#and by a little scared I mean moderately.

[tarantula-hawk-wasp]

To be perfectly honest I’m a little scared

[ms-demeanor]

Okay THANK YOU for saying “your body craves what it needs” is bs because that felt like bs this whole time.

Like you don’t need more sugar if you crave sweets that is NOT what that means. Sugar is a food that people crave because it tastes good/sugar I think is an addictive food??

Idk it just felt like people making excuses when they’re supposed to be trying to eat a little healthier (healthier, not low cal, not low fat or keto or whatever. Diets are bs but craving sweets does not mean sugar is healthy thing for your body rn)

People crave sugar because it tastes good, which is not a bad thing, and there is an evolutionary reason that sugar and fat taste good to us. Carbs are your body's favorite thing because it is SUPER easy for your body to break them down into useful molecules.

I'm not a fan of the idea that any foods are addictive and I'm skeptical of models that suggest "refined food addiction" is a thing with a measurable, real-world impact; there's a lot of debate in that area of nutrition science and to me it kind of seems like the tools people use to track food addiction aren't really examining the addictiveness of specific foods, but are decent screening tools for people who have compulsive behaviors around food (for instance, one group of people who the Yale Food Addiction Scale has repeatedly been demonstrated to be REALLY good at identifying is people with anorexia).

But your body needs sugar all the time, whether that's in the form of complex carbohydrates that get broken down into simple sugars by your body, or simple sugars that you stir into your tea that then gets sent to your cells as energy. If your diet doesn't have enough sugar in it, your body has a processes to turn non-sugars into sugar so that it can use the sugar (gluconeogenesis!). Sugar is unambiguously good for you in the way that fat is unambiguously good for you. You need sugar to survive and it's not a bad thing if you want to have a cookie or a soda or some candy, and again - your craving probably isn't telling you that you're deficient in a specific micro or macronutrient, but I still think that you should listen to your craving.

Like, I don't know how much you know about psychotherapy but the attitude that a lot of diet-focused discussion takes toward cravings reminds me of cognitive behavioral therapy. "When you crave chocolate, no you don't! Don't think about the chocolate, you actually probably need starch or sugar or something, let's redirect that into having a banana, or some frozen berries, or some spinach. Point away from the unhealthy craving and into the healthy replacement, or, better yet, ignore the craving. Mind over matter. You choose how you act."

(I actually think "X craving means that I want Y food so I shall replace it with Z, which is similar" "craving salt means that I am dehydrated and need electrolytes so instead of potato chips I'll have some soup" is how this goes most of the time. I think this is a diet culture thing, not a food positivity thing.)

And you know what I think that's a garbage way to look at both food and emotions.

When I'm craving ice cream it's not because I've been mostly vegetarian for a week and am low on dietary cholesterol (AN IMPORTANT NUTRIENT. Don't be scared of consuming some cholesterol), I'm craving ice cream because sugar and fat taste good. So instead of trying to pretend that I'm getting "what I need" from a piece of salmon the size of a deck of cards with no salt and some lemon squeezed on top, I'm going to scoop out a moderate portion of ice cream and eat it while focusing on how much I enjoy it. And I'm going to do that instead of sitting down with a pint and a spoon while I'm stressed at work and eating something that tastes good to distract from the fact that work is stressful. (And sometimes it's fine to sit down with a pint and a spoon but I will say that's generally best not to do while you're in the middle of something stressful)

And if you want to relate that back to therapy I see this as more of the DBT approach. I've accepted that I want ice cream so I'm going to eat it in an intentional way and enjoy it instead of eating so much that I don't want dinner, or that it makes me feel sick, or that I eat it without noticing it because I'm using it as a distraction instead of a snack.

I'm not trying to shut down the negative emotion or shun the "bad" food, I'm accepting that I have that emotion and I'm working this neutral food into my day so that I'll feel good tomorrow and won't get heartburn overnight.

So I see that you're trying to be kind of anti diet culture here, but I don't think people need excuses to eat sugar, and I actually think that making excuses to eat it is significantly less healthy than just eating the sugar (which, again, is unambiguously healthy to eat as part of a varied, filling, nutritious diet). It seems like you may have internalized some ideas about sugar that are not great even if you are trying to separate from diet culture.

Nobody is ever going to eat a diet so healthy and nutritionally complete that they don't want candy or cake or cookies sometimes. Food is not only fuel, it is entertainment and culture and comfort and distraction and celebration and a million other things, but it is not bad. I don't think there's a single universally bad food out there, or any food that never belongs as part of someone's diet (unless it's something you're allergic to - I don't care if you're craving peanuts, do not eat peanuts if you have a peanut allergy).

So it's okay to make sugar, you don't need to make excuses. It's okay to eat sugar if you're craving sugar, even if that's not what your body "needs". But also sometimes a craving is your body saying "I'm hungry and this sounds good, please feed me" even if you're not a finely-tuned spectrometer that's craving blueberries pie because you actually need antioxidants from the blueberries (you're not a finely tuned spectrometer, you don't need the antioxidants from the blueberries, it's perfectly fine to just eat a slice of pie).

[karabin4ik]

Hello there! I was absent due to health, but now I’m back in action 💪

In connection with recent events, the feelings are extraordinary. On the one hand, I received confirmation that the choice of the citizens of my country no longer matters (believe me, before the elections I still had hope for changes!), but on the other hand, people saw that they are not alone, that there are many of us . With the death of... the man-voice-of-the-people (you yourself understand who I mean), the light went out completely. I don’t understand what will happen next and I’m a little scared, not even for myself, because my family has the opportunity to at least leave, but for the future of my homeland. I realized for myself that I love my city, people, nature, and in general my country. If I leave, how long will I not see my native land, how much will the life of the citizens of my country be ruined and how much will the government become intoxicated?

However, you shouldn’t lose heart, if nothing lasts forever, that means tyranny will come to an end!

Это пойдёт!

Sorry for this, Im just little upset. I will post the full work only here. On my usual Russian-language platform, posting this is a little risky due to moderation.

[jymwahuwu]

Lately I’ve been thinking about Yingxing wanting a sweet little spouse and keeping them in the house… You need help rubbing bubbles on his back… a traditional husband >_<

CW: yandere, kidnapping, stockholm syndrome (a bit), (implied but not described) dub-con

Blade is more open-minded… He basically follows the Stellaron Hunters through various galaxies, takes care of each other with the members, and has witnessed countless cultures and stories... But Yingxing? A weaponsmith. A proud weaponsmith, obsessed with forging those miraculous weapons. What Yingxing needs is more…traditional. A sweet spouse, waiting for him at the door. Prepare bath water of suitable temperature. Cook food and keep it warm. Taking care of some of his…needs. Keep the little house tidy. Sleep together at night.

The place where Yingxing lives is not considered luxurious in Xianzhou. Even though he was already famous in Luofu at that time… orders and commission inquiries flew into his electronic workbench like snowflakes in the sky. He doesn't need a gorgeous house, practicality is the most important. Basic packages. Room, living room, kitchen, bathroom, work room, small garden, weapon forging station. He doesn't know much about dating… Baiheng jokingly teaches him the skills of dating and starting conversations. He still doesn't quite know. You look frightened. He's getting more and more frustrated… He doesn't mean to scare you. Yingxing just wants to start as a friend and then develop into your lifelong spouse.

Locking you in a house was not part of the plan. it's not like that.

Your fragile lips quivered, tears streaming down your cheeks, still wearing the same clothes you had before you were taken away. At the door is a lock forged from space materials. Can't open. You asked him, pretending to be relaxed, when it was time to go home. And Yingxing just uses cutlery to put the dumplings into your bowl. He thought delicious dumpling fillings might comfort you.

And you interpreted it as "shut up".

Those Xianzhou suspense novels and TV shows can’t be forgotten in your mind. What’s next? You're scared, this weaponsmith might scold you, be mean to you, punch you in the face… No one knows. No one saves you. In those first few weeks, you were always frightened, sobbing to sleep because of these assumptions, and having nightmares one after another. The list of chores displayed on the screen on the wall is truly insane. You're not his spouse or anything.

One night, this speculation reached a critical point. Yingxing arrived home later than usual. He's going to pull out a weapon and bury you. You think, just outside in the little yard. The storm begins to gather in your eyes, blurring your vision-

A wrinkled flower, the petals at the corners have been ravaged. Yingxing pressed the petals straight with her fingertips and thumbs, but they still bounced back. Like a little awkward. He sighed. "…Sorry…I heard people like to receive gifts on dates…"

You stretched out your hand, picked up the flower, sniffed and complained. "Squashed. Insincere."

"I will pay attention next time and bring you new flowers tomorrow."

Yingxing found that you have gradually integrated into the life at home and started to do housework. Although you still cross your arms to show that you don’t want to do certain chores or sit on his lap. You start to put in warm and moderate bath water. Cook some food. When he opened the door, your eyes lit up and you unconsciously moved closer to him. Not perfect. You still complain, especially after not being able to get permission to step out of the house. Getting permission to walk around the yard and the forge was a concession.

Yingxing takes a cat home. It was a kitten that he found clinging to his side while he was working. Creamy white and orange hairballs. She stretches her limbs, says hello, takes a nap, and plays with a ball of yarn.

The two of you decide to raise her together.

[stories-and-chaos]

Shrike: The Deal with Niffty

[Hazbin Hotel reader insert as Alastor’s “darling life and death partner” Ace x ace relationship, both parties are moderately sex favorable. Prompted by @clearly-awkward and after some theory crafting with my wife, here we are!]

[One shot, word count 1558, Cw: consensual bondage]

———————

The late 1950’s. Rock and roll was starting to dominate the airwaves, even in Hell. Jazz, swing, and even the blues were being requested less at the clubs you performed at. So you started listening to this newest style to see if it fit your voice, but there weren’t many songs that grabbed you yet.

You were a performer, not a composer. You didn’t have the gift for lyrics. Rather, you had an ear for what appealed and were able to infuse your passion into what you sang. You could tell what people liked about rock and roll, but so far you hadn’t found the song to draw you into the genre.

Music was the topic of discussion for you and Alastor on your way back from lunch with Vox. It wasn’t a business lunch; Alastor hated the concept of discussing intense business over a meal. And Vox was always intense. Your husband still didn’t care for television but it was hard not to respect Vox’s ability.

As you walked leisurely through the streets of Pentagram City, you started hearing a scuttling noise behind you. With the myriad of demons around it wasn’t an unusual sound. But the sound kept following you. You could tell Alastor heard it too by his ears twitching. The rapid patter was joined by giggles and snippets of a voice saying “bad boy.”

After a few blocks you had enough. You let go of Alastor’s arm to turn down a cross street. He gave you a quizzical look but continued walking as you pressed a talon to your lips and made a shooing motion. Not far behind him ran a tiny demon. You heard her say “baaaaad booooooyyy” as she scurried along. Annoyed, you picked her up by the back of her dress.

You weren’t particularly tall but even you dwarfed this demon. She squealed as you lifted her into the air, all her limbs flailing so fast you could barely see them. “Noooooo! The bad boy’s getting awaaaaayyyy!” She spun slowly at the end of your arm; after a few seconds you could see the giant red-orange eye dominating her face, tears gathering at both sides. Her pupil spun wildly as she tried to keep looking at Alastor while facing you.

“If by ‘bad boy’ you mean the tall red demon, ma petite, that’s my husband. So find your own.” You dropped her back to the ground as she sniffled. You caught up to Alastor as the little cyclops started bawling in the street.

“Goodness cher, whatever did you say to the little thing?”

“I simply informed her that you’re my ‘bad boy,’ darling.”

You thought that would be the end of it, but the little demon kept popping up to stalk Alastor whenever he went out. You sent her packing when you could catch her, but after that first time she proved to be rather slippery. You ended up having to create little whirlwinds to sweep her away; the downside was she seemed to like that.

Alastor for his part, merely let things play out between you two. He seemed amused by both the little Sinner’s obsession and your jealousy. “I’m surprised you haven’t done away with her yet, cher,” he mentioned while the two of you lingered over breakfast one day.

“Mmm, as annoying as it is, she’s not exactly a threat.” You took a sip of coffee. “Although if she keeps it up I might end up killing her regardless.”

Alastor hummed quietly as he speared another piece of raw venison. “Perhaps we should do something about the situation then. I’d hate for you to bloody your talons over so minor a thing as annoyance.”

That day, you let the cyclops follow Alastor for longer than usual. Which meant she got much closer than before. Close enough that you could snap her up in a miniature whirlwind and grab her much like the first time. Once you had a grip on her poodle skirt, Alastor surrounded you all with his shadows.

She didn’t seem scared at all by the sudden darkness. Instead you heard giggles as your husband moved the three of you to the bayou in your home. The spot he picked was screened by trees, concealing the fact that it was connected to your front room.

Once the shadows released you all, the demon in your hand started running in air, trying to get to Alastor. “Well my dear, you certainly are stubborn.” He grabbed her shirt back to hold her at his eye level. “Now then, what might your name be, ma petite?”

“I’m Niffty! It’s nice to meet you!”

“Alright Niffty, why do you keep following my husband around? You keep coming back no matter what I do,” you said sharply.

