#after watching the second one I was like how many times have they done that swining the gold ball hat

[dwaekkicidal]

free use with a frustrated minho <3

wc» 1k

cw» fem!reader, free use, rough sex, slightly mean dom min?, some dirty talk, p in v, multiple creampies, oral (both f and m receiving), 1 mention of shower sex, 1 mention of somno

an» take this minho hard thought that i forgot to post earlier this week as a double post bc the chan.in x reader is fucking 2k words and im still not done yet lol... ><

“This literally never happens. Why did this have to happen?? I practiced this dance for fucking HOURS.” You surprisingly miss your boyfriend's indecipherable mumbles and continue to watch your TV.

Minho walked through the front door less than 5 minutes ago and is still sporting his stage outfit and makeup. He plays the part of some sort of lunatic all too well when he’s pacing back and forth and mumbling incoherent curses to himself. And you already tried asking him what was wrong- all you got in return was ignored as he slammed his keys on the kitchen counter and began this weird manic spell.

But all of this is in the past now. You eventually came to learn that he slipped up on stage today; you learned that all that fuss was because he kept making minor blunders during the recording of their MNET performance. And although it was a recorded thing, something videoed multiple times anyways and not seen live, and he wasn’t the center during these mistakes, he was still pissed.

Minho does not make mistakes very often, so he was upset that he even made one today. But the fact that he managed multiple across the many hours they spent in that god-awful building made his blood boil. But! Luckily for him, he has this very convenient agreement with his beautiful, lovely girlfriend who just so happens to be you.

And this agreement is exactly how he stopped dead in his tracks as he came to this “revelation” an hour after he had arrived at home. It’s also how the oversized shirt of his you were wearing got lifted up to your chest. He didn’t even blink towards the food you were cooking on the stove before he shoved your panties down your legs and slid himself along your already wet folds.

“Dirty girl. Wet when I’ve not even touched you.” He landed a playful smack to your ass and gave you no time to react before he slid into your walls, stretching you out almost painfully. You were thankful that you fingered yourself just before he got home, so the stretch was more tolerable than it would have been if he went in dry.

Minho ignored your pleas of “The food!! It’s gonna burn!” and “Give me one second, babe!” Instead, he wrapped one of those veiny hands around your throat and squeezed as he started moving his hips. He started off nicely, giving you slow, deep strokes. But he quickly found a different pace, one more to his liking.

And that pace included fucking your brains out, pounding you into the cold kitchen counter. If it wasn’t for the refreshing cold of the ceramic, you think your cheek would get some sort of “rug” burn. Well… you can’t really think anything, not when his hips slam into yours so intensely that you can feel your ass stinging from each thrust.

Although he holds you in place, one hand on your head and the other on your hip, he still gives you more than enough chances to actually stop him if it’s what you want. It comes out in the form of dirty talk as he goes on about how good of a hole you’re being for him and how he should “freely use” you more often.

It’s more of a hint to the recent kink you’ve been discussing, but it doesn’t go over your head, so you nod as best as you can. And, even though he’s pissed off and needs to fuck you into every surfance he sees, he’s not mean enough to leave you high and dry. So he lets you cum right as he does.

You’re barely catching your breath after the fact before he’s pulling out and admiring your messy form; your cheek still firmly against the kitchen counter even though his hand is gone. He manages to pull out and watch his cum leak from you before another revelation hits him. One that encourages him to help you step out of your panties before pocketing them and shoving himself back into his shorts.

One that also encourages his next comments along with the pat on the ass he gives you after the words have sunk into your mushy brain. “You don’t need these anymore. Keep cooking, I’ll be back.”

But don’t worry your pretty little head about it!! He won’t be gone for very long. In fact, you’re in the middle of setting the table with dinner when his hands return to your body, folding you in half and grabbing a handful of your hair as he immediately slides himself back into your walls.

The only “reward” you get is his groans of happiness as he fucks your brains out again, making sure not to leave out the comments here and there about how, “You’re such a good fucktoy. Letting me fuck you whenever and wherever I want.”

And he’s not done there, oh nooo. He’s still fuming about those slip ups from earlier. Now, at this point can he remember exactly what mistakes he made? No. Will that stop him from using you as his personal stress reliever? Absolutely not. So you should expect to be fucked into every and any surface.

So when he disappears to clean up after dinner and you’re returned to your TV for entertainment, he’s gonna walk up nonverbal and drop to his knees. Then, your legs will be lifted from the floor and he’s gonna shove his head between your bare legs, eating you out and even fighting back when you push his head away from you in overstimulation.

Oh and when you’re showering later that night and you let your guard down for a split second to wash yourself off, he’s slipping into the shower and forcing you down to your knees. He’ll get his fill from using your mouth, his favorite fleshlight, and walk out completely soaked like nothing happened.

You may or may not be overstimulated and sensitive to touch by the time you’re laying in bed, and you’ll be lucky if that stops him from taking you one final time. You’re also lucky if he’s mad enough to let it sink into the next day. If he is, he’ll go as far as to repeat positions/situations from the previous day.

Oh but don’t be mistaken! All of that isn’t happening until after he’s waking you up with a nice, warm, homemade filling.

[akamitrani]

omg i just read your dht fanfic and it was so good!! if your taking requests could i request that reader is married to david and she was with him on the set if terrifier (2024) and reader asks him to make love to her with his Art costume still on? Thanks!’ (sorry if this makes no sense lmao)

— The After-Hours Act —

David Howard Thornton x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Smut, established relationship, costume kink, roleplay (?), kissing, pining, choking, rough sex, public sex (well, kind of).

Summary: It's late at night, filming is practically done. Your husband, David, gives his final performance of the day.

[A/N: Omg hi, yes I accept requests! Thank you so much for liking my last fic 🤍 Hope you enjoy this one too, it's my first time doing smut. I absolutely loved the idea and probably had way too much fun with it lol.]

The set was alive with chaos. Flickering lights casting long, jagged shadows against the cracked walls, making the abandoned warehouse look even more sinister. Fake blood is pooled on the concrete floor and the air is thick with the smell of sweat, latex and the metallic tang of stage blood.

In the middle of it all stood David, fully transformed into the unnervingly silent and grotesque Art the Clown. His smile stretched wide under the white mask, black lips curling into a grimace that was equal parts amusing and horrifying.

You watched from the shadows just beyond the set, your eyes never leaving him. David had always been able to command a room and, as Art the Clown, he held a power that drew you in no matter how many times you had seen him in character.

The director yelled “Let's wrap it up!” and the tense energy of the set dissipated like smoke. David instantly broke character, his terrifying expression melting into his usual boyish grin as he exchanged a few words with the crew. His eyes flicked over to you and he gave you a subtle wink.

Your heart skipped a beat as he made his way toward you, still in full costume. The other crew members busied themselves with cleanup, leaving you and David in a pocket of relative privacy.

“Enjoy the show?” – he teased, voice low and familiar despite the eerie costume.

You couldn’t help but smile, mix of nerves and excitement – “You were terrifying, as always. But...” – you replied, eyes lingering on the smeared makeup around his lips – “I have a little request tonight”

David’s brow quirked in curiosity, he stayed silent, slipping back into Art’s mute persona for a moment. You took a deep breath, stepping closer so only he could hear your words...

“Can you stay in costume... For a little playtime, with me?” you whispered getting closer to him, a blush creeping up your cheeks.

For a split second you saw a flicker of surprise in his eyes, it was quickly replaced by a mischievous glimmer... He understood the idea. He nodded slowly, slipping fully back into character, his smile turning wickedly playful. Stepping back, he walked towards the door of the warehouse, locking it.

You felt a thrill shoot down your spine, you were completely alone with him now – No crew, no distractions. He moved closer to you, his movements slow and deliberate, like a predator toying with its prey. The game had begun.

David – or rather, Art – stopped just inches away, tilting his head in that unnerving, silent way.

“Are you sure about this?” – he whispered, the question hanging in the air like a dare. You could see it in his eyes, he was more than ready to play along. You wanted to see just how far he would take it, how much you could handle... You nodded.

Without warning, he lunges forwards, pining you against a cold concrete wall. A gasp escapes your lips as his gloved hand wrapped around your throat, not tight enough to hurt but enough to send a wave of adrenaline through your body.

The pressure of his hand on your throat sends waves of heat between your legs, your breath coming out in short gasps. He leaned in closer, his painted lips brushing your ear, he remained silent, true to Art's unsettling nature.

You whimpered softly, feeling the undeniable desire. David's grin widened and he pushed you harder against the wall, his free hand slipping to your waist, pulling you closer. You could feel his growing bulge against your thigh, his gloves rough against your skin. His eyes bored into yours demanding submission.

You gave in willingly, letting him take control over you. The grip on your throat tightened just slightly, enough to make you even more wet.

“David...” – You breathed his name. A futile attempt to break the spell of Art's menacing silence.

But he wasn't ready to break character yet. Instead, he released his hold on your throat and captured your lips in a messy kiss, taste of makeup and sweat mixing between you two.

He pulled back, just enough to look at you. For a moment you thought he might speak, but instead he let out that eerie silent laugh, his shoulders shaking as he looked at you with a mocking expression.

“You really are good at this...” – You said, voice husky with arousal and fear.

He flashed that terrifying grin again and in a heartbeat lifted you up in his arms. You look at him with a surprised look as he carries you to the prop bed in the set and carefully throws you in it. He hovers on top of you, grabbing your waist and pulling you closer to him. This time you completely feel his hard cock pressing against your thigh, making you moan – “Hmm yes...”

David's hands start to wander around your body, you're completely under him, completely at his mercy. His fingers slid under your dress pushing it up, revealing your black lacy set of lingerie. He pulled back and paused for a moment, he had an idea, suddenly getting out of bed – you look at him confused.

"David? What happened?" – You asked, afraid you did something wrong. He doesn't speak, instead he silently laughs gesturing for you to wait with an excited expression.

You watch him happily reach for Art's infamous black trash bag that was in a corner, open it dramatically and start looking for something inside of it. You were about to say something, but before you could do that he threw the bag away, in his hand is a black knife with fake blood still on it. He smiles devilishly pointing to the knife... then you. You freeze, feeling genuine horror with his actions now.

David senses your growing tension and gestures with both hands as what can be understood as 'relax, I'm not going to hurt you... probably'. What an imp. He starts crawling on top of the bed towards you with a hungry look, reaching your legs. He signals for you to open them and you gladly do so, without asking questions. He pauses for a moment as if savoring the situation, the position you're in – He gives you his trademark creepy smirk.

He reaches for your panties, his finger lifted one of the side edges and in a swift motion he uses the knife to slash it, removing it and revealing your throbbing cunt – now on full display for him. You inhale sharply, the cold air making you shiver. He throws away the knife and your undies somewhere around the set.

He pulls you towards him roughly, demanding, pushing your legs more far apart. You notice his bulge is very prominent now, poking through his clown costume. David hovers above you, one hand beside your head and the other ghostly stroking your sensitive bud making you moan. You don't want to wait, can't handle teasing now – you shift slightly as a form of protest.

“Fuck me now” – You breathlessly groan

He stopped in his tracks and looked you dead in the face, up until now he has been real soft with you, taking things slowly... But if you're such a needy bitch with no patience then he will give you exactly what you want.

David pulls back slightly and gathers your legs in front of him, pushing you to the side forcing you to change positions. Your back now is exposed to him, your ass completely tilted up, he uses his knee to once more spread your legs. You tried to look back at him but he shoved your head down in the bed and unspokenly demanded you to stay this way. Not wanting to defy him again you accept his command.

