#THIS IS SO LONG. AND ITS NOT EVEN EVERYTHING.

[comicaurora]

If you were a sci-fi writer, how would you solve the Fermi paradox? That being the discrepancy between evidence for alien life, versus the likelihood of their existence? (basically. If alien so likely, why we not see?) The Dead Space series has an amazing cosmic horror solution, but i'm curious what you're brain could come up with!

There's a lot of possibilities, some more interesting than others.

The speed of light and the distance between inhabited stars makes it prohibitively slow to detect, make contact with, or reach any star with alien life. It doesn't matter if we're not alone, our corner of Space Reachable Within A Human Lifetime is so comparatively small that we may as well be. We're all blindly wandering through an infinite desert, calling into the void. Space exploration is a long game, and on that timescale, even whole civilizations blink out very quickly. If we manage to catch a signal and follow it, we might find nothing on the other end but ruins - or an asteroid field where a planet's orbit used to be.

The universe is too young for us to find anyone else out there. We're the first. How will we shape the galaxy to make life better for those who come after us?

The life that formed on Earth is terrifyingly invasive. The atmosphere and ocean is choked with monocellular life, and its surface is coated with a mass of multicellular organisms finding new ways to devour one another. Even extinction events don't keep down the biomass for long. If life on other planets looks anything like us, the problem isn't going to be detecting it. It'll have gotten everywhere. The problem is going to be not immediately getting colonized and eaten alive by it. And if life on other planets DOESN'T look like us, our whole planet is probably a class 1 biohazard and contamination risk. Multicellular earth organisms contain microcosmic ecosystems that proliferate explosively when they die. If anything inside them can find ANYTHING to eat, it's over.

Life evolves frequently, but always in oceans. It is extremely rare for any alien life to leave that ocean and adapt to life on land. Without this step, the jump to space exploration - even space contemplation - becomes infinitely more unlikely.

Monocellular life is seeded on planets from an outside source and allowed to self-cultivate and grow until the biomass reaches a certain volume. Then the farmers return to harvest it.

There is not a single other species on our entire planet that humans can actually reliably communicate with. It takes tremendous amounts of training to make an animal capable of recognizing even a handful of words, and very few of them can use them. Humans can't even communicate with other humans with 100% clarity, even if they're using the same language. When we find alien life, if we even recognize it as anything resembling life as we know it, we have absolutely no way of communicating.

Space colonialism has been disallowed by the space geneva conventions due to massive past tragedies, parasitic exploitation of worlds and senseless loss of life. Human expeditionary efforts are being watched warily through targeting sights.

We've known about radio communication for less than 200 years. We haven't yet figured out the medium through which all advanced civilizations communicate.

Alien life exists in abundance, but the vast majority of it is extremely tiny. We wouldn't spot an anthill on a satellite photo, and none of their ships are large enough to survive passage through our atmosphere.

Earth's oxygen atmosphere is an anomaly, and our first and most enduring extinction event. The explosive proloferation of cyanobacteria and their oxygen photosynthesis irreparably altered the planet's prebiotic atmosphere and wiped out everything that couldn't handle the sudden massive increase in a highly reactive and flammable gas. Earth is considered highly toxic and unstable, though recently detected increases in methane and CO2 might signal that nature is finally beginning to heal.

[sceletaflores]

I COULD PLAY THE DOCTOR (I CAN CURE YOUR DISEASE)

pair: logan howlett x fem!reader

wc: 4.1k

contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, swearing, established relationship, logan's pov, written with origins!logan in mind, nat veering dangerously closer to a/b/o territory with every passing day, rut cycles, oral sex (fem!receiving), fingering (fem!receiving), multiple orgasms, gratuitous amounts of dirty talk, p in v, rough sex, biting, hair pulling, size kink, belly bulging, pussy pronouns, one (1) single use of the word daddy, scent kink, pain kink, breeding kink ofc, knotting (don’t look at me…), squirting, porn w/ plot, no use of y/n.

nat’s note: don’t look at me…i don’t know how many times i swore up and down i’d never write something like this but i’m a confirmed liar apparently so…here. i mean i just figured i'm in a rut artistically so therefore the only answer is writing logan in a rut physically...i can do what i want and i don't need to explain myself or my horny thoughts. also, i debated posting this in the wake of everything that's gone down over the past two days that is still escalating and will continue to escalate in the coming weeks, but i think everyone could use a little escape from how scary things may seem right now. take a break from all the terrifying news sites and read about logan wanting to breed you :) kisses!

divider by angel @saradika-graphics!

it's been another six months, and logan needs your help...

The burn starts on the walk home from work, a pulse of heat deep in Logan's gut that grows with every step.

It spreads slowly, sinking into his muscles and seeping up his spine as he rounds the last corner, your place less than a block away now.

It caught him off guard this time, an itch burying itself under his skin earlier in the day only to get worse and worse as he worked.

He usually knew the signs well enough to feel them start creeping in, and he was dead sure it wasn't for another few weeks.

Apparently, he was wrong.

Logan’s jaw clenches as he picks up his pace, every nerve ending in his body straining to break into a full blown sprint at the thought of you, all alone and waiting for him.

His fingers curl into tight fists, nails pressing into his palms to ground himself, though it’s hardly enough. The faint scent of you drifts up from his shirt, not even a long day at the lumberyard enough to drown it out.

By the time he reaches your door, his heartbeat is a heavy thud in his ears, syncing with the building ache of desire wracking through his body like the earth rattling boom of a raging thunder storm.

He fumbles through getting his key into the lock, hands unsteady as he tugs the door open with a little more force than necessary and finally steps inside.

The second he closes the door behind him, the heat surges, thrumming through his veins and flooding his chest. Your scent fills the air completely, stronger now, wrapping around him so thick and sweet.

"Darlin'?" His voice comes out rougher than he intends, but he's beyond caring.

Your voice floats from the other room, casual, warm enough to send a jolt through him. Logan drops his axe from his shoulder, leaning it against the door as he starts down the familiar path to your bedroom.

You're spread out on his side of the bed—oblivious, curled up with a book, wrapped in one of the flannels he must have left the last time he stayed over.

Just the sight of you does something to him, like a match dragged against a strike pad, damned on setting everything ablaze.

You glance up, and the soft smile on your lips falters as you catch sight of him.

Logan knows what he must look like, his eyes all dark and predatory, chest heaving as he rakes his hungry gaze over you like a wolf watches a lamb grazing too close to its den.

He doesn’t say anything at first, just stalks toward you with a purpose that’s as undeniable as the heat pouring off him in waves.

The book slips from your fingers, forgotten, as you lean back, the small sound of your breath hitching under the weight of his gaze is music to his ears.

Logan pauses at the edge of the bed, towering over you, letting himself drink in the way you look. So soft and serene, like some kind of invitation that begs him closer. His flannel draped loosely over your shoulders–shrouding you in his scent. 

The urge to pounce on you fights against his normal instinct to savor every second, to draw it out until the heat pooling in his gut becomes downright unbearable.

“Been thinkin’ about you all damn day,” he mutters, voice thick and dark as molasses, rough from restraint he’s quickly losing. His knuckles brush against your thigh, then tighten, holding you in place as he leans down, his breath hot against your neck. “Thinkin’ about what I was gonna when I finally got my hands on you.”

Your skin blooms with warmth beneath his touch, and he grins against your neck, the edge of his teeth grazing you just enough to make you squirm. He growls low in his throat, that itch he’s been fighting nearly all day clawing its way up to the surface with a vengeance.

The primal urge inside of him screaming to claim claim claim take take take mate mate mate breed breed breed.

You tilt your head to the side with a soft sigh, freeing up more space for him to nose along your skin. “Is it time?”

Logan's breath catches as your question hangs in the air, thick with anticipation. The soft simplicity of it ignites the wildfire burning in his gut, every ounce of restraint slipping away like sand through his fingers.

“Yeah, baby,” he growls, slipping his fingers under the worn cotton of your shorts, feeling the bare skin beneath. “It’s time.”

You shift, hands going to the buttons of his flannel like you’re going to take it off. Logan stops you, taking your wrists in his free hand.

“Don’t,” he breathes, shaking his head hard enough that his hair flows with it. “Leave it on.”

The thought of you covered in his scent, of his scent mixing with yours to claim you on a level only he can discern sends his mind buzzing.

You look up at him with those wide, trusting eyes, and something in him cracks wide open. The tenderness of your gaze pulls at him, like a tether pulling him back from the edge, but that heat still smolders in his blood, fierce and unyielding.

Logan runs his thumb along the racing pulse of your wrist before he drops them. His hands venture lower, fingers pressing against the inside of your thigh, tracing a deliberate path that makes your body tremble under his touch.

You let out a shuddering breath, the scent of your arousal swirling through the air is enough to make him crave more.

In one rough tug, Logan yanks you towards the edge of the bed as he falls to his knees. Your hips held tight in his hands as he lurches forward, burying his nose in the soft junction where your leg and inner thigh meet.

He inhales deep, greedy lungfuls of your scent. A guttural growl rumbles through his chest, his eyes screwing shut at the sheer amount of too much that courses through him. He feels dizzy with it, high on the pheromones pumping from you in waves.

You’re soaked already, the wet fabric of your shorts melded to the shape of your cunt. He can’t help but run his nose along the slick seam of you, reveling in the way your legs twitch on either side of his head, in the short gasp you let out.

“Logan.” Your voice is nothing but a mewl, pleading and desperate.

“Missed you,” he rasps, his voice rough, almost unrecognizable. The edge of need in him makes his hands shake, sliding up your thighs, urging them even further apart as he settles between them.

Logan’s fingers dig into your skin, he lets his thumbs brush up, hooking them into the waistband of your shorts to tug them down your legs in one sharp yank. He groans at the sight of you completely bare, no underwear.

“Fuck, look at you,” he grates, his thumb coming down to slip through your dripping cunt. Your hole flutters desperately around him, needy little clenches like it’s trying to suck him in. “She’s all ready for me, huh? Been waiting for me to come home and give her some attention?”

“Please,” you whimper, your voice thick with longing, the sound going straight to his head, clouding his thoughts. 

Logan’s pulse races as he watches your body arch instinctively toward his touch, the desperate need in your eyes igniting the raw urges coursing through him.

He can’t deny you; he never could. You’re a feast laid out before him, and he’s starving.

Logan leans closer, letting his tongue flick out to taste you like he’s wanted to since he left for work this morning. 

“Fuck,” he breathes, closing his eyes and losing himself in the moment. He licks a broad stripe from your entrance to your clit, savoring the way your body responds, the way your legs tremble and your hips twitch against his mouth, seeking more. “Tastes like fuckin’ heaven, sweetheart.”

The taste of you is intoxicating—sweet and tangy, flooding his senses with every drag and swirl of his tongue.

Logan can’t help but moan against you, the sound vibrating through your body as he dives deeper, his nose nudging against your slick entrance as he shakes his head back and forth like an animal—rubbing the plush skin of your inner thighs red and raw with each rough drag of his coarse beard.

Every flick of his tongue sends a shockwave through you, and he revels in the sounds you make—each whimper, each moan, a siren’s call urging him deeper. He laves his tongue around your clit, sucking it gently, pulling at it with his lips as you writhe beneath him, begging for more. 

He keeps your thighs spread wide, two strong hands pinning them to the mattress so he can devour you just the way you deserve, the sharp dig of your heels into his shoulders only spurs him on.

Your hands bury themselves in his hair, tugging him closer, and he groans into you, letting his tongue delve deeper, seeking out every bit of sweetness he can coax from you. 

It’s pure sin, each sound you make, each shiver that runs through you as he takes his time, drinking you down like a man starved. 

The ache in him intensifies, his own need growing, pulsing. He’s hard, has been hard since he walked through the front door.

His cock strains against the zipper of his jeans, need pulsing in time with each pump of his blood through his shaft, circling around the base, threatening to expand even without the tight grip of your pussy surrounding him. His hips jerk up on their own volition, desperate for any friction.

“Just like that, Logan,” you gasp, voice breathy and trembling with pleasure. 

The way you say his name—raw, desperate—makes his blood run hotter. He grips your thighs tighter, anchoring you to the bed as he drinks you in, wanting to lose himself in you completely.

Logan pulls away just long enough to catch his breath, looking up at you with lust-drunk eyes, drinking in the sight of your sweaty cheeks, your heavy-lidded gaze, the way your chest rises and falls with each shuddering breath.

The pulse of his cock intensifies, urging him to speed things along. The base desire of his own instincts is getting harder and harder to ignore under your adoring stare.

He feeds his fingers into your clenching hole with no warning, a satisfied smirk tugging his lips up at your sharp gasp. He runs his tongue along his bottom lip, the entire lower half of his face still shining with your essence.

Your cunt swallows him, two thick fingers sinking into the velvety heat like it’s nothing.

Logan groans as he feels you clench around him, your walls fluttering and drawing him in deeper. “That’s it, baby,” he mutters, his voice hoarse with need. “So fuckin’ ready for me, so ready for daddy’s fingers in your pussy.”

Your mouth drops open in another devastatingly desperate noise, your hands twist his hair roughly, soft breasts rising and falling each time you gasp for air. The dim light of the sunset filters in through the blinds, highlighting the curves of your body, slick and shining with a thin sheen of sweat.

Every clench of your walls around his fingers shoots a thrill straight to his cock, making him ache with the urge to bury himself inside you. The overwhelming need to take you completely, to mark you and fill you, pulses through his veins until he feels like he might explode.

But he’s not done tasting you yet. Not until you’re practically dripping onto the sheets.

He lowers his mouth back to your core, sucking your clit into his mouth as his fingers pump faster. The sudden intensity makes your thighs shake around his head, and he grins against you. He wants to see you fall apart—wants to feel it.

“Logan—please, I…” You can barely get the words out, voice breaking as your whole body strains against him, desperate and needy.

The wet slap of his palm against your spit soaked cunt is loud in the quiet of your bedroom, blending with the loud keens that fall from your parted lips. He crooks his fingers, rubbing at that soft, spongy spot inside of you.

“Come on,” he mutters, slick lips brushing against your clit as he speaks. “Give it to me, baby. Show me you're ready for my cock."

He drags the sharp edge of his canine against your pulsing clit with barely any pressure, and you're coming.

Your whole body tenses, back bowing off the mattress as you let out a broken cry of his name. The bite of your nails digging into his scalp feels harsh enough to draw blood, a feeble attempt at grounding yourself against the onslaught of pleasure. 

Your trembling thighs tighten around his shoulders, gripping him like a vice as your shaking cunt gushes around his fingers. Logan groans at the feeling, eyes slipping shut as you drench his wrist and chin in your juices.

Even then, he doesn’t let up, fingers pumping relentlessly as he draws out every pulse, every aftershock of your climax, every tiny spray of your release splashing against his wrist. 

He’s lost in the feel of you—slick and trembling under his hands, the scent of your release filling his lungs, thick and intoxicating.

You slump back against the bed, body limp and spent. His own need is a driving, aching force now, clawing at his insides, demanding more.

He slips his fingers free from your dripping heat, dragging them through the wetness coating his chin as he licks them clean with a growl, savoring every taste.

“Good girl,” he purrs, voice thick with pride and satisfaction as he pulls back, leaving your thighs twitching in the wake of his touch. But he still isn’t finished. Not even close.

You barely have time to catch your breath before Logan crawls up the bed, his eyes locked on you, pupils blown with need. He looms over you, hands planting on either side of your head. His cock grinds against you through the rough denim, and you can feel just how thick and hard he is, throbbing through the fabric, demanding to be freed.

With a low groan, he shifts his hips, dragging his bulge along your soaked cunt, sending another jolt of pleasure racing through you. His hands are all over you, gripping your waist, hot and possessive.

“Feel that?” he asks, pressing his lips the wild flutter of your pulse, the need to sink his teeth in the soft skin of your neck raises the hair on the back of his neck. “That’s what you do to me baby. Got me hard as a fuckin’ rock, just aching to be inside you.”

Your arms circle his shoulders, clawing at the fabric off his shirt. “Need you inside me, Logan. Please, want it so bad.”

The pure need lacing your words, your scent calling out to him, the way he can feel the front of his jeans getting soaked through with the slick pouring from your cunt all pull him deeper into the recesses of his hind-brain. 

The mounting desperation to stuff you full of his cock finally reaches a fever pitch.

With a deep growl, Logan rears back as far as he can bear, just enough to tear his shirt over his head before he fumbles with the heavy buckle of his belt to free his aching cock.

He shoves his jeans down, boxers quickly following until there’s nothing separating him from the cool air of your bedroom. His cock springs free, hot and flushed an angry red color, drooling from the tip enough that it drips down to stain the pretty floral sheets of your bed.

Your eyes zero in on him, mouth dropping open at the sight. His cock so heavy it doesn’t curve upward to slap against his stomach, instead it hangs down to sway between his thighs as he moves closer. 

Your legs spread as he nears, slick covered thighs parting to make room for him to slot between them. So obedient, so good, so well trained.

Logan takes himself in his hand, nearly wincing at the blazing temperature of his skin. He secures his hand around the base, squeezing where his knot threatens to pop before he’s even got in you.

He slips the angry head through the folds of your cunt, slapping it against your clit with a wet ‘thwack’ sound. He can feel the way it twitches and shakes, just as desperate as him.

“Look at that,” he mutters darkly, eyes glued to where he’s laid his cock flat against your stomach, leaking pre-come all over your soft skin. “How’s it gonna fit, baby?” He shifts his hips, sawing his length back and forth to see just how deep in you he’ll be.

Your glassy eyes drop, a broken moan passing through your slack lips when you take in the sight. Your hips rise off the bed, grinding your cunt along the seam of his heavy balls, along the prominent vein trailing up the underside.

“Don’t worry, baby,” Logan grits out, eyes hooded and dark as he watches you grind against him. “You’re gonna take it all. Gonna make you feel every last fuckin’ bit of me.”

He groans, gritting his teeth as he presses in further, each inch a battle against the tight, molten heat that grips him like a vice. Your body shudders as he fills you, your slick warmth pulling him deeper and deeper, and he sinks down until he’s fully seated, his hips flush with yours. 

The pressure is mind-numbing, your walls clenching around him in rhythmic pulses that make his vision blur. He stills for just a second, savoring the way your body stretches around him, hugging him in a way that feels like it was made for him alone.

Logan watches your face as you adjust to the stretch, your brows pinched together, each breath coming fast and shallow, your eyes glazed with pleasure.

Then, your hands come to his shoulders, nails digging little crescent moons into his skin as you nod your head, ready.

It’s all the confirmation he needs. His hips pull back before he slams in again, the force of it jolting your whole body. He presses his forehead to your shoulder, teeth bared as he muffles a snarl against your skin.

Logan thrusts again, and again, and again, hips setting a merciless pace as he watches the way your breasts bounce with each thrust, each little shudder.

His mouth waters with the need to taste, to sink his teeth into your supple skin hard enough to pierce clean through, hard enough to scar.

Sweat drips down the length of his spine, across his brow. It mats down the hair scattered over his chest, his dog tags slick with it when they bounce off his skin with each thrust. The grip of his hands tightens on your hips, it’s taking everything in him to hold back and yet he knows you’ll still bruise tomorrow. 

Pretty hues of dark purples and yellows in the shape of his fingers, ones he’ll catch you admiring in the bathroom mirror, pressing your own fingertips into them to feel the dull ache—to remember this moment.

“Made for this, aren’t you?” he rasps, his voice dark and possessive. “Made to take me, to be mine.”

The words barely leave his mouth before he’s bending down to capture your lips in a searing kiss, swallowing your cries as he drives into you, pushing you both closer to that sweet edge.

“Fuck, Logan,” you gasp, breaking the kiss as your body trembles under him. “Can–ah!–can feel you in my stomach…”

Your hand drops from his shoulder, slipping between your bodies to rest over the sweaty expanse of your belly. Logan’s eyes follow your path, a feral growl bursting from his chest before he can stop it.

He’s transfixed by it, sure that if he pressed his hand to the soft skin of your lower stomach right over your own, that he’d feel it. Feel the way his cock punches up against your insides, so deep it's like he’s rearranging your guts to make room.