She giggled more. “I like bad boys and he’s the baddest boy I’ve ever seen.” She flailed her arms and started grasping her hands in his direction.

Alastor quirked an eyebrow at her. “Despite my darling wife’s disapproval? And all the times she’s forced you away?”

“I like being forced!” came her prompt reply. “And for a lady, she’s fuuuun,” Niffty continued. You and Alastor exchanged a glance of confusion. This discussion was taking an unexpected turn.

“And what did you plan on doing once you got to the ‘bad boy?’” you asked, curiosity overcoming annoyance.

Her one dark pupil bounced between the two of you. “Make a deal,” she stated immediately, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I can’t let the baddest boy get away.”

Neither of you had anyone approach you for a deal before. You offered something they thought they needed desperately, and received compensation in return. Sometimes it was a soul, sometimes it was an item or service. The deals that didn’t immediately involve a soul were to lay the groundwork for ensnaring the other party later. Sell one thing to a dealmaker and you’re more willing to sell again later.

But a demon just walking up to anyone, much less the Radio Demon, to make a deal out of the blue…this Niffty just kept surprising you. “What kind of deal? What do you want from it?”

She shrugged. “Whatever he wants. The deal is the important part, you guys can decide what it’s for. I just wanna belong to the baddest boy.” She grinned wildly, her attention mostly on Alastor.

His smile stretched in return. “Well this sounds entertaining. What do you think, cher?”

You motioned for him to put Niffty at your eye level. Once he obliged you looked at her sternly. “You’re not a homewrecker, are you?”

She just giggled again. “Nope! Working for you both sounds much more fun.” You leaned back and held you hands out. “She wants a deal with you, Alastor darling. I’ll leave things to you.”

“Thank you Y/N.” He set Niffty onto the mossy ground and twirled his cane in thought. “Hmmm, well Niffty dear, I have a proposition for you. I’ll give you my protection and you give me your soul, to be at my beck and call. Do we have a deal?” He leaned down, right hand extended and radiating a green glow.

Her eye shined as Alastor laid out his terms. She grabbed his hand with both of hers as she replied “Yes! It’s a deal, Alastor!” The green glow became a collar and chain that latched onto her neck. Unlike every other deal you’d seen, once the collar was on she twirled gleefully repeating “thank you thank you thank youuuu!”

At least until it faded, becoming insubstantial until Alastor needed it. “Hey, where’d it go?” She started to sniffle, making Alastor blink in surprise.

“It’s still there my dear, but you can’t really do much for us if it’s always manifested,” your husband said, sounding oddly gentle to the little cyclops. That just made her tear up however. Alastor floundered, completely out of his depth now.

You clapped your hands together once, inspiration striking. “Cher, can I have your handkerchief?” Confused, he handed you the black square of cloth. Like all his handkerchiefs, you had embroidered his name in gold thread in one corner. “Niffty, ma petite, come here and we’ll try this.” She perked up and skittered next to where you kneeled down.

You showed her the embroidery, explaining that you’d sewn it. You folded it diagonally so the name wasn’t immediately obvious. Then you wrapped it around her neck, tying the points together just snug enough that she couldn’t slip it over her head. You grasped the knot and put just a bit of wind magick into it. “There we go. Now try to undo the knot.”

Niffty reached for it with both hands; they were immediately blown back by a gust. Her eye widened as she tried again and her hands were repelled just as fast. “Eeeehuhuhuheeeeee!” she giggled, trying again. “It’s perfect. Thank you Y/N!”

“Wonderful! Now let’s get some refreshments and go over your new duties Niffty.” Alastor helped you to your feet and led the way into the ‘house’ section of your house.

With that your husband gained a very loyal housekeeper for you both. He did have to forbid her from trying to clean the bayou, as she’d gladly spend days trying. She was allowed to hunt bugs there to her heart’s content.

@whitewolfsoldat @edgyboi10000 @ch3sire-blu3 @clearly-awkward @badatpunz @bengewatch @chewbrry

[the-fandom-is-now-my-life]

melusines say the darndest things

Even after successfully hiding your relationship to the eyes of Fontaine's people sometimes children melusines can have loose lips and accidentally say a bit too much and cause misunderstandings

Wc: 1.2k

Cw: reader gets called mom by Ngen but treated as GN/ they/them, melusine causes a pretty big misunderstanding, ideas of having children (unspecified if pregnancy or adoption)

“Good morning, mister barista” a small Melusine calls from behind the cupboard, the little green girl tiptoes so her eyes could be seen.

“Morning Ngen, chocolate milk?” The kind man asks as he does everyday, and already knowing the answer he starts heating the milk.

“ Yep, thanks” she hops towards a table and keeps seated while kicking her feet waiting for her milk.

Soon after Arouet came with a tall glass with a little bit of foam on top and grated chocolate over “Here is your milk, do you want something to eat?”

“No, thank you” she smiles at him, making him beam, “but can I ask something?” She asks softly.

“Of course, what is it?”

“What is a mom and a dad? When I go play on the playground ladies always ask where are my mom and dad” she pouts

At the question his blood runs cold “ uhm, a mom is someone who takes care of you and comforts you when you feel scared and a dad is someone you know can protect you from anything and spoils you rotten?” The forty year old man never thought much about that but attempts to summarize it with his own experiences.

“ Oh! Then I do have a mom and a dad!” Her small eyes shine

“ Really? Good for you”

“ Yep! That makes Dr. YN my mom and Monsieur Neuvillette my dad! So that is why they sleep in the same bed then!” She clasps her fin like hands together as if she just figured out the answer to a riddle.

The base chatter that always swarmed the cafe and gave it its characteristic liveliness fell silent, the different tables all were interested in what the Melusine said.

The journalists found a fresh scoop that could be exploited for months on end, amdeven if the noblewomen would spread the information around their circles faster than they can finish editing the news, such a shame the great judge isn't a bachelor any longer but that does allow them and their husbands to try and social climb by associating with his spouse.

On the other hand the salarymen working for the palais mermonia were neither happy nor sad, simply concerned. If their boss had a fight with his lover or decided to take half a day on valentine's day or his anniversary would they have to shoulder the extra work?

“ Oh~ how cute” a pitchy and sickly sweet voice starts speaking at her, a woman with black hair and wearing a noble dress takes a seat next to Ngen “tell me more, shop owner get me a platter of macarons for the sweet girl!”

“ And a portion of madeleines!” The reporter sits on the other chair, leaving him facing the noblewoman with the Melusine on the middle

“I'm not sure… Dr. YN, I mean mom always says too many sweets are bad for you”

“ Don't worry! It's just some cookies for breakfast, I'm sure they wouldn't mind if you don't eat dessert at night”

“ Exactly as the woman says, moderation is key”

As the plate with macarons gets settled on the table first the lady pushes it towards the melusine accompanied by her questions “So, tell me what do your mom and dad do? Do they frequent a certain restaurant? Or do they read certains books?-" Before any of the cookies were grabbed the journalists pushes the macarons away with the madeline plate, the colorful sugary dots moving to one of the edges because of the force.

“ At least ask something interesting, when did they get married? How long ago was that?”

“ What is up with those useless questions? How are you even using that information?” The manicured fingers tap methodically against against the glass tables, the noblewomen who were still on the other table started muttering about the scenario

“And for what use would knowing what books they read? Readers of the gossip column need to be started with the base of the gossip, like when and how it started“

Before they can keep bickering Ngen bit on a madeleine before taking another bite of the macaron as she spoke “ I know dad really likes soup at the hotel Debord so that is why mom rented the whole place for a night for next week” the journalist mentally notes the date for later use

“ A special secret dinner? So romantic”

“ Yep, mom said they wanted a private moment when they told dad…” she keeps speaking when suddenly she seems to notice something

“ Told what??”

“ Oh, does that make me a big sister then?”

“Is that another baby set?” Neuville looks at your reflection from the bathroom's mirror, your hands holding a yellow dress with daffodil embroidery and white knit socks

“ It's from Mrs Jonquille” you rub the cotton skirt between your fingers “ it seems to be good quality too”

Neuvillette walks towards you and grabs the socks, inspecting it awestruck. They could barely cover the tips of his fingers, causing you to laugh “ Are human newborns so… tiny?”

When suddenly a howl breaks the silence startling you both and leaving the set on the nightstand

“ I'm sorry, daisy!” Ngen apologizes to the puppy barking at her under her bed

You quickly tell her “Ngen, I told you to be more careful where you walk, daisy is still very little” a soft thumping against the tiles approaches the shared bedroom and a sad melusine hugs your leg

“ I don't want daisy to be mad at me” she whines into your pajamas

“Don't worry, I'm sure she will forgive you” you pat her head softly, messing the green and blue hair “she is just scared because you hurt her, but she truly likes you”

“ because I'm her big sister?”

As she asks that Neuvillette’s eyes dart towards yours, confusion meeting with confusion. The only idea that Neuvillette could conceive of the sudden titles being thrown around was Ngen being jealous of the attention towards the new puppy. Even then he recognizes to himself that he doesn't mind the familiarity and might even enjoy the cozy feeling in his chest.

Holding her in his arms a placid smile on his lips “Yes, Ngen, Daisy loves her big sister” Without her noticing the dog now peeks her head inside the room after hearing her name the puppy sits down at your feet and you hold her to Ngen’s face

“See? She was just scared. Now get ready for bed, it's past your bedtime”

“ Okay~” she quickly jumps out of Neuvillette's arms and the puppy follows after her, her tail playfully waging

A few seconds of silence settle in the room and you walk to the bathroom to brush your teeth

“Why did she suddenly start with the mom and dad thing?”

Neuvillette starts tying his hair back in a braid, his two blue streaks outside of it “ I'm unaware, she still referred to me as ‘monsieur Neuvillette’ when she accompanied me to the Palais mermonia” he sits down on his side of the bed, the white sheets matching his pajamas made of white silk and blue details “I hope it didn't bother you. If it did I apologize, I will talk with her about it tomorrow”

“ I didn't mind, actually. I think kinda sweet, like if she was our daughter”

As he pulls back the blankets he finds the baby dress on your nightstand and stretches over to grab it, the yellow cotton intricately embroidered with a darker stringing the form of daffodils, it was a very delicate work, noticeably even just by touch “it would be a waste for this to go unworn” he mumbles softly

“ It would, wouldn't it” you smile at him from the on suite bathroom

[a-d-nox]

the root chakra and whether i believe you could survive an apocalypse

the root chakra is telling of our survival instincts and what we need to survive.

2 (the high priestess): you saw the end coming but likely want nothing to do with long term living in a world without life and only death. you probably are a prepper though.

3 (the empress): it's pretty unlikely you will live - you are too reliant on others providing for you and likely would miss the conveniences of the modern world.

4 (the emperor): 100% is going to live - this person saw it coming and was preparing for a long time (mentally, physically, etc). they don't have interest in a commune either or rather they would never be dependent on others to survive - they would probably become a leader in an apocalypse.

media representation: any lead character in a post-apocalyptic movie / tv show

5 (the hierophant): dooms-dayer - 100% percent would pray on those who are scared and convince them that you have minimal ways to survive most of which will involve aiding them. they are the type to dictate to others what they need to be done but won't get their own hands dirty. they have zero issues turning religion into a way of life and claiming that current passages were warning them all along - they definitely would result to implementing scare tactics.

media representation: david in the last of us

6 (the lovers): reliant on others for survival. they aren't likely to last long in that regard but also they are likely prone to depression and would become existentialistic.

7 (the charioteer): their survival depends on whether or not they have survival gear - if they don't have a good baseline, they are likely going to be the first to go. they do make good nomads though so long as they do not depend on motorways too early into the apocalypse.

8 (strength): they start out strong then end up giving up. they can be prone to getting hurt too so it is likely they will succumb to infection - perhaps consider shaping up your first aid and herbal knowledge base.

9 (the hermit): the hermit himself was a man of the wilderness - he disappeared on his own and survived on his own. these people are likely to do the same. very little will impend them they just have to be of the mindset they can do it.

media representation: the tv show alone

10 (wheel of fortune): this is the person who just survives based off of dumb luck sometimes these people have really really bad luck though.

11 (justice): this is a practical individual - who knows how to use their resources. unfortunately, they are rather high maintenance so they might be unhappy in a post-apocalyptic world.

media representation: american horror stories: apocalypse (s8)

12 (the hanged man): nope 100% wouldn't make it - probably would be the one to want to loot and take from stores then get hurt in the process because they aren't aggressive enough.

13 (death): they bounce back all the time, so i wouldn't be surprised if they just keep coming back from almost dying.

media representation: joel in the last of us

14 (temperance): they would be great at moderation/rationing their supplies, but they can experience exposure to the elements that nearly kills them if not kills them.

15 (the devil): nope, they are too dependent on the modern world and likely couldn't adjust to new horrors of an apocalyptic world.

16 (the tower): i mean they are preppers and i can see them being capable and durable, but they are accident prone and can have a horrible death if not careful.

17 (the star): absolutely not - these people are quick to give up and feel hopeless in a post-apocalyptic world. they are also prone to being overly exposed to the elements.