You stayed like this for a few seconds wondering why nothing has happened, you couldn't help but listen to your surroundings, especially behind you – focusing on any sound, any clue to what will happen. Unbeknownst to you, your husband – Art, at the moment – was dazed at the sight before him. Pussy swollen with desire and wetness threatening to drip down your groin, enough to make his dick beg to be released.

A sudden sharp noise of tearing cloth invaded your ears, making you jump a little bit. You were scared to look back but your curiosity was louder at the moment and you couldn't help but slightly glance to the source of the sound. David had torn his clown suit to free his dick, now holding his fully erect member in his hand leaking in precum, pumping it a few times.

He caught you looking and in a futile attempt you tried to avert your gaze, too late now. He smiled wickedly and as punishment, he gave you an unexpected ruthless slap to your butt, making you hiss in both shock and pleasure. The stinging sensation only adding to your burning heat. He continued – two, three, four, five slaps – smacking until you were moaning for the pain, for him.

“Mmm-aah fuck” – you moaned – “fuck me, just fuc-”

Your phrase cut short when he entered your pussy, shoving his dick deep inside you then completely out in a excruciatingly slow speed. He was taunting you, giving you what you wanted but not in the way intended to.

“Mmmm Dave, please ah- please...” – You cried out. You could feel the clown smirking behind you.

David started picking up speed, pounding hard, grabbing your waist for stability. There will definitely be some purple digits engraved there tomorrow.

You can hear his ragged breath and occasional whimpers, you're surprised he could maintain Art's silent persona this far. David is usually quite vocal, he enjoys praising you during sex. The difference is noticeable, you're still unsure about it... On the other hand, his much more dominant demeanor when portraying Art makes up for it.

He takes his dick out and flips you on your back to face him again, he takes your legs and puts them on his shoulder. He promptly aligned his shaft with your entrance again, staring directly at you. David's half-lidded blue eyes peaking through the white mask, black lips slightly open indicating breathlessness. Pounding you, he pushed your bra out of the way, he loved the erotic sight of your tits bouncing just for him.

His cock deliciously hit your sweet spot with expertise – he just knows how to make you feel good – feeling the climax build up more and more on your stomach on each thrust he gives, you're almost there.

He leans in closer to you, one of his hands grabs your throat while the other stays at your waist, pining you completely onto the bed. He's choking you mercilessly, cutting your oxygen this time.

David picks up his speed really fast, making the prop bed creak loudly, the sound of rough slapping skin filling the set – Your orgasm threatening to crash down. The stimulation is overwhelming and you can't hold it anymore.

His dick hits hard and deep in your pussy – you deliciously cum, your juices spilling all over his shaft. He nods maniacally feeling your tightening warm cunt around his cock, it was all that he needed to reach his peak – closing his eyes and throwing his head back, he ejaculates inside you with one final thrust. He releases the hold on your neck allowing you to gasp for air.

You see his face contorting and you think he might break character now. Instead he opened his eyes and smiled at you while clapping his hands cheerfully. The way he stayed silent, embodying Art’s menacing playfulness, drove you to the edge.

He removes himself from you, sweating, panting. You suddenly feel the exhaustion and so does he – literally plopping himself on the bed, by your side.

“I love you so much, you know that?” – he finally spoke after some minutes, the real David finally breaking through.

It was such a relief to hear his voice again – “I love you too... Even when you're being a complete psycho” – you teased, still breathless.

David laughed, genuinely – “I hope I wasn't too rough” – he said, pressing his forehead against yours, his arms wrapping around your waist in a comforting embrace.

“Maybe a little” – you admitted, resting your hands against his chest – “But I like it when you surprise me”

David smiled, leaning in to kiss the top of your head, filled with all the tenderness you knew him for. It was just the two of you, sharing a quiet moment.

“Thank you” – he murmured – “For loving all sides of me... Even the creepy ones”

You laughed softly, running your fingers through his chest – “I wouldn’t have it any other way”

You knew this was a moment you’d cherish – a memory of the man you loved, both the sweet husband and domineering clown... And tonight, you have experienced both.

“Alright, alright. I think we've given Art enough playtime for one night.” - he murmured, gently caressing your back. He kissed you one last time before preparing to get out of bed.

“I think I'll have to buy another clown costume” – he joked, pointing at his groin area, where he had ripped the fabric.

“And new panties for me, ruined my favorite one” – you added with a fake pout pointing at the long gone undies, currently at the floor. (rip undies)

“Yeah, sorry about that... I- I don't know what I was doing honestly” – he said looking down

“No, no. None of that. I loved everything. All of it.” – You quickly replied, forcing him to look at you. You could swear you saw a faint blush creeping up his cheeks.

“C'mon, let's get out of here” – He said sweetly, slipping his hand into yours – “We've had enough fun for one night”

Some minutes later as you both walked out of the darkened set hand in hand, you realized what you had just experienced was a moment you'd never forget. Fear, love and desire collided in the most thrilling way.

[deliciousangelfestival]

We're Not Okay - 1 | Bucky

Character: Bucky x veterinarian!Female Reader

Summary: Two people, each carrying their own trauma, find themselves in a place where they can begin to heal their wounds and mend their hearts together.

Words Count: 3,400

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on Ko-fi 🙏🏻

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

“This is the first time I’ve heard a fox's voice,” said your father, Toni, as he shivered, pulling his jacket suit tighter around himself. The cold air bit at both of you as snow threatened to fall. Toni, at 50 years old, stood taller than you, his grey hair contrasting against the bleak sky.

He kept close behind as you worked at the conservation center, his eyes darting downward to ensure his pristine Italian leather shoes avoided mud or puddles. Unlike him, you wore a rugged outdoor outfit, complete with sturdy boots, befitting your role as a veterinarian and co-owner of the conservation—a job you’d been committed to since leaving home at seventeen.

“You could have waited in the visitor’s room,” you said, glancing over your shoulder while examining the fox.

“I can’t,” he replied, his voice tinged with anxiousness.

You let out a long sigh, turning your attention back to the fox—a sleek creature with bright orange fur streaked with hints of white, its ears flicking nervously as you checked for injuries. Its amber eyes watched you warily, a mix of fear and exhaustion evident.

Once your work was done, you exited the cage with Toni following closely. Both of you headed toward the main house, the crunch of gravel underfoot breaking the tense silence.

Toni’s eyes caught something unusual. “Wow. What’s that?” He pointed toward a cage set apart from the rest.

“Wait…! Don’t go near—” you shouted, but it was too late. Toni had already stepped closer.

“AHH!” He fell to the ground, his face pale and eyes wide. He trembled as he stared at the creature inside.

The white wolf looked directly at him, its majestic fur glistening like freshly fallen snow. Though intimidating with its piercing blue eyes and muscular build, it limped, favoring one injured leg.

You rushed over and dragged your father away from the cage. “I can’t even get close to him,” you muttered, exasperated.

Toni stood, brushing the dirt from his customized jacket, his face a mixture of frustration and fear. “I’ve been spat on, peed on, and now nearly eaten by the animals here.”

“Why are you even here if you hate it so much?” You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms. “Just like my two older brothers. They come here, disrupt my work, and complain.”

“Ew… this place stinks. How do you stand it?” your first brother had sneered on his last visit.

“This owl is interesting. Do you sell them? I know plenty of people who’d pay,” the second one had added.

“GET OUT!” you’d yelled, seething with fury.

All the men in your family despised the outdoors. City people, through and through, they were consumed with managing their nightclub empire—a world you had rejected wholeheartedly. That life, everything they represented, was what drove you away to this sanctuary of yours.

Toni shifted nervously, glancing at you with rare vulnerability. It was an odd sight—the formidable nightclub owner and fierce businessman, now reduced to unease in your presence.

“Here’s the thing. I need… No.” He shook his head and corrected himself, “We need your help.”

“Me?” You arched an eyebrow. “How?” The question dripped with skepticism. You, a conservationist and veterinarian, had severed ties with their business long ago.

“Because of COVID-19, many businesses have been hit hard, including ours,” Toni said, his shoulders sagging.

You crossed your arms tighter, a flicker of resentment surfacing. After you’d left home, you’d turned a blind eye to everything related to their business. “Well, good. I hope that place burns to the ground.”

Toni’s face fell. “I know you hate it, but it’s my livelihood.” He sighed deeply. “Business is bad. There’s a chance it’ll go bankrupt.”

“Then sell it,” you said with a dismissive wave. “Most men your age are enjoying retirement.”

“Bah! No. I’m still in my prime!” He straightened his back defensively.

“Get to the point. What do you want?” you demanded.

“There’s someone willing to invest. But… there’s a catch,” Toni admitted, his eyes pleading. “Do you know Barnes?”

“Hmm… Yeah. The family that donates a lot to wildlife causes, including this place.”

“That’s right.” Toni nodded eagerly.

“So Barnes wants to invest in your nightclub?” You were incredulous. “Why?”

“That’s how Barnes gets richer—diversifying. And they’ve chosen our business. But there’s a condition.” Toni’s expression grew grave.

A pit formed in your stomach. Whatever it was, you knew it couldn’t be good.

🐺🐺🐺🐺

“The Barneses want to send their oldest grandchild here,” said Toni, his voice low as if dreading your reaction.

You pinched the bridge of your nose, exhaling slowly. “This isn’t a daycare or rehab facility for humans.”

“I know, I know.” He raised his hands defensively. “That’s what I’ve been telling them. But they won’t budge. If I don’t bring their grandchild here, they won’t invest in the nightclub.”

“Ridiculous!” you snapped, your eyes narrowing. “Why drag me into this? The animals here are victims, and this place is their sanctuary, not some personal favor zone.”

“I knew you’d hate it,” Toni said, shifting uncomfortably. “But I thought you might change your mind after hearing me out.”

You crossed your arms, skeptically raising an eyebrow. “Oh, I’m all ears. What kind of offer could possibly make me reconsider?”

“This… isn’t easy for me,” he admitted, swallowing hard. “But I’ll give you what you’ve wanted for a long time. I’ll remove you from the family registry.”

Your eyes widened in genuine surprise. “Wow. You must really need this investment.”

Toni nodded, his shoulders slumping, revealing the weight of his desperation. “But you don’t…” His voice faltered, as if hoping you’d ask for anything else instead of severing family ties completely.

“Fine.” The single word was delivered coolly as you turned on your heel, walking away without looking back. Toni’s face fell, his hope visibly deflated.

“Do you really hate me that much?” he called out, his voice cracking slightly. “That you want nothing to do with us?”

You stopped mid-step, your back still to him. “I do.” The words were blunt and final, hitting him like a physical blow.

A silence hung heavy in the air, broken only by the faint rustling of the wind. “Because of you, I’m reminded of that incident,” you said quietly, more to yourself than him, before walking away, leaving him standing there, hurt and alone.

That night, sleep eluded you. Memories from your childhood swirled in your mind, refusing to let you rest. Growing up as the child of a nightclub owner was no fairytale. Your home was a chaotic tangle of bright lights and dark secrets. You’d seen things a child shouldn’t—dangerous deals, late-night arguments, drunken patrons—and it left scars.

The confusion was only magnified by two stepmothers and two stepbrothers. Making a family tree in school was always a nightmare. That business stole away what innocence you had left. That was why you fled, finding solace in the simplicity and quiet resilience of animals.

"Owooooooo," A wolf’s howl pierced the still night air, low and haunting.

The sound sent a chill down your spine but also pulled you from your thoughts. Grabbing your jacket, you decided to check on the white wolf.

The wolf’s enclosure was isolated from the others. Previously placed near the fox, it had made every nearby animal skittish and restless, so it was moved here. The wolf stood under the pale moonlight, its white fur glistening like freshly fallen snow, every movement tinged with raw strength despite the noticeable limp in its gait. It tilted its head back and howled again, a mournful, soul-stirring sound.

