispers, leaning over to place a kiss on your cheek.

“I love you, too.”

His attention is quickly brought back to his brothers who are growing quite rammy. You slowly slide your hand up from his knee to his thigh, fingertips tracing circles closer and closer to his length. Sam clears his throat as your hand gets dangerously close to making contact, causing him to turn and shoot you a threatening glare. You can feel the slick building up between your thighs.

“I’ll be back, gotta use the bathroom.” You announce to the group, sliding your hand down his thigh as you get up.

You watch Sam’s eyes trail up and down your frame as you walk away. You walk towards a flight of stairs descending to a hidden bathroom in the basement. It’s typically for employees, but your group frequents the bar so much they’d let you use it whenever. You stumble into the dark bathroom, fumbling for the light switch on the wall. You lock the door behind you, making your way toward the toilet. You rest your phone on the toilet paper holder and pull up the tight red dress as you situate yourself on the toilet in attempts to clean up. Sam has you a mess and he hasn’t even touched you yet. Giving into your temptations you decide to have some time to yourself.

“They won’t notice anyways…” You mumble to yourself.

You rest your back against the cold porcelain lid, spreading your legs a bit wider for easier access. You run two fingers through your folds, tipping your head back in ecstasy as you work light circles over your sensitive bud. Your mind flashes through images of Sam from earlier today, eliciting soft moans of his name that echoed against the stone walls. God how you wished he was here right now, making you feel how he did before coming out for drinks. As if the universe heard your silent prayers, you hear a knock on the door. The knock quickly turns into rustling of the handle, making your heart race.

“Y/N, open this door.” Sam’s voice angrily whispers from the other side.

“H-hold on.” You stand up and fix your panties before flushing the toilet and quickly running your hands under the water.

You wobble to the door and unlock it, creeping it open enough to see Sam’s face on the other side.

“What? I just had to use the bathroom.” You defend yourself before he opens his mouth.

“It’s been 15 minutes, and I have ears.” He chides.

“You were listening?!”

“Yeah, because I kept knocking and you weren’t answering.”

Fuck, how out of it was I?

“Sorry, I was-”

He steps into the bathroom and shuts the door, locking it behind himself.

“Moaning my name in here all by yourself? After pulling that shit out there?” Sam’s hands quickly find their way to your hips, coercing you against the wall.

He presses searing kisses to the exposed skin on your chest, working up your neck until his mouth lingers near your ear.

“Sounds to me like a little someone needs to repent.”

“Do something, Father Sam.”

“Daddy, to you.” Dominance drips from him as the words leave his lips.

He nudges his knee between your legs, pressing it against your core. You try to lower your weight on his knee, but his hands on your hips prevent you from going anywhere.

“Daddy, please?” You beg.

“Only thing you should be begging for is forgiveness.” He moves his leg as fast as he placed it there. “Knees. Now.” He demands, backing away and pointing to the ground before him.

Without hesitation, you find yourself dropping to your knees.

“Always looked so good on your knees for me.” He teases as he firmly grips under your chin with his hand. “Show me how much you want to be forgiven, sinful little thing.”

You reach your hands up, pressing them against his hardened length before teasingly unzipping his pants. You place a kiss against him through his boxers, earning a breathy moan from the contact. The fingers of his free hand find themselves tangled in the hair at the back of your head, gripping up a handful as he pulls your face up to look at him.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking sexy.” His eyes slowly move around your soft features, taking in every detail as he looks down on you.

You reach back up for his cock, releasing him from the restraints of his boxers. Sam, hands still holding your head, guides your mouth to his dick, your hands holding balance on his hips. He presses his tip to your lips, staining the tip in cherry red lipstick.

“Would look better smeared all over that pretty face of yours.” He moves his hand from under your chin to grab his cock, using his tip to smudge your lipstick across your face.

“That’s better. Now go ahead, repent.” Sam places his hand back under your chin.

“I tried pleasing myself without you, and then lied about it. I was wrong.” You look up at him submissively. “I’m sorry, I won’t do it again. Forgive me, daddy?”

“Good girl. How could I not forgive such a sweet thing like you?” He asks, placing his cock back to your lips.

An unspoken consent is exchanged as you open your mouth, displaying your tongue for Sam’s use. He works his lipstick covered cock into your mouth, hands tightening their grip on your head. His strokes start off slow until he’s fucking himself into your mouth at a steady pace.

“Is this okay?” He breaks character for a second, only continuing after you hum and nod yes.