18 (the moon): i feel like they could survive but the question is whether or not they could bear being alone with themselves... being alone makes you face all the shadows of the self. i don't feel that they would do well in a group dynamic as they would clash with the different personalities.

19 (the sun): oop these people dip so hard. they don't care what it takes to survive they simply will.

20 (judgment): simply yes. they are very capable of remaking a life in a world they no longer recognize.

21 (the world): definitely. this is a bad ass placement - they come out on top every single time. they are often the last man standing in a survival situation.

22 (the fool): they lack awareness and it tends to be their downfall. also they take too many risks and in a survival situation, you can't simply "wing it".

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[yourdakg]

Donation Found 2!

It took a little while longer than expected, but we finally found an appropriate donor for Brick! Brick was in desperate need of a donation. As the owner of a high quality gym and something of a fitness influencer, he was catching a lot of shit for not showing any empathy to his clientele or, in general, people who weren't in peak condition.

Maybe that's what scared some donors off, the sheer ego of having to maintain a physique like Brick's. But, by God, he paid the $325,000 to get his new body. Did he read the contract? No. But he insisted the customer is always right and he demanded action from the team at Turnaround Technologies.

Not that he could help how he looked, he was always athletic as a kid. Football, wrestling, water polo, gymnastics. He hit the weights hard as soon as high school started. And now he's a fitness enthusiast's wet dream. Let's remind everyone where Brick is starting this journey:

But thankfully we were able to find someone who fit the bill for Brick. This is someone who has the ego, the drive, and... honestly, a lot of the same toxic masculinity that Brick has. Just in a different form. So honestly it's a perfect match. Which we were relieved to find. After all, Brick doesn't fully understand the permanence of this yet. So let's take a look at our donor plate:

Meet Lemmy Chungus. A man who is almost permanently online, a moderator for the r/gayincel subreddit, a prolific user of 4chan, and a man with a subscription to 12 OnlyFans pages and PornHub Premium. He has an interesting take on why this exchange should work.

Donor Statement: This world has winners and losers. I am naturally born to be a dominant male, and it's becoming clear to me that Brick doesn't understand the role he is supposed to have. It's not fair that some buff fuckboy was deprived of the body he needs to match his true, inner self. It's obvious he wants this, so let's seal the deal and make this exhange.

I have to admit, we hear at Turnaround hadn't thought about it like that, adjusting two men into their, perhaps, more honest selves. It really is a public service. Both subjects are being stripped down, injected with serum, and placed in their uniforms as our technicians prepare the chambers.

Just prior to taking Brick's final "before" photo, he was informed that the contract had been signed, this medicine injected, and that his fate was sealed. Of course, we expected him to fight us a bit when told it was one way, one trip per lifetime, and permanent. Instead we were shocked that the young man started to cry.

Patient Statement: What do you mean permanent? What do you mean *sniff* 'new lot in life'? I don't understand why you're taking my designer underwear. I'll never wear it again? Wh-why not? I'll be fit again! What do you mean role adjustment? Huh? I dunno what a gaycel is. I don't spend a lot of time on the Internet. Whadda ya mean that's gonna be most of what I do now? *Sniffsob* I'm still an alpha. I *sniff* wanna change my mind. I don't understand. This body isn't legally mine anymore? I'm *sniff* I'll be a good boy, please!

So docile! He's really sliding into his new role quite well, and we're all very pleased. Brick was injected again when he saw the donor body, and his eyes almost went cross from shock. There will be a stiff financial penalty for requiring several staff members dragging his muscular body to the chamber.

The process was a difficult one. As the waves started to swing back and forth, Brick was grabbing his dick and squeezing his own pectorals as if to hold onto them. The beams and serums and molecule destabilization took days. It's like his body didn't want to assume a new role. But we held out hope that eventually the assault of our technology and pharmacology would win out and he would be shoved, unalterably, into his new body. So I'm happy to report the following:

As you can see, both men are now secured in their new bodies, roles, and lifestyles.

Patient Report: Ohhh God. It's hard to move, it's hard to move. I heard some fat guys had power, but he's... got none. I have none. Oh fuck. I'll get back in the gym and... look at him. What a slut, strutting around in that thong with a muscled up ass. Like he's some hotshot. He's not! Why does it make me so angry???

Donor Report: Chances are there a lot of other losers out there who have hot, buff bodies. Cute faces. Huge dicks. Guys who look like they should be on top, but know they're a beta bitch at heart. Stop being selfish. Ask for a donation today and let the real alphas assume their natural position.

[changetyre]

Experimenting || CL16 & MV33

SUMMARY: You’ve always thought Charles wasn’t fully straight, you could tell by the way he looked at certain men and maybe some things he liked in bed but he always seemed too shy to say anything. You decide to call for a helping hand. Charles Leclerc x Reader x Max Verstappen

WARNINGS: 18+ Terribly written Smut, Male oral, Fingering, Fruity behavior, A*s play, mentions of pinning Frotting, and some more stuff probably.

A/N: in honor of Pride month ig 😪 also want to make it super clear that this is not me imposing a sexuality on anyone, this is obviously a work of FICTION and nothing should be taken as real!

________________

“Fuck yeah right there” Charles whimpered as you stuck a finger in his whole while blowing him.

Ever since you first suggested trying ass play on his part to him a few weeks ago he quickly grew obsessed and you swore you’d never seen Charles cum so har before or emit the noises he did until now.

You knew having a man comfortable enough in bed to try anything didn’t have to mean anything other then them being comfortable in their own sexuality.

Except for you in your years of relationship with Charles you’d grown to notice more and more the way he behaved towards certain men, attractive in both your eyes. The way he got flustered or shy around them and how sometimes you noticed him get turned on by some.

Your suspicious only grew stronger when Charles asked you to try pinning. You could tell he was both exited and nervous watching you put on a strap on starting at a moderate size for him.

He was nervous you could tell but he fell in love with the feeling of having a cock inside of him and as much as he tried to convince himself it was simply the fact that you were doing this to him he couldn’t help but imagine what a real one would feel like.

No, he wasn’t growing bored of you or loosing attraction to you in the slightest it was only that as he grew more comfortable in your relationship, in bed, he had allowed himself to explore himself more in ways he hadn’t found the space too.

Little did he know how much you noticed this and how much it turned you on to see Charles become nothing but mush with all these things you were trying and how much you wished to continue and increase his pleasures as much as you could.

Which is why a few days ago you’d taken the liberty to invite a friend on an adventure with you hoping to get Charles to open up (quite literally).

“Fuck cherie don’t stop! Don’t stop! I’m gonna cum” Charles breath grew erratic as he came into your mouth, your fingers slowing down their pace in his whole.

“Did you enjoy that baby.” You swallowed before you left small kisses on Charles dick making him twitch and gasp from the sensitivity.

“Beaucoup trop” he chuckled as he wrapped his arm around your neck pulling you up to his lips for a kiss. It was hot, he could still partially taste himself on your tongue making his cock twitch slightly.

“I love you.” You whispered after pulling away from the kiss, both your lips swollen and sore from the hours you’d been going at it previous to Charles final release.

“Je t’aime amour.” Charles whispered placing a soft kiss to your temple.

“Charles I need to ask you something.” You propped yourself up on your elbows looking at Charles directly. Your tone was soft trying not to make him nervous.

“What’s up bebe?” Charles smiled, it comforted you.

“I want to try bringing someone else to bed…and I invited Max to come tomorrow.” You revealed.

Out of everything you could’ve said this was the last thing Charles could’ve imagined to come out of your mouth. His mouth opened in surprise trying to wrap his head around what you said also half expecting you to reveal it was a joke.

He felt like he should get angry or at least annoyed for you taking on such a big decision on your own but he couldn’t quite bring himself to feel that way because as much as it scared him to admit it the thought excited him, it aroused him more than he’d liked to admit.

You sensed his hesitation. “I can always cancel baby I don’t want you to feel pressured or do anything you’re -“

“No!” Charles sounded a little more desperate than he intended and you had to fight back the smirk that wanted to appear on your lips. “No…it’s fine I’m okay with it…let’s try it.”

This time you allowed yourself to smile. You also took note of the fact that Charles had no protests on Max being your invitee and instead you could see the twinkle in his eye at the mention of his name.

Maybe the lestappen fan base aren’t as delusional as they seem, you thought to yourself.

______________

“Are you sure you wanna do this baby?” You asked Charles one last time. Max should be arriving at any minute but you wanted to make sure Charles was 100% sure and comfortable with what was about to happen.

“Yes amour I’m sure. I promise.” Charles answered just as there was a knock at the door. His stomach fluttered but he couldn’t tell if it was nerves, excitement or both.

You rushed to answer the door, Charles taking a deep breath before following after you. It wasn’t until you opened the door and his eyes connected with Max’s did he realize he had no idea what you told Max.

Did Max know you wanted to have a threesome with him? Or were you both going to try to seduce him? Was Charles meant to play with Max or would that only be you?

He began to get caught up in his thoughts until he felt your hand on his arm. Your touch easing him significantly.

“Charles is a little nervous but I’m sure we can help with that right?” Your eyes remained on Charles even though you directed your question at Max.

“Of course, you know what Dani says this isn’t my first rodeo we can get him to loosen up in no time.” Max patted Charles's chest before letting his hand drop to Charles's waist as he walked past the doorway into your home.

Charles couldn’t ignore the way Max’s words and touch made blood travel right down to his center.

_________

Charles stood in awe watching Max's hand tightly around your bare waist as he made out with you passionately in front of him. He watched as Max's hand traveled down to your ass which was covered by nothing but your red lace before he gave it a squeeze making you let out a soft moan.

Charles wasn't jealous of Max, he was seriously turned on by the sight in front of him. In fact, he was slightly jealous of the fact that your hands were all over Max's abs and the way your hand rubbed up and down his bulge over his underwear.

He started doing the same to himself. Except his heart skipped a beat when he saw Max make eye contact with him while he kept making out with you.

He pulled away from you. "Come here, Charlie," Max called out to him nonchalantly as he carefully pushed you back towards the bed making you sit on it.

"Why don't you help him relax," Max spoke to you this time as he brought Charles in front of you, you got on your knees smirking at Max's proposition before you released Charles from his boxers.

Charles's head fell back as your mouth covered him and you bobbed your head up and down his shaft. His feelings intensified by the fact that Max was rubbing his shoulders, and chest and even letting his fingers flicker his nipples.

"Ah, I won't last long like this." Charles sighed as he grabbed your head softly pulling you off him.

"What do you want us to do then?" You asked as Charles helped you off your knees and you placed a short but deep kiss on Charles's lips.

Max walked around him joining your side as you both faced Charles. It was only then Charles realized Max had stripped completely and now all three of you stood in your full naked glory.

Max was big there was no denying it but he wasn't bigger than Charles which is something he took notice of, although Charles couldn't deny the girth Max carried which made him nervous.

"I don't think I'm ready for..." Charles stumbled on his words as his gaze remained on Max's length.

"That's okay...we can do something else for now," Max reassured him unable to contain the proud smirk on his lips at the way Charles admired him.

"I have just the thing." You couldn't hide your excitement and what you had planned, something you really had been wanting to try, and just the thought got you wet. "Baby lay down on your back for us." you instructed Charles.

He did as you told, trusted you enough not to question it.

"Max can you straddle his thighs please" you then asked Max as you climbed onto the bed kneeling beside Charles.

Max smiled quickly figuring out what you had in mind.

Charles felt tingling in his entire body as he watched Max climb on top of him and jumped slightly when he felt Max's length graze against his skin.

"Relax baby, you'll enjoy this." you leaned down whispering in his ear before leaving kisses down his neck, and chest.

"What now?" Charles breathed getting slightly impatient and frustrated at the urgent need for something to happen.

"Ready baby?" you asked as you kept trailing kisses down his body reaching his dick.

"Yes, please do something." Charles's dick twitched involuntarily as your lips neared it.

He let out a long sigh as you licked a stripe down his length before doing the same to Max. You repeated the step, blowing them a couple of times getting them slick enough for the next step.

Once you felt they were slick enough you finally did it. You had to use both your hands as you joined their dicks together rubbing them against each other slowly while you moved your hands up and down.

Charles let out a guttural moan at the new feeling, his head immediately falling back and pressing into the pillow behind him. His eyes shut tightly, he didn't have to see what you were doing the feeling was overwhelmingly pleasurable enough and he also thought that if he looked he would cum immediately.

It was embarrassing how wet you were from the pleasure you were causing both these men, watching Charles trying to hold back his release and Max's ragged breath as he watched and thrust into your hand.

You jumped when you felt two fingers inside of you not realizing Charles had reached around, of course, he was worried about your pleasure too. He moved his fingers in and out at a rapid pace curling them exactly where he knew.

You almost orgasmed when Charles pulled his fingers out of you and used your juices to coat over his and Max's dick making sure everything remained slick enough, repeating the process of wriggling his fingers inside of you and collecting your wetness multiple times.

"I'm gonna cum." Max announced after a few minutes.

"Me too." Charles and you sighed in unison.

You released first around Charles's fingers and only a fraction of a second later did Charles cum quickly followed by Max whose cum mixed with Charles on his stomach.