You stepped closer to the cage, your breath fogging in the cold air. The white wolf’s piercing blue eyes locked onto you, unblinking. When it first arrived, it had been painfully thin, its ribs visible under its fur, and its injured leg had been in dire condition. Despite its weakened state, it had always reacted with hostility—growling, baring its sharp teeth whenever you approached.

You stopped just outside the cage’s boundary. “Can’t sleep?” you asked softly. “Me neither.”

The wolf let out another long, mournful howl, as if acknowledging your words. Its gaze was intense, wary, but something flickered in its eyes—pain, maybe even recognition.

“You’ve been hurt a lot,” you murmured, your voice low and steady. The wolf’s ears twitched, a small but telling sign that it was listening, though its muscles remained taut, ready to spring at the first hint of danger. You leaned against the cold metal bars, feeling the chill seep through your jacket. The wolf’s intense gaze never wavered, its blue eyes seeming to pierce right through you, mirroring a pain you recognized all too well. This raw, unfiltered connection made the air feel heavier, the silence more profound.

This was why you worked here. It wasn’t just about caring for wounded animals; it was about caring for yourself. The conservation was a sanctuary, not only for those with fur and feathers but for a heart battered by memories of your past.

Every injured creature, every frightened animal you helped heal, was a step toward mending yourself. You’d left a life that was full of noise, chaos, and hollow family ties that never really felt like home. Here, there was simplicity in purpose and purity in your connection with these beings—no lies, no hidden motives, only survival, trust, and the instinctual drive to heal.

When you saw the wolf growl and lash out in fear or defiance, you understood. Its isolation mirrored your own self-imposed solitude. You, too, had learned to push others away to protect yourself. In mending its wounds, in helping it trust again, you hoped to do the same for yourself. Piece by piece. Scar by scar.

You sighed, your breath visible in the cold air. “It’s going to be okay,” you whispered, more to yourself than the wolf. It didn’t respond, of course, but its ears twitched again. You let yourself believe that, maybe, it understood on some level. Maybe, just like you, it wanted to believe that healing was possible—even after so much pain.

🐺🐺🐺🐺

The inside of the luxurious jeep exuded opulence—soft leather seats, dark wood paneling, and the faint scent of expensive cologne mingling with polished leather. In the spacious backseat sat two men.

One of them, Jimmy Barnes, carried himself with a commanding presence. His gray hair was impeccably styled, and lines of experience etched his face, giving him the aura of a leader used to control. Everything about him, from the sharp cut of his suit to his steely gaze, spoke of power and purpose.

Beside him, his eldest son, James Buchanan Barnes—known as Bucky—stared blankly out the window. The passing landscape rolled by, ignored and unremarked upon, as the silence between father and son stretched uncomfortably. The trip had already dragged on for four hours, and not a single word had passed between them.

Jimmy shifted in his seat, crossing one leg over the other. He glanced at Bucky, his eyes softening momentarily before hardening again as he struggled to maintain composure. He drew a breath and spoke, his voice firm but tinged with an edge of weariness.

“Bucky.”

There was no response. Bucky’s gaze remained fixed on the blur of trees outside, as if he hadn’t heard anything at all.

Jimmy clenched his jaw, his hand tightening around the cane resting against his knee. He let out a deep sigh, exhaling the frustration he’d been holding. “Bucky,” he repeated, more gently this time. Still nothing. Jimmy's shoulders sagged slightly, a rare crack in his usually impenetrable facade.

Bucky, his firstborn from his marriage to his late first wife, hadn’t spoken a word in years. As a child, something had happened—something that had stolen his voice and left scars too deep for therapists and experts to reach.

Every attempt to coax him out of his silence had met with failure. Over time, Bucky had also developed acute anxiety around people, making even the simplest social interactions a nightmare. Recently, though, they’d discovered a sliver of hope: Bucky seemed calmer, even a little more at ease, around animals.

Jimmy’s thoughts drifted back to his meeting with Toni. What had started as a business discussion quickly shifted when Toni mentioned his daughter—a veterinarian with her own conservation center. The idea had taken root then and there.

This might be what Bucky needed. It was a desperate measure, but Jimmy would go to any length to see his son improve—for Bucky’s sake, and for the sake of their family legacy.

Jimmy shifted again, leaning closer to Bucky, his voice quieter now, almost pleading. “We’re going somewhere different today,” he said, trying to inject warmth into his tone. “You’ll like it. Animals, open air… it’s good.”

Bucky didn’t move, but a slight tension in his shoulders betrayed that he’d heard. The silence lingered heavily between them, but Jimmy took it as a small victory. He leaned back, looking out his own window, his expression hardening once more. He needed this to work. Bucky had to get better—for himself, for the company, and for the legacy he would one day inherit.

The jeep rolled on, carrying them both toward an uncertain future.

🐺🐺🐺🐺

When Jimmy and Bucky arrived, the scene was more than just a simple visit; it was practically an event. The luxurious jeep pulled up, its polished exterior gleaming even in the muted light. Two men stepped out, flanked by a small team of guards who maintained a cautious but respectful distance. You observed the scene with a mix of curiosity and apprehension. Guards? It felt excessive.

Toni walked over with a strained smile, clearly trying to mask his nerves. He gestured toward the older man with an air of forced calm. “This is Jimmy Barnes,” Toni said, his voice firm but tinged with unease. “Jimmy, this is my daughter.”

You extended a hand politely, meeting Jimmy’s piercing gaze. His handshake was strong, controlled—a man used to holding power. “Pleasure to meet you,” you said, maintaining eye contact.

Jimmy nodded once, his expression unreadable. “Thank you for having us,” he replied. “I’ve heard good things.”

“Of course,” you said, feeling the weight of his words. There was a formality in his tone, but a glimmer of desperation lingered beneath. You turned your attention to the younger man beside him. “And you must be Bucky.” You spoke gently, but Bucky didn’t respond. He barely seemed to register your presence, his gaze fixed on the ground or wandering elsewhere.

Jimmy’s jaw clenched ever so slightly. He shifted his weight, a sign of his frustration, though he kept his voice even. “Bucky,” he said again, a touch softer this time. There was no answer. Only the quiet rustling of leaves in the wind.

You looked at Jimmy, feeling the tension simmering beneath the surface. “He can take his time,” you offered quietly, hoping to ease the pressure. “There’s no rush here.”

Jimmy’s shoulders relaxed just a fraction. “Thank you,” he said, his tone softer now. “It’s… difficult. You understand.”

“I do,” you nodded, choosing your words carefully. “We all need space to find our way. Animals teach me that every day.”

Bucky, seemingly oblivious to the exchange, took a few hesitant steps toward the enclosures. You and Jimmy watched as he moved, his posture guarded but curious.

“He’s calmer around animals,” Jimmy said, almost to himself. There was a mix of hope and despair in his voice. “People make it… harder.”

You nodded, choosing to focus on Bucky. “I’ve seen it happen before,” you said quietly. “Sometimes, animals understand what we can’t.”

Jimmy studied you for a moment, as if weighing your words. “I hope you’re right,” he said finally, a hint of vulnerability breaking through his otherwise controlled exterior. “This has to work.”

“It’s a journey,” you replied, keeping your voice steady. “There are no guarantees. But we’ll do our best.”

As Bucky moved closer to the enclosures, something strange happened—the animals turned their attention to him. Every single one of them stopped what they were doing and sat down, as if sensing something unseen. You blinked in surprise, feeling a chill run down your spine. This wasn’t normal behavior.

The white wolf, isolated from the rest due to its intimidating presence, suddenly stood. Its pristine fur gleamed in the sunlight as it limped toward Bucky. You held your breath, instinctively stepping forward in case something went wrong. But Bucky extended a hand, slow and gentle. The wolf hesitated for a brief moment before closing the distance, nudging Bucky’s hand with its nose. Your eyes widened. This was the first time the white wolf had willingly approached anyone. Even you—who spent countless hours caring for it—had never been received this way. It always kept its distance, aloof and wary.

Jimmy watched the scene unfold, his eyes brightening with a mix of hope and disbelief. He turned to you, his voice low but firm. “I have a feeling this place can help him.” There was a pause, heavy with meaning. “If it does, I’ll donate a substantial sum to support your work here.”

“Thank… thank you,” you managed, trying to keep the surprise out of your voice. You inclined your head, feeling the weight of his words settle on your shoulders.

Jimmy nodded and began to walk back to the car, the guards moving in step with him. Toni lingered for a moment. He stepped closer, his expression softened as he took your hand. “Please,” he whispered, his grip warm but trembling slightly. “Help me this time.”

You bit your lip, uncertainty swirling within you. “I’m still not sure about this.”

Toni’s eyes met yours, a mixture of hope and desperation. “You can do this. You’ve always managed to handle things on your own.” He gave you a thumbs up, a strained but genuine smile on his lips, before turning to follow Jimmy.

You watched him go, your heart tightening. “No, I’m not,” you whispered to yourself, your shoulders sagging as the weight of the situation pressed down. Outwardly, you might appear strong and unshakable, but inside, the scars of the past left you vulnerable and weary. Every act of strength was a battle, every decision a reminder of what you had to protect.

When the car disappeared from view, you turned your attention back to Bucky.

🐺🐺🐺🐺

You and Bucky stood in awkward silence after the initial introductions. The air was heavy, almost stifling, as you struggled to find the right words. Bucky’s gaze remained fixed on a point somewhere past your shoulder, his expression distant and unreadable. Finally, you sighed softly, deciding to break the silence.

“Come on,” you said gently, gesturing for him to follow. “Let me show you your room.”

Bucky fell into step behind you, his movements quiet but tense. As you walked, you explained, “We keep things pretty simple around here. Meals are communal. Everyone—workers, volunteers—we all eat together.” You paused, glancing over your shoulder. “You don’t have to join if you’re not ready. No pressure.”

Bucky’s only response was a brief nod. It was mechanical, almost detached, but at least it was acknowledgment. You offered a small smile, even though he wasn’t looking at you. “There’s food available whenever you want it,” you continued softly. “And if you need anything, just let me know.”

He said nothing, his eyes wandering to the walls as if searching for an escape. You let out a quiet breath, your heart heavy. You knew this kind of pain—it mirrored the animals you cared for here. The ones who recoiled from touch, who couldn’t trust, who flinched at the slightest movement. Healing took time. It required patience, and you were prepared to give him both. You just hoped he’d let you.

When night fell, the dining room filled with the usual chatter of workers and volunteers unwinding from the day. You scanned the room but didn’t see Bucky. It wasn’t surprising—socializing with strangers was probably overwhelming for him. Silently, you prepared a tray of food and carried it to his room, setting it carefully in front of the door. You didn’t knock. You didn’t want to intrude. Instead, you walked away quietly, hoping he would eat when he was ready.

As you settled into your own bed later that night, a strange unease crept over you. The quiet felt oppressive—too quiet. Usually, the white wolf’s mournful howls punctuated the stillness, a sound you’d grown oddly comforted by. Tonight, there was nothing. It gnawed at you, pulling you from bed and urging you out into the night.

Your steps quickened as you made your way toward the white wolf’s enclosure. The moon cast pale light over the grounds, and there, standing face to face with the wolf, was Bucky.

Neither of them moved. They simply stared at each other, as if sharing an unspoken language that only they could understand. The wolf’s icy-blue eyes were locked onto Bucky, unblinking, while Bucky’s expression was raw, a mixture of pain and something else you couldn’t quite name—recognition, perhaps.

You swallowed hard, your breath catching in your throat. “Hi…” you said softly, taking slow, cautious steps forward. You didn’t want to startle either of them.