Sam pushes himself down your throat until tears begin to threaten your lash line, guiding your mouth up and down his shaft. He continues until a mascara stained tear rolls down your cheek, pulling himself out of your mouth.

“Really want forgiveness, don’t you, little thing?” He gently slaps your face and returns his hand to your neck, pulling you up to your feet.

With his grip still around your throat, he pushes you against the wall, pressing his weight against your body. The cold wall causes you to groan from the harsh feeling on your warm skin. You lift a leg up and wrap it around his waist, watching his cheeks grow pink.

“I need you.” You whisper, leaning in to place a kiss to his lips.

“Need me for what?” He urges.

Oh, he’s really getting into this.

“Need you to fuck me until I behave. Until I’m a good little thing just for you, daddy.”

Sam pins the leg around his waist to the wall, allowing your red dress to roll up your thighs. His other hand snakes down to grip his length, brushing the head of his cock through your slick. He drags the tip of his dick up to tease your swollen clit, rubbing painfully slow circles until your knees are about to give out.

“Please? Please just fuck me?” You beg, trying to move your hips to place him at your entrance.

“Slow down, satan. Wanna fuck you so good you forget how to sin.” Sam peppers kisses along your jaw, working his way down your neck.

Once his lips find their home against your collarbone, he gently bites into your soft skin as he pushes himself into you.

“Fuck, you’re so tight.” He whines, allowing his head to fall weightlessly into your shoulder.

You maneuver your hands so one is resting on his exposed cheek, the other tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck.

Sam slowly starts working himself in and out of your aching core. He brings his free hand between the two of you, settling the pad of his thumb on your clit, rubbing tight circles.

“Think you can take more?” He asks in your ear.

“Mhm. More.”

He halts his movements, rubbing a finger against the space he’s already occupying. Sam slowly pushes his finger inside of you, watching your eyes for any discomfort before moving his hips back and forth a few times.

“One more?” You beg with your fucked out voice barely able to speak.

“Okay. Tell me if it hurts.”

He dips another finger into your core, eliciting a guttural moan and furrowed brown from you.

“Too much?” He asks.

“No, feels so good.”

Sam’s thumb begins working circles over your clit again, curling his fingers up into you as much as the tight space allows. Your head falls against Sam’s as you grow dizzy from over stimulation.

“I love you.” You tiredly moan.

“I love you more, little thing.” His breathing is hitched as you begin to tighten around him. “Can you be a good girl and cum for daddy?”

Almost in command, you fall apart beneath him, explicit noises escaping your lips, his name rolling off of your tongue in a mantra.

“Good girl, such a perfect girl. Fuck, I’m gonna cum.” His hips stutter, movement faltering as he fills you with his warm release.

Combined moans echo off the bathroom walls surrounding you guys. Sam removes himself from you, cupping his hand to your core to stop his seed from spilling onto the floor. He reaches over for some paper towel to help clean up the mess he contributed to. He removes his cum covered hand from your center and replaces it with paper towel. You grab his unholy hand and bring it to your lips, cleaning his release off of it with your tongue. You lick his hand until there’s nothing of him left covering it.

“I love you so fucking much.” He says, planting a kiss to your forehead.

“I love you, too.” You giggle as you wobble to the toilet, legs practically jello below your weight.

As you relieve yourself, Sam takes the time to wet some paper towel to help fix your smudged makeup. He comes over and begins to wipe off your lipstick before dabbing the paper towel along your cheek to fix the running mascara.

“Fuck, I cannot go back out there like this. That was… unholy.”

“S’okay. Let me talk.” He reassures discarding the paper towel into the trash can beside the toilet.

Once you’re as fixed up as you can get, Sam grabs you into his hold. The two of you make way upstairs, the entire party suggestively looking at you. Your hair was still messed up from Sam’s hands being gripped in the roots.

“Y/N got sick. I went to check on her and she wasn’t doing too hot.” He pouts, your orgasm weakened body helps with the sickly look.

“I’m sorry guys, I shouldn’t have drank on an empty stomach…” You play along, you’d rather have them think you’re a lightweight over the truth.

“Awh, okay. Well it was nice seeing you Y/N, I hope you feel better!” Danny offers condolences paired with an awkward side hug, he was trying not to hurt your sickened body.

“Bye guys, we’ll see ya.” Sam says, reaching for his wallet.

He discards a hundred on the table before taking you under his arm again.

“Let’s get you home, baby. I think you’ve repent enough today.”