“Fuck.” His voice is nothing but a gravelly rumble, hoarse and dark as midnight. His hips speed up impossibly faster, chasing the feeling of your clenching walls choking the length of his cock so tight he thinks it might snap off at the base.

The flimsy headboard of your bed slams against the wall, creaky mattress springs screaming under his ministrations.

You feel like salvation, like the first rays of light after too many years spent in the dark.

He feels it with each kiss of his cock against your cervix, in the way your lips fit in the junction of his neck, in the red welts your nails leave on the skin of his back. He feels alive, truly alive, for the first time in decades.

“Say my name,” he grates, his hand cupping the back of your neck, coaxing you to look up at him, lips close enough to taste the heat radiating from his skin. “Tell me who you belong to.”

"Logan," you gasp, your voice breathy, edged with desperation as he pushes you closer to the brink. "Yours. Only yours."

A broken, shaky noise falls from his lips as he buries his face in your neck. He mouths at your skin desperately, presses his nose to where your scent is the strongest. 

Flashes of his release spraying your insides play behind his closed eyes, thoughts of drenching you so thoroughly that it has to take only forcing his hips to slam against the rippling muscle of your ass like you have your own magnetic pull. He feels it building, the slow swell of his knot presses against your folds, ready to burst.

“Come on, honey,” he begs, thumb coming down to rub slow circles over your slick clit. “Come with me, soak my cock. Show me how much you love it, how much you love me.”

Pathetic little uh uh uh’s fall from you with every thrust, broken up only by the breathy whines of his name as he pounds into you hard enough to push your body higher up the mattress. Finally, with a loud roar, he stuffs his growing knot inside of your cunt. 

Logan’s teeth sink into your neck before he can even think twice about it, the thick spray of his come filling you as his hands pull your hips down even further over his cock. He needs to be as deep in you as possible, to press forward until he can’t anymore, until his aching balls are flush with your gushing cunt.

He watches with rapt attention as you come with a loud wail, just from the feeling of his knot slotting into place. The clamp of your thighs over his hips is nearly as tight as the way your cunt seizes around him like it’s scared he’ll leave.

He groans at the over stimulation of your cunt milking his cock. Your slick leaks around the base of him, your shaking hole plugged so full it can only slip along the creamy ring to splash weakly against his thighs and hips.

Logan licks along the spot where his teeth pierced your skin, planting one last kiss before he’s taking you in his arms and rolling onto his back atop the mattress. The plush comforter sticks to his skin, your own sweaty body slipping against his as he tries his best to not jostle you too much while keeping you stuffed full of his cock.

He holds you to his chest until your breathing evens out, until your body stops trembling on top of his, until you’re nosing along the column of his neck.

“Logan?” Your voice is tiny, hoarse and scratchy. He feels your hand drawing absent minded shapes along the skin of his stomach. A circle, a star, a figure eight, a heart.

“Yeah baby?” he says, pressing his lips to the crown of your head, eyes slipping shut at the content feeling that spreads through him.

“Love you,” you murmur, voice soft but sure, the words slipping out without hesitation.

It’s the first time you’ve said it today, and hearing those three words from you sends warmth flooding through him.

Logan shifts slightly, pulling you even closer, his hand moving to the back of your head, cradling you with a kind of tenderness he used to think he’d never be capable of. “I love you too, darlin’. More than you know.”

Your body relaxes against him, the lingering effects of your shared intimacy still buzzing through your limbs, but now there’s a sense of peace, of safety, and a deeper connection.

He can feel the way your fingers curl lightly against his skin, the quiet smile that must be tugging at your lips as you press a kiss to the side of his neck.

And in that moment, with everything settled around him, Logan knows that this, right here, is everything.

tags are now in the comments! if you want to get tagged for any of my works just fill out this form!

[red-velvet-0w0]

okay listen heres the thing

i was panicking too when i first woke up and heard the news and honestly i still am

but the facts are this

unfortunantly, Donald trump won the election, However:

Donald Trump is getting old as shit and while hes been doing a lot to hide it its going to start weighing him down

Donald Trump is the entire bedrock of the right at the moment, and once he is unable to continue being in office (whether he is impeached, he dies, or simply becomes too old to manage everything) the right will lose a lot of the support it has

A trans woman is in congress

two black women are in congress

several states voted to protect abortion rights

And most importantly:

Even if he does set back LGBTQAI+ rights and minority rights of all kinds, we have been here before. no matter how vocal or active bigots are, I genuinely believe that overall people really have never been as supportive of minorities as they are now. we have made so much proggress in terms of acceptance and representation in just the last few decades, and even if he manages to take all of that away from us, we will come back. No matter how hard he tries, he can only hold back the proggress we have made in terms of acceptance we have made so far and only for so long. No matter how hard he tries, it will get better. We need to have faith that no matter what he does it will get better

[sleepincrow]

18+ smut ehe. everything's consensual. not proofread.

im sure its well known that choso kamo looks intimidating, menacing — terrifying even.

nobody looks at him wrong, scared that one breath his way will send them to an early grave. its just instict to the public to not to mess with him.

and yet, you couldnt disagree more.

you never truly understood why everyone was so afraid of him. were people really judging how he looks at first glance? the nerve!

no, you knew him as the sweetest man in the world. you thought he was so cute, waiting for you outside your office with a bouquet of your favorite flowers and takeout for your dinner like the bundle of joy he was.

he hid himself underneath that scarf you got him. whether you made it yourself or bought it for him, he almost never took it off, especially when the colder seasons drew nearer.

and when youre with him, all those nasty icky people never comes close. its perfect, really. you sometimes use it to your advantage whenever you dont want to be bothered by anyone.

your friends even jokingly congratulated you for the free scary dog privilege. awesome!

everyone thinks you two are so unbelievably cute, such polar opposites! your tall, dark and intimidating boyfriend smiles when you hold his big, pale, scarred hand in your smaller, more fragile-looking one.

obviously, he's gotta be so gentle and sweet to you in bed, accommodate his length into your unbelievably tight cunt. its practically an unspoken rule of morality, right?

they could have never been more wrong.

nobody knows the way you ruthlessly roll and bounce your hips against him, engulfing his thick cock into the warmth of you clenching walls while you swallow all his whines and cries with a shove of your tongue while you plummet him into the grasps of utter overstimulation.

hes trying so hard to get out of his cuffs, tugging and squirming, wanting to just touch you because — well, how could he not?

all choso wants to do is please you. he'll gladly get down on his knees and eat you out until the morning rises or you pass out, so why dont you let him? he's your good boy isn't he?

youre such a tease about it too.

tie him up, press a bullet vibrator against his cock on any setting. his swollen tip leaking everywhere, leaving his balls and thighs all drenched from how long youve edged him with a pretty pink bow tied on his hard dick with nothing to do but buck his hips and pretend that he's getting the friction that he so desperately needs. he cant.

he's crying, pleading for you to just let him cum. big fat tears roll down his cheeks as he rambles about how good he was to you. you have this man absolutely whipped, quite literally wrapped around your finger.

but it's all so worth it for both of you, cause when he finally cums under your command, he just feels so good. his toes curl and his back arches so prettily, but his face contorting into one of pure unadulterated pleasure has got to be one of the best sights to ever grace your eyes while your ears are blessed with the most heavenly sounds of choked moans and sobs mixed with thank yous said in a chant.

so you find it quite amusing that everyone is so heavily convinced that choso could bend you in half whenever he wants, knowing there's a whole folder of pictures and videos you took of him in every position you bent him into in your phone.

he has that killer glare that does not hold up the very moment you two are alone — but fret not, he will absolutely kill for you.

in the end, that's just his unwavering love for you. you make him feel entirely human — that it's completely okay to be vulnerable and seen as a faithful and loving companion. you adore each other, and that's all he needs.

[lovemomhatepolice]

Hey babessss could you do a drew starkey x reader’s first time together… smut? Love yo<3

31’ - drew starkey

navigation taglist requests

pairing: drew starkey x fem!reader

warnings: first time sex, sexual overtones, age difference (Drew is 31, reader is 21), established relationship, oral sex, unprotected sex (PROTECTED YOURSELF), drunk!drew, drunk!reader, blowjob, a tiny bit of fingering, English is my second language!

belonging: NO NUT NOVEMBER!

type: totally smut with plot, a little bit of fluff (because drew is a cutie pattotie)

word count: 5k

summary: happy birthday beautiful man. there can't be a better gift, right?

more content: drew starkey masterlist, obx masterlist

You nervously adjusted the shoulder strap of your black dress, once again that evening. At the tenth you stopped counting. You were terribly annoyed by its material, its length, well today just everything stressed you out. You didn't know why yourself, and you were angry with yourself, because you were supposed to act as unsuspecting as you could - and it didn't work out.

"Drew, are you ready?" you finally asked, exiting the bathroom after spending a long time in it.

Today was his 31st birthday, which was no small feat. After 30, life starts to get more serious, even for someone like Drew.

Drew heard you open the door and from his seat in the living room he could see you coming out of the bathroom. He swallowed hard as he looked at you - you were as incredibly beautiful as you are every day. But there was something about you today - the way you walked, the way you smiled at him, the way you wore that dress - he couldn't take his eyes off you. In fact, for a few seconds he stopped functioning at all.

“Yes, I'm ready,” he finally said, getting up from the couch.

"Great," You smiled at him and picked up your purse, which was lying on a cabinet in his hallway.

You didn't live together, it was still too serious a step in a relationship you had only been in for less than two months. Despite the fact that you had known each other practically all your lives, by the fact that both of you lived near each other and you were friends with his sister Brooke, your relationship progressed very slowly and you were both probably happy about it. Finally, in such a fast-paced world, you could at least relax for a while and enjoy each other longer.

He walked over to you and grabbed your hand, interlocking his fingers with yours. You were so perfectly fitting in his hand - and he would never get enough of that sensation. A part of him also just liked the way it looked; how he would tower over you and your small hand would disappear in his bigger one.

“Ready to go?” he then asked again, bringing your hand to his lips to kiss it.

"I should be the one to ask you that," you laughed lightly, blushing from the tenderness. Drew was always like that. He always took care of everyone, tried to make no one feel bad. And for that you loved him.

"My birthday boy."

Drew pulled you closer to him and threw his free arm around your shoulders. He began to lead you toward the front door. “Are you sure you're not the birthday girl?”

He let go of your hand so he could open the door, and then opened it for you, holding the other at your back. He teased you. “You're just as excited as I am, or even more so.”

"Oh, because in the end I'm the one who can take you out to dinner and pay for everything," you said, sticking your tongue out in his direction as he closed his apartment.

Drew was already like that - he never let you pay for any of your dates or food. And even when you had to split it in half (which he didn't agree to very readily), he continued to try to wring it out somehow.

He laughed lightly as you headed to the elevator together. He pressed the button and turned to face you, his back leaning against the elevator wall. He lightly combed his hair with his hand, on which his inseparable ring.

“We've been over this before,” he said, still looking at you with a goofy grin. “I won't let you pay anything on my birthday. And in fact, I'd best not let you pay for anything. And ever,” he snarked.

"And that you can not allow, and I'll do it anyway," you laughed and took the lip gloss out of your purse. You turned toward the elevator mirror and started applying it back.

He smiled, looking at you. The man pulled away from the elevator wall and walked closer to you. He then grabbed your hips from behind and pulled you close, gently trailing his thumbs along your sides. Because of the large height difference, he bent down slightly, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“Stop being so stubborn,” he teased in a light tone, placing a light kiss on your head.

"You're the one who should stop being so stubborn," you muttered, putting the lipstick back in your purse.

You turned toward him and put your hands on his white shirt, gently correcting it. "It's your birthday and I want you to just let yourself be pampered."

He chuckled, his arms then moving around your waist while he looked at you.

“You’re the one that deserves to be pampered,” he said honestly and leaned his forehead against yours for a moment, placing a light kiss on it.

"You too. Big grown man" you laughed playing with the button of his shirt.

Drew looked unearthly today. Every day he looked like he was created by angels, but today? Today he outdid himself. White shirt, black pants and matching jacket. Plus his hair, which was now a little longer... he looked like a god. „You’re thirty one today, that's no even a joke anymore.”

He also giggled when he listened to you. He loved the feeling of your hands playing with the button of his shirt. It was such a random and small thing, but it was still soothing. He enjoyed those little moments between you. When it was just you and the whole world was suddenly silent.

“Don't remind me,” he said with a small giggle, and a smile appeared on his lips as he watched you. “I feel old.”

"But you have ten years younger girl, it makes you younger," you laughed and grabbed his hands, which he had on your waist.

He giggled, well aware of this. Well, your age difference was something too big and unusual for many. But he didn't care, it was nobody's business. It was only yours, and you felt the best you could.

“Somehow it worked out that way, huh?” he asked with a smile and moved one of his hands to grab your chin, letting his thumb gently brush your lower lip.

"Oh don't touch or you'll smear my lip gloss" I laughed, feeling his thumb on my lip.

He chuckled again and shook his head, but his eyes were locked on your lips. The way they just begged him to lean in and kiss them.

“It’s not like I haven’t smeared it before,” he said in a teasing tone while he continued to caress your bottom lip with his thumb.

"That's why I had to correct it,"you laughed, looking into his beautiful blue irises, which were now, as always, laughing.

"Don't exaggerate," he laughed and leaned slightly over you, smacking your lips.

You smiled into his mouth, returning the kiss lightly. Now his lips were also shining from your pink gloss, but before you could tell him, the elevator doors opened on the right floor.

You took his hand and intertwined your fingers together, walking out of the elevator in front of him. You headed toward the exit of the building, getting more and more excited about the party you had organized. Drew trusted you and let you lead the way, but as soon as you spotted your present driver parked in front of Drev's apartment building, you stopped for a moment.

"Wait, i have to blindfold you" you said and took out a blindfold from your purse so he couldn't see anything.

In the end, Drew thought the two of you were going to dinner. But in fact you were taking him to his favorite club in Charleston, where all his family and friends were waiting for him.

"And how am I supposed to go the car without seeing anything?” he asked with a smirk.

„I’ll help you dumbass”

He laughed as he listened to you and allowed you to put the blindfold on him.

“I hope you don’t leave me stranded somewhere,” he said with teasing tone, poking your ribs.

You bent under his finger as he stabbed you in the ribs and laughed. “Oh this is just my dream. To leave you here alone blindfolded.” you muttered and took out some more headphones from the purse. “You can't hear either, forgive me darling,” you added and put the headphones over his ears, kissing him lightly on the lips.

“I've lost all my senses because of you,” he muttered, letting himself be led toward the car. “I knew it a long time ago, but to do it in a literal way. Wow. I didn't expect that.” You snorted with laughter and slowly opened the car door for him, being careful not to hit him, because compared to a low car, Drew was a giant and could quickly get a bump.

You got in after him and greeted your driver, who already knew the address well, so he only smiled in your direction. After a while, you set off for your chosen location, which was not that far away, but you had to drive a bit. And you knew very well that if you both had a drink with Drew, you would neither return as a driver nor on your feet.

Drew instinctively caught your hand and intertwined your fingers, playing with your nails, which you had freshly done. You smiled under your breath and laid your head on his shoulder.

~~~ You have already entered the club without much obstruction, however, further without taking off either the armband or the headphones. You led him out into the middle, letting his friends and family surround him, until you finally gave them a sign that they could shout surprise, when at the same time you took off his headband and headphones at the same time. “Surprise!” you exclaimed along with the others, looking from the sidelines at his reaction.

Drew stood for a moment, as if enchanted. Then he began to look around him, and when he saw all his loved ones, it made his heart warm. Each of them on this one day decided to come and make the man's birthday even better.

You smiled sincerely in his direction, continuing to be surprised that it all worked out the way you wanted. Everyone was there - the entire OBX cast, Odesa, his hometown friends and immediate family. “Surprise?” you asked, laughing lightly at your boyfriend.

Drew tried to say something, but continued to be too surprised. “I-wow…” he laughed under his breath, walking a little closer to you. “Really, thank you.”

His smile continued to grow as he took in the sight of so many familiar faces around him.

“The best things for the best boyfriend,” you muttered, throwing your arms around his neck and pulling him slightly closer to you, smacking your lips. You must have distracted him a bit before his mother managed to blow out the candles on the cake she had prepared.

He laughed again as he wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you close. He placed a gentle kiss on your cheek, then turned to look at his mother, who was now standing in front of him with a birthday cake.

“How the hell did you manage to keep this a secret from me?” - he said, and everyone laughed.

“I guess we never know,” you said and wanted to move away from him so he could stand by the cake himself, but he cut you off.

But before you had a chance to take more than a step away from him he grabbed your wrist, preventing you from moving away.

“I want you here,” he muttered in a low tone only you could hear.

His mother set the cake down in front of him, and everyone started singing “Happy Birthday.” Drew’s eyes sparkled with happiness, and you couldn’t help but admire how his face lit up in the glow of the candles.

When the song ended, he took a deep breath and blew out the candles, laughter and cheers erupting from the crowd. You clapped along, feeling proud of your surprise.

“Alright, let’s cut this cake!” Drew said, reaching for the knife. He looked around at everyone, then back at you, his smile softer now. “I can’t believe you all did this for me. This means so much.”

You squeezed his hand, feeling a swell of emotion. “You deserve it, Drew. You’re amazing.”

As the cake was served, you took a moment to glance around the room. Friends were laughing, drinks were flowing, and the energy was electric. This was what you had hoped for—a celebration of Drew, surrounded by the people who loved him most.

Once everyone had their slices, Drew turned to you, a slice of cake in hand. “Here, let me feed you.”

You giggled, opening your mouth playfully as he brought the fork to your lips. The sweet flavor burst in your mouth.

The two of you sat somewhere in a corner, eating a cake together. Around you sat some of his friends and family, the rest were either getting ready to wish him well and give him a gift, another part was already standing at the bar, starting the celebration.

“Give me your jacket, I'll go put them away in the locker room, and you take care of the guests here.” you said to him, finishing your piece of cake.

"Don't be long," he muttered and gave you a small kiss on the forehead.

“I promise,” you muttered and went to the locker room, putting your jackets away together. In the meantime, his sister Mackalaya accosted you, giving you a tight squeeze. You had known her all my life, too, so it was great to see her again.

"How are you? How are you guys doing?"

Meanwhile, Drew continued to chat and talk to his friends sitting around him, but his eyes were continuously drawn to the direction where you had left moments ago.

“It really couldn't be better,” you smiled sincerely at her. “Drew is so wonderful, we are so damn happy.”

She chuckled happily at your answer, nodding her head with a smile.

"It's lovely to hear, you are just perfect for each other," Mackalaya said and glanced in her brother's direction for a second, seeing how he kept looking toward the locker room, waiting for you to return.

“We may come to you soon, after Drew finishes recording,” I said, squeezing her hand. “I can't wait to see Liliana.”

You saw Drew stand from the table and head to the bar with the others. You laughed under your breath as your gazes met together again and Mackalaya no longer held you.

“Looks like the party is really getting started now! Should we join them?”

She then looked back at you and nodded her head with a smirk.

“I think it’s our cue to join them,” she said, then grabbed your arm and led the way toward the bar counter.

As you approached, you could hear snippets of Drew’s conversation, his laughter ringing out like music. He caught your eye again, and that familiar warmth spread through you. He gestured for you to come closer, his smile broadening.

He moved forward slightly, stretching his arm and grabbing you by the hip, pulling you against him until you were standing between his legs.

“What did you order?” you asked, glancing at the bartender, who was preparing various drinks and grabbed the menu in your hand and looked for something for yourself.

Drew leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear. “I ordered a round of mojitos. They’re the best here,” he said, a playful glint in his eye. You could feel the excitement buzzing around you, the energy of the party enveloping both of you.

“Then I'll take the same too,” you muttered and handed it to the bartender, who added another mojito to his queue.

Drew rested his chin on your shoulder and let out a low chuckle as you felt him inhale the scent of your hair.

“How do you feel?” you asked, looking over his shoulder.

"Happy," he managed to utter before he nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, his nose brushing against your skin. "I just want to enjoy the moment. Care to join me?”

The way he looked at you made your heart race, and you couldn’t help but smile. “I’m in. Let’s make it a night to remember.”

The whole evening passed in a wonderful atmosphere. Everyone danced, drank drinks, talked to a lot of people and you all just enjoyed being with Drew on his birthday. The man also seemed to be in awe. He had a smile on his lips the whole time and didn't leave your side for a moment. Whether you were dancing or he was getting a gift from his friends, you always had to be next to him. And you didn't mind at all.

As the night progressed, the air filled with excitement. You found yourself lost in the rhythm of the party, the way he pulled you closer during a slow song, his hands resting on your waist, made your heart flutter.

“Best birthday ever,” he said, his eyes sparkling when he looked at you. Drew started getting slightly more and more clingy with you.

“Can’t help it,” he murmured, a playful smile on his lips as he leaned in.

He pressed soft, lingering kisses along your neck, sending delightful shivers down your spine. Each gentle touch felt electrifying, and you couldn’t suppress the smile spreading across your face.

Drew tightened his grip, making it clear he wasn’t going to let you go anytime soon. As the music pulsed around you and laughter filled the air, you knew this was a night you both would remember—one full of warmth, connection, and perhaps a bit of sweet spontaneity.

You turned toward him and didn't have to wait long for the boy to attach his lips to yours. He didn't give a damn that all his immediate family and friends were around. He knew very well that he was in a trusted circle and no one would judge him or put anything on the Internet. He felt safe here, and with you in his arms, it was even better.

Drew pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours. “I’ve been wanting to do that all night,” he admitted, a playful grin on his lips. There was a light in his eyes that made your heart skip a beat.

Your kiss became more and more intense, but no one paid much attention to you. And even if they did - they didn't expect how great the feeling was growing in both of you. Suddenly you felt his hands on your buttocks as they gently clamped down on them, and you laughed, moving your lips slightly away from his to look into his eyes. This time there was something more intense in his gaze than usual. You knew that you both felt the same way.

His breath was slightly labored from the kiss, and his grip on your buttocks became firmer as he pulled you even closer so that you were practically flush against his body.

There was a hint of hunger in his gaze, a need for more than just a kiss.

“I want to go home,” he murmured into your mouth, smacking it again. “They won't even notice.”

“Are you sure?” you asked, a smile tugging at your lips. “What about all the fun?”

Drew grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “I just want us to end this evening.”

The way he looked at you, filled with that intensity you both had shared all night, made your heart race. “Alright, let’s do it,” you said, a thrill of anticipation bubbling inside you.

You did not wait any longer, you both knew very well how the evening would end. You left the club unnoticed, leaving all your gifts behind. The club was closed tomorrow anyway, so you could easily return for them. You waited a while for your boyfriend, who struggled for a while to find your coats, but fortunately it didn't take long. Drew grabbed your hand and you went outside, immediately seeing your driver.

“I can’t wait to get you home,” he whispered, making your pulse quicken. You exchanged a look filled with promise, knowing that this night was just beginning.