Bucky flinched at the sound of your voice, his head snapping toward you. His eyes widened in surprise, and for a split second, you saw fear flash across his face. He turned and bolted, his footsteps muffled by the grass. As he disappeared into the shadows, the white wolf turned its attention to you. It let out a low, warning growl, its body tense and protective.

'What was that?' You froze, raising your hands slowly in a gesture of peace. “It’s okay,” you murmured, though your pulse raced. The wolf’s eyes never left you, its growl deepening. You felt like an intruder—like you’d interrupted something sacred.

What had just happened? Why did it feel like you were the outsider, the third party in whatever silent connection Bucky and the wolf shared?

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[rey-jake-therapist]

What's the deal with Sauron and children ?

There seems to be something we don't know, about Sauron and children. Among Haladriels we often joke/hc that Sauron wants to have children with Galadriel and that's why it's a recurring theme. But in all seriousness, we may ask : what are the writers not telling us ?

It started in Numenor, where we saw Sauron smile giddily at the sight of little girls running.

I'm sure many still think : "he was putting on a show for Galadriel". Ok but Galadriel herself didn't smile when she watched them, she just looked at them with indifference. And it's not necessarily a human thing to smile at the sight of children, many humans don't care for them.

Then there's a scene where Sauron as Halbrand confronted Adar, who asked him if he had hurt someone he loved, adding, "A woman ? Perhaps, a child ?".

Galadriel may have noticed that Halbrand seemed particularly tense when he asked if it was a child, because she told Adar, "eat your tongue".

Tbf, it's likely that this scene was just a red herring. The audience still had to believe that Halbrand was a man, and that he had a good reason to want Adar dead. Adar firmly believed he had killed Sauron at this point, so there could be only one reason for Halbrand to be so angry at him, aka he took someone he loved away from him. What I mean is that Adar asking him this question made very much sense, at the moment.

But the reference to children came back in season 2, when Sauron had a vision of little girls running in the vision he had first created for Celebrimbor. It could also, again, mean nothing, because this vision was for Celebrimbor, a make believe to hide him the fact that Eregion was under attack. But someone, I don't know who, noticed something interesting when they put the gif of the Numenor girls on top of the gif of the mind palace girls.

Do you see it ? How the kids in the second seem to continue the Numenor kids' running ?

It may mean absolutely *nothing*. And yet I find interesting that the writers chose to associate Sauron with kids not just once, or even twice, but three times.

Could it mean that at some point, when he was in Numenor, Sauron seriously considered the idea of settling down there, of founding a family and liviving as a human being ? He was in a repentance phase and had, in his own words, "given up" any idea of fixing the damages he had done after Adar betrayed him and turned him into powerless goo, so I don't think it's too far-fetched to imagine that he could have genuinely wanted to settle down, to blend with the crowd.

Or could it be, as @apoloadonisandnarcissus suggested to me, that Sauron associates children with the concept of innocence, an innocence he himself lost when Morgoth corrupted him ?

Saurbrand told Galadriel, about Numenor, that it was "a paradise rife with opportunities". The vision of Eregion he showed Celebrimbor had everything of a paradise. Even after Celebrimbor got back to work and was no longer here to see the vision, Sauron remained for a few minutes in his illusion, contemplating it.

It didn't escape Haladriel shippers' attention that the girl was a sort of Galadriel lookalike, and that his lover, whose face remained unseen, may have expressed Sauron's own doubts regarding his capacity to perfect/heal Middle-Earth without Galadriel and her light.

That said, neither the idea of having a family, nor the association of children with innocence, can be related to what Adar did to him. Adar definitely didn't kill a child of his (and it would be dangerously lore-breaking to claim that Sauron ever had a kid, because Maiars are supposed to be forever bound to their physical form once they conceived), and he isn't the one who stole his innocence either. Adar is the one whose innocence was stolen by both Morgoth and Sauron, actually.

So now it's your turn : do you have any idea about this ? If yes, please share :)

[shimylli]

So after some time to think about it, I will share my own though on Solavellan ending in Dragon Age The Veilguard, so SPOILER ahead.

ON ROOK AND SOLAS

First I would like to share a bit about them, because I really enjoyed their dynamics on the game.

« – Letting the veil collapse... – ... Is what you want. Making amend isn't about what you want. »

I wish so bad those words, and the whole cinematic would have been from my Inquisitor perspective. That she could be the one angry, and also saying the right word, she derseved it, after all this time.

But I am not angry at all, because like I said, I enjoy Rook and Solas relationship.

Solas treat Rook the way he would have never treated Lavellan. There is such a cruelty in trapping someone in an eternal and lonely prison, and Rook - specially if you play it as a supportive and forgiveful one - is one of the least to deserve it.

Rook see the manipulative, abusive and cruel side of the Trickser god. Solas never really let is guard down this time, He doesn't allow it considering how close he was to stop everything by the time of Inquisition.

Rook forgiving and believing in Solas, still, despite everything he has done to her, was also really impactful and satisfying. And for Solas, it was the first step through healing.

INQUISITOR INTERVENTION

As he still proceed on his plan, he hear the voice of the Inquisitor, and turn so fast.

It is so hearbeaking, and after all this time, he still calls her " Vhenan ".

And for her, he lets his guard down, again.

« – You think you've come too far to come back, but you're wrong. »

Lavellan plays a really mature and forgiving part, and I think it makes sense. In Inquisition, I played an angry Lavellan, the one who scream in elvish and then say " I would have had you trust me " while angrily entering his personal space. But it has been 10 years, and like us, she had time to think about it, to take distance and make peace about their relationship.

Solas is looking for every way to proove that he is undeserving of her forgiveness, give many excuses.

«– I forgive you ! »

I was so happy about the Voice Acting, when Lavellan assertively cut him and scream at him this sentence. She already failed 8 years ago to convince him to stay, and she will not let her second chance pass.

And then...

MYTHAL AND SOLAS

Ugh. Where to start.

I like what they did with Solas and Mythal relationship, seeing how abusive and manipulative Mythal was. In a way, it makes the time between Solas and Lavellan in Inquisition even softer, as she accepted him for the person he was and wanted to be. A person who gave advice and share his wisdom. An equal.

I also don't think that Mythal and Solas were romantically involved, and it would have been better to avoid the companions comment about it, making it moreconfusing. Actually, it would have been even better to not have the team reuniting to watch and comment the really personal memories of Solas like a TV Show.

Mythal is the third to offer forgiveness by sharing the weight of their mistakes, and even so I wish she would have been an optional intervention, I have to recognise that the scene is intense and painful - positevily - to watch.

This is the moment the Lost Elf theme start to play as the same time as the main DA TV theme with violin, they managed to make it even sader.

His body language. He is breaking, getting crushed by the weight from his pain. To see him, so vulnerable, so small, it was heartbreaking. And when Mythal release him, say the last word that finally free him, is like he can no longer stand, he fall crying.

Obviously, he was no longer bounded to Mythal since long, and every bad decision he took in the past were taken freely. Still, metaphorically, it was really symbolic. The guy has been suffering for thousand years.

SOLAS AND LAVELLAN

«– Banal Nadas Ar lath'ma Vhenan. »

And then Lavellan walks slowly towards him, and softly kneel to look him in the eyes. She is caring and supportive, and start saying reassuring words in elvhen. I feel like them speaking in elvhen makes so much sench, has it is kind of their tongue of truth and sincerity.

I love that Lavellan grew to be this person Solas could trust, and could be there for him, show compassion. She does not look submissive, but caring. She definitely is in control of the situation, and she chose to be here for him. Despite everything.

And again, the animation. The emotion in their looks. The tears in Solas' eyes.

The sadness of his gaze while he decide to take the hardest decision, and pay the consequences of his actions.

And while Rook and Morrigan look at him, proudly, there is this little frame.

Lavellan, smiling, lookind down. A bit of sadness in her eyes. I think it is the moment she realise that she have to take a decision. See him take his responsability, keeping him as dear memory, or leave everything to be by his side. And my head still remember what she said to him after the Well of Sorrow mission : " No matter what, you will be by my side. ".

I am not upsed by the ending. This is exactly what I had envision before the release of Veilguard.

Sure, Solas was the victime of Mythal abuse, but the pain and suffering he caused around him were all from decisions he took freely. He needed to make amend, and not a sacrificial reparation. The decision is even harder as it mirrors his fear that we know. Dying alone.

Every other ending is painful to watch when you remember that.

So for him to take his responsability, knowing that he would lead him to a life of solitude. Only, when he chose this path, with the end that awaits him, does it makes sens that the Inquisitor offer to follow him. The world is saved, she leave it in the good hands of people she trust, and she deserve to finally take a break.

And again, the game let you decide if you want to follow him, you can have a Lavellan who think that it was too much for her. But to me, it is the culminent point of their story taking a mythical level.

«– Ar ghilas vir banal. »

Solas speaking elvhen sounds so beautiful. Again, he rejects her, telling her that only terrible thing awaits her if she follow him. He wants to protect her, she doesn't have to face the same consequences as him, she has done nothing but trying to repare his mistakes. I think it shows that he still care, that he would not make her selfishly take the same burden as him.

I know, it is not a grand gesture, but the way he looks at her. I do believe she means everything to him.

And the kiss was so soft. I think us, solavellan fan are not use to it. And it bugged me also, as we had in the past more intimate scene. I think I would have prefere if he at least hugged her while kissing. Still, I think it goes well with the caring and softness of Lavellan, in this specific situation, who is in front of a bruised man.

I kind of count on the artist to make something more emotional.

So far, I enjoyed the ending, I just have a problem with the execution, and now that I am writting all of it, I realise that I even enjoyed the cinematic, I just think I was expecting more. A Trespasser level ending, that would feel more personal.

But I am also in peace with the ending, this is exactly what I wanted for them, and I am sure that they will make of this fade prison a special place for them to grow happy.

And again, thanks to the Solavellan fan to provide us with content that should be in the game. The way he looks at her :

I think this picture alone help me make peace with the end.

And I will just finish with my Lavellan and Rook smiling. I love them so much.

[fanaticsnail]

if den-den mushis have customizable ringtones for different callers i'd definitely put out of context descriptive one-liners for them

Example given:

Zoro: SANTORYU- you are 20,170 kilometers away from your destination

Ichiji: laser eyes laser eyes laser eyes laser eyes

Yonji: if zoro and sanji had a kid

Luffy: dumbest ray of sunshine

Nami: MONEEEEEEEEEEEEY and tangerines

Law: moshi moshi i'll turn your brain into mush if you joke around with me

Kid: *krzzzt* *clangs* *gunshots* *screaming* *unhinged laughing*

Buggy: *silly cartoon noises including the honk and the running sfx*

Sanji: kuso marimo- ♡NAMI-SWAAAAN, ROBIN-CHWAAAN-♡

Lucci: *catfighting noises*

Who's Who: *in a deep voice* mrow

Queen: miSeRO yO HeNsHIn- (actual line)

King: he's too fine so the government hunts him

Law's Den Den Mushi

Masterlist Here

He has done everything in his power to protect the snail from being tampered with: sleeping with it on his mattress beside him as a last ditch effort to halt it from an unwanted touch and alteration...

...but his crew is exceptionally intelligent, and the mechanical mastery of the Polar Tang translates exceptionally well to Den Den frequency.

It started with a silly comment regarding how many beats per minute is used in cardiopulmonary resuscitation: it's 100-120 beats. Compressions need to be timed accordingly to save a life, and what a better way to remember that by tampering with Captain Trafalgar Law's Den Den to set a beat to match that frequency.