Charles finally allowed himself to see the mess he and Max created on him although the scene didn't last long before he watched you lick his stomach clean swallowing all the contents.

"Fuck that was so hot." Max chuckled.

As usual, Charles grabbed your neck pulling you into him and kissing you deeply tasting now not only himself but also Max in your mouth.

"That was...incredible." Charles sighed after you pulled away, he watched Max climb off him and begin to put his boxers on.

"Call me anytime, and whenever you're ready we can try more." Max winked getting dressed in such a relaxed manner like he hadn't just aided in giving Charles the most incredible orgasm of his life.

"Thank you." You sat up thanking Max, he leaned over pecking your lips quickly before doing the same to Charles and walking out the door.

You looked down at Charles watching the confusion on his face at Max's action before a small smile appeared on his lips.

Maybe next time would come sooner than you thought and you couldn't be more excited.

Part 2

[cherrychilli]

Late night visit

I’m just working my way up to a full blown Perv! Steve fic, honestly.

Steve Harrington Smut, Moderately Perv! Steve, AFAB reader, Shy Reader, Inexperienced reader, established relationship, early stages relationship

Warnings: NSFW, Minors DNI, non-penetrative sex/outercourse leading to P in V intercourse, unprotected sex (do not recommend, people) dirty talk, mentions of pubic hair, just a hint of breeding kink

Summary: Steve shows up at your house, unannounced, late at night and terribly horny. Sex ensues.

A/N: It’s just a mess of badly written smut. Enjoy.

Not proofread. Whoops. I wrote this while held up in bed with the flu. *smooches*

Wordcount: 3.4k

You never assumed he’d actually do it. You’d only giggled and bashfully shoved at Steve’s shoulder when he’d first mentioned wanting to surprise you by climbing through your window one night. You thought it was his idea of a joke. Little did you know just how seriously he had considered the idea.

It’s 11.15 at night and here he is, perched at the edge of your bedroom window and peering inside. He scans your tidy room in search of you when you finally emerge from your bathroom and a wide grin breaks out on Steve’s face when he recognizes what you’re dressed in. You’re wearing the shirt he’d let you borrow the day you both got caught in the rain last week. He almost didn’t want to offer it to you, taking in the way your wet clothes clung to your shivering frame as his eyes raked over your chest in particular, the outline of your bra very evident as it peeked through the damp material. He tries to ignore the stirring in his pants for a while longer as he watches you pace to your desk to pick up one of your textbooks, attention fixed on its contents as you flip through the pages and make your way to your bed. 

Steve’s breath begins to fog up the glass as he watches you position yourself on bed, still unaware of the boy spying through your window. The shirt you’re wearing rides up when you lay on your front, hem settling just above the curve of your ass to bring your dainty white cotton panties on full display for Steve to ogle. He’s only caught glimpses of your panties before now. On those days where you’d wear your cute little skirts and dresses to class, Steve would pick you up and drive you both there with less than gentlemanly intentions in mind. Slyly rolling the windows down under the guise of it being another hot morning in Hawkins, he’d have trouble keeping his eyes on the road when your skirt billowed from the gusts of wind shooting past, causing you to gasp and shove your hands between your knees in an effort to pin the material down in place.

He can’t wait any longer and decides to make his move now. Sliding the window up, he places one leg inside as he keeps his gaze fixed on you. Your legs are bent at the knees, calves raised off of the bed as you cross your ankles over each other and flex your feet occasionally while occupying yourself with your studies. You look so cute while you’re distracted. So tempting. So, “Oh fuck-"

The sound of your toppling lamp gets your attention as you scramble to look at what caused it. You’re ready to scream when you see the figure stumble into your room but you’re quickly cut off when you recognize the panicked but hushed tone that follows.

“Wait wait! It’s just me, Steve!”, he approaches your bed hurriedly, motioning with his hands for you to stay quiet.

“Steve! what are you doing here?”, you place a palm over your chest where you can feel your racing heart, hoping to help settle its rapid beating.

“It’s late and my parents are sleeping just down the hall!”

“I told you I’d visit”, he offers a meek smile. “Didn’t mean to scare you, sweetheart”.

You only blink at him in response before walking over to your open window to close and latch it shut.

“I didn’t think you were serious, Steve” you sigh, walking back to find him sat at the foot of your bed, eyeing you up and down with a smirk.

“You look nice”

It’s then that it dawns on you that you’re alone in your bedroom with your boyfriend and dressed in nothing but one of his shirts, just barely concealing your panties. You’re about to scurry to your closet to frantically search for more clothes to put on when you feel Steve’s strong grip on your wrist. “Woah woah, hold on” he soothes. “Come here, let me look at you”.

“But Steve, I’m not dressed”, you try to reason.

“I think you’re wearing too much in my opinion”, he murmurs but you still manage to catch it and blush all the same. You know exactly where he’s going with this and you can’t help but feel a little giddy. You really shouldn’t be encouraging him but it’s all so exciting.

He tugs gently at your wrist, encouraging you to sit down next to him on the bed. “You look so pretty in my clothes, baby” he groans, eyes darting all over you. The shirt’s obviously too big on you but that’s why he likes it. The collar slips down low on your left to expose your shoulder and the hem bunches loosely over your soft thighs. His cock begins to stiffen against his tight jeans when he places a hand behind your head, pulling you in for a kiss. His lips slant over yours and despite your initial reservations about having him over so late at night you welcome the kiss. During your short time as a couple Steve had always been the one to initiate things because you couldn’t seem to break out of your shyness just yet. He didn’t mind it and you were thankful that he continued to take the initiative because you really did enjoy the way his fingers would roam all over your body and leave you breathless.

The kiss is intense, messy and dizzying too with the way his tongue would slide against yours and the way he’d occasionally nip at your bottom lip. One of his hands is placed at your hip, fingers bunching the shirt to bring your panties into view again while you can feel his other hand begin to trail between your thighs, inching closer to your core when you suddenly remember.

“Steve, wait”, you place a small palm against his chest, only managing to create a few inches of distance between the both of you.

“What’s wrong?”, he looks at you, concern painting his features.

“It’s just that- I didn’t expect you tonight, you know? If I knew I would have- I haven’t um”

“You haven’t what, Angel?”

You turn your face to focus on your closet door, unable to look him in the eye when you make your admission. “I haven’t shaved...down there”, you force out in the softest whisper.

You dare to look at him from out of the corner of your eye to find the most incredulous looking expression stretching across Steve’s face.

“Sweetheart, do you really think a little hair would make me want you any less?”

You’re not entirely convinced yet, gazing at him inquisitively before you ask, “are you sure? My friends say that their boyfriends don’t like it and—”

“They’re idiots, all of them” he murmurs against your neck before gently biting your earlobe.

“O-Okay then”, you ease up, allowing him to lay you down on the bed.

Bunching the oversized shirt over your stomach he hooks his fingers into the waistband of your panties whispering into your ear before easing them down. “Don’t worry, alright? Let me see that sweet pussy like a good girl”. You lift your hips to help him remove your underwear, bottom lip tucked tight between your teeth.  He finally slides them off of you and you’re too distracted to notice that he’s tucked your panties into the back pocket of his jeans for later. He looks ravenous, eyes dark and lips parted as he lets a hand fall between your legs to thumb at the patch of hair on your mound.

“Christ, sweetheart if I knew this was what you had hiding under those cute little panties of yours I would have snuck in here sooner”

“You really don’t mind? You don’t want me to get rid of it?”

“Don’t you dare. You don’t need to change a single thing for me”, he says firmly.

You’d confessed to Steve earlier that you’d never gotten very far with any of your exes, all of them becoming too overbearing or eager to rush you straight into sex without much concern as to whether you felt ready or not. As much as he’d love to have you sprawled out beneath him with his thick cock buried in the deepest parts of you, he didn’t want to make you do anything you didn’t want to. But that didn’t mean you couldn’t do other things.

“Baby, you look so fucking good like this. Can I try something?”, his hungry gaze catches yours.

“What do you want to try?”

Your eyes widen when he describes just what he has in mind and your stomach blossoms with need at how indecent it all sounds.

“What do you think?”

“You’re not going to -- you won’t put it inside will you, Steve?”, you inquire breathlessly with doe eyes.

You find it hard to trust yourself right now but the very last semblance of rational thought manages to scream at you to maintain some composure and try to be careful. You may be inexperienced but you weren’t daft. You knew exactly could happen if you get carried away.

You’re still waiting for your answer when Steve tries to pull himself together, looking like he might short circuit over what you’d just said. Everything from how deliciously vulnerable you look right now to how fucking dead he would be if your parents were to hear anything and find out what he was trying to do to their daughter has his mind in shambles. “I promise, I won’t do anything you don’t want me to”, he manages to assure you earnestly despite his shaky tone. “We’ll take it nice and slow, okay?”

“Okay, I trust you, Steve”

He gets up to pluck one of your plush pillows from near the headboard before placing it behind you and pulling you further towards the edge of the bed. You hesitate for only a moment before you gingerly spread your legs to allow him to stand between them as you prop yourself up on your elbows to watch his movements closely. When he begins undoing his belt and eases his jeans down you try to mentally prepare yourself for what’s about to happen but you soon realize that that’s just an exercise in futility. Your breath catches when his cock comes into view, painfully hard with precum already trailing from his red tip. How would that even fit inside me? you quickly question, frankly intimidated by the size of him. Steve’s quick to notice the tense expression which flashes over your face as you watch him stroke himself and he’s just as quick to reassure you. “Just lay back, ok, beautiful? I’m going to make you feel so good”.

You offer him a chaste nod before letting your elbows slip away until your back rests against the pillow placed underneath you. Steve leans over you, holding his twitching cock in one fist while the other comes to wrap around the dip of your waist. He guides his cock between your folds, slotting it between them before starting to rub his length along your bare pussy in long languid strokes. “F-fuck” he groans low and deep as his precum combines with your growing wetness, helping him to work his cock against your cunt with ease. The feeling is entirely foreign to you but you immediately lose yourself to the sensation especially when his tip catches on your sensitive clit every time he thrusts upwards, creating delicious pangs of pleasure which make you crave more.

“Oh, Steve that’s- that feels really good”, your voice teeters on the edge of a moan as your eyelids flutter closed.

“Yeah? want me to go faster?”

“Y-yes, please”

He increases his pace but only marginally, determined to work you into a frenzy first as the slick sounds emanating between you start to become more pronounced. Your chest heaves as you bring a hand to your mouth, teeth sinking into the back of it as you try to stifle your whimpers. He tears his gaze away from the way his cock slides against your slick cunt to eye your nipples, noticeably hard underneath the oversized shirt. “Pull your shirt up, baby, show me those pretty tits”, he huffs out between soft pants. Your free hand trails down to where the shirt is bunched just above your waist, gathering the material in your small fist before pulling it up and over your breasts. “So fucking pretty”, he wraps a large hand around one, squeezing firmly as he thrusts a little harder, causing your tits to bounce from the sudden motion.

“Bad girl, letting me play with your pussy like this”, Steve focuses his gaze back between your bodies, drinking in the crude sight of your puffy lips bordering his aching cock. “Do you really think we’re being safe right now? Jesus, you’re so wet. I might just slip right in if we’re not careful”. The thought of him pushing every inch of his length inside your pussy would have intimidated you 15 minutes ago but now it makes you clench around nothing and writhe as he picks up the pace. “You know how dangerous that would be, baby? Can’t believe you’re letting me do this without a condom when you’re not -fuck- when you’re not even on birth control yet”. You’re convinced you might draw blood from how hard you’re biting down on your hand but his filthy words continue to ring in your ears making your already sensitive clit throb uncontrollably.

“Fuck, I’m getting close”, he strains, voice thick and heavy.

“Steve, please, I want you to put it inside me”

It’s so unexpected, you’re both caught off guard when you moan out the words, causing Steve to still his hips.

“What did you say?”

It’s crazy just how quickly he’s managed to work you up like this. You don’t know what to think anymore. All you know is that you want to feel him inside.

“I know what I said earlier but I changed my mind, please Steve, I need you inside me-- it feels too good”

He knows he should be the rational one right about now but he’s just as wrecked as you, mind completely fogged by animalistic lust.

“Just promise me you’ll pull out, ok?”, you whimper softly

“Shit—yes, alright”, Steve had already made it his mission to give you anything you asked for the moment you had agreed to go out with him but for the very first time, he wasn’t sure if he had the conviction to keep his promise. He releases your breast, bringing his hand between your bodies to collect your slick with his fingers. He intends to work you open first as he prods against your entrance with his fingers, really prepare you for his cock when you let out a high-pitched whine, circling his wrist with your hands urgently. “No, I need your cock, now”, you whine pitifully.