[y-so-hungry]

Hungry Beginnings

Summary: Y is watching a cooking show when his belly starts to rumble. This seems to excite him, and D begins to notice...

Notes: Hey everyone! This is a RP I did with someone, who wishes to remain anonymous, but was happy to share with you all our story! Hope you enjoy!

Tags: hunger kink, hand jobs, kink discovery, stomach growling, belly rubs, M/M

Read on AO3

Y sat on the couch next to D as he watched the show playing on their TV. It was some cooking show D had been into lately, and at first he hadn't been particularly interested, but as the hours passed he found himself more and more enticed by the dishes they were making. He absentmindedly picked at the chipped black nail polish on his right thumb as he stared at a chef piling a plate high with pasta. 

D, arm wrapped around Y's shoulder, felt a smile spread across his face as he watched his boyfriend become enticed with the show in front of them. He couldn't deny that the food looked delicious, and it had been a few hours since breakfast. Anyone would be taken in by such lovely looking pasta in a situation like that. "Careful you don't ruin your nails," D said, pointing a finger at Y's hand.

"Hm?" Y said absentmindedly. Eventually he glanced at his fingers and nodded before quickly turning back to the show. "Right." A peek of tongue slipped over his lips at the sight of the food and he tasted the metal of his lip ring.

The taste of it somehow made it worse, like there was something waiting for his tongue to taste, and his stomach suddenly rumbled quietly, sending color into his face immediately.

Curiously, D raised their brow. That sound definitely didn't come from the show; it sounded too close. Even if it did, why would it make Y blush like that? Unless...

"Did...you just fart?" D asked, arguably with less shame than he should have had.

Y laughed and shook his head, his face still a bit bright. "No it was my fuckin--" and just then his stomach growled again, rumbling loud enough to be properly heard this time. And felt actually; Y felt the sound curling through his abdomen, making his eyes go a little half-lidded, until it stopped and suddenly he felt bewildered, not entirely sure why he reacted in such a way. "...stomach," he finished.

D's eyes widened, and immediately slid down to Y's stomach. For someone who was never that large, Y was no stranger to a loud stomach; D could testify that from the past few dates they've been on. Though despite how hungry he was on those dates, he had never had such a...strong reaction before.

"Whoa..." sounded D, raising a finger to scratch the area around his nose ring. "You feeling okay, dude?"

"Oh yeah I'm fine just... Hungry," he says. Oddly just saying he's hungry seems to have an effect on him too, the color spreading to his ears. His face doesn't really look sheepish anymore, it's... Something else. His stomach gurgles again as more food is displayed on the screen, and he swallows.

D follow's Y's gaze and notices all the food on the screen. Dishes from steak to broth, even pies here and there; all of it looks delectable. Then a thought hits him, and it's enough to make him breathe a small laugh out of his nose. He turns to Y again. "Are you shy about being hungry? Dude, I've heard your stomach growl before, I swear it's not weird."

"No I'm not shy I just--" His stomach suddenly moans again and his head falls back slightly, eyes slipping shut. Fuck, why does this feel good? The way it's shifting his middle, the sound--it's nicer than Y ever realized. "J-Just didn't notice," he mutters, slightly breathlessly.        

The motion, the way Y's eyes delicately close, his breathy voice...it's enough to give D a sinking feeling in his own stomach, the kind that doesn't hurt but rather fills you with excitement. Even he feels a warmth spread across his cheeks. "Wow, um...I-I didn't realize that this show would get you so good," he chuckles awkwardly. He almost let slip an offer to give Y a hand job, but decided against it.

"Not sure it's the show, love," Y says with a small laugh. "My stomach... Feels really good for some reason. Being hungry. Not sure what the hell's goin' on to be honest." He does know for some reason that every time his stomach rumbles he seems to be getting harder. It won't be long before it's noticeable.

"Oh damn, it's your stomach that's turning you on?" D asks, cheeks still glowing but now filled with curiosity. This is so much more interesting than what's happening on TV. He even finds himself shifting over so he can get a closer look at Y's belly, gently placing a hand on top of it. "That's so weird...I mean, I've heard of dudes using vibrators to get off but using your own gut? That's kinda useful, huh?"

Y leans into D's touch, his stomach rumbling loudly under D's hand. There's a fluttering deep in his chest and suddenly he's significantly harder than he was before.