Ikkaku is the best with wires and cogs, Penguin is an excellent anesthesiologist, and Hakugan is the second best surgeon on the ship. With Jean Bart and Uni keeping watch of the door, Clione and Bepo steering the Tang and holding it steady, the three of them begin the tamper with the snail radio frequency to not only emit the sound from Law's shell when it's called: but all shells Law manages to call from his personal Den Den.

Unaware and sleeping soundly for the first time in a long time, Law is awoken by the sound of his Den Den singing instead of its usual warble, and his face flushed red with both anger and embarassment.

He can't even bring himself to answer the call, even while knowing who was on the other end of the transmission. There is nothing he can do to change it now, and after the anger subsides, he actually marvels a little at the mastery gone into ensuring that this is what plays when he needs to use his shell...

🎶"Yo' dick brick hard like a medal (uhh), I got three holes for it, like a pretzel (uhmm). Tight as a virgin, boy, don't get nervous (tight), I'm here to serve you customer service (right?). I save dick by giving it CPR, I save dick by giving it CPR (yes). Put my mouth on it like CPR. Let's make porn and watch it on VCR."🎶

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[becauseicantthinkwritings]

Angel of Small Death

Part 8 of my Halloween mini series!

Dark! Frank Castle, Dark Priest! Billy Russo, Dark Priest! Matt Murdock.

Warnings: Blasphemy, death, guilt, corruption, threesome, oral (f/m) smut.

A/N: It's only gonna get worse

Father Heath is found dead the next morning.

His body, in such a state of decomposition that the doctor had dissuaded you from viewing it.

You were glad for it, you didn’t think you could look upon another dead body, ever since you’d been forced to assist with the ones that perished in the mysterious plague, the very idea of a corpse made you ill.

Father Russo is kind enough to visit you, in your office after the body has been found. His arms are tight around your body, quiet whispers, promises, that everything would be well.

You’re distressed, crying into his shoulder, he looks pained to see you this way, but all you feel is the helplessness you experienced not too long ago.

It had apparently been an accident, in the pouring rain, Father Heath had slipped, and fell head first from one of the outlying granges, used to keep some of the grains safe and dry in the wet season.

It comforts you, that his death was most likely quick. Billy reassures you that he most likely felt absolutely no pain in his last moments.

You hold Vigil that evening in the church. It’s the first time in a while that the rain doesn’t fall, and in the morning, funeral mass is held.

You sit among your sisters, listening to them sniffle, watching as Matt delivers the final sermon.

His voice is calm, soothing, you close your eyes and simply listen to him. It helps a lot, and when he’s done, you follow behind as they take the coffin to its final resting place in the cemetery.

You sit in the bathing pool for hours after, examining the sprigs of floating lavender that pass you by, thinking about the inevitability of death, and the ways that your actions hold the shape of your afterlife.

.

.

.

“Bless me Father, for my sins.” You murmur, lifting your rosary, to kiss the crucifix.

“Speak your burdens, and they shall be heard.” A familiar voice responds, differently cadenced than Matt’s.

“It has been one week since my last confession, and though I have atoned for my sins, I still feel the weight of them.”

“It is normal to feel this way. Tell me what troubles you.”

Billy.

You swallow.

“I have allowed myself to sin carnally, and…I find that my body yearns for it.”

He makes a low hum of contemplation from the other side of the wall. You grip your skirts, trying to ignore the way he makes you feel.

“What do you yearn for?” He asks.

“Touch, Father, I yearn to be touched.”

You hear rustling from the other side of the wall.

“By yourself?”

“N-no- by… others.”

“Speak their names, give them power.”

You feel your heart kick in surprise at his debauched words.

“Father Murdock, Father Russo…” You swallow, “Mister Castle.”

“And what would you have them do to you?” Father Russo asks next.

“Is… discussing this appropriate?”

“Of course… How can I help you if I do not know the extent of your fantasies?”

You pause for a second, deep in thought.

“Their hands, their mouths, I can’t stop thinking about how they would feel on my skin, pressed against my body.”

“Good. Tell me where.”

“Where?” You stutter out.

“Don’t be shy, tell me what you think about.”

There are so many things, you don’t know where to begin.

“I want to kiss them, feel their lips on mine, move between them. I want bruising, punishing kisses, and soft, sweet kisses and hungry, devouring ones too.”

“All of them? At once?”

You let out a shaky breath.

“Yes,” You almost moan, pulling your skirts up, desperate to relieve some of the ache in your body brought upon by speaking about this topic.

“I want them to lie with me, take care of me, touch each part of me.”

On the other side of the wooden wall, you hear a slow groan.

Did he like your words too? Did he agree with them? Did he want to see your fantasies fulfilled?

“I need you to touch yourself now,” Billy utters on a pained breath, “Reach down, and ease that feeling inside of you.”

You don’t need any more persuasion, reaching down, cupping your heated flesh, fingers delving right to your sticky center.

You let out a soft gasp, your head thuds against the wood as it falls back.

“That’s it, just like that.” Billy guides.

You bite down on your bottom lip, sighing, thinking about the things you might let them do if they pleased, anything to feel that release.

“Father Russo.” You gasp out, shaking your head, needing more than your fingers could give.

He groans.

You hear the distinct sound of hinges squeaking as a door opens, and then movement, before a little knock on your side of the confessional.

Your lips part in surprise, you right yourself hastily, leaning forward, you unlatch the door to find Billy looking down at you with hungry eyes.

He steps in, closing the door behind him, before moving to stand in front of you.

What if someone had seen him? You don't get the chance to say anything before he lowers himself to his knees in front of you.

“You make me, insatiable, little lamb, and I will not be denied any longer.”

His eyes on yours, he reaches under your skirts, warm hands gliding along your legs gently, working their way up… up… until his fingers curl on the edges of your undergarment. 

“I'll make you feel good.” He promises, when he notices your hesitation, and you swallow, finding the words to protest.

“We shouldn’t.” You try softly, wondering why you picked now to suddenly defy him.

The corner of his mouth tilts up.

“Don't you trust me?” Billy asks softly.

You swallow, nodding automatically. Despite being apart for years, you knew that he was always someone you could depend on. There had never been a moment where you wondered if he was capable of leading you astray, and you weren't about to start now.

He tugs your undergarment down your legs, and you stiffen when he pushes your legs apart to settle between them.

He makes a soft hum of appreciation, before leaning in to kiss your thighs.

The sensation is so soft, so careful, that you feel your own fragility, tipping your head back, letting out a little gasp as his mouth pays you careful attention.

Is this what Eve felt? When she sinned for the very first time? How euphoric, how worshipped her experience might have been and you think you understand her just a little bit more.

When his tongue presses between your thighs, you have that aching sensation of familiarity, mixed with the sweet burning of ecstasy in your head.

You gasp, saying his name as pleasure rolls over you, the filthy sound of his tongue exploring you reaching your ears.

When his movement increases, you feel your body fight to succumb, muscles going pliant, thighs shaking as they try to comprehend the pleasure.

The squeaking sound of the confessional door opening fills your ears, your eyes open in panic.

It's not your side- it must be the other, you hear dull shuffling, before someone softly clears their throat.

You glance down at Billy between your thighs for help but he seems absolutely unbothered by the new developments.

Through the crisscrossed slats in the wood, you catch sight of red rimmed spectacles.

“Speak when you are ready.” Matthew’s voice says calmly on the other side.

You feel Billy’s tongue glide over your sensitive bundle of nerves.

“Bless me… Father, f-for my sins.”

You hear him let out a deep chuckle.

“Speak your sins, little one.”

Speak? You were supposed to speak? 

“It's been a few days since my last confession, and I find myself-ah- plagued with desire.”

Billy huffs in amusement, his breath tickling your center.

“In what way has this desire manifested?”

“Ph- physically- my body aches for release like never before.” Your eyes roll back into your head for a moment as Billy’s lips close around your bud.

“You poor thing,” Matthew hums, his voice sweetly sympathetic, you could only wonder if he had any inclination that on the other side of the wall you had another priest feasting hungrily between your thighs.

“Have you tried to resist temptation? To pray for strength in overcoming these carnal urges?”

“Yes I’ve tried,” You whisper hoarsely, “But they won’t go away, they won’t accept defeat.”

“I understand, little one. These desires are persistent, aren’t they? And yet, perhaps there is a freedom to surrendering to one’s true nature, embracing the passions that burn within us, rather than denying them.”

You find yourself nodding along helplessly while Billy licks you eagerly.

“Perhaps it is time to confront these feelings head-on. To acknowledge the fire that rages inside you and seek a way to quench its thirst.”

“Please, Father Murdock,” You gasp, saying his name, feeling Billy’s hands tighten on your thighs, “Guide me.” You finish.

Matthew’s fingers push through the slats of wood, and with one great tug, the small crisscrossed panel comes free, leaving an open square gap in its place.

Billy pauses the movements of his tongue between your thighs to lift his head. You stare in amazement at the gap, knowing that it shouldn’t have been that easy to remove.

“F-Father Murdock?” You ask softly.

“Kneel, little one.” He answers without explanation.

You glance down at Billy in confusion, watching a devious and seductive grin grow on his face. He raises a hand, and presses a finger to his lips, an indication for you to not say anything to give away Billy’s presence.

Billy pulls away, and settles himself on the floor  facing upwards, gripping your leg and tugging you off the little wooden bench seat, tugging at you until your knees are on either side of his face, your body directly in front of the wooden gap, facing Matt.

You don’t have a moment to ponder on what exactly Billy hopes to achieve with you almost seated on his face- when Father Murdock’s straining member appears in front of you.

Your mouth drops open in surprise- never having seen one so… prominent. It’s large in every conceivable way, and you’re not entirely sure what he expects you to do with it.

The tip of it is a flushed pink, beaded with a clear substance, and you stiffen in fear, feeling Billy’s hands roam your thighs in an attempt to soothe you.

“Matthew?” You ask again, hoping for some guidance.

“Open wide, little one. Worship your priest as only a devoted acolyte can.”

You exhale a breath of anxiety, leaning in, your mouth wraps around the very tip of him.

He groans softly, leaning in till his hips are flushed to the open gap. You tilt backwards in response, lest you take a significant portion of his length into your mouth before you’re ready.

You’re unsure of how to move, but it’s as if your body knows, the instinct hidden deep within you, only coming forth when needed. Slowly, you begin to move your head back and forth, taking him into your mouth measuredly.

“That’s it,” Matt hums, “Don’t be afraid, embrace the pleasure.”

Your mouth wrapped around him, you moan in surprise when you feel Billy pull your hips onto his face, his tongue finding that aching spot inside of you once more.

It’s sin, it has to be. This was the pleasures of the flesh that you’d been warned about from an early age. The fear of enjoyment that the matrons had tried to beat into you, falling apart with just the touch of Billy’s tongue and a mouthful of Matthew’s swollen erection.

“You love this, don’t you, little one? You crave the taste of my divine body.”

You moan in agreement, taking him deeper, hearing him stutter out a breath in response.

Billy’s tongue is equally wicked, delving into your deepest parts, flicking rapidly along your swollen bundle of nerves, making you more desperate to please.

You choke on Matthew’s erection, taking it too deeply in an impassioned moment, hearing the man before you groan especially loud.

You can barely think, squeezing your eyes shut, rocking your hips onto Billy’s tongue as your body burns, begging for a release that promises incoherence.

You work your mouth to the pace of Billy’s tongue, your jaw aching at Matthew’s size, your body tingles, nipples pebbled and rubbing against your underclothing, desperate to be free.

You moan around his erection, body shaking, the pleasure Billy gives you is so much more than you've ever experienced.

You squeeze your eyes shut, whines muffled by Matthew, and you take him in deeply as you feel your body reach its peak.