“But baby, you’re not ready”, he tries to reason despite how desperate you look under him right now. “Please, Steve I promise I can take it”, you sound like you’re about to sob, clearly delirious from the anticipation. Steve knows better but there’s no way he can hold out on you any longer with the way you’re looking at him with those big pleading eyes. “Shit…”

He was right, you should have let him prep you beforehand but you refused to give up, desperate to have him fill you up with his cock. He’s only managed to breach your entrance with his tip so far but the tears have already begun to trail down your cheeks. “You’re doing so good, Angel”, he coos mouthing at your neck while you whimper and gasp from the feeling. You urge him to keep going despite the overwhelming feeling when you wrap your legs around his waist and choke out pleading for more. It hurts but it feels just as good as he bullies his cock into your needy cunt, stretching you out inch by inch until he’s finally completely sheathed in you.

“It’s so big, so big, oh god, Steve I- Mm! I feel so full”

Truthfully, he could listen to your pretty sobs all day, make a tape even and let it play on repeat but he’d rather he be alive to do so as he reminds you, “baby, you need to be quiet. You want your parents to find out what a bad little girl their daughter’s being right now?”

“But Steve, it feels too good” you pant

“You should feel what I’m feeling right now, god, you’re so fucking tight, Angel…are you ready for me to move?”

“Yes, I think so”, you reply timidly, heels digging into Steve’s back.

He starts off with slow steady thrusts, hypnotized by the way his dick glistens with your juices before sinking back into your velvety heat. Soft chocolate curls frame his pretty face as he draws out the most amazing string of moans out of you and he’s only sorry that he can’t encourage you to be louder. You’re already lost to the feeling of the ache at the base of your belly growing tighter and tighter as Steve’s thrusts grow more forceful, bordering on sloppy when you hear him pant. “Fuck, angel, look at you, you’re creaming all over my cock”. Your eyes fly open to focus on where he’s thrusting into you, cheeks flaring with heat when you notice the creamy substance forming a ring around the base of Steve’s cock. “Steve, oh god, I’m going to cum! Pleasepleaseplease keep going!” With a few more thrusts and a particularly harsh snap of his hips you feel your orgasm take over you, throwing your head back against your pillow as you’re unable to contain the visceral moan that erupts from you. Steve’s hand shoots out to clamp over your lips, drowning out the rest of your cries that follow. He continues to drive his dick into you as he nears his own orgasm, completely not giving a fuck anymore if your parents happen to storm in and find him balls deep inside of their baby girl, silently content with it being the last thing he ever did.

“Just a little longer okay, baby?” he grits through his teeth.

“I’m almost done, you’re taking me so well, so fucking well, sweet girl”. He knows you’re nearing oversensitivity with the way you’re convulsing underneath him but he’s so close.

His hand slips away from your mouth, falling to fist at your bedsheets instead.

“St-Steve, please, you promised—you can’t -- not inside”, you begged between pained whimpers.

His stomach knots at how fucked out you sound and he doesn’t know where he found the strength but he manages to rip away from you and the intoxicating way your walls hug his cock just in time. You gasp at the sudden loss and mewl when you watch him fist his cock right above your heaving abdomen. With a throaty groan he spills onto your mound, streams of cum spurting right onto your bush, coating the hair with his stringy release before it begins to trail down between your creamy folds.

He collapses next to you on the bed, chest heaving from exhaustion as you try to regain your breath. You both turn to stare at your bedroom door for a few wordless moments, trying to detect any movement from the other side before you finally break the silence. “Don’t worry…heavy sleepers, you know?”

You both break out into peals of laughter at that.

“Fuck, baby, please you have to let me finish inside you next time”, he huffs out with a tired smile.

It’s slow but you can already feel your senses returning. “Steve! Do you realize how reckless we were tonight?”, you attempt to admonish him despite being fully aware that you shared just as much of the blame.

“Come on babe, don’t you want me to fill you up? Wanna watch it drip out of your pretty pussy”

You don’t think you’ll ever get completely used to how unabashedly filthy Steve can get but that doesn’t mean that you don’t enjoy it all the same.

“Let me think about it. After I get on the pill, ok?”

He cradles your face with his large palm, placing a quick peck on your lips, “You’re too good to me, angel”

[monstersdownthepath]

A collection of Fey entities

A little different from my usual "a collection of..." posts. Making statblocks isn't my forte, surprisingly; I can, but ADHD Hellbrain kicks in and typically prevents me from actually finishing them, my energy and motivation running out typically by the time I need to select feats. A few of the creatures on this list are victims of that very phenomenon, but rather than letting them languish in my drafts forever, I figure I can share what I DO have in the form of lore and some basic ideas.

So, here's a bunch of fairies!

One of them I was going to write down, the Harvest Lords, are a concept I've developed too much for me to put here; they're a group of Archfey with proper domains and Boons, and thus will get their own post. Eventually.

Warnings: There are unsanitary themes in the Brughyorb Gremlin spot, as well as Totagoda. The final entry (Rotten Crick) deals with themes of animal death and allusions to animal torture, dealing specifically with sea life.

Brughyorb Gremlins (CR 1/2 Chaotic Evil Small Fey) are small, round, filthy creatures that are almost all mouth and stomach, resembling fleshy cauldrons when they fully open their mouths and scamper about on their arms and legs, and are thus also known as Cauldron Gremlins, Burplings, and Bowlbellies. Their grinding teeth and powerful jaws are best suited for plant matter (wood is a delicacy to them), but they won't hesitate to feed on whatever carrion they manage to find, even though the majority of what they eat isn't actually digested.

Brughyorb Gremlins hold most of what they shovel into their maws in the first of their two stomachs, where their pungent gut juices fester and melt their food into noxious sludge so malodorous it's actually acidic. Slow and unbalanced even when they're empty, they lay in waiting for an innocent passerby to cross whatever hiding spot they've holed up in before leaping out with a wet shriek, and when their victim inhales in order to scream in surprise, the gremlins unleash a horrific belch directly into the victim's face. Overwhelming nausea is the most common result of such a sensory assault (though especially unlucky ones may catch the fatal Filth Fever), victims disoriented not only by the scare, but their entire world becoming overtaken by an indescribably vile stink, preventing them from fighting back as the gremlin takes whatever it wants from them and scampers off into the shadows, cackling with terrible glee.

Though they're larger than most gremlins, Brughyorb Gremlins are just as cowardly and prone to fleeing whenever someone even moderately well-armed comes along. If a foe proves especially dangerous and their burps aren't cutting it, they'll loose the contents of their stomachs to form slick, acidic pools that carry an eye-watering reek with them to trip up and potentially even kill their pursuers, either immediately through acid damage or eventually through disease. Being directly disgorged upon is an experience so profoundly unpleasant that most beings subjected to it immediately switch careers into something that will prevent this incident from ever happening again... though the fact a Brughyorb's stench is nearly impossible to scrub away and lingers for many weeks means the horrible little beasts can easily track the scent of their past victims in order to get them again.

Despite their foulness, their gut juice is an alchemical reagent highly prized by alchemists for its ability to break down and, with a bit of tinkering, ferment just about any organic matter, making them highly desirable for anyone hoping to create not just powerful acids, but potent fertilizers, fermented foods, or alcohol. Alchemists desiring the gremlin's gut juice, of course, rarely risk seeking it out themselves.

----

Tintink Gremlins (CR 1 Chaotic Evil Tiny Fey) are also known as Nail Gremlins, Sharpener Pixies, Hammerlings, Nailbiters, Sharpies, and other such names. While most fey fear the touch of iron, Tintink Gremlins collect the substance in earnest despite being just as vulnerable to it as any other fey. Contact with cold iron burns and pains them, but rather than shrinking away from it, they revel in it, with many of them boldly wearing sharpened points of cold iron for the specific purpose of terrorizing and bullying other fairies, as well as protecting themselves from being bullied or terrorized by others.

Tintinks are obsessed with the collection and the sharpening of metal pins, tacks, screws, caltrops, and especially nails, pilfering such items from workshops, lumberyards, factories, and even homes. Loose items are of course the easiest for them to get, their tiny backpacks and leather aprons full to bursting with stacks of nails they sweep off workbenches, but they're also prone to using hammers, crowbars, and pliers sized for their tiny hands to wrench fasteners from whatever surface they're embedded in. Their hoarding slowly but surely destroys furniture, floors, rafters, and eventually entire structures one stolen screw at a time, fleeing only when the infested building collapses entirely.

Even when they're not destroying buildings, Tintinks are horrid menaces. Their wretched claws, coarse palms, and rough tongues can shave metal with the ease of a whetstone, and they use these to sharpen whatever points they get ahold of until they can pierce the thick leather of most common shoes or gloves... and they lay them out in preparation to do exactly that, cackling in wicked glee whenever someone impales their feet or hands on their sharps collections.

They are quite dangerous for a gremlin, capable of causing terrible wounds and even deaths if they're sufficiently motivated, but they are easily caught and removed by those who can take advantage of their fairy quirks. Their obsession with sharpening borders on an irresistible compulsion, and many Tintinks have been caught and exterminated by fey hunters leaving out piles of dull nails, bent forks, and chipped knives, which the gremlins cannot help but sit down among and work on, leaving them vulnerable to ambush.

----

Steraba (CR 2 Neutral Good Diminutive Fey) are also known as Honey Fairies, Porridge Pixies, Mice Fey, and other such names. They resemble miniature humanoids with mouse-like features such as dewy eyes, rounded ears, long tails, paws, or combinations thereof (sometimes to the point they're just anthropomorphic mice), scarcely larger than the pests they resemble. Despite their appearance, Steraba are not pests themselves and are in fact one of many helpful fey known as House Spirits, and can be a genuinely helpful force in one's home... if one forgives their tendency to pilfer easily-missed items left in their field of vision.

Steraba make their homes in mouseholes inside occupied buildings, living among families of mice (never rats, they despise rats) which they take great pains to keep safe, healthy, and out of sight of the mortals with whom they share a space. Their lives are spent going on frequent, exciting 'raids' with their mice families (whom they can both communicate with and easily train), scampering unseen through homes like a spy trying to avoid being spotted by guards as they run missions such as 'read the next chapter of a book,' 'steal the button,' 'get to the grain stores,' 'slay the attic spider,' 'push out the rats,' and other such objectives. Between missions, they engage in surprisingly elaborate crafting projects; anything inedible they steal is used to decorate their tiny homes, if not by itself, then as part of a greater project. Unknowing families may have entire miniature art galleries in their walls!

Like most House Spirits, Steraba dislike being seen or acknowledged, and spending too long looking at one or talking about its existence aloud with one's family or neighbors is a sure way to drive it off completely. Even more than this, harming a mouse is a grave insult to the Mouse Pixies, who may respond by pilfering valuable or treasured items with Mage Hand, performing acts of vandalism with Prestidigitation and mundane tools, and even causing painful or humiliating household accidents against repeat and grievous offenders. Treating the mice with the calmness and respect one would treat a neighbor, however, will see a household blessed by the tiny pixies who use their talents--magical and mundane--to slay more harmful pests, drive off more malevolent fey, and provide just as well for their "big families" as they do the "small families." A Steraba can magically turn a single grain into a whole loaf of hot bread or a bowl of nutritious porridge that's filling even for a Medium-sized creature, letting them stretch the most meager of food stores for days or weeks on end, and can conjure small amounts of honey, sugar, and jam each day to assure the meals are never boring. A Steraba who has lived in a home for many years and established a positive relationship with its big family may even begin gifting the mortals with pieces of art it has made, which act as good luck charms so long as the owner takes care to say it was a 'gift from my neighbor' if they are ever asked where the trinket came from.

----

The Filoxenia (CR 11 Neutral Medium Fey) are humanoid fey with golden skin and hair like stalks of wheat, so rare that it was believed there was only one for quite some time. These are fey many cautionary tales are spoken of, fey for whom the Laws of Sacred Hospitality are absolutes and generosity is the holiest of virtues. These fey take on the shapes of beggars, wanderers, and vagrants of various ancestries as they travel the world in the search of kindness, visiting the lowest muckrakers in their hovels, to the meager homes of farmers, to the mansions of nobles and royals to test their treatment of visitors. How, exactly, they perform their tests always varies, but it almost always begins with a simple request: Shelter, just for one night, and a meal of whatever the host can provide, just enough to let them see the next dawn.

The Filoxenia cannot be identified while they're in disguise, their own magic thwarting magical attempts to pierce it; the most reliable way to tell that you've encountered one is the gentle smell of honey and wheat which accompanies them, a scent they take pains to hide with mud and dusty clothes or, in rare cases, perfumes, but which they can never completely cover. Even if you know, however, it is in your best interest to play along and not allow it to sway your decision! Treating your new guest as you would any other is part of the test.

These fey exist to test mortals in their proficiency with and knowledge of the Laws of Sacred Hospitality, and each one has different means of both testing and rendering judgment. More lawful Filoxenia typically treat their task with the utmost of seriousness, and have a mental checklist they gradually move down during their stay in a mortal's home where failing even one step fails the whole test. More chaotic Filoxenia are much more likely to act as unruly guests, assessing the patience of their host, making gradually more unreasonable requests to see just how far the host is willing to go and rendering their judgment based on the host's breaking point; too soon (strict) or too late (lenient) and they fail.