~~~ When you arrived at his apartment, you couldn't keep your hands off each other. Drew had barely closed the door behind him, and he already had you in his arms and was leading you toward his bedroom, showering you with kisses all over your face. You were both laughing, which was typical of you, even at a time like this.

Drew gently laid you down on his bed, letting you take another moment to think about whether you really wanted this. Oh, how much you wanted it, and you knew very well that he did too. This was a big step in your relationship, but you knew you were safe in his hands and merely nodded, reaching up to his shirt collar to pull him close, bringing your lips together again in a kiss.

Your hands wandered in his hair, his all over your body. It wasn't long until you felt yourself starting to get wet from the rush of these emotions. You didn't shy away one bit anymore - you were well aware that your first time would be after alcohol, but you didn't doubt one bit that you wanted it. And so did Drew, whose eyes sparkled more beautifully than ever.

Drew’s touch was skilled and urgent, his hands roaming across your body as he drank in your every move. You could see the desire burning in his eyes, as he gently pushed you back down on the bed, his gaze never leaving yours.

"Fuck" he muttered, breathing heavy. "You're so beautiful"

You sighed, pulling him closer to you with your hips. You could feel that he was also already aroused. His still clothed cock fit perfectly against your body. You both silently cried out for the desired pleasure to come already.

He leaned down slightly, his lips trailing over your neck, his mouth hot and wet against your skin. He left a trail of kisses along your throat, his breath coming out in a warm plume against your skin.

"You feel so good," he said, his voice thick with growing need.

“Drew,” you muttered, moving your hips, feeling how hard he was getting with each passing second. You pulled away from him slightly and nimbly made him bottom out this time. You didn't wait a second longer. With trembling hands, you grabbed his belt buckle and tried to get him off. “Oh, someone is impatient,” the man laughed huskingly, helping you get rid of his belt.

Then his pants flew down and you could see his entire member, which was already standing in his boxers. This sight was bloody painful. You moved your finger over it, which made Drew moan, dropping his head onto his soft mattress. “Baby,” he muttered, looking at you with slightly closed eyes as you removed his boxers and his cock came free.

He was huge. You had seen him in passing before, but this was your first time. And you had never been so excited in your life as you were now.

You took him in your hand and ran your thumb over his pre-cum. Damn, it was such an arousing sight. You quickly replaced your hand with your mouth, taking him all the way into your mouth. He could barely fit inside them, but you wanted to be the best for him. You sucked on him, moving your head up and down, slightly causing yourself a gag reflex. You both giggled, however, you did not stop. You saw that Drew was getting closer and closer with every move you made, so you added your hand and squeezed his testicles. You could have sworn that this made him even closer.

“[Y.N], fuck,” he muttered, stroking your hair. Drew didn't take the initiative at all, giving you full control.

You felt his penis begin to pulsate in your mouth, so you sped up your movements even more. You took him deeper, licking and supporting yourself with your hand. Soon, with a loud exhale, Drew reached inside your mouth, and your throat was flooded with his cum.

It didn't occur to you to do this before, but now you swallowed it all with full confidence, moving your mouth up and down for a while more, helping him come down from his orgasm.

“You're wonderful,” he muttered, pulling you against him. You sat on his naked lap, connecting your lips at once. Drew could feel himself on your tongue, but it didn't bother him at all.

He quickly threw off your dress and attached his lips to your neck. You felt that dark marks would appear in these places the next day, but you didn't give a damn. You wanted the whole world to know that you loved each other. That you loved each other in this way. That you were all his and he was all yours.

Without warning, Drew pressed his lips to your one breast, squeezing the other. He swirled his tongue around your nipple, making you even wet your entire thong, which you were wearing at the time. With an audible smack, he moved to the other nipple, leaving hickeys around it.

“Drew, I need you, I'm begging,” you muttered, pushing him away from your chest. You were as wet as you had ever been, and the man's hungry panting increased that even more. Your words were like a command to him. He immediately changed your position, so that now you were lying under him on the mattress and waiting for him to finally be inside you. “You are so beautiful,” he muttered, placing kisses all over your belly, then your thighs, until he kissed your still covered clit.

You allowed him to slip off your panties and the sensation you felt when his mouth attached to your pussy was indescribable.

“How beautiful,” he muttered, curling eights with his tongue around your sensitive bud. “How wet.”

"Drew, stop teasing," I muttered, shrinking your feet behind his back.

He knew what he was doing with his tongue. He perfectly pressed, sucked and teased your clit, driving you closer to the end with each passing second. Without much warning, he put his finger inside your pussy and began to move it nimbly, hitting that point. "Fuck," you moaned, touching his hair. The boy looked at you, not stopping to caress it with his tongue and finger, then added another, stretching you accordingly.

“Please,” you muttered, feeling that you were close to orgasm. “Drew.”

The boy sped up his movements, pressing more with his tongue against your clit, which was already sensitive enough. You felt a pleasant sense of fulfillment as you reached on his fingers and tongue. “How fucking good you taste,” he muttered, returning kisses to you. You surrounded his neck with your arms, kissing him imprecisely. You threw your legs around his hips, moving your naked pussy along his length, wanting him to enter you already.

“There, wait, baby,” he said, smacking you on the corner of your mouth, ”Do you have condoms?”

You shook your head negatively, but at that moment you didn't give a damn. All you wanted was him inside me, just that. “It's okay, I'll take the morning-after pill,” you muttered, moving your hips, begging him for one thing.

“All right,” he groaned and grabbed his length. He touched you with his tip and you trembled because of it. You relaxed slightly, letting him enter your pussy. “How tight” he muttered, entering you slowly with his entire length. “Perfect.”

Drew moved inside you slowly at first, but seeing that it was only giving you pleasure, he sped up. You both looked at the spot where your bodies joined and smiled at each other. Oh, you have been waiting for this apparently for a very long time.

By how horny you were tonight and how much you were looking forward to it, it didn't have to be long until you both felt you were getting close to fulfillment.

You bucked your hips closer to him, wanting to be as close as possible and to feel him as much inside you as possible. Drew grabbed your hips and instinctively started moving even faster and hitting your sensitive spot each time.

“You're wonderful,” you muttered, combing through his slightly wet hair.

The boy only smiled at you and clung to you with his lips, breathing loudly. And with that moment you both came. You a moment earlier than he did. But when you felt his cum spilling inside your cunt and suddenly it was pleasantly warm there, you moaned.

When it was over, Drew slumped against you, tired but smiling like never before. You also smiled broadly, hugging him to your chest. He was still inside you and you could feel him slowly stop being hard, but it felt too good to end it. “I love you,” he muttered, placing a kiss on your sternum, between your breasts.

“I love you too, terribly,” you muttered, combing his hair from his forehead.

You kissed him in the same place, momentarily holding your lips there. “Happy birthday, sunshine.” The boy lifted his head slightly from your body and kissed you on the lips. “I couldn't think of a better birthday.”

A/N: I know! I know there was supposed to be another chapter, but with Drew turning 31 today, I couldn't resist writing something related to him ;p hope you liked it and that I didn't make any mistakes (there may be a change of narration somewhere, because at the beginning I wrote it in the first person ahahh)

please do not copy and translate my works! in case of any issues related to this - I invite you to discuss privately :)

[rodolfoparras]

PLEASEJADGW I AM NEW, SPEAK ABT THE THE SOFT COCK FOR ME AGAIN

Thinking about hooking up with a divorced father whose only company for the past years has been the bear bottles in his fridge.

He’s greedy as ever as he sloppily licks into your mouth, lips tasting of whatever he had at the bar, practically moaning like a little slut while grinding down on your cock. His poor worn out coach is barley able to hold your weight but he couldn’t care less about that as he continues to hump you like some horny teenager.

Everything’s going well or at least you think so and soon you find yourself nestled between his thighs, hands swiftly pulling down his pants along with his boxers, hungrily watching as his cock spills out.

There isn’t much to the size but there’s some girth to his dick, shaft flushed an angry red and tip already weeping from just a little teasing.

Suddenly you find yourself eager as ever to get your mouth around him. However you don’t get much further than that before you feel him go soft in your mouth, with the older man looking absolutely horrified, apologizes rolling off of his tongue as he tries to get out of your grasp “fuck fuck- I’m so sorry I don’t know what happened,”

You don’t respond nor do you loosen your grip leaving the man looking both frazzled and confused where he lays pinned beneath your body. “What are you doing son? Let me go!”

Before he can say or do anything else you sink back down on him again, leaving the man loudly gasping as he bucks up into you “ahah! Fuck!”

As you work your mouth on him, you can’t help but notice how much smaller he feels. Cock fully soft yet so girthy. The weight of it on your tongue leaves you feeling numb but instead of having it be a frigid cold that encomposes your bones it’s a certain warmth that starts from the top of your head and works its way down to your toes.

The man beneath you seems frozen in place, looks at you with wide eyed and mouth agape as if he can’t believe this is happening. “ Jesus Christ You like this huh?” You hear him say but there’s no bite to his words, sounding more in disbelief if anything as his hand tentively cradles your skull.

Instead of responding you take him all the way down, obscene squelching sounds mingling with his whines and whimpers, only fully stopping when you’re buried in the fringe of curls and you got his balls pressed snug against you.

“Okay okay fuck you really like this yeah? Show me ah - show me how greedy you are for this soft cock then,”

Without wasting another second you do as he says,this time going at a much slower pace since your goal isn’t to get him off anymore but rather to feel all of him, and that’s exactly what you do as you bob your head down, mind focused on how hot and velvety he feels under your tongue.

“Fuck just like that, suck this old man’s cock,” he says through gritted teeth, the hand in your hair turning rougher as he yanks on it. “You know my wife never liked it when I got soft, fuck- she ah- she even left because of that but you? God you suck it like you were made for it,”

His words paired with the bitter taste lingering on your tongue makes you hungry for more and before you know of it you find yourself sucking harder, head bobbing erratically and losing yourself in the feeling of him jerking against the roof of your mouth, the way you can easily take more and more and more of his soft cock without chocking up, and the feeling of his spit slicked balls sliding against you with every thrust.

“God yes ah yes yes,” he gasps out but it’s not long before he pulls you away from his cock and you’re almost ashamed of the pitiful sound that escapes your mouth.

“Shh shh easy there, “ he coaxes out as he strokes your head “we’re going to have plenty of fun I promise, go and get that bottle of lube for me yeah?”

[rebootgrimm]

So Trump Won, Now What?

I get it, we’re all worried. I am too. Above all else on this list, keep yourself safe. Don’t do anything stupid, especially without a plan.

Find Ways to Cope

With the election results, it’s understandable to be afraid. Do whatever you need to (within reasonable amounts. please do not overdose) to comfort yourself.

Take off of school / work if possible to rest. If you don’t have money saved up to be able to take a day off, that’s completely understandable. If you can’t take a day off school for whatever reason (like me. I’m writing this while being driven to school) then that’s okay as well.

Eat comfort foods. You can take a cheat day if you’re on a diet today, you deserve it.

Do things that help you calm down. Some things can include: drawing, crafts, listening to music (punk playlist I helped create here if that might help), knitting, etc. Whatever it is, do it. 

Cry. It’s understandable to want to cry after this. I felt like crying too.

Prepare For the Worst

I hate to say it, but it’s likely that shits going to hit the fan once Trump hits office. Here’s some ideas on what to do.

Preserve any media that MAGA might try and get rid of. For me that’s going to be writing things online down into a notebook and preserving punk songs (likely onto a cassette tape just so I have it tangibly), for Janet next door that might be pirating. Buying any books that might get destroyed is a good idea as well, so that way it still exists, despite censorship.

Stock up on physical items that may end up being destroyed / not being sold anymore. Books are a good idea to have since book censorship has existed as long as dictatorship has. Another idea is over the counter birth control since it likely won’t be allowed to be sold anymore. If anyone has any more ideas, put them in the reblogs / comments.

Stock up on money. I have a secret stash that has about $200 in physical dollars hidden in it, and that’s just counting dollars. 

Build Community

This goes hand-in-hand with prepare for the worst, but I felt like it deserved its own section.

Make a garden. It may be a bit late to do that right now due to it being winter in the U.S., but you can always prepare for one. Food prices will likely go up, so it’s good to have plans for free food.

I’m not sure what to title this bullet point, but with prices for everything likely going to go up, it’s great if there’s people who can provide things like clothes or anything else one might need.

Even without any of the other two things, having community in general is good. Even if that’s just a group of friends who you sit with at the lunch table and talk with, it’s still a community. If you aren’t able to make one in real life for whatever reason, then make one online.

If anyone has anything at all to add on then please put it in the reblogs (preferred) or comments. I’m not usually one to ask for reblogs, but I’d argue that this is really important and needs to be shared. Remember that your existence is resistance and that it’s always okay to punch a Nazi.

@our-trans-punk-experience

[bulldagger-bait]

And the thing about hope is that if you keep trying to find it hard enough, then one day -- one day when you're at your very worst and you think everything is over -- in spite of yourself you will look to the left and find it sitting at your elbow.

You will find it there, and then you will realise you can't get rid of it.

It will piss you off. It will annoy you because it was so, so hard to be hopeful for so, so long, and the one time you just want to indulge in misery it wont let you.

You will think: nothing good will ever happen to me again. And hope will whisper: only if you let it.

You will think: this is the worst things will ever get. And hope will whisper: this is the worst things will ever get. There is only up from here.

You will think: i wish this would end. And hope will whisper: Lets put on a coat and go for a drive up a mountain until we're at the very top. Lets look down at the world and just see everything. See every tree, every river, every curve in the land. From up here, everything looks so small. You can't even see your house, nor define the shape of the suburbs. You can't see the fight, or the blowback, or the fallout. Its not going to feel okay for a long time, but its not all there is, and every time you feel like it is we will come back here and look down again.

hope is a skill

[biteofcherry]

Relish your scream

vampire!Bucky Barnes x female reader

summary: Better the devil you know, but what if going to the Scaretale with someone you're already acquainted with doesn't mean you're completely safe? What if the club isn't your doom, but merely enhances the darkness that was already setting its trap for you?

warnings: vampire!Bucky; dark!Bucky; heavy dub-con; mind compulsion; biting; blood sucking; blood play; forced public nudity (partial); oral (f receiving); sex; captivity; objectification as a kink; conditioning;

word count: 5.4k

Author's Note: I was a little disappointed you voted vampire for Bucky, because there are so many amazing stories with vampire Bucky and I feared I won't be able to create anything fresh. But I wrote it in a specific vibe, amping up the vampire bite into very debauched kind of blood play. Perhaps that can count as something new 😜 This story is the fifth one in the Scaretale universe.

The cab driver was insistent on stopping half a street away from the entrance to the club. He was one of those superstitious people who feared magic tricking him, or a monster luring him to his doom, if he found himself within Scaretale’s range. 

You wanted to claim it’s silly, but the rumor was that the club was created and belonged to a dark fae. Who knows what their magic could do. Maybe the cabbie was right to keep his distance.

Unfortunately, for you it meant that you had to walk down the cracked pavement in your high heels to reach the club. 

It dawned on you much earlier, soon after you agreed to the terms, that meeting him in a club catered to monsters wouldn’t really provide you any safety. It would be his domain while you felt on the edge for the whole evening. Or night. However long he decided it had to last.

But he had that smooth, dark charm about him, making it appear as a reasonable public space to collect the debt. 

As you walked towards the impressive building, which glowed from within like a cursed castle, you tried to convince yourself that the place of your meeting didn’t matter anyway. You wouldn’t have any sort of upper hand no matter the place you sat in. 

Because there was something about James Barnes that put you to attention at any given moment. As if your body was attuned to his presence. Like a deer may be aware of a wolf prowling nearby. 

James was a coworker at the high levels of the international company you both worked for. And sort of a work rival, too. 

He was courteous, always well mannered and classy. Dressed like that, too. He was driven at work, reaching each set goal with unwavering determination and skills. Honestly, you had reasons to admire him and admit he was fucking good at his job. Sometimes you inwardly joked that you want to be like James Barnes when you grow up. 

There wasn’t really any competition between you two, none of you were threatened with the prospect of losing anything if the other’s department scored a few more points in the quarter. 

It was the smidge of inadequacy that made you often eye Barnes as a threat. Coming out of your own insecurities, you suspected. 

You were damn good at your job and at leading people. It’s just that you were… messy. 

Not a complete disaster, but a little chaotic and sometimes lost, sometimes too soft, especially considering the sharks that swam in the ocean of legal (and illegal) deals you worked with. 

Compared to Barnes, you were chaotic and bouncy.

But not everyone could stride through the room like a lethal blade slicing through fabric.

Barnes could. 

Everything about him screamed danger, even when he offered a charming smile, or bought doughnuts for the whole floor. Though you watched people let down their guards around him, treating him like a harmless, cute man. 

Was it only you that experienced that pulse of wariness whenever he walked into a room?

Perhaps, it was that aura of a vampire…

You’re still not sure what prompted you to bet him. Confrontations weren’t your preferred model of operating. Especially towards men you were both fascinated and scared of. Maybe you just wanted to prove to yourself that your bubbly style was as effective as Barnes’ cutthroat smoothness. 