That's when he notices it. The just-about noticeable tent pitching in Y's pants. D can't deny the sudden acceleration of his heartbeat as he watches it grow and feels the rumbling in Y's stomach start to settle, nor can he deny the sudden switch up in his brain going from youthfully curious to...something a little more flirtatious.

"Maybe a little more than just useful..." he sing-songs, allowing his fingers to rub slow circles around Y's stomach. "How do you feel, babe?"

"I uh..." Y seems to have trouble answering as D begins to rub his stomach, the hunger increasing as he does so. "Good. Good I think just--just keep doing that. Fuck I'm starving..."

Something about the way he says that last part sends a chill up D's spine, and he starts rubbing faster than he intended. He bites his lower lip. "Damn, dude, I've seen you act adorable in bed before but this is something else...you look so dreamy..."

The sound from the TV draws his eyes again, and he notices that there's been a new round of food brought out. All of it looks just as good as the last, steam leaving the plates and fat glistening on every surface...if D watches any longer, even his stomach will start growling.

Y catches sight of that food and immediately his stomach starts grumbling against D's hand, incessantly. Moaning and begging for what's right in front of his eyes, desperate for anything to fill it. D can feel it shift and clench under his fingers, starved under his hand and Y squirms a bit, leaning more into his boyfriend's touch. "God, D, I'm so hungry..."

The littlest bit of sympathy fills D's chest, and he resumes the rubbing but is sure to be gentle this time. The sight of Y's red face makes his legs clench.

"I know babe, I know-" he softly kisses Y's cheek. "Your poor tummy's so loud...what does it feel like? When it growls?"

"It feels fuckin... Great, for some reason. That's weird as hell. Tight and pinched, and then it growls and suddenly feels better and worse at the same time. More empty, but that feels good too..."

"Huh..." D lets his eyes float to Y's stomach again, watching as it rises and falls with Y's breathing. "So it's like when you're usually hungry but amped up to eleven...damn, that honestly sounds pretty good."

Curiously, D looks down at his own stomach. It hasn't made any noise since he and Y started watching the show. A part of him wonders what it would feel like to be as hungry as Y is right now...

"Heh, guess it makes sense, haven't eaten all day really," Y mumbles. "Seeing at that food... I'm starved. And fucking horny, god." His stomach moans with hunger again, and he moans with it, arching his back into D's palm.         

D's breath catches in his throat. Even with Y's stomach growling as loud as it is, it doesn't compare to his desperate moaning. He's heard it so many times before, and yet now is when D feels his pants grow the tightest. "Fuck dude, you're killing me...do you want me to touch you, or something? You look so pent up..."

"Fuck at this point if you don't touch me I might die or something--"

D chuckles at that, and takes a deep breath as he lets his hand slide down Y's stomach and closer to his crotch. "Tell me if this gets weird, okay? I've never...masturbated someone over their own stomach before, so I don't know the whole schtick."

"This is completely new to me too, so I guess we're learning together," he says laughing a little breathlessly. When D touches him he immediately feels the pleasure increase tenfold, and he moans, his stomach growling even more. It's practically rippling D's hand, shaking it as he touches Y.

D's breath starts to quicken, his own hips jutting at the sight. He's never seen a stomach ripple before; he only thought that was a thing in cartoons. Seeing it happen in real life, accompanied by the sounds, and Y's face melting in pure ecstasy and pleasure, it makes him feel hot inside, like his chest could burst at any minute. "Fuck, babe, you sound so hungry. Anymore and I think you're gonna-"

He's cut off by the sudden jolt of Y's hips, and the near-whine that escapes his lips as the red in his cheeks flushes a brand new shade of red. D's hand feels warm. The entire room feels warm.

Y shudders as he finishes, slumping against the couch a bit as his stomach give a few smaller whines.

"Whoa..." D utters, practically dumbfounded. He removes his hand from Y's pants and immediately reaches for a tissue to wipe it with. "That was sooner than I expected. N-not that you're fast, or anything! I mean that...I didn't realize it felt that good for you..."

"Heh, sorry. I didn't know either. I can help you here in a second too, don't think I didn't notice that," Y says, glancing at D's crotch. "Just give me a second to get my fuckin... Brain in order again." 

D bobs his shoulders in a small laugh, tossing the tissue in the trashcan. "Hey man, if you wanna rest I can take care of it myself. Unless..."

His eyes wander to the TV again, spotting a new round of food brought to the tables and still looking as good as ever. He feels his mouth turn upwards in a smirk as his own stomach lets out a quiet rumble.

"...you wanna experiment a little?"

THE END