You tremble, rubbing yourself desperately onto Billy’s tongue as rapture, unlike anything you've ever experienced, fills you. From your aching center, all the way up your spine, filling your head with hazy thoughts of submission and obedience.

In the midst of it, you hear Matthew groan, before he spills into your mouth. 

You swallow without thinking, some of it slipping from the corner of your mouth as he draws away with haste, concealing himself before replacing the wooden panel that he'd ripped off.

You pant, leaning back, pulling your body off of Billy’s mouth to settle on the floor beside him. He lets out a soft chuckle, sitting up, your lower halves pressed together in the tight space.

He licks at his lips, you watch, transfixed, wiping his mouth to rid himself of any evidence of debauchery.

His eyes filled with mirth as they study you. He reaches out, and uses a thumb to swipe at Matthew’s release on your face, guiding it into your mouth.

“What I wouldn't give to be able to take you right now.” He murmurs, deep in thought.

“What's stopping you?” You ask curiously, not totally sure if you were ready for that.

He shakes his head sadly, pulling you against him, cradling your body in the small space.

“It's not time.” He answers cryptically, holding you close in these moments as your bodies come to terms with the sins you've committed.

.

.

.

[blueishspace]

Hero, Villain, God 2

(Prev) (Next)

Your name is Hotguy...

... Well, not really, that's pretty new all things considered...

Your name is actually Scar Vex Goodtimes but if you want to be honest to yourself way more people care about Hotguy then they do Scar so it might as well just be Hotguy... (You aren't going to think about how this might influence your self-esteem though, after all if you don't aknowledge it then it isn't a problem.)

You are the hero of Hermitopia! Number one on the charts and famous all across the world! With thousands of adoring fans and thousands of criminal behind bars many call you the greatest hero of the century!

With unmatched agility you fly in the sky of the city, jumping between skyscrapers, and enact justice with just your trusty bow and arrow!

Most importantly though: you are the only hero in history to possess two powers! Everyone is in awe because of your combo of perfect accuracy and super speed (hence your Hotguy symbol being half orange and half blue) and you totally do not live in fear of being forgotten the moment someone else also has two powers 'cause that would never happen and even if it did It's not like your sense of self worth is entirely based on your hero career or anything.

"Cub! I'm back" You sing song.

"You are, you were supposed to be back an hour ago"

"Oh c'mon! It's that the reallybway to welcome me back after such a long day? I'm offended."

"Scar, you know your body cannot handle too much stress... You should be more careful."

"..."

"I promised to help you with it but I can't do that if you don't listen to my instructions!"

...You do know that, unfortunately even a superhero as hot and powerful as you has his flaws... Yours is just particularly annoying and limiting.

"Oh c'mon Cub, there was a cat in a tree! You know I could never leave a poor kitty in such a dangerous situation!"

He doesn't answer at first, he then stares down at you with his arms crossed...you have a feeling he might have caught your lie...oops.

"You have super speed Scar, you are telling me it took one hour to get a cat out of a tree?" So he definitely knows what actually happens, has he been watching you again? You thought he stopped! "Well... There were some other things happening around that time... I just didn't think of mentioning them!"

"Huh uh...sure"

Cub turns and for a few seconds the room becomes akwardly silent, so silent that when he begins talking again you jump a little at the suddenness of it.

"There are reports of a new vigilante in town"

Oh? "A new vigilante? It's been a while!"

"Don't sound that excited about crime mr.hero... but yes... This one seems to be heavily inspired by... poultry"

... What? Why poultry of all things? Who would theme their vigilante identity around chicken?? That's like... really lame.

"Calls himself poultryman, modus operandi seems to be...*sigh* trowing magical eggs at people and then knocking them out"

"Magical eggs?"

"Yes, instead of just yolk in some rare cases the egg hatches into a baby chick... I don't know how it works either, it doesn't make sense and I hate it"

Uh... Touchy, got it. Wait, that brings the question, why bring it up right now?

"So... Why are you telling me? Why now?"

"Despite it being necessary for your job to know these things?" Oh... right, it makes sense but you know he's not done. "The hero association wants you to bring this Poultryman into custody"

"Oh! Of course! Consider it done!"

That poultry guy won't know what hit him! ... Hopefully.

[supercalime]

A goodbye post I guess?

Hey yall, i wanted to write something about all of this as this may be the last time I talk about this show. Apologies in advance, this will be long and all over the place cause im using this little essay to get it off my chest and help me calm down my anxiety. Strap in, this will be a doozy.

First off, no matter how sad and disappointed we are, let’s please not stoop down to the level of those fans when it comes to voicing our issues with this situation. Please, let’s not harass, call people names, send them threats, etc. we can voice our opinions in an adult way, and although it fucking hurts and it makes us want to shout from the rooftops and call Murphy, Minear and Stark every name in the sun, we need to be grown ups and come out on top of it.

That being said, I want to first acknowledge how fun and cool yall are. We endured A LOT of shit since april and all that bullshit didn’t stop you from keeping the positivity going. I applaud you all for that. It has been hard. I came in contact and became friends with some really nice people here and I wouldn’t change it for the world. I loved being a part of this fandom and it physically hurts me that this feels like it was all for nothing.

Even though I feel like a fool as well, I hate to see how you are all so sad with this. This wasn’t our fault. We were not naive for believing that this storyline could’ve been great. Don’t blame yourself for being taken advantage of. Because that’s what they did. They saw the opportunity to profit from a community and took it. They are the ones in the wrong. They used us for brownie points and then tossed us away like trash the second they got what they wanted. It’s on them.

What I’m about to say now will sound hypocritical as I’m writing this at 2am while trying to cope with an anxiety attack caused by this very show, but what we can take away from this is that unfortunately, we can’t rely on tv shows for happiness. Yes, that’s a bitter pill to swallow, specially in this political climate as we were hoping for some sort of escape from the horrors of the elections. What i took away from this is that I need to (for lack of a better word) touch grass. I need hobbies, I need friends. All things that I’ve been lacking because fandom stuff is easier. I need to find stuff that makes me happy that doesn’t depend on outside factors. But also I want to make sure that if a show is all you have, that’s okay and is even more okay to feel betrayed. I was an absolute mess a few years ago when a show I adored stabbed their fans in the back, but it gets better. You still get angry remembering you were done dirty but I promise that the memories that stick are the positive ones.

I don’t wanna go on a deleting spree but I also don’t want to be reminded of this hurtful moment as the wound is still fresh, so I’m deciding to reevaluate some things offline, like I did with previous fandoms, and come back when I’m ready. I don’t think I’ll leave tumblr or never watch/talk about 911 again but I need some time and space from it so I can feel better. I don’t want to doom scroll through the tags like I did tonight. What Ryan Murphy, Tim Minear and Oliver Stark did to us was awful, but the best thing I can do is not let these three men influence my mental health. I won’t let a tv show ruin me because it’s not my fault. It’s not our fault to believe that there were half decent people in the entertainment industry that cares about the portrayal of queer individuals. They will have to sleep at night with that knowledge and deal with the consequences from the BoBs. And if these guys decide to humor the BoBs that’s their funeral. It would further show they never cared about representation and just wanted to save face after making so many people miserable for simply enjoying a canon ship. I hope they can see the consequences because I’m not even the target here. I’m hurt for all the queer men that saw themselves in buck and tommy, that even messaged the actors thanking them for their honest portrayal.

In conclusion, here’s my goodbye (for now).

Thank you so much bucktommy nation!

Yall are the best,

Love, Lety 🖤

[thewriterthatghostedyou]

Chapter 3

This week is finally over! Thank god. And I hope you all enjoy this next chapter!

Word count: 2,636

Warnings: canon typical violence, panic attack, and suicidal thoughts

Divider by @zaldritzosrose

‘Perhaps I’ll get lucky and Daeron will get skewered by a jousting pole.’ You thought bitterly as Gaella yanked your corset tightly. You let out a weak sputtering sound as you felt your chest squeeze too tightly for comfort.

“Gods, Gaella, how am I expected to breathe in this thing?” Once King Aegon had allowed you to return to Bitterbridge you had to fight the urge to burn all of the corsets you had from your time in the capital. Luckily you had abstained from such an act as you could not afford to buy new ones with Bitterbridge in such disrepair.

The timing of these celebrations were unfortunate as many other houses were struggling to rebuild after the battles fought and part of you wondered if such timing was deliberate on Aegon’s part before waving the thought away.

“I suppose in short spurts and very infrequently.” Gaella scoffed, lacing you up tightly before reaching for a silken underskirt. “How this ever became standard is beyond me.”

You shivered as the cool silk slid down your back and cascaded around your ankles, reminding you of water dripping down your legs as your corset gave you another sharp twinge of pain that seemed to resemble being shot with an arrow. Your hands become clammy as Gaella threw another layer over your head, and smoothed out the yellow fabric skillfully. Jace would understand what you were doing right? He’d know that you had no choice but to play along with whatever cruel game Aemond and Daeron had planned.

“All right, my lady, time for your hair.” Gaella said before taking a second look at your face, now feeling cold and numb.

Your hands began to shake as your chest heaved shakily. But what if he didn’t? What if wherever he is, wherever your family was, they were disgusted by your complacency? By your weakness? You should have refused to bend the knee to Aegon after Rhaenyra died. Was she cursing your name from the other side? Or did she even care to watch after you from wherever the Stranger had taken her.

The two of you had been close once, when Jace was alive. Jace… It had been easier to forget the pain his absence had left you in while talking with Lord Celtigar, but now that Aemond had taken a cruel interest in you, you couldn’t help but remember the pain Jace had felt at the loss of his brother… Luke… Would Jace really-

“My lady?” You shook your shoulders abruptly, jerking yourself out of your trance before giving the older woman what you hoped was a comforting smile.

“My apologies, I think I drifted off again.” You gave a forced laugh before stiffly walking to the vanity. “I fear that being in the capital again is… bringing up some less than pleasant memories…” You added cautiously as Gaella gave you a searching look before nodding apprehensively.

“All the more reason to leave this horrid city as soon as we can.” She muttered softly, sweetly brushing your hair back just as she had done hundreds of times when you were a child perched on your mother’s lap. You felt your heart slow at the familiar gesture and reason began to return to your head as you watched her quickly braid your hair into a complicated updo that kept your neck free from hair that may irritate it.

You bit your nail nervously, a habit you’d had since you were a child as Gaella stepped back and looked at you with a matronly smile. “You are ready, my lady. And once the lists have been completed I’ll have a nice warm bath for you to return to.”

“You truly are sent from the gods, Gaella.” You rise from your seat to give the older woman a quick hug. It was not the most proper thing for a lady to do, but frankly you didn’t care.

If forced to look at the bright side of this demand, you had to admit that sitting in the royal box seemed like it would be much more comfortable than in the wooden stands where the rest of the crowds gathered.

As you finished ascending the staircase into the risen platform, several notable figures caught your eye as you made plans on who to avoid.

There were three rows in the box, each rising a step above the other as if it were a large staircase that had plush chairs at each level. In the very back were lesser lords, you did not recognize most of them and had no desire to make their acquaintance. They were farther behind the rest of the party and seemed as if their view of the matches would be blocked by Aegon’s banners.

The only notable among them was a woman with pitch black hair who was soothing a young boy with silver hair on her lap. You eyed the boy curiously. He was too young to be Aegon or Viserys and while Rhaenyra had been pregnant when Sunfyre had eaten her, her newest child was only three moons along and too early to survive such a blast. The strange woman paused for a second, her eyes flicking up to meet yours and you swallowed slightly as she eyed you with an intense gaze. It wasn’t hostile or judgemental, but curious bordering on recognition as you met her eyes before looking away, your gaze shifted to the second tier.