You veiled it as a team challenge (which both of your teams actually took as a fun twist to their usual hard work, including some subtle ribbing). If you won, you’d get to take over Barnes’ fancy office for a whole week.

It’s not like it would bother him much, since he worked evening to sunrise hours, while you were a day worker. 

But you were the messy one and it made you giggle as you thought of leaving your usual chaos in his pristine space. 

When you proposed that, Barnes held your gaze with those incredibly steel-blue eyes. Not a twitch of annoyance on his stupidly handsome face (that half of the skyscraper was pinning after). No, he was seizing you up and calculating his potential gain. Which made your pulse skip. 

You still remembered how his eyes shifted to your pulse point and your thighs clenched as you thought of his teeth sinking into your neck. 

He agreed to the bet, demanding your company, if he won. 

Which he had. 

There was a flood of tangled thoughts and doubts when you realized you agreed to be his for one night. Did he mean his night as his work day, making you do any assistant, slaving work just for the kicks? Or did he mean it as owning you for a night, as in…

His chuckle was like a tap on your cheek, stirring you from your trance when you barged into his office, needing him to explicitly state what exactly he expected of you. Then relief filled you when he explained that he wanted you as his company for a meeting. Said he’s old fashioned like that.

James didn’t mention the dress code, just told you where and what time to come. You could be a brat about it and appear in jeans and a hoodie, but you considered yourself to be honorable and a good sport. You lost a bet, but you wouldn’t be a sore loser, or petty. There was also a part of you that wanted to impress Barnes, to show yourself as someone who could pull off a fancy look. 

In your sparkling red heels and black, silk dress, you walked up the stairs of the Scaretale with your chin raised high. 

The club’s dark interior was a surprise. From the outside it appeared to be glowing, full of light and mischief, but, as you stepped in, velvet darkness wrapped around you like a shawl. 

There were points of light, but they were dimmed. A whisper of mystery and horror slithered around, quickly getting lost in the growing warmth of spicy seduction. 

It was a place known for encouraging lust and romance, but you didn’t expect the sensual brush of it to tease your skin. 

Perhaps it was why your breath hitched when your eyes met James’ across the room. 

His icy eyes always held a particular intensity, but as he watched you now it sent a ripple of something hot and exciting through your body. 

As you neared him, your heart clenched in fear, before restarting with a flutter. James was your coworker, but in this setting you lost any sense of safety around him. He was someone different here. More himself, than the persona he played in public. More the ancient beast. 

And the core of him you met that evening was scaring you.

He greeted you softly, saying your name in a way that sounded intimate and possessive. His hand rested on the small of your back as he led you toward a nook in the wall that was separated from the rest of the floor by an iron-wrought railing and heavy, black curtains draped to the sides. 

There was a rectangular table in the middle of the small room he led you to, with velvet benches surrounding it instead of chairs. Chandeliers dripping black crystals hung above, casting a soft light that didn’t fully disperse the shadows. 

“Please, sit beside me.” James pointed to one side of the table. He kept standing until you sat down, then slid right next to you. 

“Would you like something to drink?” He asked, sliding closer when you tried to put a few inches of space between you. 

“White wine, please.” You nervously twisted your fingers in your lap. 

A few seconds later a waitress appeared by the railing, though you didn’t see James summon anyone. Well, they sure had some top, attentive staff in here. You were surprised when Barnes ordered a specific brand of wine, stressing to bring it sweet.

“Why sweet?” You liked most of the whites, including some of the dry, so it didn’t really matter to you.

When James’ gaze flicked to you, it appeared it mattered greatly to him. 

“Because you’re sweet.” He stated. 

A sudden thought of him referring to your blood’s flavor made you both hot and extremely cold with terror, but his next words made that reaction appear silly.

“Wearing all those pastels and headbands with crystals and pearls. And everytime we happen to be in the same meeting, you’re always drinking pink grapefruit soda. You’re a sweetling.” 

His eyes slowly dragged down your form. You couldn’t help the quickening of your heart rate as you felt his gaze move along your body. Again, you were certain his focus lingered on where your veins pulsed beneath your skin. 

“I admit I’m quite surprised to see you in black,” when he spoke, it was lighter, more teasing. There was even a hint of that charming smile that disarms people.

“Thought it’s best to match you, since I’m your company for this important meeting,” you shrugged. 

He still didn’t express what your expected role was. If it was a business meeting, was he going to lean on you for advice? Or were you an arm candy, only there to provide a nice accent and be a trinket of power? Many conservative men still conducted their business meetings, or public appearances with that mindset. Maybe vampires did too.

“I appreciate it.” James smiled at you. There was a satisfied gleam in his eyes, but darker and hungrier than simple appreciation of your thoughtfulness. 

A voice in your head whispered that perhaps it wasn’t a good idea to cater to a monster's whims, even to those of a polished, cultured one. Perhaps it was even worse than if you goaded a barely leashed werewolf. 

Because James was incredibly smart and cunning, and you were beginning to suspect that he had the ability to manipulate your reactions without you even realizing you were playing into his game. 

When the waitress appeared with your glass of wine, James took it from her and handed it to you. Your fingers brushed against his cold ones, the contact sending a jolt down your spine. His skin was cold, yet you felt a sense of warmth unfurl in your belly. 

As if his mere touch heated up your blood. Which had to be a very dangerous thing, considering he was a blood sucking vampire. 

“Mhmm, you smell sweet, too.” He hummed, tilting his head so that his nose almost brushed a spot behind your ear.

“James!” You gasped, fingers tightening on the thin stem of your wine glass. 

A surge of trepidation took over as your instincts reminded you of being in proximity of the most dangerous predator. It wasn’t a good omen when a vampire commented on your tempting smell. Because it meant at some point he might want to verify if your taste matched. 

Yet the cold thought of it sucked your nipples into straining points. 

You took a sip of your wine. Then another one, in hope of relaxing your body enough to hide certain reactions. 

“Call me Bucky, please.” His voice sounded like a seductive whisper. It reminded you of a hot tickle against your ear, or neck, which you sometimes experienced when writhing on your bed amidst a wet dream. 

If your imagination was wilder, you’d wonder if this vampire had something to do with the sex dreams which occasionally haunted you on those rare stormy nights. 

“Okay, Bucky,” you smiled up at him, hanging onto the comfort of breaking a certain barrier between you two, by being allowed to use his nickname. You didn’t think you heard anyone at work call him that. 

His eyes darkened. He traced his fingers along the back of your neck, before settling his whole, big hand on your shoulder.

“Say it again,” he demanded.

“Bucky,” you said it softly, sensing unbearable tension growing between the two of you. 

“Sweetling.” His low growl reverberated right against your clit. 

You would hope he didn’t notice you clenching your thighs, but with how his own leg was pressed to yours, there was no doubt he felt the shift. 

Suddenly, his eyes sharpened, his gaze briefly shifting above your head before returning to you. His hold on your shoulder relocated as his arm smoothed around and down your back, his fingers digging into your waist as he pulled you closer to his side. 

“Don’t speak.” Bucky ordered in a hushed tone. “Don’t engage, even if he tries to address you. Just sit quietly beside me and drink your wine. And follow my lead.”

“An accessory,” you nodded, taking a sip of sweet alcohol. You didn’t feel particularly disappointed with being reduced to quiet arm candy. It wasn’t your meeting, nor for a business of your department, so you felt no urge to prove yourself. 

“You’ll be good, sweetling.” He declared, as if you had no option but to obey. 

As his eyes held your gaze, you felt something shift inside you. Like a thin string wrapping itself around your throat. Its other end seemed to be in Bucky’s hand. An invisible leash that compelled you to follow his lead, just like he said you should. 

Compelled… The word echoed in your head, scratching against your skull with some knowledge you couldn’t remember. 

You focused on it and on the sweet taste of the wine as someone entered your space. You cast a quick glance at the large man, but remained glued to Bucky’s side like he wanted. Their words flew in and out of your ears, actual information barely sticking with your awareness. You were more entranced with Bucky’s voice.

And the way his fingers started running up and down your arm. Cold, yet enticing that very lively sensation. 

Words about takeover alerted your mind, but then that shiny, invisible leash tugged on you gently and your brain settled back into its comfort of focusing on Bucky. 

At some point, his teasing fingers closed around your hand and he brought it to his lips. He kissed the soft part below your thumb then pressed his mouth to your wrist. Right over where your pulse danced. 

Your body tensed at once, a pained gasp leaving your lips as Bucky’s fangs pierced your skin.

He bit you without any warning. Like it was his privilege. 

Tears filled your eyes as you looked up at him with a flare of betrayal. His gaze shifted from the other man to settle on you, even as his lips remained sealed into your wrist, sucking slow sips of your warm blood.

Be good, sweetling. His voice filled your head. 

It hurts. You weren’t even aware that your whine didn’t form into actual words spoken aloud, but was merely a pathetic sound accompanying your thoughts. 

Does it? Bucky’s eyebrow arched as he drew more of your blood in, then swiped his tongue along your sensitive, punctured skin. 

You blinked, dazed. When he bit you there was pain, but as he sucked you… You felt the throbbing in your wrist, but its echo was a more pleasurable beat that had your nipples and clit thrumming. 

You watched Bucky lick his lips clean and return to his conversation with ease, as if taking your blood was nothing more than sipping a drink. Which he did again a few minutes later, lifting your hand and sinking his fangs a little lower into your forearm. 

A soft, little cry spilled out of your mouth, but your legs parted wider to ease your throbbing clit. 

There was no previous agreement to Bucky drinking from you, yet somehow you didn’t resist as he took. Your body simply molded to his demand. Your brain resisted, angry and sobbing at the inability to fight, but that rebellion came and went like sparks of a badly functioning electricity. 

You didn’t want it, didn’t consent to it, but it felt so good. Made you a good kind of dizzy. Ligheaded, like you had one glass of champagne too much. Your usually buzzing body felt softened and pliant. 

For once you were calm and nestled, not a chaotic shard not fitting to the surroundings.

You spread your legs wider. The table separated and obscured the view of you from the stranger, but you had an inkling that the arousal trickling between your folds wafted into the air. 

It sure reached Bucky’s senses. Behave, his hand on your waist tightened its grip.

I am, you boldly replied to the phantom voice in your head and promptly brought the glass of wine to your lips. You drank half of it in one go. 

A part of you expected Bucky to act rashly. To show irritation or impatience, but then again you never saw him lose the winter cool of his demeanor. He didn’t react to your mental hiccup either, simply carrying on the conversation with the other monster. 

However, his hand smoothed up your arm slowly. Fingertips danced over the puncture wounds which he sealed with a swipe of his tongue, then traveled upwards. 

He took the thin strap of your dress between his thumb and forefinger and dragged it down your shoulder. Black fabric covering your breast fell down, swaying in a soft roll right above your nipple. Just when you thought his retaliation was driven to the max, Bucky’s hand skimmed over your collarbone and down to the swell of your breast.

Voice not wavering even once, as he kept talking over some business details, Bucky slipped his fingers under the silk of your dress and took your tit out. 

No! Your humiliated consciousness screamed silently. 

Bucky remained unphased. He exposed your breast, running his fingertips around the areola and flicking your puckered nipple. 

When the other man started talking, simply continuing the conversation as if you weren’t lewdly displayed in front of him, Bucky tipped you back. The arm around you tightened, supporting your back. His other hand cupped your breast as he sank his teeth into the soft tissue. 

More wetness pooled in your core, even as pain from the bite zapped your synapses. 

You were nothing but a chalice of wine from which Bucky sipped whenever he wanted. However he wanted to. 

A morsel to bite and chew slowly. 

He didn’t seal that bite right away, so the blood trickled down slowly as he helped you back into a sitting position, cuddled to his side. You felt the warm liquid gather atop your nipple into a ruby drop. 

Bucky swiped it with his thumb, teasing your nub as he did. 

When he brought the thumb to his mouth to suck it clean, you stared up at him in horror and awe. That handsome face with chiseled jawline and cheekbones, pale pink lips wrapped around a marble white, thick thumb. As he released his finger, you saw a flash of his teeth - a smudge of your blood covering them. 

His thumb was coated with Bucky’s saliva as he brought it down to rub over the bite, sealing your wound. 

The hand on your waist gripped your elbow when you attempted to reach for the strap and cover yourself back. Leave it, Bucky’s low command resounded in your head. What?! No! Why? It was indecent! He wasn’t even drinking from you anymore. Just holding you partially naked and humiliated. 

Because I wish so and you’re mine to do whatever I please.

There wasn’t even a seductive lilt of teasing to his tone. It was a richly dark declaration of ownership you didn’t expect.

You wanted to protest, to scream it out at him that you didn’t want it. That even if some aspects of his actions were arousing you, you weren’t his to treat like a toy, or blood bag. That’s when your memory flashed back to the exact conversation you had with Bucky when you negotiated the rules of the bet. 

What you interpreted as company for one night, for this particular meeting, was never in fact stated as limited. Bucky never said for one evening. He only demanded that you’d give him your company. 

Now, his voice returned, as calm as before, sit still and drink your wine, or I’ll take your other tit out.

Anger and despair flared inside you, as hot as the wave of dark excitement that turned the fabric of your panties into a soaked mess sticking to your folds. 

What he said and did to you was bolder and filthier than you tried with any of your former lovers. It didn’t only push, but crossed your boundaries. But even as he did something so unpredictable like undressing you in public, there was calculated deliberation in it. Cold, lethal precision strumming your responsive pressure points. 

Will you let him drink from me? For some reason, you clenched your fingers on Bucky’s suit jacket, clinging to him as terror of what might actually happen took over.

No. You’re mine. Came his instant, firm response. 

But there was only silence when your panicked voice asked, Will you kill me?

He left you hanging with that worry as he wrapped up his meeting. The wine kept your blood rushing warm, as did Bucky’s closeness, but your heart started to drag with growing dread. Needing something to anchor yourself to, you stared at the rings on Bucky’s fingers. 

It was only when his voice reached your ears that your head snapped up and you realized the other man was gone. 

“You did really well for your first time, sweetling.” Bucky’s fingers gently took your chin. 

Despite the allure of his eyes and his hold on you, the spark of dread spread into a sticky web that filled you with all sorts of cold, breath-stealing fears. His choice of words was deliberate. Everything Bucky did was. So it meant he planned on there being a second, a third, and more events similar to that night. 

Bucky took your empty wine glass and placed it on the table. Then he readjusted your dress and helped you up onto your feet. He narrowed his eyes for a moment, muttering something about getting you a proper coat. 

A waitress waited by the exit, handing you a to-go cup of something hot as Bucky led you toward the door. Your fingers wrapped around the warm cup, scenting something sweet. 

You had a thought of making a scene, making a run for it, but this place was filled with monsters who, undoubtedly, would be on his side. And Bucky was a damn vampire, who could probably catch you before you made half a step. 

Also, whatever was in that cup was really tempting you to drink. And his hand on your back felt nice, too.

As Bucky guided you down the steps, a sleek, black car stopped at the curb. Some young man jumped from the driver’s side and gave Bucky keys with a deep bow. Huh, you didn’t know they had valets here. 

Bucky helped you into the passenger’s seat and buckled your seatbelt. So engulfed by the cozy warmth and spicy scent, you didn’t think to use the moment of him walking to the driver’s side to try and escape. 

But the question returned, rolling out on your tongue as Bucky cut through the city with speed right on the edge of limit. 

“Are you going to kill me?” 

“Not yet.” Bucky’s calm, simple response was like a blade piercing through your chest. 

“The process is more complicated. There are rules-” he paused, hearing your intake of breath. When he looked at you, you were curling in on yourself and leaning against the side door, like you wanted to blend into it and disappear. 

Something flashed in his blue eyes and after a moment you were pulling away from the door and sitting back in your seat. 

Bucky’s fingers cupped your chin. Even with only one hand on the steering wheel he had full control of the car. 

“I’m not disposing of you, sweetling.” He assured you. “You’re my feeder. And will become my companion.”

Companion. It echoed in your head. You agreed to be his company. But you didn’t know it meant something more for a vampire. 

The bites on your body pulsed with awareness, reminding you of the way he sunk his teeth into you. You wondered if his cock would sink into you with the same seductive firmness. 

Your previous dizziness from the blood loss was nothing compared to the chaos that Bucky’s revelation brought. On the way to his estate he explained more, stating details of his plans for you as if he was reporting something obvious. Each sentence of the fate he weaved for you, however, leashed on your skin like a lick of flogger. Hurting and pushing your mind toward a cloudy space. 

With some last remnants of panicked will, you attempted to run when he parked in front of an impressive estate. He caught you in a blink of an eye. Then those blue eyes were staring into yours and an invisible leash tugged on you, calming you into compliance. 

He made you drink that hot chocolate, which you got in the to-go cup, as he steered you through the corridors of the mansion. Rich sweetness filled your mouth and brought a sense of regeneration. 

The cup dropped forgotten when Bucky brought you into his bedroom. Somewhere between his words about keeping you here with him for two years, until you learned all the rules, all the expectations and attuned to your role at his side, he unzipped your dress and pushed it down to the floor. 

Your hands against him held zero strength as he spread you on his massive bed, your attempts at fighting him off melting as his teeth scraped along your naked body. 

“Your blood tastes like decadent chocolate” Bucky hummed against your hip bone. “I bet your cunt tastes just as sweet.” 

He ripped away your soaked panties then spread your thighs wide apart. His lips mouthed against the delicate skin of your inner thighs. You knew there were some crucial arteries there and you wondered how much it would hurt when he bit into one. 

But he didn’t. Instead, Bucky kissed further up. He licked the seam between your thigh and cunt, then traced your outer lips with his tongue. 

It was atop your mound, a breath away from your clit, where he slowly, torturously slow, sunk his teeth in. 

You screamed and he held you down.

He didn’t suck your blood right away, but pulled back and watched it trickle down onto your glistening pussy. Dark red juice dripped down your clit and between your swollen folds. 

Bucky dove in. Feasting on your cunt with reverence and hunger he didn’t display before. He licked your blood and your slick, mixed them on you and on his tongue. His growling, near animalistic sounds vibrated against your sensitive core. 

He made you come while he made you bleed. Licking and swallowing your wetness; holding your hips down in his strong grip as your body twisted and writhed in pleasure-and-pain. 

Then he drew another blinding climax out of you, driving two of his ringed fingers into your sopping cunt and at the same time sinking his teeth back into the open bite atop your mound. 

He closed your wound, but didn’t wipe away the blood as he kissed up your body. When he bit your breast, he let the blood drip down the swell of it, too, before licking it off your skin in tantalizing, sensual strokes. 

You hurt from the bites, but Bucky’s mouth and touch brought you so much exquisite pleasure. 

He drank from both your breasts, smudging your blood all over his mouth as he kissed your skin through the ruby mess. Closed the wounds with a teasing lick of his tongue, before flicking it against your hardened nipple and sucking on it so hard you felt that suck on your clit. 

“You’re delicious, sweetling.” Bucky rasped against your ear. “And such a good girl for me.” 

You felt the nudge of his cock between your folds. Your hips rocked up eagerly, but your weakened arms drew between your bodies to push him away.

Sensations were overwhelming. You feared that your brain might completely shut down, if Bucky added to it the stretch of his cock and ripping pleasure of being fucked. 

Gently, he pried your hands away from his chest and placed your arms next to your head on the mattress. He pinned them down as he rolled his hips into you. 

“Gotta do it, sweetling,” he hushed your mewls. “Gotta break your body before sunrise, so your mind starts to learn to sleep all through the sunny day.” 

“It’ll take weeks to fully break you.” Bucky sneaked one of his hands between your bodies, to guide his cock into your entrance. “I’ll exhaust you over and over again, until your body conditions itself to shutting down with sunlight and waking up at sunset. Until you’re molded to me.” 

Your lips parted on a strained moan as he slowly penetrated you. 

Just like you suspected, Bucky drove his cock into you with a firm, steady stroke, just like he sunk his teeth into your skin. 

As his dick stretched your pussy, Bucky kissed you. Sensual and languid. Getting you drunk on his lips and taste like the most potent wine. He welcomed your yielding moan with a victorious growl.

Then, as the head of his cock nestled against your cervix and he bottomed out, Bucky’s fangs dipped into your lips. 