The reward for passing their test is often simple but always beneficial; they may arrange for a parcel of valuable gems to be delivered to the host, repair flaws in their home, or magically enchant a tool or piece of furniture the host owns in a way which will always be useful to them. Impressing the fey may cause them to perform feats such as keeping the host's food stores full for a year and a day, blessing the host with a boon of good luck and health, grant them a useful magical item, blessing their livestock with health and virility, or introducing a helpful House Spirit into the home... but for all their potential blessings, their curses are the stuff of legends and horror stories.

Providing the bare minimum of hospitality is one thing (which earns the stingy host naught but a bowl of gruel or perhaps a new pair of socks for their trouble), but treating the Filoxenia poorly or, most damnably, rejecting their plea for mercy and assistance at one's doorstep? Such a host would be lucky if the worst thing that happened to them was the death of their livestock. An especially offended Filoxenia, such as one physically harmed by the host, can go as far as to curse an entire household to experience grave misfortune which, eventually, will lead to the death of all within in no more than a year.

----

Totagoda, the Uninvited Guest (CR 13 Chaotic Evil Large Fey) is a unique fey entity, an object of both scorn and amusement in the First World and a downright blight in the Universe whenever he deigns to enter it. He is a wild combination of a bloated toad and a gluttonous goat, standing on his back two legs as a man does, with three bulbous eyes always surveying the area as he searches for his next meal, the remains of which are added to the breathtaking tapestry of reeking stains over his clothing and skin.

Totagoda is a gluttonous, wretched beast of a fey, his primary modus operandi involving taking the shape of beggars, wanderers, and vagrants, hoping to gain invitation into the home of unsuspecting mortals who do not realize just what's standing at the door. Unfortunately, as one may surmise from his title, he is quite liberal with determining what qualifies as an 'invitation' into someone's home, with even strained conversation or simply holding a door open for too long becoming cause for him to push past his unfortunate host and slip inside. Only slamming the door in his face and refusing to speak will cause him to move on. Once inside, he takes a seat at the kitchen table and bullies his hosts into providing for him, often relying on the victim's fear or good manners (or both) to prevent them from seeking aid even as he wolfs down whatever food (or anything close to food) they can provide.

Victims of the Uninvited Guest quickly find themselves eaten out of house and home as his loud demands for food grow ever more violent and unreasonable, his monstrous form gradually revealing itself as he gorges himself. By the point he's revealed as a true and literal monster, it's far too late for his host, with him threatening their belongings, their health, or their very lives if they don't comply, the foul fey holding their treasured belongings or even their family members hostage to force their hand. When all the food in the house is exhausted, victims are forced into the marketplaces where they're expected to spend all their remaining money on a further banquet for the fey. Victims who can give no more may find themselves ensorcelled and forced to provide against their will, butchering their livestock, pets, or their unfortunate neighbors to feed Totagoda, until eventually he grows bored with the current fare and snaps up his host whole and alive with his massive tongue, moving on and leaving any surviving family members nothing but a destroyed home and horrific memories.

Sending out invitations to a party or celebration when Totagoda is stalking an area is a dangerous affair, because no matter the intended celebration, one can be assured it will end in tragedy and horror; many malevolent fey have, in fact, wielded the Uninvited Guest as a weapon by gifting him invitations to the party of a rival or hated enemy. When feeling especially peckish and shameless, he will use the public nature of taverns, restaurants, markets, and other such spaces where food may be found to barge in and begin stuffing his face, using threats, charming magic, or outright mystic domination against the owners, forcing them to ignore his crimes until they become too great to rationalize even with his spellwork clouding their minds. He prefers the 'thrill' of forcing his way into the homes of helpless mortals who cannot seek aid to feed him, using public eateries as a last resort, as he despises the concept of experiencing consequences (which is why he flees the First World as much as possible; he has made many enemies among Archfey and Eldest). Despite his considerable power and unnatural resilience, Totagoda is a coward and a bully, and at the first sign of any trouble (even trouble he could easily deal with) he is more likely to flee than fight, flinging his disease-ridden, acidic dung and unleashing nauseating belches at any pursuers until he can finally escape.

----

That Old and Rotten Crick, (CR 15 Neutral Evil Medium Fey), also known as Rotten Old Crick (and variants thereof), the Devil Fisherman, the Demon Angler, the Barnacle, Captain Hook, and a thousand other names with varying levels of fear or vitriol, is among one of the strangest denizens of the First World. Appearance-wise, he is a humanoid being, though not a hint of true flesh can be seen through the coverall-clothing of an angler that he wears; what isn't covered by clothes is studded with barnacles or coral growth. His vest is adorned by countless hooks, flies, whatever equipment he wishes to keep on hand rather than in his beaten up but magical tacklebox (the Artifact known as the Tomb of Karaphas), and extra parts for his Artifact-level fishing rod and primary weapon, the Tidepool Reaper. His face (if he has one) perpetually hidden in the shadow of his fishing cap, and he speaks with the smooth cadence of a devil and maniacal purpose of a daemon.

Nearly an Archfey in terms of power, Rotten Crick does not seek influence and remains outside of whatever political nonsense the others have going on... though his actions have a great many Archfey and even one of the Eldest furious with his very existence. Rotten Crick, you see, despises all life in the sea, especially the lives of any creature which could be called a 'fish.' His absolute hatred for all sealife has earned him a many enemies among waterway guardians and sea-dwelling fey, but just as many allies, though not for the reasons one may think; many stories circulate across many worlds of a mysterious angler approaching a fisherman or sailor with promises of rods, reels, baits, hooks, and nets which will assuredly catch enough fish to feed not only them, but their families and the families of their neighbors as well. Indeed, Rotten Crick has no animosity towards most mortal life, and is actually quite amicable, willing to help any down-on-their-luck man on the coast fish enough to live, or even make a business! There are rare stories of him going out of his way to save fishermen whose lives are endangered by the sea... but it is all for the singular goal of eliminating as many fish as possible and inspiring others to do the same. He will sit with other mortal anglers for many hours, fishing alongside them and making occasional, casual conversation, but anyone who knows what they're dealing with is advised to keep it casual, because any extended conversation with him will gradually turn towards alarmingly enthusiastic diatribes on how terribly fish suffer when hooked and dragged from the water, or disturbingly thorough explanations of the many deaths caused by sea beasts all over the world, in order to justify their torture and extermination.

He doesn't even eat any of his catches, enraged by the very idea of putting a fish in his body. If there is no one nearby to gift them to, he either abandons them on the shore to rot or, if feeling especially spiteful, slices them apart with fillet knives and hooks and leaves the disassembled bodies for the birds. He holds no love for creatures he calls "betrayers," which includes dolphins, whales, and seals, such unfortunates earning swift and terrible ends by his hands. Intelligent sea beings, especially merfolk, are in danger of torturous disassembly while still alive, as he draws sadistic joy from hearing their cries.

Why, precisely, he harbors such irrational hatred for sealife is something he has never explained to anyone who's asked, and likely never will. At the very least, any grand and far-reaching plans he may actually have to depopulate the seas of Golarion are slow going, if they're happening at all, held back by the sadism and hatred which drives him; it has been explained to him many times (primarily by daemons) that he could efficiently depopulate the seas by way of pollution, poison, and industrial expansion, but his hate is so great that he seems to prefer the more visceral, personal approach.

[tired-biscuit]

Bunny!reader that spent all night teasing wolf!kiba and is now pinned to the back seat of their car being mounted roughly YUMMMM

18+ fem!reader // cw: hybrids

all i can think about is him putting his hand on your thigh as he drives you home after your date.

with his eyes hard on the road and his jaw tightly set, he's clearly in a bad mood and you're to blame. choosing to act like a particularly naughty bunny during the entirety of your outing, you've spent the entire evening provoking him; testing his limits and trying to invoke some jealousy just to see what kind of wolf he actually is.

so far, he doesn't seem to be like the big, bad wolf that parents used to scare their children with in stories. that specific discovery only turns you braver.

and it's no wonder that you're feeling courageous. he didn't do jack shit after you had dressed all cute and flirted just the tiniest - moderate - amount with the waiter. didn't bat an eye as you'd started feeling all sorts of complacent and full of yourself. no, instead, your wolf of a boyfriend had just turned quiet.

so, you're not nervous at all as you now sit in his car, looking out the window with your reflection in the glass so awfully smug. besides the rather irregular tapping of his fingers against the inner side of your leg, there seems to be no threat visible on the horizon. to be fair, there is not much love behind the stroke... but you don't let yourself doubt in it.

it'll warm up over time, after all. you know it will.

"had fun tonight?" you chime at some point, trying to initiate conversation even if it's painfully evident that he doesn't want to talk to you for a change. you've grown bored of staring at the passing street lamps and empty sidewalk, so the vein that now bulges and turns prominent in the side of his neck is a welcomed sight, compared to the dullness outside.

"babe?" you insist, pushing him when he doesn't say anything. goodness, you just can't help yourself, can you? it's too fun; too entertaining to watch him sulk like this.

"no," he answers simply. finally. "i didn't have fun tonight."

a small giggle escapes your lips at his answer. you don't miss the tick in his jaw that appears when he swallows and grips the steering wheel tighter with his other hand. his knuckles flash stark white with the grip, and the sight would have perhaps been scary if you didn't otherwise consider him as nothing more but a mere pup after tonight's events.

"what's so funny?" said pup grits out, now. his voice has turned deeper, almost growly. it owns a certain edge to it that unwillingly activates the ancient alarm system that's been drilled inside the prey part of your brain.

unfortunately for you, you choose to brush it off. instead, you bat your eyelashes up at him, all pretty-like. you smile. say, "oh, nothing." and start snickering again like a little girl. like a mean little girl.

thump, thump, thump - something snaps within him at the way you so openly mock him now. his heart begins beating faster than normal with each passing second; your keen rabbit hearing catches the uprise in the rhythm of his pulse. the sound makes your ears twitch and your body tense up a bit. especially because his grip on your leg turns just a bit more firm... a bit more possessive.

has his hand always been this big? even the sweater he's wearing seems to have turned tighter around his biceps. if you listen closely, you can hear the stretch of the fabric; the micro-tears in it.

"hey... i've told you; it really is nothing, babe," you try to soothe because the blaring of the alarms inside your head doesn't seem to be so insignificant anymore - nearly the entirety of your smugness has dissipated with it. flicking your gaze to his foot as he applies more weight to the gas pedal, the street lamps which you can see in your peripheral are passing by way faster now than they did before.

your mouth feels awfully dry all of a sudden. his presence seems bigger, more intimidating. it's like he's sucking all the air inside the car with every breath he takes, and it all makes your voice sound small as you murmur, "slow down a bit, will you? ...you're driving really fast."

he doesn't seem to be listening to what you're telling him as he steps further on the gas pedal again. it's either that, or he's ignoring you on purpose, because all he says now is, "you're bullshitting me."

"i'm not!" your tone is panicky as you blabber out the words. he's driving way too fast and his nails are no longer blunt. you can feel the prickle of claws as they start to sink into the fat of your thigh. the sharpness causes your tights to rip in some places, and yet they still continue to grow.

when you whip your head to the side to look at him, his eyes are still glued to the road. but you can see the way the corner of his mouth is twitching. can see the way his chest heaves. the way he's calculating something.

"kiba," you start.

"you know damn well that i don't like it when you make me look dumb in front of other people," he snaps. "and what did you do? exactly that. you made me look like a fuckin' moron in front of the entire restaurant."

"kiba, i didn't- fuck!" the instinct to kick out your legs bubbles within you and stops you mid-sentence when he squeezes your thigh, harshly. it's a rabbit thing; one that he knows how to take advantage of but has never actually taken it before. until now, that is.

your stomach wants to climb up your throat when he suddenly swerves into a wide, but luckily-empty, parking lot. he hits the brake with such force that it makes your seat belt bite into your middle painfully. your hair curtains your face as you try to gasp for air and collect yourself.

there's silence for a few moments. and then;

"bunny."

his voice sounds strange now as he says the pet name you otherwise melt at. it's like his teeth are getting too big for his mouth, but you don't dare turn to look if it's actually true. besides, it's not like you could see much anyway; hot tears sting your waterline.

"bunny," he repeats, just a tad bit softer this time. "look at me."

when you refuse, his hand reaches up to cup your face. the claws are still there - they pinch your cheeks as he holds you by your chin and turns your head to the side by force. it doesn't hurt necessarily, but the grip is tenacious enough to make your lips purse even as your cupid's bow quivers a bit.

he's snarling when you finally raise your blurry gaze to look at him from underneath your eyelashes. his pupils are nothing more but slits, and his teeth are bared, fangs elongated. they gleam in the silvery light of the street lamp which he's parked right under. you swear that you can catch the sheen of drool on them.

he looks... furious. frightening. big and bad.

like an apex predator.

and that apex predator leans in, now. he leans in, the warmth of his breath fanning your face, and your heart starts to jackhammer all over your ribcage because of the proximity. every single hair on your body stands to attention; it's like your goddamn soul is screaming at you to flee, despite the fact that you can't because you're sitting completely frozen in your seat.

he's gotten so big that he makes the car seem small. it's an suv, for fuck's sake.

your voice shakes as you try to utter a worthy-enough apology because you're scared - goddammit, you're scared shitless. "kiba, i'm... i'm-"

"get your ass in the backseat, you stupid fucking rabbit," he interrupts you immediately, squeezing your cheeks again to make you shut up. he doesn't even give you a moment to breathe before he yanks you forward, forcing you to look right into his eyes. "i'm gonna fuck your brains outta your dumb lil' head."

the way he looks at you now - so starved and possessive and borderline insane - sends heat pooling between your legs. you don't want it to happen, don't want him to know and smell that his mean demeanor makes your little bunny cunt awfully wet and sticky despite being so vulnerable compared to him, but you just can't seem to stop it. especially as he presses his forehead against your own sweat-riddled one and whispers,

"and if you even as much as try to run, i'll hunt you down like the prey you are... i swear i'll fuck you in the middle of the street if i have to."