There sat the small council: Lord Jasper Wylde, Tyland Lannister who wore his hood as he always did nowadays, and Lord Larys ‘The Clubfoot.’ The three men were on the right of a large ornately gilded seat that sat Aegon himself, half of his face twisted by burnt flesh and you fought to keep your face stony so as to not show your delight as his discomfort. At his left was his mother and daughter. You felt a pang of pity flash through you at the young princess. She sat as still as a statue in her seat, with a dissociated look on her face that seemed as if she was well beyond her years.

A coy giggle diverted your attention away from the somber child to the final row, the occupants of which made your lip quirk into a scowl before being replaced by its regular neutral expression. There sat Aemond next to Carina Wylde on the side of his good eye, leaving only one empty spot on his bad one. A spot that just so happened to be next to Daeron Targaryen himself.

Taking a deep breath to calm yourself, you strode over to the spot, taking extra care to avoid glancing at the youngest prince as you sat down on Aemond’s left. But in your peripheral vision, a trait that Aemond did not possess, you noticed that he stiffened as you passed him and refused to look at you as well.

“Ah, Lady Caswell,” The One-eyed Prince said lazily, having to turn nearly his whole body to look at you. “How wonderful of you to finally join us! The festivities are about to begin.”

You hummed thoughtfully, staring straight ahead at the empty field refusing to look at either prince. “Well it wouldn’t do to miss such a… spectacle. It is why I returned to the capital, after all.” If he thought that he was humiliating you by placing you on the side he could not see in favor of Carina he was sorely mistaken. It only meant that you did not have to make tortuous small talk with the man and that his interest truly was waning.

“Yes well I was unsure that you would heed my invitation.” Aemond shrugged slightly. “As much as I would enjoy the pleasure of your company, as intended, your tardiness has made it so that my attention has been diverted.” You chanced a quick glance to Carina who pretended to be very interested in the favors allotted to each lady, but you knew that she was listening intently.

“I can see that.” You responded calmly, refusing to betray your irritation. “Lady Carina is an adept conversationalist, I take no offense in her presence.” You spoke honestly. Perhaps if he married her already he would leave you alone.

“Wonderful.” Aemond said in an insincere tone with a smile that did not reach his eyes, but as that smile widened you knew that you were not out of the dragon’s lair yet. “It seems like you will have to make do with my brother. I’m sure you both will get along as quickly as a noose takes to traitors.”

You saw red at his comment. How fucking dare he bring up your mother’s death in such a callous way? How dare he-

The younger prince on your other side cleared his throat as you fought the urge to throttle the man besides you. “The first pair are about to begin.” Was all he said, refusing to turn his head your way.

You fought to keep your breathing even and calm as two knights atop heavily armored horses took their places at the edges of the field. You didn’t know what house they belonged to and did not have it in you to care as their lances splintered against the solid metal of their breastplates.

It was now more than ever that you wished you knew how to wield a sword. Your blood tingled through your hands as you craved the ability to slice through as many greens as you could before you tasted the bitter steel of an enemy’s sword. Perhaps if you were able to, you might have been able to die an honorable death instead of living a dishonorable life as an oathbreaker, living as a ghost of yourself and shoveling away your rage for the fear of who else may be harmed from it.

Perhaps then you and Jace could be together. Perhaps you just wanted to be at peace and for the world to quiet. Perhaps the idea of following your mother’s footsteps crossed your mind one too many times. It would be so easy. To leave. Everyone else had already done so, so why not you?

Your mind flickered to an image of your family, once proud but now only you remained. Sighing you steeled your resolve once again. No. You couldn’t die. Not yet at least. You had work to do and a family name to restore.

You had lost too much to let your line end here at the hands of these cravens. If your desire to live was not strong enough on its own, spite may have to be your motivator. And a powerful one it was.

“You look lovely today, my lady.” Came a stiff voice beside you and finally you dared met Daeron’s gaze. Up close he looked like the younger boy he was. Only one and eight compared to your two and three.

You said nothing, vaguely hearing the sound of a body being dragged off the field in the distance.

“I-” Daeron took a deep breath before speaking again. “I had hoped that I could talk to you while you were in the city.”

You remained silent, staring straight into his violet gaze that held a pitying look similar to the one you had sent his niece only minutes ago. Perhaps you would be as somber as she was if you received such a stare day in and day out. You refused to let him see your pain. Pain that he caused, so he would receive nothing. The same terms he gave your mother and brothers.

Daeron flinched as metal clashed against metal and another round began, cutting off the awkward silence between the two of you and the crowd roared in approval at whatever the result was. “What happened… during the war…” He trailed off softly.

He swallowed slightly before he spoke again. “I did not mean for things to happen as they did that day.”

If he wanted you to respond he would be sorely disappointed as you were as still as the ice flowing through your veins.

“I did not know that Maelor was dead until we reached the gates.” He explained hurriedly. “I only sought to bring him home, to his mother- my sister.” His eyes widened as he continued, seeming to forget that you were there. “When my Uncle returned with his egg I made a horrible decision. One that has haunted me since the day it came to pass.”

‘And gods willing will continue to do so until the day you die.’ You thought bitterly, the words that were relayed to you ringing through your head again and again as he sliced through your brothers’ small bodies. Boys only five and two years old. ‘You will receive the same terms you gave my nephew Maelor.’ Maybe you could throw him off the balcony to be trampled upon by the horses below. Your victory would be short lived, but satisfying as all hell.

“I had only meant to burn the inn it occurred at.” You flinched violently as he gripped your wrists with white knuckles and eyes widened and far away. “You must believe me, I didn’t know it would spread as much as it did and when the gates fell… I didn’t know how to stop it. How to stop them.”

You scoffed as you tried to pull away from his vice-like grip. “So you are blameless in all of this. How surprising. You say that you could not control your own men, men you grew up beside as a squire, to which I ask did you really want to?” You hissed quietly, accidentally bumping into Aemond as you struggled out of Daeron’s grip.

Daeron blinked quickly, regaining his senses as he slumped his shoulders as he was about to answer.

“My Lady Caswell!” The three of you whipped your heads to the field below to where the tourney had been raging.

You let out a small smile at the sight of a lord you did not recognize, but was thankful for the distraction nonetheless. The young man had dark black strands of hair that clung to his forehead and a face that you could appreciate from where you were sitting. You recognized his shield immediately as that of House Leygood, another vassal for the Tyrells. The young man was battered by a fight, but still standing as he held his lance out towards you with a charming smile on his face. “It would be a great honor if you were to grant me your favor for the fights ahead.”

“Here.” A light feminine voice called out softly to you as you stood to greet the man below and you took your favor, a wreath decorated with yellow daffodils and white roses, from Carina’s outstretched hand. Carina beamed at you as you took the favor from her and turned to the field. Much to the unexpected displeasure of both Targaryen princes.

“I wish you good fortune on the battles ahead Ser…” You trailed off, gently sliding the wreath down the lance.

“Lucas Leygood, my lady.” You heard someone scoff behind you, but ignored the sound. “Well Ser Lucas Leygood, I look forward to watching you fight.”

The young knight gave you another bashful smile before steering his horse, a beast that had a brown coat with black speckles, off the field so the next match could begin.

As you returned to your seat you noticed Aemond giving you a venomous glare that made you want to smile wider. It seemed as if his plan to humiliate you in favor of Carina in front of eligible suitors had failed.

Although you resumed your previous silence, you found yourself lost in your thoughts about the two choices for a husband you seemed to have.

Taglist 🏷️

Let me know if you’d like to be added!

@dixie-elocin

@shari-berri

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@g-cf2020

[yet-another-heathen]

These provide some pretty comprehensive overviews of what Project 2025 entails. But if you read through and find yourself not quite able to believe that all these things really are being pushed for, the entire document is available here for the public to read.

I know that conservatives have difficulty grasping why the rest of us are reacting to the election as though the results will kill us. You can't imagine the democrats putting forth laws to strip you of every right you have, let alone it actually working. You can't imagine knowing that when that happens, the hope is that it will prevent you and the people you love from existing at all— down to preventing us from even being mentioned in law books or historical records.

Even just reading that last sentence sounds overblown and insane, right? Surely it's an exaggeration?

No, it isn't. That much is spelled out in the legal documents above, along with exactly how it will be done. [If you skipped over those links, now is the time to go back and view them. The first is a 3 min video, and the second takes approximately 1 min to read.]

Worse than that, this document spells out how they plan to shift all levels of government to ensure that, even after these four years of presidency, it will be as hard as possible for us to gain back our rights for the next several DECADES, even if we win the presidency in the future. This election decided how the majority of the rest of our lives will play out.

I am a trans man (and, for the record, a disabled veteran who will be in a wheelchair for the rest of my life as a result of my service to my country), living in a red state. My partner, as well as many of my closest friends, are also disabled, queer, and/or women who will be directly affected by the end of no-fault divorce and complete lack of access to contraception and healthcare.

I am not only going to lose my own rights, I am going to have to watch the people I love most in this world have them taken away, too.

I know for you, the matter of who wins or loses the election is a matter of inconvenience and discomfort, at worse. That's the way it should be, for ALL of us. (Including those outside the country who will be affected by this election anyway.)

But that is not what this is. Not for minorities. Not for people like me.

We need time to grieve the fact that the rights and freedoms we expected to live the rest of our lives with are about to be lost. We need time to figure out how to keep our loved ones safe, when leaving isn't an option. We need time to process the fact that, when inconvenience was weighed against our right to be alive, we lost.

Political post ahead, and given this is a site that is (I would say) dominantly Democratic/left/"woke," if you don't want to read commentary from a Republican/conservative/"traditionalist," I completely understand, but this is your warning.

Just dropped (albeit somewhat accidentally) into a Tumblr community about Animation, and what should I see than the first several posts being about the US election and about saying Fie upon Donald Trump. And while I genuinely feel for people who have legitimate fear over him taking up the US Presidency, I also find myself a little bit baffled to see people think the world is going to spontaneously combust if he takes office again.

Yes, I will have my own share of concern if Kamala Harris takes office, and while I don't expect things to get any better than they were under the Biden administration, I'm also not screaming-crying-throwing up over the idea. It makes me uncomfortable, but only because her ideology differs from mine, and it's difficult to be comfortable with things we don't agree with.

Long story short, I genuinely wish peace upon anyone, on any part of the political spectrum, who is facing extreme anxiety over the outcome of the election. I also hope you take a breath and realize it's not the end of the world. Please do yourself that service. You're worth the peace, baberino 🙏

[an-internet-introvert]

Fun with golf hats

[carcarrot]

this time last year i was probably sitting in the kitchen while my dad started making an early dinner of chicken bolognese trying not to get too nervous about the concert i'd be going to in a few hours

[lxnarphase]

g. satoru who is a massive pervert and constantly whines for you to let him touch you all the time, even when you're both around others. you've lost count of how many times he grabs you and pulls you into his lap, his warm hands slipping under your shirt while sitting next to g. suguru, who's attention is no longer on the tv.

'he doesn't mind,' satoru always comforts you, grinning into the skin of your neck. 'sugu's my best friend, he knows i can't help but touch you, baby.'

best friend or not, that doesn't explain how you always ended up with your legs spread open wide in satoru's lap, your jeans and panties discarded somewhere on the floor as suguru kisses all over your thighs. the two of them talk like you aren't even there, as if you aren't growing wetter as each second passes.

"satoru," suguru purrs, his fingers running up and down your soft lips, parting them open to watch slick slowly drip out of you. "you must be doing something else to her. i've never seen it get wet so quickly." the way he speaks so calmly makes you dizzy. it's unfair, so fucking unfair how calm and collected suguru is when he's inches away from your pussy, those pretty purple eyes focused on it.