You clenched around him, your body tensing like a cord as he drew blood from your mouth. He sipped on you, forcing some of the metallic sweetness of your own blood onto your tongue. 

Bucky soothed your lips with a swipe of his tongue, before lifting his weight on his forearms. He looked down at you - all dark, ruthless beauty of him, with eyes glinting winter storm and mouth red with your blood. 

There were smudges of red on his torso, as well, from where his body pressed into the bloody mess he created as he drank from various spots on your chest and belly. 

“You already take me so well and feed me so sweetly,” he said, licking remnants of your taste off his bottom lip, “you’ll learn to take all the pleasure and pain I give you. And someday you’ll take my blood and I’ll show you what ecstasy of a vampire feels like.”

With that he withdrew, only to slam back in a hard snap. Your body jolted, your back arching. 

You were so weak, so lightheaded. Exhaustion was pulling you into darkness. But the way Bucky was fucking you bursted through that dark with fireworks. His name was a broken cry on your lips, so soft it may have been a whisper. Or a prayer. 

“I deliberately had the sheets changed to white.” Bucky mused, driving into you harder, making your legs jerk helplessly with each thrust of his hips. 

“Wanted to see the stains from your cum and blood on it. You make such a pretty mess.”

Your consciousness drifted away completely after he tipped you into another orgasm, relishing in the way you screamed and clenched around him. Your body was boneless as he chased his own release, groaning it not soon after you floated into sleep. 

To him you looked most beautiful: spread out on the crumpled sheets, your body smeared with blood and bearing marks of his bite. Stains of red and acidic wetness splattered the sheets between your legs. 

Bucky leaned down, one more time biting into your mound. A shallow wound this time. Just so he could watch your blood slowly trickle down in a thin stream and mix with his cum dripping out of your fluttering pussy.

You remained unconscious when he cleaned you up. As well when he ripped away soiled sheets and replaced them with a set of fresh ones and climbed into bed next to you. He held you in his embrace as you slept through the day that stretched outside; heavy, black-out curtains preventing a single sunray from sneaking inside. 

When you’d wake up late in the afternoon, Bucky was going to provide you with a hearty meal and adequate vitamins. He’d tell you more of the rules. Then he’d break your body again. 

[animasola86]

🐺 A KNOT TO REMEMBER

m!werewolf x f!reader 🔥 very explicit 🔥 words: 7.6k

In search of some fresh air, you stumble through a beautifully arranged garden. The full moon shows the path, or so you think, until you find yourself face-to-face with something very large and very hairy.

WARNINGS: NSFW! Explicit sexual content! Werewolves! Abduction! Dubcon? Knotting! Breeding! Cum inflation! Fluff? (READ ON AO3!)

A/N: This is part of my CHOOSE YOUR OWN ADVENTURE smut series! 1 🔸 2 🔸 3 🔸 4 🔸 5 🔸 6 This is OPTION 3 - but can be read individually, let me just set the scene.

CONTEXT: You were invited to a Halloween party in a mysterious house, dressed as Little Red Riding Hood, and on your search for the bathroom, you come to a long hallway full of doors, and you decide to go through the door at the end of it, thinking some fresh air would be preferable now.

When you walk through the door, a cold breeze passes by you, making you rub your exposed arms. It's been a mild October thus far, so you didn't bring a jacket. All you have is the red cape that gives your costume its name. Pulling it around your shoulders, you follow the short hallway to another set of doors that lead you straight outside. The fresh air is numbing, but also strangely clearing, and the deeper you inhale, the steadier you feel.

The full moon stands high in the sky, illuminating a beautiful garden before you. You see rows of neatly trimmed hedges, large flower pots and other intricately laid out plant arrangements fit for the season, broken up by either a bench or a little lamp casting additional light into the dark night, with a narrow gravel path snaking through the vast grounds.

You decide to walk off the strange feeling in your guts. With your hood over your head, you quickly feel warmer again. The low thump of the music from the house quiets down with every step you take away from it, deeper into the garden. Soon you find yourself in the middle of a maze, with hedges too high to look over, and paths just wide enough to walk through comfortably. A sinking feeling grips you as you keep walking, but everything looks the same.

Quickening your steps, you feel your heart beating harder in your chest. Good idea to walk through a maze in the freaking dark, you scold yourself, but before you can think of a clever retort, you suddenly hear a strange howling noise, seemingly far away, probably past the forest surrounding the house. It still makes your blood run cold. You stop in your tracks, listening hard, but all you can hear is your own rapid heartbeat and the gentle swish of the wind through the leaves around you, there are no animal sounds, no owls hooting, no insects chirping, no critters running about.

Just eerie silence – until another howl cuts through the night, making you gasp. This time it's much closer, louder, and without even thinking, you turn around, trying to run back to the house, knowing you shouldn't be out here in the first place. Your flight instinct is cut short when you run blindly into... something. Something solid, big, warm...

Stumbling back, you look up with wide eyes, panting heavily, and when you see what you ran into, you freeze, holding your breath, shock settling into your limbs. It's a wolf. As tall as a man. Wait, it is a man, he's standing on his hind legs, but he's got the head of a wolf, with a long snout, sharp eyes and teeth, fluffy ears and all a wolf would have, but below his wide shoulders he may just be a very hairy man, muscular, bulky even, despite the rough looking dark fur covering every inch of his massive body, very intimidating, and he also has a long bushy tail swishing lazily behind him. When he speaks, which surprises you, his voice rumbles through the air like thunder.

“Are you lost, little girl?” he asks, tilting his large head.

You stare up at him with your lips parted, too dumbstruck to process anything. “I... uh... yeah,” you mumble, eyes scanning the large figure in front of you frantically. He really is very hairy, hairy enough he doesn't even need clothes you notice. “I think... I mean... the house is right there, isn't it?”

The wolf man turns around before a low chuckle escapes him. “Not quite. You went a little too far, didn't you, Little Red?”

You blink at the nickname, but then remember your costume – and your initial disappointment that there hasn't been any wolf at the party to match your freak. Well, now you've found him, or he you. And his costume is impressive. Might just be one of those fur suits, one of the more realistic looking ones, because the way he stares down at you almost feels a little too realistic. It's not a mask, is it? But it probably is, it has to be. The alternative would mean he is a real werewolf, and you know that those things don't exist.

Right?

Swallowing hard, you take a cautious step backwards. He moves with you, his imposing body getting closer again, threateningly. You let out a scared little whimper.

“Oh, don't be afraid, little one. I won't hurt you. Not too much anyway,” he adds with a low growl that might have been a laugh. You don't feel like laughing back.

“A-are you –” you stammer, your shoulders shaking with how frantic your chest rises and falls. “A... a... you know... a werewolf?”

He tilts his head again, putting his large hands (paws?) onto his hairy hips as he watches you curiously. “What do you think?” he rumbles, licking his long tongue around his muzzle, showing off razor sharp teeth that gleam in the moonlight. Nope. That's not a mask. This is fucking real.

“Oh God!” you cry out, and in your panic you turn around and run, nothing but terror pulsing through your body as you stumble headlessly through the darkness, away from whatever monster you just encountered. In your haste to round another corner of the maze, your cape gets caught by some thorns, ripping right off you, but you keep running, fleeing into the night.

“He won't help you here,” you hear the deep voice behind you, rapid footsteps following you before you feel a rush of air that knocks you right over. Or rather it's the wolf jumping onto your back, crashing you into the hard ground beneath you. You scream in shock, the pain only registering a few seconds later when you feel your knees scraping open and your palms rubbing over rough gravel.

You squirm in desperation, wailing helplessly beneath him. His hot breath hits your nape, and you freeze immediately, stiffening in fear. He sniffs your hair, and then you feel something warm and wet along the side of your neck. He's licking you, coaxing a sorrowful whine out of your throat.

“Shh, it's alright, little one. Don't be scared. No need to run from me. Wouldn't you say we were destined to meet?” His voice vibrates through you as he presses his snout against the side of your head while his large hands rub along your sides, his strong thighs bracketing your hips, his weight pushing you deeper into the ground. “My little Red Riding Hood...” he continues, poking his wet nose against your cheek. “Weren't you looking for your wolf too?”

You can only wail pathetically, too panicked to consider his words. “Please... no...”

He huffs a warm breath against your skin. “Well, it can't be helped. Fate brought us together. You are mine now,” he says in his deep voice, and suddenly he moves back, off your body, giving you a moment to breathe, but only so long before he grips you around the waist and throws you over his hairy shoulder. At first you're too shocked, then you start squirming and struggling in his hold, gripping his fur, slapping his broad back, kicking your feet. But it feels hopeless. He is just too big, too strong, holding your thighs together with only one hand.

A deep sigh sounds from him as he walks you further into the darkness, ignoring your weak attempts to fight back. Eventually you go limp in his hold, hanging upside down as you do, quickly feeling all the blood rushing into your head, adding to the nausea you felt earlier. Your fingers dig into his pelt, and you're surprised to find it rather soft. Not as rugged as it initially looked.

It doesn't help much to focus on the texture of his fur when you suddenly feel a change in elevation as he carries you down a set of stairs. Then your world is spinning once more when he pulls you off his shoulder, unceremoniously throwing you onto the ground. You land hard, with all the air being pushed out of your lungs, groaning as you roll onto your side, raspy breaths rattling in your tight throat. Before you can take a look around, something drapes over your head.

You cry out, frantically gripping whatever fabric is blocking your vision, only to find it's your red cloak. Staring at it after you've pulled it off your head, you frown.

“Put it on,” the large wolf man tells you in his gruff voice, and you frown even more. “And ditch the rest of your clothes.”

“What?” you gasp out and sit up quickly, looking at him with wide eyes, your heart beating faster.

“Do it yourself or I'll rip them off for you,” he replies, glaring down at you.

“W-why?” you stammer, hugging the cloak to your chest protectively.

An exasperated grunt escapes him. “Why do you think? It's the full moon, and that means one of two things: one, I either find a victim to eat... or two, one to eat out and fuck senseless. I figured you'd prefer the second option.”

Your lips part in a mixture of indignation and shock. Confusion is in there too. You should have known it would come to this, why else would he have carried you away, into his lair presumably, definitely not to talk. He told you not to be scared, but that was probably just a ploy to calm you down some. You are now far from it as hysteria grows within your fluttering stomach.

It's not necessarily the prospect of sex with a stranger, but this guy is a freaking wolf. A werewolf. An animal. Isn't that bestiality or something? And don't werewolves have special... cocks? You feel your cheeks warming up badly as your mind wanders, as do your eyes, lower down his large body, but before you can look for any genitalia between all that fur, you huff a grunt and look away, shaking your head.

“Hmm, you wanna make this difficult, little one?” he growls, slowly stalking closer until he's crouching in front of you, his large hands finding your shoulders, his claws pressing threateningly against your skin. “You should consider yourself lucky I think you're too cute to eat.”

You look back at him, into those dark eyes, his long snout so close to your face you can feel the warm breath on your chin. A shiver crashes through you, and to your biggest embarrassment, there's a throb between your legs, a familiar warmth settling in your core. You press your lips into a thin line and avert your eyes again. He exhales against your face.

“Well?” he huffs.

“You... you're a wolf...” you mumble in response, squirming in his hold. “How... how's that gonna work?”

His laugh catches you off guard. “Oh, little one, don't worry. I still have all the hardware needed for this, trust me. I bet you'll enjoy it more than you think...”

Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you blink slowly before focusing your eyes on his large head once more. You have to give it to him. He could have just taken you, taken what he wanted, ripped your clothes off and pounded into you like the feral beast he is, but he actually seems to ask for your consent in a way, or at least gives you time to consider it, which only adds to your confusion. The worst thing about it, is that your body already knows the answer.

He suddenly moves his snout, pressing his wet nose against your neck and sniffs, and you feel both ashamed and angry with yourself that he can probably smell your arousal as well. In an attempt to distract him from it, your hands shoot up as you dig your fingers into the thick fur of his chest, trying to push him away. He leans back and watches you curiously. You're breathing harder as you face him and the things that are bound to happen.

You can't fight him, he's too strong. From what you can see, he's brought you into some kind of basement and probably locked you in as well. There's no use trying to escape. You are here now, in his clutches, and he may be a werewolf with werewolf anatomy, but he's also talking and when you ignore the large wolf head, you can try to convince your mind that he's just a very hairy man.

And you did come to this party to let loose, to enjoy yourself, to experience an adventure. You had no idea it would turn into a sex adventure, but here you are. And if the alternative is being eaten alive by a monster, than what are you waiting for? Inhaling deeply, you let go of him and move your shaking hands to the buttons of your blouse, slowly undoing one by one as you keep him in your sight, while your heart beats faster with every inch of skin you expose to him.

He leans back on his haunches, his snout seemingly morphing into a wide smile. “What a good girl,” he growls, licking his sharp teeth.

You swallow hard as you continue to strip for him, until your chest is bare and you fidget to get your skirt over your hips in your sitting position. A yelp escapes you as he suddenly grabs your waist and pulls you up, lifting you effortlessly as he stands up to his full height, holding you in front of him like a frightened kitten with your feet dangling in the air. You don't fight it anymore, you just look up at him, blushing as you notice his hungry stare wandering up and down your naked body.

He sets you to the ground again, gentler this time, then leans down to grab the cape and slowly drapes it around your shoulders, his large hands/paws fumbling to try to bind the string into a loop. You reach up, your small hands brushing against his furry digits, before you fasten the bow yourself, keeping the cloak from sliding down again. It does give you a bit of security, even though it leaves your front fully exposed to him. You should probably feel worse about this, but despite a heavy blush creeping down your chest, you try to remain as still as you can, forcing yourself to play along, not wanting to provoke him into eating you after all.

He huffs a satisfied grunt before he grabs you again and lifts you onto his arms. You hold onto his furry shoulders as you gasp softly from the sudden motion. Breathing harder, you focus on him instead of your surroundings, it would only make you want to find an escape route if you knew where he was taking you. First you have to finish this, satisfy the beast, and once he's sated and done with you, hopefully too exhausted to follow you, you could try to sneak away. That is the plan anyway.

You just hope you won't enjoy your predicament too much.

His heavy footsteps echo through the basement, and before you know it, he's throwing you down again, a little bit gentler and this time onto a softer surface, not a bed, but an assortment of thick blankets and pelts on the floor. There's even some straw beneath it all. Primitive, as you would expect from a beast snatching up random women in the night. Even though you may not have been as random as you think.

Fumbling to untangle the cape that got caught around your neck, you look towards him as he stalks closer, bent over like the monster he is, an imposing figure, a terrifying sight that makes goosebumps ripple over your exposed skin. When he suddenly prances forward, you yelp in surprise, trying to scoot back, but his large hands find your thighs, pinning you down and spreading your legs, and with your mind still reeling, you don't even have time to comprehend his next move until you feel his hot breath right against your center.

“No... wait...” you wail quietly, your hands shoving at his large head, but he doesn't budge, and when he opens his large maw and extends his long tongue, you watch him in both terror and with a strange fascination before a deep moan is ripped from your throat as you feel that same tongue lapping along your slit, parting your folds with a strength that makes you throw your head back. “Oh...”

Your fingers dig into the fabric of your cloak that's fanned out around you as you start bucking your hips up, a motion you didn't plan, it just happened, a reflex, a response to the urges boiling within you. It should feel strange to have this beast devour you like this, in a way you never expected, but it also feels too good to fight it anymore. His tongue is hot and wet and large enough to lick up your entire sex, all the way from your puckered hole to your throbbing clit. A single swipe leaves you absolutely breathless, writhing at the edge of pleasure.

He sure knows what he's doing.

And he keeps doing it until you dissolve into nothing but a mewling mess, a puddle of boneless limbs on the makeshift bed, moaning and gasping as the sensations crash through your nerves. On the peak of your orgasm he starts moving his tongue differently, pushes deeper between your folds, and before you know it you can feel it slipping into your clenching cunt, coaxing a strangled squeak out of you.

You hear and feel him huffing against you, low grunts that vibrate through your entire body, enhancing the feeling of his warm snout between your trembling legs. He moves the muscle deeper, laps at your squishy walls, presses into every crevasse he can reach, and all you can do is tilt your hips and contort before him, riding out the most intense orgasm you may have ever had. Most special one also.

Despite your mind turning into mush, filling up with cotton, you still wonder if this may just be a dream. The strangest one for sure, but still a dream. No way could you be eaten out by an actual werewolf. But when he keeps doing what he does, you soon stop caring and just enjoy the feeling. Doesn't matter. You're in for the ride now.

You don't know how many orgasms he pulls from you until he finally leans back and extracts his tongue from inside you. You barely feel it when he laps up your juices, grunting as he does so, but the moment he crawls over you, more of his big body pressing you into the blankets, you blink your eyes into focus and stare up at him, noticing how wet his muzzle looks. You feel your cheeks burning up. Somehow you have the urge to reach your hands up and pat his long snout, and you do, carefully stroking the rough fur all the way to his pointy ears, and he even hums deeply when you scratch him behind them.

A dumb little smile grazes your lips, and for a moment you wish he'd be a real man so you could kiss him, share the feeling of joy reverberating through your insides, but he has the head of a wolf and despite your blissed-out state you don't want to come into close contact with those sharp teeth. How he kept them away from your sensitive skin is still a mystery to you, but also nothing you seem to worry too much about.

He gives you a wide lick in response, his languid tongue stroke reaching from your chin all the way to your eyebrow, and you giggle and try to turn your head away, swatting at his head before wiping at the slobber on your skin. A growl like a laugh echoes from him before he shifts on top of you, strong arms braced on either side of your shoulders, his knees bracketed around your hips as he crouches over you, his shins pressing down on your wide open legs. The rough fur of his stomach rubs against your body, sending shivers down your spine.

“Look at it,” he tells you in a deep rumble, and you blink in confusion before your eyes move lower, and you see it.

It being his cock. It's huge. Bright red with a tapered tip and the hint of a bulbous protrusion near the base, fully unsheathed from within his furry groin as it lies hot and heavy on your fluttering stomach, reaching all the way up to your ribs. You swallow dryly at the sight of it. Too big. It'll never fit. Your eyes move back up to his face, and you can't help it, you shake your head no as tears gather in the corners of your eyes.

He tilts his head, opening his maw to bare his teeth as he growls low in his throat. “You will take it. You were meant for it. You'll see,” he hisses darkly, nudging his wet nose against your chin before he starts lapping at your wet cheeks as the dam breaks and you realize you may have bitten off more than you can chew. “Shh, don't cry. You'll love it, I'm sure,” he continues between licking at your face, slowly moving his snout lower, teasing down your neck until you feel his hot breath on your quivering breasts. “And I will make it fit, trust me.”

You're not sure that's a good thing. But you can't do anything against it now. You are trapped beneath him. Breathing harder, your chest moving rapidly against his relentless tongue as he laps around your hardening nipples, you try to relax under his ministrations, lying back, closing your eyes, white-knuckling the blanket. He shifts on top of you, keeping his maw near your chest as he lines his hips up with yours.

You feel one of his furry hands slipping between your legs, rubbing over your puffy labia, spreading them, coaxing a quiet moan out of you as one clawed finger dips into your hole. Your eyes flutter open again. He looks up then, watching you out of these black eyes, so intense he seems to stare right into your soul, and when he retrieves his finger, you notice out of the corner of your eye how he grips his big cock, strokes it slowly, before pressing its pointy tip between your folds.

You hold your breath, trying to relax while also bracing for his penetration, your muscles already confused as they are. He pushes in then, slowly, almost carefully, and you feel the stretch as soon as his tip disappears inside you. A groan escapes you when he rolls his hips against you, and more and more of his large cock presses into your tight channel, bullying his way deeper. You're whimpering under his scrutinizing gaze as he watches you closely, seemingly looking for any sign of distress, even though he also doesn't seem to mind it too much as you gasp and yelp in pain whenever he forces another inch into you.

His hands circle your head as he leans over you, his wet nose rubbing at your neck. “You're doing great, little Red,” he huffs into your skin, keeping that slow and steady rhythm of moving his pelvis back and forth. “You can do this. You were made for this.”