[much-ado-about-whumping]

Help for when you’re having a rough time

(If you're looking for my old pinned post with my whump masterlists, you can find it here.)

In light of some deeply sad news in the whump community today, I’m thinking about how many of us here struggle with mental health, sometimes including physical or mental self-harm and suicidality. Since I know lots of folks might be having a hard time right now, I wanted to share some resources that have helped me in rough moments. Please feel free to add on to this post (or make your own, if you want!) with the resources that have worked for you. 

First, a note:

Trauma, shame, and suicidality all tend to isolate - they make us feel like we’re all alone in the world, like no one else would understand us, and like the only solutions we have available to us are ones we can think of all by ourselves. In my experience, the antidote to that is connection. If you’re feeling scared or alone, you can hop into my asks or DMs if you want. I’m sure there are other folks in this community who would offer that, too. Many of us have grappled with mental health struggles, including suicidal ideation, and sometimes we can offer each other the care that can be hard to offer ourselves. Don’t be afraid to reach out if you need support.

A quick note about location: I live in the US, but about half the resources in this post are written guides you can access from anywhere. The hotlines and warmlines linked below are US-based. One or two are accessible in Canada or have an online chat or moderated forum that could be accessed anywhere. If you have good local resources from another place, please reblog and add them! (Thank you, @straight-to-the-pain, for flagging this in the notes!)

That said, here’s my absolute first recommendation if you’re feeling generally awful and don’t know what to do:

1. You Feel Like Shit (also available at its original site here)

If you’ve read a lot of ~self care tips~ in your life (and if you’re a bit of a salty bitch like me), you might be sick of being told to eat something and take a nap. (I don’t think we can hydrate our way out of long-term trauma and late-stage capitalistic hell, but thanks.) That said, I’ve found this site REALLY helpful. Personally, I have ADHD and CPTSD, a combination that makes it ROUGH for me to know how to take care of myself sometimes. This site speaks to you calmly, like a non-judgemental friend, and walks you through steps that you might struggle with if you have a hard time with executive function in general, or if you’re ill, grieving, overwhelmed, or otherwise just off your game. I pretty much always walk away feeling at least a little better, even if I don’t complete every step.

There are more suggestions and resources below the cut. Wishing everyone in this community love and care. <3

2. The 15-Minute Rule (info available in many places; after a quick google, I really like this site as a place to start)

One key principle to understanding the resources I’ve put together here is the 15-minute rule. If you’re feeling an urge towards physical or mental self-harm or suicide, studies show that the urge is unlikely to last more than about 15 minutes at its peak intensity. (Sorry I don’t have data on this off the bat - anecdotally, I can tell you that this rule also tracks with my own personal experience.) This means that, if you’re presently feeling overwhelmed by grief or pain that’s turning inwards on you, if you can stay afloat through the next few minutes, the tide of it is likely to ebb. The site I linked above has information about this concept and some great harm-reduction ideas, too. (Another resource on this that I liked in my quick search is here.)

3. Read This First (a compassionate distraction from feelings of self-harm)

I’m gonna be honest; this resource is aimed at folks having urges towards physical self-harm, but it looks like something I would find helpful with urges towards emotional self-harm, too. (It also looks like it could be handy for body-focused repetitive behaviors - BFRBs - like dermatillomania/skin-picking or trichotillomania/hair-pulling).

4. Resources from Pete Walker, psychotherapist and author of Complex PTSD: From Surviving to Thriving

Obviously not everyone reading this will have complex PTSD (also called C-PTSD), but if you’re a person who, in general, tends to beat yourself up a lot, I’d highly recommend checking Pete Walker’s work out. If some of it doesn’t apply to you, that’s okay - take what you need, and leave the rest. This site (and the book it references most heavily) assumes you may have had parents who were emotionally or physically abusive or neglectful. If that doesn’t ring true for you, but other parts of the resources seem helpful, use them anyway! A handy place to start maybe this page on Shrinking the Inner Critic in Complex PTSD (that is, reducing the volume of the voice that screeches unpleasantness at you when you feel ashamed or scared).

As a note: this website looks VERY mid-2000s (which I kind of love). Most of the resources you want will be in the right-hand column full of links. Some of those links will open new pages, and some will automatically try to download a PDF of the article you want to read. 

5. Warmlines:

This is something I just learned today - if you’re feeling really lonely and sad, but you’re not in immediate crisis, there are warmlines you can contact! These seem to be numbers where you can call (or sometimes text) to talk with a counselor or trained peer when you need support and connection. I can’t vouch for any of these numbers personally, but as someone who has definitely thought, “It’s not bad enough to REALLY need help,” I think this is a fabulous idea. Here’s a list of warmlines you can check out in the US.

6. Specialized hotlines: 

There are lots of good crisis hotlines out there, but some may be better for your needs than others. For one thing, if you’re feeling seriously suicidal, it’s good to know the policies of the hotline you’re calling. In my opinion, everyone deserves bodily autonomy and the right to refuse care; for that reason, I think it’s important to know the policy of the hotline you’re calling as to whether or not they’ll call emergency services without your consent. Everyone has to make their own judgment call on this one, and I’m a little too (lightly!) triggered to go deep into my analysis on this right now, but I wanted to flag that it’s something to be aware of - if you’re going to call a hotline, you can try to look up their policy on calling emergency services before you contact them. You could probably even ask them in the beginning of the call. (A script: “Before we start, can you tell me what your policy is about contacting emergency services on behalf of callers?” If this is true, you can add: “I’m having some feelings of [suicidality/self-harm], but I’m safe and am not in danger of hurting myself or others.”)

With that in mind, here are some hotlines that seem promising to me, in no particular order:

A. For queer and trans folks in general:

Trans LifeLine

Available in the US (1-877-565-8860) and Canada (1-877-330-6366)

Available in English and Spanish

Will NOT call emergency services without your consent (you can read more about this policy on their website, including here)

Peer to peer support for transgender and questioning folks; also, microgrants (small amounts of money) for trans-related needs!

Does not offer text/chat-based support

I’ve never used Trans LifeLine myself, but I’ve heard excellent things about it from peers who have.

The Trevor Project:

Support from trained counselors for queer, trans, and questioning folks

Definitely available in the US; I’m not sure where else.

Offers support via phone (1-866-488-7386), text message (678-678), and online chat (link here - scroll down to Start Chat)

Also offers an online peer support space, TrevorSpace, for folks ages 13-24

Their site says, “In very specific instances of abuse or a clear concern of an in-progress or imminent suicide, Trevor counselors may need to contact a child welfare agency or emergency service.” When you click Learn More, it takes you to their Terms of Service (informative, but in legalese that might be hard to parse if you’re in crisis).

Again, not a service I’ve used myself, but I’ve heard good things!

B. For BIPOC folks (Black folks, Indigenous folks, and people of color more broadly), especially those who also hold LQBTQI identities:

Call Blackline:

Available via phone or text (both at 1-800-604-5841)

Available for people in crisis. Call Blackline can also help connect you with local community organizers and officials if you need to report a negative, inappropriate, or physical interaction with police, other law enforcement, or vigilantes.

From their website:

Call BlackLine® provides a space for peer support, counseling, reporting of mistreatment, witnessing and affirming the lived experiences for folxs who are most impacted by systematic oppression with an LGBTQ+ Black Femme Lens.Call BlackLine® prioritizes BIPOC (Black, Indigenous, and People of Color). By us for us.

Here’s what I found regarding their policy on emergency services:

You do not have to provide any personal information to use the service. All calls remain private and will never be shared with law enforcement or state agencies of any kind.

Of course, a BIPOC person can contact any hotline for support, but for people dealing with racism, anti-Blackness, and other specific bigotries, I can very much see the importance of talking to someone who shares or understands that experience.

C. For folks processing bad psychedelic trips:

Fireside Project:

This one is something I didn’t even know existed! They do call- or text-based support (1-623-473-7433, or 1-62-FIRESIDE) for people processing psychedelic drug experiences, available 11am to 11pm Pacific time. I don’t have a ton more info, but their site seems really interesting and like they’re serving a unique need.

7. A soothing distraction:

One of the glories of the internet is the fact that it enables us to conjure up images of kittens at a moment’s notice. In that vein, I want to offer up a VERY cute distraction: Peptoc is a hotline (1-707-873-7862, or 1-707-8PEPTOC) where you can hear encouraging messages in English or Spanish from kindergarteners. How sweet is that? (Thanks to the wonderful @newbornwhumperfly for this suggestion!)

--------

Beloved whump community, I want to know about things that help you when you’re struggling. Please feel free to share them if you want.

And, Moya - we’ll miss you so, so much, even those of us (like me) who didn’t know you well. May your memory be an absolute blessing. <3

(I was going to put this in the tags, but oops, it’s going up here - I really hope this post will be helpful to someone, but it was also helpful to me to build. I feel better in a crisis when I can find a way to help - it’s how I soothe myself when I’m sad or scared. I really hope this doesn’t seem preachy or self-aggrandizing - it’s really just me processing-processing-processing. <3)

One more note: if this post makes you think you might want to follow my blog, you're totally welcome, but you should check out my note here first. This is not a DNI list; it's just a heads-up about my content, which could be inappropriate or triggering for some people.

[weixuldo]

Enigma// ch 31

anakin x reader

A/N: once again i’m v sorry (i feel like i have to say this every time i post nowadays) but i just wanna thank you all for your continued support- it means the world to me :)

Finally, a light at the end of the tunnel

warnings: cursing, disabled character, insecurity

___________________________

The comforting aroma of Anakin’s gray keurig filled the flat; both of you had gotten up early for different reasons.

You were starting your classes again- thankfully you were able to switch to finishing out the year virtually after you explained your situation to the academic dean. 

Anakin had to get up because he was interviewing part-time caretakers for himself (not that he even wanted one).

Since you were at home too, you listened in on the questions he asked and his attitude towards the workers, just in case you needed to step in. 

“No I don’t need assistance with everything- I’m not fucking helpless” Anakin huffed in annoyance at the younger caretaker on the screen; they couldn’t have been much older than yourself.

She had been speaking to him a bit condescendingly though, but still-he needed to keep his temper in check. 

“Ani” you called in a hushed tone. 

His blue eyes observed your expression and he sighed, “My apologies- it's been a long few weeks”. 

The interview concluded not long after and Anakin frustratingly shut his laptop before burying his face in his stiff hands. “Fuuck… This is annoying” he groaned as you waltzed over to the counter and placed an assuring hand on his back. 

“I know Ani, but it's a necessity right now” 

The past few days had been full of Anakin being his normal prickly self and scaring away or offending possible candidates- it was becoming exhausting to have to moderate his interviews but you knew this was also not something he was very comfortable with.  

He leaned into you and you placed a comforting arm around his broad shoulders. He breathed in a sigh before turning his face to press a delicate kiss into your side.

“Thank you for everything sweetheart- I know I’m a lot, but I really am trying for us” he said as you ran your fingers through his fluffy hair. 

You placed a kiss to the back of his head and rubbed his back soothingly, “I know, Ani”. 

_______________________________________

Anakin’s heart drummed against his ribcage as he sat in the oh-so familiar hospital grade recliner chair. But he wasn’t here for himself (for the first time in a long time) instead, he was here to finally meet his children.

Enough time had passed that he was strong enough to see them and possibly hold them; he’d been waiting for this moment ever since he knew they made it. 

He- Anakin Skywalker- was a father. Not just of one, but two! 

He remembered the day the doctor told him and Padme it was nearly impossible- he could still feel his heart shattering; he had always been a passionate lover and wanted to create life with whomever he decided to love. And now his dreams were a reality; he created two little angels with you.

Anxiously, he bounced his leg as he tried to calm his breathing. What if he wasn’t suited for this? What if they didn’t get along with him? What if-

Suddenly, your hand grounded him; he turned to see your smiling face, “It’s all going to be ok Ani. I promise”. 

Nothing could soothe his worries like your sweet voice; he nodded and pressed a kiss to your lips. Not long after, the door opened and the nurse wheeled in a cart holding the twins into the small room. 

“And here are the little ones now,” she smiled.

Anakin sat straight up in his seat (or as straight as he could) and his heart began to race. This was real- his children were right in front of him. 

The twins had been doing well and were finally off of the oxygen machine. The boy’s light hair was slowly growing in, whereas the girl already had a full head of soft, wispy, brown hair. They were both very small for their age, but were at least consuming more nutrients on the daily than before. 

They were beautiful. 