"yeah? 's wet?" it's also unfair how riled up it gets satoru, seeing his pretty baby getting shy because his best friend is rubbing his fingers up and down her slick folds. "she's so messy, isn't she? she's the prettiest little pussy," he coos into your ear. that gets a chuckle from suguru, his eyes finally looking at you. "always the one to talk to the pussy and not about it, aren't you, satoru?"

his fingers finally focus on your clit, rubbing little circles into it. both you and satoru look pretty from this angle, suguru notices. the pure need and shyness on your face paired with that manic desperation on satoru's...it's a perfect picture, one he wants saved forever. maybe next time you'll let him take some pictures...after all, he needs a new background for his phone.

"c'mooon, sugu...give her a kiss? c'mon, c'mon, give that cunt a kiss, tell me how sticky 'n' wet she is," satoru fucking begs, acting as if he's the one spread open and dripping. but you second the thought, giving suguru the prettiest little puppy eyes.

"anything for you, princess," he coos softly, leaning down and pressing a little kiss on your clit. it's so light you barely feel it but then he's peppering kisses on it, your wetness starting to get on his lips and making each press of his lips sticker and wetter. "s-sugu-!" before you can even beg for more, his mouth is on you. his tongue is so wet and hot on your cunt, it feels like he was drooling for you.

"does she taste good? how wet is she, suguru, c'mon, tell me, tell me how that pussy tastes, pretty please?"

"mm, satoru, it's almost as if you wanted to be between her legs."

"who wouldn't? she's so pretty, she's squirmin' so cutely, my pretty baby, my needy little mochi, her pussy's always so creamy and warm and messy, god, i miss it right now."

"shit...stop talking like that, you're gettin' me flustered, should i-"

"s-sugu, please, keep going," you so politely ask. it's unbearable how cute you are, it's taking everything in him to keep being nice, to keep treating your cunt nicely. he knows satoru is mean and practically bullies your pretty slit almost every day, but he wants to be the nice one, the one who you go to when your 'toru' is being too mean. yet, you're making it so fucking hard when you look at him with lidded eyes that beg him to be rougher with you...

but he knows he's done for when satoru whispers something in your ear that has your eyes fluttering a bit and gets a pretty little gasp from you. those gorgeous eyes—oh, do you have little tears in them too?—connect with his and he's fucked.

"s-suguuu, please," you coo to him, moving your legs to hook over his shoulders and pull him closer to the apex of your thighs. "i need your mouth on my pussy r-really bad, please don't tease me." you take a pause and squeeze your eyes shut, whining a little as satoru coos for you to keep going. "g-give my...my messy cunt attention, suguru..."

suguru shakily sighs and the next thing you know, his mouth is smushed against your pussy, his tongue hungrily swirling against your clit as his hands grab onto the fat of your thighs. he doesn't know what gojo told you in order to hear you say that, but he's silently thanking him as he messily sucks and slurps at your juicy cunt.

it's so hot, all it takes is a few swipes of his tongue and you're gushing everywhere. suguru lowers his head to dip into your hole and he moans. he missed this, missed the sweet taste of your juices on his tongue as you squirmed and moaned for him, your boyfriend's best friend.

"fuck, i-i can hear how wet she is," comes satoru's pitiful whine, his hand dipping down to swipe at your clit as suguru focused on lapping up everything that dripped out of you. "lemme help, lemme help, wanna help you get her creamy, sugu." the feeling of suguru groaning into your puffy folds has you keening, arching your back against satoru's chest. oh, he's in heaven watching you both. "yeah, you didn't know she could cream, didya? put your fingers in her, sugu, put 'em in that sticky little pussy 'n' angle up."

reluctantly pulling his mouth off you with a wet sound, suguru slips two of his fingers in you. he doesn't miss the cry of his name, but he really doesn't miss the delirious giggle and moan when he angles his fingers up, rubbing against that spongy spot.

"f-fuck, she's dripping..."

"go on, fuck her with your fingers, you know you wanna see her make a mess. make her fucking cream, suguru, get her prepped. maybe t'day she'll let you put it in...oh, based on your face, she just clenched on your fingers, yeah?"

his fingers are still swirling around your clit, his other coming down to press on your abdomen. he can hear you getting wetter, your little whimpers turning to moans as you slur their names desperately. he wants you to lose all thoughts, only able to think about him and suguru...yeah, he wants you all soft and sweet so he and his best friend can try and slip into those warm, slick walls.

"mmn...she's really creaming...god, pretty girl, can you cum for me? i wanna see you cum on my fingers. satoru, move your fingers, the poor thing needs my mouth on her."

"hmmm, suddenly you know what she needs? ehehehe, you're learninggg, suguruuuu!" if you had turned to look at satoru, you'd see the charged look in his eye, blue eyes practically glowing with insanity. his hand grabs a fistful of suguru's hair and pulls his face directly into your cunt, unable to handle any more of this. he wanted to see you cum on suguru's face.

"c'mon, c'mon, kiss it, suguru, make it messy for the both of us. mmh, fuck, listen to you making out with her pussy, s' wet and sticky, isn't it? oohmygod, both of you sound so good, she's gonna cum, sugu, she's gonna cum in your mouth...fuck, i love you both so much, can't wait to see you both fucking each other."

[nochepsicodelica]

NSFW

Toji calls you pup or puppy sometimes and you've always thought that maybe it had something to do with you being so playful and energetic at times, but those were always just your assumptions. Not a single one of those assumptions was confirmed by Toji, so you took it upon yourself to ask for the truth...

"Toji?" You call, looking up at him from where you sit on his lap.

"Hm?" He hums in response, looking away from the commercial on the TV and down at you.

"Why do you call me pup? Don't get me wrong, it's cute." You smile, feeling the warmth of the seemingly endearing name in your stomach. "But, I wanna know why."

"Mm... do you really wanna know?" You nod, bubbly giggles erupting from your chest in anticipation. You're so excited for this reveal. It's been a mystery for months. "Well, it's because you let out these high pitched, little whimpers, that sound like a puppy when I touch you, sometimes."

Glass shattered. Illusion crumbled.

Your face immediately heats up. "No... No! Really?!" You groan, shifting to lay back in his arms while covering your face in embarrassment.

"Don't be embarrassed, baby. It's cute. You're a sensitive little thing." His hand comes forward to rub your tummy over your shirt.

You huff, an audible hum of annoyance sounding out. "Well, I'm never gonna do it again. I'm just gonna stop. I'm done. Never again."

"You wanna test that out?" He asks, mischievous eyes watching your pouty expression. You nod, accepting the challenge. "Sit on my lap properly, like you were before." You shift back and sit up straight against his chest. He pulls your hands away from your lap. "Keep these here, and don't move them. Understand?" he asks, placing your hands on his thighs. You nod, again, and grip onto them.

His left hand snakes up your shirt, his fingertips teasing the skin of your stomach until goosebumps rise. It goes further up once the goosebumps have spread all over, sliding beneath the cup of your bra to rub your already pebbled nipple. So far you've only let out a couple sighs, so he adds in his other hand. It slips into the front of your shorts and beneath your panties, until his fingers make contact with your slicked up slit.

"Already so wet for me, mama. What happened?"

"It's always like this for you," you say, quietly, suppressing the urge to whimper as the pads of his middle and ring fingers rub your clit in such a tediously, slow manner. Your hands part from his thighs and attempt to grab onto his forearms, causing him to immediately pause the movement of the hand that plays with your nipples as well as the one in your pants.

"Hey." His tone is questioning of your actions, but there's the touch of a smirk on his face, like he knew you'd need more than gripping his thighs to keep you from folding so quickly.

"S-Sorry. I'm sorry."

He presses a chaste kiss to your temple. "Let's try that again."

Soon enough, those little breaths you released through your nose, became small, quiet whimpers, that you didn't think Toji would hear. He had to correct you so many times about the way you were sliding down his front. Eventually he decided to lift your bra entirely and just wrap his arm around your chest to hold you steady because of how much you were squirming.

"Toji, I'm gonna..." A louder whimper comes out, effectively bringing a victorious smirk onto Toji's face. He heard those quieter ones, but he didn't count them for your sake. You're his baby, after all.

He speeds up the movement of his fingers, his rough pads adding delicious friction to your sensitive clit. You tense in his hold when your orgasm hits, plenty of moans and those pet name earning whimpers, flooding out.

"There you go, puppy," he purrs, into your neck, slowing his strokes to not overstimulate you so fast. You grab onto the arm that's secured at your chest, your nails digging into his skin through the pleasure. He doesn't stop because you've already proven his point and he sees no reason to punish you anymore.

A few seconds pass and those whimpers return, accompanied by your thighs shutting around his hand. You curl up a little, holding on tight to his arm.

"Had enough?" He asks, stilling his hand between your legs.

"Mhm, no more," you mumble, sounding defeated after thinking back to the sounds you made and how this backfired entirely.

He pulls his hands out from your clothes and wraps his arms around you. "So pup and puppy are fair game?"

You sigh, and reluctantly nod.

[intoxicating-goddess]

TW - intox, somno, cnc, forced breeding

We're talking on a video call like we usually do in the evenings. I'm smoking a bowl to help wind down for the night. When I finish, you suggest I might want to do another. I've been really stressed out lately, it'd be helpful to have a little more, you tell me. I have been stressed lately, why not? I fill another bowl half way, but you convince me to make it another full one. After I'm done the second bowl, you can see how faded I am. I tell you that the weed is hitting me really hard and I think I'm gonna go lie down. You wish me well and say goodnight. I stumble through the house in a stoned haze, eventually making it into bed. I drowsily strip myself of my clothes before rolling over and falling asleep. I'm too deep in slumber to hear the door unlock. I gave you a spare key for emergencies, after all. You creep into my bedroom and see my naked body sprawled across the bed. You quietly take off your clothes and climb on top of me. Kissing your way down my back while running your hands all over my limp body. Feeling up my ass and tits and then finally, my pussy. I let out soft moans in my sleep. As you rub my clit and fondle my ass, I start to become wet. You then line yourself up with my slick entrance and ram your entire cock inside me. I wake with a scream, a concoction of panic and pleasure. As you begin violently thrusting, I try to get my bearings. My head is so dizzy and my body is so heavy. I let out a feeble scream as I try to resist, but it's no use. My body is far to weak and I can't put up a fight. I am pinned in place by the weight of your body on top of me. I have no idea who is inside me, but I can't seem to focus on anything but how good it feels. You lean down on top of me and begin grabbing at my breast. You pinch my nipple and I can't help but let out a moan. You chuckle softly between grunts, you know a filthy whore like me likes being used. Your thrusts are so hard and deep that it doesn't take long for me to cum on your cock. You continue to fuck me for what feels like hours. I am so out of it that I have no concept of time. I eventually let myself drown in the pleasure. It doesn't matter who is fucking me, the only thing that matters is how good it feels. After you've lost track of how many times you've made me to cum, you feel yourself get close. Your thrusts become faster and faster. You pull my hips hard against you, forcing your cock as deep into my pussy as possible. With a loud grunt, you let your load out inside me. You pull out and let my hips go, causing me to slump onto the bed. You watch as your seed seeps out of my throughly used pussy. You then put your clothes back on and leave, locking the door behind you. I lay in the wet patch knowing I should feel mortified, but instead I feel euphoric. Having my rapists seed pouring from my violated pussy turns me on all the more. It's not long before the exhaustion and intoxication lull me back into a deep sleep. I sleep well knowing my only purpose is to be a good cocksleeve. It doesn't matter if I'm conscious or not.