You wail in response, turning your head to the side, exposing your neck to him, but also to look away from the beast ravaging you. If you focus your mind on the feel, you can almost imagine being fucked by a very bulky man with a very thick and veiny cock, and the thought makes it a little easier. Squeezing your eyes shut as he squeezes the last inches (or so you hope) of his large member into you, you are quickly overwhelmed by it all.

Quiet sobs fall from your trembling lips. You feel so incredibly full, so stretched, his cock taking up any available space inside you. You can feel the tapered tip pressing against your cervix, poking at it as if wanting to go deeper. It's a strange hurt, a sharp pain that turns into a weird comfort, almost-pleasure, as your muscles clench around the unfamiliar intruder. For now he is just resting there, heavy on top of you, heavy inside of you, but then, he starts moving.

You squeak like a slaughtered pig when he withdraws slowly before slamming his hips back against you, hammering his cock deep into you, forcing his way through your tense muscles. He gives you a moment to breathe between his thrusts, but only for so long, until he repeats the motion, over and over again. A slow drag along your walls, a forceful slam back into your depths, out and in, pause, out and in, pause, and despite the ever repeating rhythm you yelp out every time, surprised all over again by the sharp pain crashing through your body.

And it's not just his tip bullying your deepest points, it's that strange bulb at the base of his cock that nudges against your pussy lips with every deep plunge. What's it called? A knot? You don't know much about the matter, why would you ever be interested in animal anatomy, but you wish you could do a quick google or something to ease your mind at the strange sensations. Not that it would change anything.

He keeps pounding into you, always increasing his pace a little bit, slowly taking away your little breathing breaks, until he is hammering into you with full speed, just like the feral beast that he is, and all you can do is whine and wail and moan and mewl, unable to think, unable to breathe, unable to do anything but take it. You're squirming beneath him, both trying to get away from his ruthless assault and maybe, possibly, trying to match his rhythm to make it somewhat better for yourself.

His large form looms over you, his low grunts and growls loud in your ear as he nuzzles at your neck, bent over like he is, resting on his elbows, caging you in even further. Your hands shoot up to grip at his fur, and you even raise your twitching legs to steady them as you hook them around his strong thighs. It does help to be able to hold onto him like you do, without any limb moving about bonelessly, and the longer you cling to him, finally meeting his thrusts with snaps of your own hips, it starts to feel really good really fast.

Before you know it, you're arching against him, clawing at his back, gasping and sobbing and panting as the heat gathers inside you, burning through your nerves like wildfire, setting everything ablaze, and every rapid thrust spirals you higher and higher, building up that tension in your stomach that is sure to explode at any second. When it does, you are not ready.

A shrill scream rips from your throat as you press your back into the makeshift bed and stiffen beneath him, your mouth wide open as you squeeze your eyes shut. Warmth spreads inside you, forcing its way past the rapidly pistoning cock pummeling your clenching muscles, and it's like a tidal wave, not soothing as it laps against the shore, but destructive, powerful, all-consuming. It drags you along, threatens to drown you, pulls and pushes you as you lose all control over your convulsing body.

Your orgasm crashes through you with a blinding force, letting you forget anything around as it engulfs you in sparkling lights and mind-numbing bliss. By the time it subsides slowly, you can already feel it building up all over again as he just continues to fuck you in his relentless rhythm, hammering his cock deep into you, grunting on top of you, his maw parted as he growls, slobber glistening on his razor sharp teeth, his tongue hanging out lewdly.

But before he propels you into the next orgasm, he suddenly leans up, propped on his strong arms, licking his furry lips as he stares down at you. You may look up at him out of hooded eyes but you can't really see him, just this large shadow above you, but you do feel when he suddenly leaps back, pulls out with a force that coaxes another scream out of you as he rips his large cock from between your tight muscles. You writhe a little, groaning in frustration as your orgasm deflates, as that empty feeling settles in.

Though you don't have to lament the loss of his cock for too long as he grabs your waist and manhandles (wolfhandles?) you onto your hands and knees, at least he hopes you'd stay like this, but your body is too limp to fully function, and so you sink onto your chest, arms outstretched, face buried in the soft blankets, ass raised on shaking knees, your cloak tangled around you. He grips the fabric, strangling you for a moment before he notices his mistake and rips it right off you, making you gasp.

His large hand is on your head as he turns it to the side. You can feel his wet nose poking at your cheek. “I'm gonna breed you now, little one, and you will take it all, yes?” You blink at his words, so low they're only vibrations through your head, and you wonder if you heard him correctly. “I will pump you full and keep you on my knot until it sticks, you hear me?” Clearly you didn't, because... what now?

You squirm beneath him, trying to get up on your elbows at least, but he holds you down, one large hand on your nape as he shifts behind you, his fur brushing against the backs of your thighs before he nudges his knee between your legs and pushes them further apart. You can sense the heat of his cock before it even gets in contact with your core, and when it pushes inside you again, it feels like a knife cutting through melted butter.

You cry out, arching your back, jerking your hips away, but he is ruthless. He's carved his way into your cunt, but there's still a bit of resistance before you can take him as deep as he desires. He doesn't care though, just pounds into you with hard and fast thrusts, in and out, a rapid rutting accompanied by wild panting, and all you can do is grunt and moan too, your body pushed up and down the blankets. His hands move to your waist, claws digging into your soft flesh as he drags your hips back when he slams his against your cushioned rear, forcing his cock deeper still.

Your head is spinning, your heart thundering, and slowly, the burning pain turns into overwhelming pleasure. He's bullying your cervix again, plunging in and out with languid strokes, and you're so aroused by now that the only sound aside from your heavy breaths is the loud and lewd squelching of your wet cunt. It drives you insane how good it feels to be taken like this, bent over, a primal sensation, to be at the mercy of this beast. In this position, he hits all the right spots, and it's a blinding thing all around you as you come hard, crying out helplessly, hands digging into the blankets and pelts, body spasming against him.

He grunts as you clamp down on his cock, but he doesn't stop, he even moves faster, pushes harder, forces all of him into you. And despite your orgasmic haze you feel his knot pummeling against your entrance, trying to fit through. The pain cuts through the cotton in your mind, sharp little jolts whenever he pushes particularly deep, and when those throbbing bulbs suddenly breach you, as your muscles give way to the rest of his cock, you scream, first in agony at the stretching sensation, then again as another intense orgasm rips through you.

He lets out a low howl when your tight muscles clench around him, milking him for all he's worth, before he continues to snap his hips against your rear, bullying his knot deeper. If you felt full before, you are now close to bursting with how stuffed you are. You can barely breathe between all the gasps and whines, and he doesn't let you either as he continues his shallow rutting, his growls and grunts getting louder, more frantic, his clawed fingers digging into your flesh as he holds you against him.

You are again on the edge of pleasure, floating on that wave that threatens to consume you fully, when he suddenly stills, buried deep within you, tip squished right against your cervix, your cunt holding onto his knot as if you would drown without it, and you feel it throbbing, pulsing, swelling up, stretching you even further. Lightning crashes through the clouds of bliss, making you shriek, hot tears rolling down your already wet cheeks.

And then he grunts, leaning over you, snout nuzzling against your neck, burying in your hair, hot breath fanning over your skin as he gives you those tiny snaps of his hips, and your whole body moves with those motions, connected as you are. You feel him shaking above you before you feel something else deep inside you.

Spurt after spurt of hot cum shoots into the already cramped depths of your cunt, filling up quickly, but with his knot holding it all in place, it has no choice but to look for every nook and cranny it can find, pressing through the tiniest openings, and as it does, you shudder deeply, feeling ready to burst before yet another orgasm rips through you, leaving you shaking like a leaf, as his seed breaches into your womb, more and more, with every twitch of his cock, every pulse of his knot, rope after rope, filling you up until you feel completely bloated.

Somehow you manage to move a hand beneath you, rubbing against your usually soft tummy, but it's tense and hard, rounder than you remember it, and even though you should be terrified by it, you can only lie there and take it, as the wolf man above you leans on you and pumps you as full as he has promised. His breathing eases slowly, yours takes a lot longer to go back to normal, and with your heart thundering inside your heaving chest, you feel utterly exhausted.

He licks his tongue over your wet cheek, a sweet gesture among the feral breeding act, and you can't help but give him a tired smile as you try to look at him out of the corner of your eye. He huffs against you, resting his large head on your back as he relaxes – letting his body work for him, because you can still feel him throbbing, shooting more cum into you at irregular intervals, usually accompanied by a soft little roll of his hips, a little nudge to remind your tight cunt he's still very much stuck inside you.

You wonder how long this will last. But before you can think more about this animal rite, your eyelids grow heavier and the world turns black.

You wake with a shriek as you feel a particularly hard thrust hitting your bruised and probably dilated cervix, the sudden pain crashing through you like the stab of a knife. You're no longer kneeling on the makeshift bed, you're lying on your back on his wide body, legs fallen open over massive furry thighs, two strong arms holding you tightly in their grip, squishing your tender breasts. He's switched you around, huffing and puffing beneath you as he pushes his hips up in a slow but steady rhythm.

“Again?” you groan out, trying to squirm in his tight embrace.

“Not over yet, little one,” he growls into your ear, wet nose poking at your cheek as he shifts beneath you. “More to give.”

“Ugh,” you make, your head lolling back against his shoulder. “But I'm so full...”

“You can take more,” he tells you quietly, a low rumble in the air. One large hand moves down your body, firmly pressing against your bloated stomach. You moan in response, your own hand finding his, trying to feel the same he does.

It's unnatural, that's for sure. That bump should not look and feel like this after only one load of his seed. But then again – he is unnatural, everything about him is. Who knows how special his cum is. Though you really don't want to think about it. You don't want to get pregnant, no matter how hot the whole breeding thing may be in theory. And you probably won't anyway, he's a wolf (man), it sure won't be compatible, right? A groan escapes you as you shake your head to clear it. No more thinking.

Just enjoy his warmth, the way he holds you, moves inside you, locked on his knot for who knows how long. Despite it all it feels comforting, somehow even romantic in a way, to be connected like this. Inhaling deeply, you relax into his soft but also hard body, his fur feels nice against your sweaty skin, the bulging muscles beneath exuding strength and safety. A good bed, that's what he is, with the added bonus of a truly incredible cock that fills you out perfectly, rubbing you just the right way.

Another wave of exhaustion washes over you, alongside what feels like the gentlest orgasm you've ever experienced, a little tingling sensation, a burning deep within, a soothing caress. You sigh contently, closing your eyes, falling deeper into his embrace.

When you come to next, you feel a cold breeze against your face that makes your nose twitch. You seem to move, but your limbs are still out of order, and when you slowly fight your way back into consciousness, you realize you're being carried, with two strong hands holding your thighs up while you are still impaled by that unbelievably resilient cock. A groan escapes you.

“Calm down, little one,” the wolf man grunts into your ear as he walks through the dark basement. “Almost done now.”

“Does it always take this long?” you whisper, leaning into him, your hands grabbing his wrists to steady yourself.

“For the knot to go down? Well, you are particularly arousing, my little Red, I can't help it. Seems you are my special mate after all,” he hums deeply.

You turn your head slightly to look at him, raising an eyebrow. “Mate?”

“Yes, mate. I would have made you mine already, but I wanted to see how you can take me.” He inhales deeply as he presses his muzzle into your hair. “You did amazingly,” he adds, lapping at the shell of your ear. You shiver, squirming away with a surprised giggle that travels through your entire body, making you clench around his hard cock.

“Your stamina is really concerning,” you reply with a shake of your head. “Not sure I could do this again...”

“But you're still doing it, holding my knot so perfectly, keeping my seed inside you,” he huffs gently, licking along your neck as he turns around and walks back the way he came.

“Why are you walking in circles?” you wonder, moving your hands to your rounded stomach. Every movement seems to slosh its contents about. A strange feeling for sure.

“I can't keep you on it forever, I am afraid,” he says in a low rumble. “The moon is setting soon...”

You frown at his words, not even wondering what time it is right now, shifting in his hold to better look into his wolfish face. “And then what?”

“I'll turn into a man again,” he tells you, his dark eyes boring into yours. Something warm crashes through you.

“How is that a bad thing?” you blurt out, more excited about that prospect than you probably should be.

He huffs a low laugh, shaking his large head. “You wouldn't want to be near me when I do. It's painful even for me, and to have you stuck to me would be... devastating.”

“Oh,” you make, blinking as you process his words, chewing on the inside of your cheek.

“Let's try our luck, hm?” he then says, carrying you back to the makeshift bed.

He kneels down with you strapped to his chest like a newborn in a carry-on, and when he bends you forward, you brace yourself, resting on your hands and knees as he shifts behind you. His clawed fingers dig into your plump hips as he gives you a tentative nudge of his pelvis. You wince at the sensation, the stretch and pull on your tight muscles sending shivers down your spine.

His sigh is loud and warm around you, and apparently his knot is still too inflated to budge. Inhaling deeply, you buck your rear against him, trying to relax, ease your muscles, force his cock out of you. He seems to notice your efforts and starts pulling gently, grinding his hips, inching himself backwards. You still feel a sharp pain when his knot nudges against your tight entrance from within, but it's slowly widening, giving way, and when he pops out and slips free, you gasp and collapse on the bed, the sudden loss of pressure almost dizzying.

He lets out a low growl, his hand rubbing over your swollen pussy lips as you feel your muscles contracting around nothing, or rather the flood of cum that's bound to spill from your depths if he wouldn't hold his large palm there. He rolls you onto your side, snuggling against your back, before he pulls his fingers away, pressing your thighs together instead. His wet nose rubs against your jaw as he pulls his strong arms around you.

“Rest now, little one. Keep your legs closed,” he whispers, holding you tightly.

You're too exhausted to protest or care about any possible spillage or whatever consequences may result from this unusual coupling. None of it matters. Sleep does sound really good right about now. The wolf man relaxes behind you, his deep breaths slowly turning into loud snores, and you allow yourself to catch some Zs too. You'll need your strength. For something. Hmm. What was it again? Some sort of plan? Doesn't matter. It'll come to you. Now you just want to rest, let your body recover from whatever ordeal this has been. Knotted and bred by a werewolf. Pfft. What a silly dream...

Your eyes fly open as if someone has turned on the light in your empty mind, illuminating everything that's happened earlier. Oh. Oh God. Oh no! Your breaths accelerate, your heart beats faster as you realize where you are, in whose arms you're lying. His snores still echo through the cavernous room, your body molded to his larger frame, his arms tight around you.

Carefully you wriggle your way out of his embrace, listening closely to his rumbling sounds, but he seems too far gone to notice your frantic escape. You manage to slip from under his arms, your body aching when you move it, but you fight through the discomfort and slowly stand up on shaking legs. Immediately you feel something wet and sticky dripping down your thigh, and a quick touch to your bloated stomach tells you, you are still filled to the brim with werewolf cum. Fuck. This can't be happening.

Turning around, you see the furry beast slumbering away peacefully, his large body moving with every thundering snore. Once you got your bearings, you start looking around the room until you find some clothes. Not yours though, but a big plaid shirt that you slip into. It reaches almost to your knees, so it'll have to do. When your eyes fall on the red cloak next to the makeshift bed, you hesitate, but then you leave it behind. Let him have a small remembrance of your special night.

At least you find your shoes, and once you're ready to leave, you throw a last glance back at the monster. He's still fast asleep, and you almost regret having to leave, but you can't just live in some cave or basement with a werewolf, letting him pump you full of cum to carry his pups or whatever it is he expects of you, no matter how mind-blowing the experience has been.

Biting your lip, you turn around and try to find a way out, and surprisingly enough, he didn't lock you in. After climbing a set of stairs, you find yourself in a small cabin, and when you try the front door, it just opens. Stepping outside into the night (which surprises you, you were almost certain you were stuck on his damn knot for a day or more, or so it felt), you fight the shivers, snuggling into the large shirt that smells like him, a comforting scent that doesn't make it easier to leave.

But you do, trying to find your way through the darkness. The moon is nowhere to be seen, it may just be a cloudy night, or it really was close to setting, you can't be sure, and frankly, it doesn't concern you anymore. You gotta move on, get back to the house, ask someone to call you an Uber...

As you suddenly realize you have no idea where your purse is, you stumble onto a better lit path, but the sight of what awaits you at the end makes you shiver deeply. It's a graveyard.

1 🔸 2 🔸 3 🔸 4 🔸 5 🔸 6

You've come to a (literal) dead end. Or have you?

No, just keep going...

But you can always go back to the beginning and choose another door. Back in the hallway, here are your options:

Reach for the door closest to you.

Go through the door a few feet on your right.

Notes: I'd like to thank @moongurl95 for planting this idea into my head! Thank you so much for sharing your open-ended dream, it really inspired this whole adventure, but particularly this part! I hope I could fill in the blanks! <3

MASTERLIST // AO3 // ORIGINAL WORKS

KINKTOBER 2024 MASTERLIST

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: In Which Gojo Satoru Commits Regicide.

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x Reader (JJK).

Word Count: 0.7k.

TW: Mentions of Consensual Sex and Off-Screen Violence. I Am Coping, But I Am Also Pissed. Be Patient, I Beg of You.

Live Dove: Tender and Sweet.

You’d been a little confused when Satoru came home uncharacteristically giddy in spite of the bitingly cold February weather, and a little more than confused when he said he had something to show you, took you by the arm, and teleported you out of your apartment entirely (after waiting for you to give your clear and enthusiastic consent, of course). You had no idea where he was taking you, but it only took a single second of whipping your head in either direction, a single glimpse of those awful bright yellow curtains and tacky eagle rug, to know where you were.

“Satoru,” you gasped, and his grin widened. “Is this the oval office?”

“The one and only.” His voice was low and smug, his tone more than enough to prove that he already knew you like your surprise. Wrapping an arm around your waist, he swept the content the presidential desk in the floor with his free hand and lifted you onto its outer edge, placing himself in the space between your open legs as if brought there by a gravitational pull. You draped your arms around his neck, pulling him into a long, deep kiss as sweet as apple pie, or funnel cake, or other true symbols of American culture that were formed through a broad, grassroot endearment rather than a bunch of gross old men deciding they’d look cool on a flag three-hundred years ago.

Reminded of gross old men, you pulled away with another sharp gasp. “But, ‘toru, what if he catches us?”

You had no problem with getting your back blown out by your loving boyfriend in one of the most sacred rooms in the United States, but if that lead-paint poisoned geezer happened to walk in (if he even could walk on his own, anymore), it’d totally ruin the mood. Satoru only laughed. “Don’t worry, baby,” And then, flashing you a quick wink, “I made sure to clear the place out for us.”

“Satoru, you didn’t!”

“Guess some fascists just can’t handle their blunt force damage,” he said, shrugging. Suddenly, your expression dropped, and Satoru noticed right away. “What’s wrong, baby?”

“Well, it’s not that the racist, senile felon didn’t deserve to have his skull caved in by a bisexual transgender man – since, y’know, we’re both bisexual and transgender.” Satoru nodded, affirming the fact that you two were similarly transgender and also bisexual, which you were. “It’s just – now that misogynistic white supremacist who jerks off to Margaret Atwood’s The Handmaid’s Tale every night before fucking his couch is going to be president, and that that kind of sucks too.”

“James David Vance?”  Satoru asked, refusing to use his initially and therefore highlighting how stupidly pretentious his name was. “You think too little of me, sweetheart.”

Possibly for the third time, you gasped. “Is he…?”

“Mhm. Took care of him right before I came home, got him right as he was coming out of his filler appointment. Beat him to death with a copy of his own book and everything, after leaving it a one-star review on Goodreads, of course.” Again, he shrugged, but smile gave away his self-satisfaction. “It’s all in a day’s work for the world’s strongest and most politically active sorcerer, I guess.”

“But, if that pathetic old man and his castrated lapdog are both dead, then who’s the president?”

“Check the news, baby.”

You fished your phone out of your pocket as Satoru sucked hickeys into your neck, obviously waiting until he had your full attention to go further. Again, you gasped. You were starting to lose count of how many times that’d happened, so far. “Abortions and insulin are provided upon request and also free now?!”

“Oh, wait, are they?” You turned your screen in his direction, and Satoru hummed in approval. Everyone’s quality of life had gotten a lot better since your good friend, Nanami Kento, was placed onto the Supreme Court in the final days of Biden’s term. “Sick. Not what I was talking about, though – scroll down.”

You scrolled down, and gasped once more. Your throat was starting to hurt. “Everyone in the country’s unanimously ellected the first female president?”

“Not just any female president,” he said, smirking and tapping on a trust-worthy article from a reliable and non-partisan source. “Say her name for me, baby.”

The final gasp you gaspt was the loudest and most gasp-like of all.

“Hatsune Miku?!”

[andhumanslovedstories]

I am not closely following the election results tonight, but I am occasionally seeing flashes of them out of the corner of my eye. The most obvious sign that things aren’t going well right now is the complete lack of celebrating on my dash. I know what tumblr looks like when it’s happy. Maybe I’ll go to bed tonight and see something different in the morning. I hope to god that is the case. But I’m thinking about the way I’m thinking right now, and I want to get some stuff down before the future kicks in.

In 2016 I was in a period of my life I affectionately refer to as as my fuckup era. I wasn’t even fucking up really. More just chilling out and falling short of the vague expectations I’d had about what I was supposed to be doing after I graduated college. While my friends from college rented apartments in the city and got jobs that didn’t supply you with a uniform shirt, I lived at home and worked as a barista at a fancy movie theater. That’s a real job you can do for almost five years. I didn’t have a clue what the back half of my twenties should look like. The only long term plan I had in my life was moving out west with my best friend, and my plan for finding a job once I was out there was basically to cross my fingers and hope.

Those days weren’t bad on the whole, but it felt like I was not actually living a life so much as I was goofing off in the waiting room. Sometimes that felt embarrassing, sometimes it felt fun, and sometimes it felt like I was completely pointless to the world.

On 2016’s Election Day, I went to bed early. After watching the votes come in, I needed the night to be over. I woke in a world that felt different than it had been the night before—not just in the actuality of who would be president but down to its foundations. I realized for the first time how much hope I’d had in human nature because now I didn’t feel it anymore. It’s almost silly when I think about it—so many horrible things had already happened that year, people had done horrible things as long as there have been people, and I didn’t think I was naive to that—but something clicked into place that morning.

It felt the same way my world had changed a year earlier, in 2015 during my last semester of college. My college victory lap felt like a prolonged downward spiral. Very early in the morning on a Monday, after pulling an all-nighter and overwhelmed by self-loathing that I could not just motivate myself to work on a paper that had been my only thought all weekend, I self-harmed for the first time in a way that was impossible to pretend it was anything else. Earlier that weekend, I’d tried staving off the urges drawing or writing on my arm, something that did (and does) usually work. I’d written this quote in silver sharpie on my forearm: “Good is not a thing you are. It's a thing you do.”

I picked that quote from the Ms. Marvel comics and liked the words so much, I thought that I wouldn’t be willing to purposefully mess it up by hurting myself there. Didn’t work. They just made me feel more ashamed of myself as I did it.

That was the worst I had ever felt. Then, on the Friday of that week, a friend of mine was senselessly, brutally murdered.

It doesn’t feel now like there was ever a time before her death. My memoir class is now where I wrote about her. My favorite professor is now the one who held me as I cried. My final thesis, the culmination of my history degree, never got finished and certainly never got polished. I turned it what I had and got an A minus. Sometimes I think of rereading that paper to see if that’s the grade it actually deserved. We hadn’t been the closest friends, but my name was still on the email admin sent to professors, listing students who might be emotionally affected by this tragic event. Grace’s murder hangs over every memory I have with her and everything she ever touched. It feels like its own type of obliteration to leave her reduced to her death.

Grace wanted to be a lawyer because she believed in justice and also liked arguing. She could be rude when she wasn’t interested in what you were saying. When you caught her attention, you felt like the most fascinating person in the room. She was so proud of being Jewish. I watched her become proud of being gay. She was so universally friendly that it took me a year to realize that she actually liked specifically me. She had a somewhat silly laugh and an astonishingly luminous smile.

I thought less of the world and the people in it because of how she died. Trump’s election in 2016 felt like that.

After he won, I left stasis. From November through December, I thought harder about my future than I ever had before. Who did I want to be? What did I most value? What did I think was worth protecting? What work wouldn’t kill me to do? At one point, in presumably a fit of madness, I thought, “what if I got into politics.” Epiphany eventually hit me. By the time of Trump’s inauguration, I was already enrolled at community college, getting my pre-reqs for nursing school.

Now it’s election night again, eight years later. I live on the west coast with my best friend, in a house that we bought together. I work as a nurse in a hospital in a city where there are homeless encampments off every highway and someone begging for change on every corner. Meanwhile, there’s Palestine. Meanwhile there’s Sudan. Meanwhile refugees drown in the sea and border patrol shoots jugs of water. Even hurricanes have human cruelty now.

I don’t think people are inherently good or the universe inherently kind. But I am very good at tricking myself into thinking it for a little while, and when I do, I can remember the a specific feeling from Friday of my senior year, from that morning in November— how fucking hard the disappointment hit me because I had expected people to be better than this. It makes me want to be better than that.

I believe, and hope that I always will, that we can make a better world. I don’t know what it looks like, but I think I will see it in my lifetime. Those of us who can believe such things owe a bit of that naïveté to the world—not to excuse atrocities or think them impossible but to believe that we can stop them at all. You have to have a couple people sprinkled around who are genuinely shocked when people do bad things. It’s not that the pessimists are wrong, but you need the occasional counterbalance. I want to be a reasonable cynic’s pleasant surprise.

Every shift, I interact with people at their lowest and worst. I see the direct pipeline from pain to anger to violence, and how fragile that pipeline can be. So many situations can be changed by things as small as a warm blanket or a kind word. Violence can be quite easy to avert. Crises can be quite simply to resolve. Even when I know that whatever I do that shift will not change the circumstances of a person’s life, I think that what I do that shift still matters.

I’m lying in bed, writing this post instead of looking at the news. I wonder how tonight will change me. Been thinking about what I’ll do if Trump wins. Been thinking about how whatever I think I need to do under Trump will still need to be done if Harris clutches out a victory. I guess this is a pessimist’s optimism: to a degree the election doesn’t matter. Good is not a thing you are. It is a thing you do. Our better world will always take a lot of work.

But please god please, why can’t it be just a little easier to do it?

[the-modern-typewriter]

Not an ask, I just wanted to tell you I love, love, LOVE your snippets. It always makes me happy to see a new post by you on my dash, then I know I'm in for a treat. I especially love your villains, they're so much more than just "the bad guy". I always find myself wanting to know more about them, even though they send a chill down my spine and I know I'd be terrified to run into them in a dark alley at night. Thank you for sharing your genius!

"Has anyone ever told you that it's a dangerous idea to walk down dark alleyways alone at night?"

The villain was well-concealed in the crisp evening, leaned slim as a shadow against the wall.

The air stank of a mixture of oncoming snow and the garbage bags piled up and threatening to spill. It wasn't, the hero thought, the sort of place that really suited the villain. They seemed the type best made for pristine conference rooms and expensive penthouse lairs. Spacious. Glittering. Cold, corporate monstrosity.

"Yes," the hero said. "But then I wouldn't have the pleasure of running into you, would I?"

"Is that what this is?"

"You don't think so?"

"I'm always a delight, but few fully recognise that facet of my personality. Most instead, should they choose to see me in a dark alleyway, walk swiftly in the opposite direction."

"Mm." The hero shook their head. "I admit, your general habit of instilling terror in everyone can sometimes overpower other impressions."

"But not with you."

"Oh, I'm crapping myself. Speaking of. If I aim my phone at you so I can see you properly are you going to hiss at me like a feral cat, eyes glinting, and scurry away? Or am I just going to spontaneously combust for daring to look at you? The rumours vary."

"No one would ever dare call me a feral cat, dear."

"Not in as many words. But you are sort of lurking in the shadows and stalking me, so I think its apt."

The villain snapped their fingers. A ball of light appeared shining at the tips, illuminating the few metres between them. None of the usual rats or cockroaches went skittering away from the villain's immaculate shoes, everything was eerily still, so the hero figured they (like most creatures) were smart enough to keep their distance. Vanish somewhere else, if they could. Hold their breath. Hide.

The hero eyed them and resisted the urge to move closer.

The villain offered a soft, mocking, snake-like hiss.

"You wanted to see me," the hero said instead. "At least, I assume that's why you're lurking outside of my workplace and doing the aforementioned stalking routine. You could come inside, you know. I don't bite."

"I do."

"You're not beating the feral cat allegations."

"If I came inside, your colleagues would pass out or start screaming. It would be a whole thing and I'm not working right now."

"Well-" The hero had no good answer to that. 'It would make my shift go faster' was not a good answer. "Anyway. My break is only ten minutes. What do you want?"

"To see you," the villain said. "Talking with you is a debatable experience."

"Wow, rude."

"You followed me out here. I was happy looking."

"Well, I wasn't just going to leave you to it!"

"Most people wouldn't notice."

"Good for most people," the hero huffed. "Do you want an autograph and a picture so you could take it away and maybe the photo would last longer than looking at me?"

"Yes, if you're offering."

The hero stared at them. The villain stared back.

"...I'm not offering," the hero said, after a beat. "God knows what you'd do with my signature."

The villain snorted. Their head tilted as they studied the hero, twirling their fingers idly, making the light shift and cast the world in strange uneasy fragments.

"Come to dinner with me," the villain said, after a long moment. "After your shift."

"I thought talking with me was a debatable experience."

"Yes. And I'm debating."

"Does inviting people to dinner normally work for you after you insult them?"

"Yes."

"Because most people are afraid to say no."

"Yes."

"No."

The villain smiled. At least, in the light, it looked suspiciously like a smile. There and gone in an instant. The hero couldn't tell if it reached the villain's eyes, cast in the alleyway gloom as they still were. It shouldn't have made a thrill run down the hero's spine, but it did.

"Another night," the hero said. "Maybe. When I'm not working."

"You're always working, be it here or in your adorable crime-stopping ways."

"Adorable doesn't win you any points either."

"I'm not trying to win points with you."

"But you're trying to take me to dinner. Why?"

"Novelty. I make a point to invest heavily in my own amusement."

"And I'm amusing you."

"You're...intriguing me. Whether you say yes or no," the villain said. "So entirely up to you if you want the free dinner or not."

"I can afford my own dinner."

"Is that why you're so skinny?"

"Again," the hero said, because the only other option was to be rendered speechless at the villain's audacity. "Rude."

"Politeness is for people too weak to say and do what they like. Dinner on Wednesday then?"

"They say you're horrifying. No one told me you were also insufferable."

"Well, most people are attached to keeping their tongues, so that's not really surprising." The villain continued, waving a dismissive hand, before the hero could possibly respond to that nightmarish gem of a comment. "They say you're generally brave and lovely, but five minutes alone with you already makes it clear that there's something desperately wrong with you or you would never have followed me here."

The hero spluttered.

"Death wish?" The villain asked curiously. "Adrenaline junkie? I didn't think you were especially stupid, but it's hard to tell watching you from the other side of the street."

"You really are something, huh."

The villain flicked the light off their fingers in the hero's direction in response. When the light reached them it didn't hurt, only popped like a bubble against their nose. They were plunged into darkness.

When the hero raised their phone, the villain was off the wall and right there in front of them.

The hero sucked a sharp breath, eyes going wide.

"As are you," the villain said. "Most people would have flinched."

The hero swallowed.

They felt suddenly infinitely aware that the silent darkness was also beneath the villain's power, as much as the light was, swallowing up every inch of space around the two of them one way or another. Who knew what was the villain's and what was just there.

Dangerous to walk down a dark alley indeed, as if it was the dark or the alley that was the real problem.

The hero had never felt so damningly alive.

"Wednesday," the hero said. "Tell me where to meet you."

"It's a date."

The rest of their shift passed in a blur.

[hiraethwa]

how to kill a god

zero from <the collection — how to kill a god>

pairing. gojo satoru x reader

cw. non-canon compliant, childhood friends(?), hella issues, special grade sorcerer!reader, satoru is a snobby kid, non-canon lore!

wc. 1.5k

all the legends are true.

gojo satoru remembers when he first met you at the age of ten. the cherry blossoms have finally bloomed a few days prior with the onset of spring on his family estate, soft pink petals scattered in large off-centered circles around the gracefully twisted trunks. 

the ever changing faces of the rotating guards and servants no longer faze him. he has long since stopped trying to remember their faces or their names, knowing there is barely any point with how frequent they come and go, from dying to protect, or kill him.

he didn’t care to ask for your name that day either, dismissing you as yet another fresh face following him around like a shadow. though he especially didn’t appreciate the way you are graceless, stepping so heavily behind him, each step loud and obnoxious, slowly ticking him off. so unlike the previous servants who were assigned to him, quiet to the point that he forgets about them.

a very loud and unorderly shadow.

he didn’t even need to have heightened hearing to be aware of exactly where you were behind him, your footsteps gave everything away. 

the obi on your kimono is tied haphazardly, as if you have never had to wear one before. he glances back at you, eyes falling on the fabric panels that are coming loose from the way you walk so very ungracefully, and sighs heavily. 

the petals crumple under your heavy steps, leaving behind small oblong footprints from your zori sandals. he doesn’t bother to explain himself at your confusion when you notice how his steps leave them untouched. 

satoru wonders the kind of upbringing that resulted in the unrefinement that is you. a thought pops into his head, annoyance lining his nerves from your disruption to the peace and quiet of his structured daily life. whoever had you assigned to him needs to rethink their choices, fast.

his infinity had been keeping steady for a few hours now with his training to hold it each day becoming longer and longer while he’s walking, sparring or learning. though sometimes it flickers just as an object enters its field and he fails to hold it firmly, resulting with the object, a dagger on a handful of occassions, whizzing by his head, missing him by just a couple of inches, as his infinity buys him some time. 

it would be interesting to try if it holds against you. purely for that reason of course, he would never stoop as low as to knock you off your feet just to delight in the confusion on your face, maybe a tear or two, because of how much you are annoying him. 

he would never.

satoru stops in his steps abruptly, coughing to cover up the snicker that slipped from him. you stumble into him, hand catching on the sleeve of his kimono to steady yourself. 

he almost shoves you off of him, whirling around instantly, features schooled into neutrality, the only disbelief showing when he blinks twice in rapid succession. wha— impossible. he peers down at you, and then at his feet, lifting each side for confirmation. 

the petals remain perfectly untouched.

“what’s wrong?” you ask, concerned for him. your eyebrows furrow, leaning into him to survey the path in front of you. your attention returns to him, head tilted to the side as his eyes lock onto yours, a nerve twitching near his eyebrow.

his infinity is perfectly intact. it has not faltered or dropped at all where he is concerned, fully aware of the cursed technique he kept active this entire time. and still here you are, your slender fingers latched on the thick kimono fabric, now running through his hair, with awe written all over your face at the sheer whiteness of it.

“get off me.” he bites out, unimpressed by your commonness. the audacity you have to even lay a finger on him, when no one, not even his biological parents whom he hadn’t seen in a year, lacks the sensibility to keep their hands away from him.

you scramble away from him at the sourness of his tone. he almost feels bad. almost. 

how did you get past his infinity? 

he crosses his arms at you. “what’s your cursed technique?” 

you look back at him in confusion. oh god, a commoner and an idiot. “well? cat’s got your tongue or something?” he taps his foot impatiently at your lack of response. there’s absolutely no way the clan would hire help with no knowledge of the jujutsu society. 

“satoru.” the current clan head appears behind him, stern voice calling out to him.

“yes, father?” he has addressed him as his father ever since he could remember, the act itself feeling more natural than calling his blood parents the same. 

“i see you have met your shadow.”

“she is extremely loud and ill-mannered, could you not have assigned someone else?”

he chuckles at satoru’s words. “for now, yes. but she will learn our ways and become what she was born for.”

“surely you do not mean that i have to put up with her indelicacy any longer than i already have?” ten year old satoru had impeccable manners from his extensive schooling. he knows that as the heir apparent, his wishes are granted most of the time, when it doesn’t concern his education and safety.

the clan leader glances between him and you, eyes lingering on your disheveled appearance, noting that perhaps you would be a bad influence for satoru if you stayed by his side during these crucial developmental years.

he slides his gaze back to satoru. “it is her purpose to be your shadow, satoru, but i am sure we can work something out in the meantime.”

satoru huffs in relief, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. thank god. he couldn’t stand another day of you trailing behind him, constantly reminding him of your presence. 

and so you are gone after that, barely an imprint in his memory. 

until you come stumbling back into his life almost three years later to be his sparring partner. your pudgy limbs grown from your adolescent years, having a good six inches on satoru, grinning as you kick his feet out under him. 

he bares his teeth at you, bouncing back on his feet and throwing a punch at your face. you dodge quickly, though your speed is no match for satoru. his knuckles graze your cheek. 

a triumphant smile threatens to break from him, but it seems that you will be having the last laugh, having given up your attempt to fully evade his attacks and throwing your own fist up in his abdomen instead. 

thirteen year old satoru doubles over coughing, having his breath knocked out of him unexpectedly. you had opted to tank a partial blow from him and gambled on landing a full forced hit on him. 

“well met, gojo satoru.” you offer him a hand as his instructor watches on from the sidelines. 

he narrows his eyes at you, his competitive nature refusing to take the loss and admit defeat. he should be the strongest. he is born to be the strongest, goddamnit. 

but he lets you believe that he has lost, accepting your outstretched hand. the corner of his mouth twitches upon finding his opening as you hoist him up. 

he yanks, hard, without the intention of pulling himself up. 

your golden eyes widen in shock as you lose your balance. satoru grabs his opportunity to sweep your feet out from beneath you, sending you to the ground flat on your back. 

those golden eyes. satoru blinks, images of a clumsy servant resurfacing in his sea of memories. you.

“the fight’s not over until sensei says so, shadow.” he crouches down, the words a whisper in the wind, though the smug smile he throws your way is unmistakable. his six eyes flare bright in response as yours dull. you look away, getting back on your feet as the instructor calls you over.

he frowns at you, wondering what exactly his clan elders are playing at now. 

you don’t spare him another glance as you quietly follow another instructor back into the main quarters, your behavior largely subdued in comparison to the person he sparred with just moments earlier. 

so it seems that you have learnt your manners in the time you were sent away.

he racks his brain in an attempt to recall your name. what is it? his father had called you his shadow, but someone must have said your name that day. though he wonders why your demeanor dropped when he referred to you as such. 

gojo satoru learns much later on what being his shadow meant—to protect and serve, and to be ready to lay down your life before his in a heartbeat. 

taglist.

@inlove-maze @regalillegal @danielmarie @lvrellie @suniix @madaqueue @celloccino @kalsplace @sharkiethrts @corvid007 @reactwithjan @cookielovesbook-akie @itsdragonius @hiraethwrote @nyahctrl @starlightanyaaa @just-pure-trash @ladygojooo @noble-17 @box-of-roses @fushitoru @mintgrumpy @hatsukeii @bakery-anon @daisy-room (open! add yourself here)

a/n. evil giggles, ohhhhh the lore i have in mind heheeee, hope you enjoyed! i also made a. yn moodboard hehehe

awaiting updates? browse the library while waiting

if you liked this, please consider leaving a like, comment, rb or ask <3 (perhaps i enjoy breaking hearts a little too much)

[angrenwen]

"The rest of the gods however really didn’t have a reason to be this mad. It wasn’t like you were a bad person, quite the opposite in fact! Ever since you had discovered your potential for magic, you had worked on making things better, to brighten lives and help those who needed a bit of a hand to get up again.

You crept down the street, feeling rather like a criminal rather than a person on a mission to help. There was a symbol people had come up so you’d find the houses that were in need of a little bit of help. Some healing here and there, easing the grief of a lost loved one, supporting someone through their own ventures of learning magic, easing droughts and helping prevent floods. You were useful for all kinds of things and it filled you with a deep, ever growing purpose to lend a hand.

You left on your fifth house after easing a newborn’s fever and quietly advising the parents on how to keep the child on its road to recovery, when you felt the familiar presence of one of the gods. One of the Five Founders, in fact, who had shaped the world before the rest of the deities had either come along or had been born.

The goddess of passion and elation, on other parts of the wold also known as the God of Creation, a tall, powerful woman who seemed to be everywhere at once, always watching over artists and warriors who honed their craft, proudly presenting it to her. You had spotted shimmers and shadows of her across the centuries, watching as she helped artists make the money they needed to keep going, how she had stood at the back of a passionate speaker, hands on his shoulders to lend him strength when his voice threatened to shake.

She was one of the most powerful gods and sometimes…sometimes you wondered if she truly was your enemy. There was no way the Goddess hadn’t noticed you lurking about, but she always seemed to consider her work far more important than hunting you down. And even when she found a free moment to join the search party of the pantheon, she never seemed to look too closely. Or, she never seemed to see you, even when your eyes had once met and she had carried on, walking past where you had huddled down.

You crept along the alleyway, keeping a close eye on where she was currently helping a despairing singer regain her passion. You couldn’t hide from the gods for long, not when they were actively looking for you and you were in the same world as them, but you could sense them at the very least when they appeared and run before they could catch you.

You dropped by one of the houses with Brenan’s descendants, making sure they had everything they needed. Still, even if you were welcome you felt like a stranger now after three centuries, more story than person. You would always watch over them, however. You had promised Brenan to do so on his dying bed and no matter how bitterly lonely you were more often than not, you would not falter. As long as people had need of you, you were determined to be there for them.

You were, therefore, all the more surprised when you later saw a temple with your symbol etched into the side of the gate, small enough that anyone else would have overlooked it. You hadn’t set so much as a single toe into a temple after the gods had gotten furious with your continued existence. You missed it sometimes, the worshipping, the hope that if you got tired and worn, there would still be some kind of higher power to at least talk to. Nowadays you spoke to the void in your little pocket dimension, cut off from the rest of the wold.

Sometimes, there was a small seed of resentment within you when you thought of the gods. Why could they not accept you? Why was it so horrible that you lived? You did so much good, could that, at least, balance the scales in their eyes?

You were therefore very wary when you approached the temple, knocking cautiously. Strangely enough, whoever, the faint trace of godly power that usually resided in every temple was nowhere to be found.

A haggard maiden opened the door, but her face lit up a bit at spotting you. "Please, come in," she said, voice soft but carrying and underlying thread of exhaustion. "Thank you for hearing us."

"How may I be of aid?" you asked, edging inside as though the floor might suddenly turn to lava. "I will do my best to help."

The maiden gestured towards the dais at the back of the temple and you realized there were no effigies anywhere, not even any stained glass pictures. There was only your symbol again, etched into the dais and an older woman in pale blue-green robes, almost reminding you of the faintest shimmer of the sea.

You quietly approached the woman who looked up, her tired face easing with sudden relief.

"War is on the horizon, the city doesn’t know it yet, but they will soon," she said and you resisted the urge to wince. There were wars everywhere and as much as you could heal and help and bring laughter to bleak homes, you had so far not managed to stop the marching of an army, to change the minds of those too power hungry to care for the folk ground beneath the heels of their ambitions.

You hadn’t studied destruction magic enough to force someone to stop, how to make the armies bleed and bleed until they were too thin and weak to continue on. You couldn’t even stomach the thought of killing someone just to prove your point, never mind entire battalions.

"I don’t know if I can help," you admitted with great reluctance, fiddling with your dark blue-grey cloak. "I have never prevented a war before."

The woman glanced at you. "We do not ask for the impossible, but when the armies come, there will be injured and the dead and fields burned and salted to destroy our harvest. Our rivers will swim with corpses and our wells will be empty or poisoned."

"I can help with those things." You felt a breath of relief at her words. This, yes, this you could do. You could cleanse water and bury the dead and heal the sick and injured and return the earth to its former state to feed its people again. The deity of nature shouldn’t protest your hand in things either, you had figured out over the years that she was always very upset about wars and argued relentlessly with the god of war.

The woman smiled, her drawn, worried face easing to a true smile. And this, this was truly why you did everything you did. Why you risked your life and studied magic scrolls until late at night, why you didn’t stop searching until you found the solution you wanted. Seeing someone smile after all that worry and fear was like watching the sun rise for the first time. Beautiful and warm and bright and precious.

The sudden arrival of a group of gods made you flinch and startle, eyes wide. That had been far too fast an approach, but it couldn’t have been the temple, there was no god here.

"I fear I must go," you said, pulling up the hood of your cloak and backing up to the door at the back of the temple. You were loath to destroy anything but you would jump through the window if necessary. The one and only drawback of your pocket dimension was that you had to be outside, earth below and sky above and neither obscured in order to open the gate and step through.

The walls shook as the doors blew open and a massive form ducked through. The god of war came first, dressed in splendor and spilling power like a rushing, deadly river after autumn storms. The deity of storms came next, air crackling with soon approaching thunder, feet never touching the ground and winds howling in their hair.

You ran.

Running from gods was about as easy as running from ancient, supernatural beings, which meant you made it two steps before a towering being of world shaping and shattering power stood over you, a glowing hammer swinging down.

Teleportation was, of course, a thing you could do, but you needed a moment to make it work properly, otherwise it could end disastrous. Just because you were immortal didn’t mean you couldn’t be killed.

Dropping low, you felt the sweep of the hammer missing you by a mere millimeter, your clothes dragging in the powerful draft of the deadly swing. You dove forward, rolling between the wide-legged stance the god of war had taken to attack, knowing that behind you there would already be another deity waiting.

Springing to your feet you threw up enough of a disorienting spell to avoid another attack, sprinting for the open doors. Tossing spells over your shoulder, you managed to duck around the deity of storms, avoiding the crackling thunder only because you had invented a new spell to counter it long enough to leave immediate reach.

As soon as your foot met crooked cobblestone and you saw the sky thick with storm clouds, the other deities, some rising from the ground like earthen monoliths, others descending from the sky like birds of prey and more again materializing like fog. You ripped open the pathway to your pocket dimension and went through, just as pain exploded along your side.

The rip had closed immediately behind you, but not before you felt the faint zing of lightning, your body not quite feeling pain but tumbling to the ground in a shaky, paralyzed mess.

By the time you got up to your knees again, you had healed the gash in your side and dragged yourself to a chair, flopping into it, breathing hard and staring up. You could almost hear Brenan, scolding you for being reckless and Liesel would have snarled her fury, would have draped you in defensive spells and would have demanded to be at your side, hurling all her magic at those threatening you.

Gods, you missed them so much.

You took a moment longer to calm down, before you used a spell to get the blood out of your clothes and you mended the rips afterwards. You knew where the gods were now, so you could drop by at another spot in the world.

With a wave of your hand, you were opening another gateway and returned to the world you refused to abandon.

More days and weeks passed until months had gone by and when you cautiously returned to visit Brenan’s children once again, war had hit the lands hard. You barely had a moment to breathe, healing the sick and injured, cleansing water and purifying the earth. Afterwards, even if it was getting more and more dangerous, you stayed to help fix homes. You might not be a gifted builder, but as long as one directed you, you could make stones and wood float. It took you minutes to cut down swathes of trees and turn them into planks they could use to keep building.

When the sky rumbled you were in the middle of rebuilding the last townhouse and you had already used almost all of your magic. Not that you would have gone and fought gods directly anyway, you would only end up pulverized. For all your abilities and immortality, you were still mortal.

The presence of the goddess of creation had been there all day long as usual, a faint trace as she watched over those who called to her, but now there was a piercing slam of godly energy as the heavens themselves seemed to split open to allow them all through.

You couldn’t just drop the levitation spell of the ceiling beams, workers would get buried beneath and you moved them out of the way, grim expectancy of death gripping your joints like fingers of ice.

When suddenly, people stood between you and the gods, faces a horrible mixture of terrified-determined, arms outstretched as they shouted up at their creators to stop.

You had never expected this. The people loved their gods, loved the plentiful harvest the goddess of earth brought them, admired the warriors who followed the call of war and adored the god of sleep, praying for good dreams. They worshipped the sun and moon, the tides and storms, the birth of new life and they prayed for passing souls to have a good afterlife. The gods were loved, still, but you hadn’t realized you had been able to give the people something they hadn’t. Whether they couldn’t or wouldn’t didn’t matter, not when you had filled that void.

With wide eyes you watched the barrier of people, people you had healed and cheered up and helped fix leaking roofs. People you had known since the day they had been born, who had known you as a legend come to life.

You gently set down the beams, the workers safe now and the women of the empty, godless temple stepped up to flank your side, more citizens pouring out into the streets.

"Give up the imposter," the god of oceans boomed, the very air feeling heavy with moisture, making it hard to breathe. "You have all been blinded for too long."

"No harm will come to you," the god of death stepped forward, voice gentle and kind. 

There was an involuntary flinch away from them by everyone around, an instinctive, deeply rooted human desire to not meet them too early. But they had a soft kindness to them, something infinitely patient and deeply welcoming, promising a soft resting place, an easing of any aches and pains, be they of body, mind or soul. 

Death, in your opinion, was the kindest of the gods despite their ire with you cheating them. You knew, when your time came, they would still be gentle with you, would usher your soul on with the utmost care, a soft kind of love for the very fact that you existed at all. 

You weren’t ready to leave, yet, though and maybe it made you a cheat and a hypocrite that you would deny other humans who weren’t ready either, but immortality was a different kind of burden, one very, very few were truly capable of shouldering. You yourself sometimes felt like buckling beneath all the years piling up on your shoulders, all the time passing in your mind.

You eased back a step, gathering what remained of your magic close, a last tendril of it to rip the world open so you could step into your little pocket of safety.

A sudden numbness spread, the gathered magic dissipating again to its dormant hum and your hands didn’t move, your legs felt strangely detached. You only realized you had sank to the ground when the two temple ladies grabbed your elbows, easing your way down. The world was strange, you thought. Sound was distorted and your sight a little blurry.

"Everything ends," one of the gods said and your head lulled forward to see the single, deadly flower blooming at your feet, having wormed its way through the cobblestone. For the first time since the gods had shown up, unprepared for your escape route, you had stayed still long enough for them to try anything this quiet and subtle.

Oh, you thought as your body felt more and more detached, the distorted sound growing duller and the world turned into a strange blur of color, as though an artist had dipped their hand into paint and dragged it across the canvas multiple times. This is what dying feels like.

Warm hands cupped your cheeks and the muffled sound around you changed, a soft, steady chanting. A song, what a sweet thing to send you off on. More voices joined and you sank into the hands on your cheeks, the hands helping you lean against a soft chest, a child’s small fingers finding and grabbing your bigger ones.

Strange, for some reason you had always thought you would die alone. And bloodier. Maybe that was the final mercy of the gods.

The song swelled and grew, words you could not decipher, but the rhythm, the very essence of it seeped into you, brought warmth back into your bones and it wrapped around your heart. That unexpected love and gratitude of these people, who would even stand firm in the face of godly wrath to protect you. 

You were sure you were crying and smiling as your breathing stuttered.

The warm hands on your cheeks left briefly, a necklace being pulled over your head, before they returned. Another set of hands came to rest over your heart, pressing down the necklace while they were at it.

More sound, almost as if from far away and as if it came through some kind of wall, but it was swiftly drowned out by the song. A song which grew to overtake your senses and the last bit of your leftover magic opened up to it, seeking that kindness in your final moments.

It was more than a mere song, you realized as your magic entwined with something that was more, something that was hope and defiance and gratitude and a call to the very foundations of the pantheon itself.

A call your soul answered, heavy with the years of immortality, buoyed by the love you held for this world, a steady, relentless will to do good with your powers. You had sought for something all these years, whether you knew it or not. A new connection after losing Brenan and Liesel and becoming less of a person and more of a fairy tale, a story people told their children so they’d be good and have good things happen to them in return.

And now, now there it was, as human hands held you up the same way you had once pulled them off their knees. And their calls were loud and their song was strong and their souls were hopeful, calling for the very thing you had always given them whenever you could.

Air filled your lungs with a big gasp as you felt the pantheon reach back to touch your very essence, answering the song that was a prayer of the people around you. Warmth bloomed back into your limbs and your heart beat, as strong as ever and your mind began to clear, your vision returning.

You were kneeling on the ground and you knew you there was a part of you that was human, still, but now there was more. You looked up, eyes wide to see the suddenly still and silent gods gathered around, the song of the citizens slowing to a quiet end.

You looked at the gods and suddenly you knew them, you knew all the names humanity had given them over the centuries and the true ones they had come into existence with. You saw their realms and their powers, how they coveted power and feared the loss of it. How their emotions were as wild as those of their creations and they worked for ever greater heights.

You felt your understanding of the world stretched further and bigger than just them, however. You felt, in this brief instance, the entirety of the pantheon, the vast power of the endless sky, the stories caught in stars and you heard the voices of all those who had passed, cheering and shouting and loudest among them Brenan’s voice. You hadn’t forgotten his voice even once, even after centuries and you heard him shout and scream for your victory loudest of all and you knew, suddenly you knew he was within reach again, that gods could walk the realms freely.

And then, there it was, a touch from somewhere far away, from an entirely different world, Liesel’s fierceness and suddenly she wasn’t gone, unreachable. Suddenly all that separated the two of you was just another rip, another gateway. The world had expanded and laid itself beneath your hands and you couldn’t help but breathe it in, breathe in all that lived and died and hoped and dreamed and kept going against all odds.

A sob caught in the back of your throat, a deep, hopeless yearning in you finally coming to rest now that your dearest friends, your long lost family was within reach again. Finally that age-old grief eased its grip.

You looked down on yourself and you saw faintly glowing, pale sea-green robes and a necklace around your throat, the symbol the people had given you dangling from it in simple iron.

Creation stepped forward at last, breaking the stillness, her voice an awed whisper, "A light in the dark," she said and when you looked up, you saw no confusion, no startled surprise in her face. There was nothing but fierce pride, the edges softened by awed adoration.

She had known, you realized. She had known what would happen, because this song hadn’t just come from nowhere. People had planned, had whispered to each other every time you had to flee, every time they saw blood left in your wake, every time they had to hide you from the gazes of the other gods they still worshipped. They had seen and planned and they had started to…to create. Of corse she had known, she was the essence of creation herself.

And she was so very, very proud, of you and of all the people around you for having succeeded in this. Looking at the other gods, you saw they had feared this very thing, had feared this very moment and had hunted you because of it. They had been terrified of you, a mortal, being raised by the others to stand with them as an equal, feared they would all end up being replaced, one after another.

Or maybe, even more than that, they had feared proof that they weren’t enough, that they had fallen short to the point where humanity had to create a god of their own to be held up in their faces.

Creation stepped forward and for the first time you saw her truly and fully as herself. Her wildly flowing, thick hair, her clothes ever changing to display all that artisans across the world and centuries were capable of, countless tools dangling from her belt. She stopped in front of you, none of the humans standing in her path now and she held out her hand, calloused by hard work.

"Rise," she said, her voice ringing clear like temple bells and the grin on her face was still fierce and so very proud. "Deity of Hope and Mercy.""

Ages ago you discovered immortality and then had the time to learn the strongest magics. But the gods were jealous and banded together to smite you. To escape their wrath, you hid in another dimension, coming back for only short, safe periods of time, to help people in their time of need.

[rezwrites]

Hey, can you write something for Agatha Harkness? I love her. Yandere/Dark! Agatha Harkness x reader, reader is summoned to be part of Agatha's coven and Agatha grows obsessed with reader after becoming her friend and feeling a connection. Thank you 🩷

Of course, also I’m very sorry that this took so long!

a/n: slight au where the road is real/Rio has no presence.

Agatha and Teen had approached you asking for your assistance in walking The Road. Laughing in their face at the absurdity, “The Road is a myth.”

Even if it wasn’t, it was a death trap. Many stories from your mother and her coven about The Road have passed your ears. Every witch, with the exemption of Agatha Harkness, lost their lives trying the reach the end. You’ve felt inadequate as a witch, unable to resonate with a coven of your own. Even though you’d love to have that sister and companionships you’ve done well enough without them.

Teen droned on as you walked away from them. Only stopping in your tracks when Agatha chimed in talking about forming her own coven. A lesson drilled into your brain since the day you were born resounded within: Agatha Harkness is not to be trusted. Turning around you regarded them both, warily. Awkwardly handing you a card Teen expressed that he’d hope to see you there.

Contemplation weighed heavy on your mind the rest of the day. The possibility of finding a coven was tantalizingly, but you’d have to suffer through the proximity of Agatha and the other witches she convened. Deciding the end outweighs everything else you make your way to Agatha’s house in Westview.

Agatha kept a close focus on you the moment you made your presence known in her home. Her eye constantly shifting to you as you sung your part of The Ballad. You’re voice is beautiful she thought, like a bird singing its morning song.

After pairing with Agatha in the first trial you notice Agatha gradually getting close to you. Thankful that you had her as an anchor in your hallucination, you doing that same for her. Taking the opportunities to know more about you, realizing she’s slow to open up about herself. Rightfully so, since much of the air is still tense with distrust around her. She seemed genuine when she asked about you, making small gestures to be sure your safe- keeping you close to her, guiding your steps so you don’t trip. Her hands softly brushing over you from time to time.

After losing Alice, your distrust cemented again. Insisting that she couldn’t control it, you strayed away from her. Agatha lets you go, not without keeping close eye on you. Watching you gravitate towards Lilia, Agatha internally seethes.

Lilia’s words of wisdom and talks about her travels brought you solace. It was a devastating experience to see Lilia close the Iron Maiden, locking herself in the trial room. Screaming her name, pounding on the door the tears rushed down your face. Agatha had to drag you away and calm you down, Teen staying behind to comfort Jen.

��Lilia, no. How could she?” You could help but sob at the loss of her. Falling to your knees, your face in your hands.

“There’s nothing we could’ve done.” Agatha rests her hand in your shoulder, lightly squeezing it. Wiping your tears, you stood up brushing yourself off.

“Stay with me. I want- no need you by my side.” Agatha’s voice firmed, “You need someone to take care of you.”

“No I don’t. You think I’m weak don’t you?” Your face twists in irritation.

“That’s not what I’m saying.” Her fists clenching and unclenching.

“Then what exactly are you saying, Agatha?” You exasperated, throwing your hands up.

“In certain situations I can protect you. That’s all I want to do, darling.” She reached out to you, retracting her hands when you stepped away.

“I can protect myself. We’re almost at the end.” You walk back to gather Jen and teen, leaving Agatha alone.

Slipping into your shoes everything goes black until slit of light appears, revealing Agatha pulling you out of a body bag, “It’s alright dear. It’s just the last trial.” Observing Jen unbind herself and Teen find a body for his brother, your hope shrunk as they disappeared from the trial room.

You remained silent as Agatha grieved, planting something in the ground. You rested beside her as she cried, rubbing circles on her back. Humming a small tune you watched the lights go out by the second; attempting to make peace that this might be the end.

Agatha’s gasp caused you to look down where you saw a dandelion growing from the soil. As the ceiling started crashing down Agatha pulled you up from the floor, guiding you to the door. Coming out of the trial room you both find yourselves in Agatha’s backyard, Teen and Jen waiting for you both. Teen offered Agatha some of his power only is she doesn’t take all of it.

Watching Jen and Teen leave, you stared in thought. The Road was a waste. You didn’t find your coven, the one that Agatha conjured up dropped like flies. Back to square one with a heavy heart in your chest. A soft grip on your wrist pulled you out your bleak thoughts, but you didn’t face her.

“You think The Road didn’t give you what you needed, but it did. You’re just too stubborn to see it. The companionship you crave so much, you don’t a coven… you just need me.” Agatha’s pupils turned purple as your mind grew hazy, struggling for clarity.

“Shh…don’t fight it, darling. I’ve got you.” Agatha’s honeyed voice rang through vividly. Holding you tight against her chest, Agatha pressed her fingers closer to your temple, “I failed to protect someone once, I won’t let the same happen to you.”