The short woman rolled the cart in front of the chair Anakin was sitting in and leaned the chair backwards so that he was almost lying down. He looked towards you with nervous eyes as the nurse began to pick up the girl. 

You placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder; “It’s alright Ani”

He nodded and focused his attention onto his baby girl. She looked so small as she was handed to him; as gently as he could, he maneuvered his inflexible arms to cradle her tiny body.

He bit the inside of his lip in as he anticipated her uncomfortable cries from the stiff sensation of his appendages- but they never came. 

Anakin watched in awe as his baby yawned in his hold; he was overjoyed- for a few months now, he had worried his disabilities would get in the way of his ability to interact with and raise the kids, but maybe he had been overthinking. 

She opened and closed her tiny hand as she nuzzled closer to Anakin’s chest; you smiled at the endearing moment and picked up your son. 

“Would you like to hold both of them?” the nurse asked. 

Anakin immediately nodded.

“Alright” the nurse chuckled, “We should probably set you back so they can rest on your chest- that might be more comfortable for you”. 

Anakin looked to you for approval to which you giggled lightly, “go ahead baby”. 

He looked at his daughter before looking ot the nurse as she reached out to pick her up before lying the bed back. Once he was laid back you placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, “do you want to take your arms off Ani? So you can feel the babies”

His eyes widened and he breathed out a small “yes”; he had never considered that- how had he not?

Of course he wanted to hold his children with his own arms.

You leaned down and helped him remove his prosthetics before placing them gently down in his wheelchair. 

“Alright Mr. Skywalker-” the nurse started as she placed the girl back down on his left side and then the boy on his right. 

The twins were still so small that the both of them still didnt cover the expanse of Anakin’s chest. He took his longer arm and ran it over each of their small backs as they wriggled closer to him. 

Anakin was so enraptured by his children he didn’t even notice the nurse had left the room; his whole being was trained on the miracles in front of him… He felt his eyes begin to water as he inhaled deeply. 

How could he have made something so precious?

He looked at you with a grateful expression and managed “thank you”. Before he looked back down and began to weep. 

“For what Ani?” you asked. 

“Thank you for giving me a chance… for giving me a family” his tears continued to pour from his beautiful eyes. 

He was always such a pretty crier, but you felt your heart tug; you knew Anakin felt that he didn’t deserve this- that he didn’t deserve happiness- and that broke your heart.

Thankfully you were here to assure him that he deserved everything he had; you leaned down to his side and wrapped a hand around his head and placed the other over your babies on his chest before pulling him in to kiss his temple. 

“Thank you for making me a mother, Anakin. And thank you for loving me when I thought no one could”.

“Always” he choked out before turning his face towards yours before mapping out every inch of your radiant face. 

You were an angel sent to save him… his angel. 

***

(a/n: sappy but, yk this story needs more happy moments lol)

taglist: @dnamht @sxoulohvn @angeelcoree @wtf-andys @httpeachesblog @katsukiswrld @jetiikote @poisonedsultana @imarimone12 @fallinlovewithevil @sythe-skywalker @bby-imasociopath

[cupidjyu]

hey pookie, could i request an angst/fluff kind of reaction. if you don't mind, can i req it for 98 line, with what they would do after a moderate argument which lead to you not speaking to them for a whole day? thank you in advance, if you do decide on doing this req! 😖🩷

already missing you

(98 line) what they do after an argument

genre: mild argument (topic not specified), making up, hugs, comfort, apologies, all good endings, slight crying notes: the way i spent like a good week with this already written i just forgot to post it SORRYYy thank u for requesting!! word count: 1.5k

juyeon

When you awoke on a cloudy day, you already knew something was off.

It did take you a while to understand what exactly, but when your hands ran through the sheets, you realized that these weren’t the usual ones that you slept under. And when your other hand reached out to the other side of the bed, there was no one else sleeping beside you to keep you warm.

You sighed. This was your doing after all.

After the argument, you stormed off into the guest bedroom to sleep on your own. It was fine. You just needed to clear your thoughts. 

You were about to fall back asleep when you were interrupted by a soft knock at the door. Blinking your eyes back open, you saw Juyeon’s head peek in. Usually, you would giggle at the sight, but today, your eyes were only dimly lit. 

“Can I come in?” He spoke with a timid voice.

You nodded slowly. You couldn’t even take a glance at his face with how low he had hung his head. Silently, he approached the bed and sat on the edge. His back was facing you, his shoulders hunched slightly.

You watched him quietly. That was when you heard a sniffle. One that came from him.

Immediately, you were sitting up because frankly, Juyeon never cried. Your hand gently came up to his shoulder and you turned him around. Your eyes softened. The man had tears welling in his eyes, and it seemed that he had already cried previously with how puffy they were.

“Oh, Juyeon,” You whispered. You leaned forward and pulled him into your chest, hugging him closely.

“I’m sorry,” He mumbles against you. “For everything. I didn’t mean to hurt you.” His large hands came up to your shirt, gripping the fabric tightly as if to silently ask you to never leave him.

You shushed him starting to feel emotional yourself. “It’s okay,” You muttered back. “I’m sorry too. My words were harsh before.”

He hummed and you could see a small smile on your lips when you looked down. His grip on you only tightened. You found this sight a little bit amusing actually: the way someone so tall could just fold into your arms so easily.

“Want to stay here?” You asked. Instantly, he nodded, looking up at you like a sad cat. You cooed, teasingly poking the tip of his nose. “You’re like a cat. Stuck in the rain.”

“I come here to apologize and of course, you compare me to a cat,” He grumbled, though you could see the tug of his lips. Without a warning, he pulled you back down into bed, his arms immediately wrapping around you in a tight hold. He snuggled into the back of your neck. “I missed you last night. The bed felt so cold, you know.”

You smiled. “I missed you too. And your warmth.” He grinned against your neck.

kevin

The doorbell ringing scared you so much that you flinched. Because of the argument, you had become so jumpy all of a sudden. Shuffling to the door, you took a deep breath. You knew who was on the other side and you weren’t sure if you wanted to see him just yet.

But still, you turned the knob and opened it. You were met with the sight of your boyfriend, Kevin, holding a bag filled with your belongings. Inside were some clothes–not all of them–and other belongings that you used in your normal routine.

You looked up at him, terrified. “Are you–” 

He gave you a shaky smile. “I’m not breaking up with you.”

“Oh,” You breathed out. “I thought you were kicking me out.”

“Me? No, never.” He huffed out a bitter laugh. “I just… I don’t want you to feel pressured to see me right now. I thought that you would want some space so I brought you the things that you need.”

You stared at him, speechless.

“Kevin–”

“And I want to apologize. I was wrong and I shouldn’t have said those things.” He furrowed his eyebrows.

There was a moment of silence. You stared down at the bag that was still in his hand, thoughts rushing through your mind like leaves in a breeze. And then you looked back up at him, unsurely.

“Do you want space?” You asked softly.

He widened his eyes and he immediately shook his head. “No, god no. I miss you so much. But, if you want space then I–”

You stepped forward and threw your arms around his neck, making him let out a shaky breath.

“I don’t want space,” You muttered. “If you miss me then I’ll stay there with you. I’m sorry too.”

He pulled away with a smile of relief. “I’m glad you want to stay. I don’t know what I would do without you,” He whined adorably. “I actually would have gone insane.”

You giggled. “You really didn’t think this plan through did you?”

“Nope. But I really did miss you.”

chanhee

A knock sounded on your front door. Quickly, you rushed to the mirror to make sure you didn’t look too disheveled. There was no use. Your eyes were already swollen and red.

With a low sigh, you opened the door, expecting maybe the delivery man. Instead, it was Chanhee. He was standing, his eyes squeezed shut as his hands held up a bouquet of flowers. You could see that it was shaking slightly with how tightly he was gripping it.

“Chanhee?” You gazed at him with shock.

“I know that you’re upset and I understand if you don’t want these,” He rambled. He paused for a second, peeking an eye open as he bit his lip nervously. He then shoved the flowers closer to you in a plea. “But just know that I always will love you and I’m sorry.”

You sniffled, bringing your palms to your face to hide your tears.

“Why’re you crying?”

“No, I–” You gently took the bouquet from his hands, studying the beautiful flowers. “These are really pretty…”

He smiled, stepping forward to wipe the tears off your cheeks with his sleeve. “So I’m guessing that you do want the bouquet?”

You nodded, smiling through your tears. “Definitely.” You paused. “Though I think I’m still upset, I think we should talk about it more.” You took his hand in yours and led him in before pressing a quick kiss to his cheek.

“I agree. I didn’t think you would love the flowers so much,” He whispered.

“Of course, I would love them.” You laughed with a sniffle. “They’re so pretty.”

“Well, you look very pretty holding them.” He returned the kiss, but this time on your forehead.

You blushed. “I should be apologizing, not you flattering me.”

He shrugged with a small smile. “I can’t help it. You’re too pretty for me.”

You rolled your eyes. “Let me say sorry first.”

changmin

With a sigh, you pulled open the door. Dreadfully, you had the worst clothes on but you couldn’t care less. You just needed to stop by the convenience store to buy your favorite snack. Best way to not feel horrible after an argument. 

Just as you stepped out, you felt a piece of paper crinkle under your shoe. You tilted your head and looked down.

It was a small letter. Your name was written on the front in familiar handwriting. Changmin’s handwriting.

With a confused hum, you picked it up and opened it.

Dear the love of my life,

I’m sorry for everything. I want you to know I love you so much and I dreamt of you today when you weren’t with me.

P.S. I’m too ashamed to meet you and say this in person, sory sorry baby 

You laughed at the letter, tears springing up to your eyes. You could even see the signature drawing that he would add. It was of a squirrel, holding a small heart aimed at you. You leaned against the closed door, wondering where Changmin would be at this time.

The park, you figured. He always went there when he needed to clear his mind.

Instead of going to the store, you walked all the way to the park. Sure enough, he was sitting on the bench, twirling a flower pitifully between his fingers. You took a seat next to him, watching him with a smile.

He glanced at you and looked back down at his lap with guilt. 

“Hi,” He muttered quietly.

“Hi,” You replied with a half smile.

He turned to you with a small frown. “Did you read it?”

You nodded. “I did.”

He sighed with a pout. “I knew you would find me here.”

You snorted, “You wanted me to find you.” 

He blushed at that. “I– maybe I did.” He looked away briefly. “I just missed you. I’m too ashamed to tell you that.”

You smirked. “You just did.”

“Right,” He whispered. Then, he reached over and took your hand in his. “I’m sorry though. Truly.”

You smiled. “I’m sorry too. Now we’re even. So we can hug.”

“How does that make sen– oomph.” You surged forward, pulling him into a tight hug. Immediately, he melted into your arms, returning the hug as he held you closer.

“I don’t ever want to lose you,” He muttered. “I love you. And I’ll tell you that all the time without a letter.”

[yanderes-galore]

hello hello, may i request a springtrap romantic concept (fnaf 3)? :3

Sure! Honestly, I'm surprised I've written him this much but haven't done a general concept yet.

Yandere! Springtrap Concept

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Sadism, Stalking, Manipulation, Violence/Murder, Kidnapping, Possessive behavior, Blood, Emotional manipulation, Threats, Slight gore, Forced "relationship".

It's already been established in all of my Springtrap and William fics that Springtrap is sadistic and ruthless.

During FNAF 3, Springtrap would see tormenting you as a game in his obsession.

By the time he meets you on Night 2 to Night 5, Springtrap sees you as his personal toy.

I'd say his obsession is a moderate speed.

He's technically obsessed once he meets you but his motives change.

Throughout your job he goes from trying to toy and maybe kill you... to wanting to keep you around as a twisted form of company.

Most of his obsession is him playing along with your audio cues.

He always gets so close before leaving you alone.

It's like he's playing/teasing, peeking through your window or from behind the door.

He loves to stare at you, silver eyes staring into your soul.

He craves your fear more than your blood being shed, as heard in one of his AR lines.

Don't get him wrong, he loves the sight of blood from his victims.

It's just farming their fear lasts longer.

Which is essentially what Springtrap is doing until the climax of his obsession.

He's just out of sight, climbing into vents and sitting by your window.

He likes it when you see him so he can watch the fear settle into your face.

When he's bold he'll warm up his raspy voice to speak to you.

Your initial shock at him speaking makes him thrive.

It's him setting down hints that he isn't what he seems.

He's no malfunctioning robot, he's something else.

Based on the smell you can guess.

Plus when you get a close up look at him through the window or doorway, you can see some sort of gunk clings around his metal.

It all makes you very nauseous.

Your little game is simple.

He tries to get in to "claim his prize", while you try to keep him out.

For the first few nights it's easy.

Then by Night 4 Springtrap gets more aggressive, his obsession creeping ever closer to a climax.

By Night 5 or 6, it's almost game over.

Springtrap thinks he's played nice long enough.

As he's watched you these past few nights... he's wanted to get his hands on you.

The idea of making you scream, to feel you in his metal claws, well...

He hasn't had such excitement in 30 years!

Just when you think you'll complete your week, that you'll walk out and leave, Springtrap surprises you.

Before you can do anything all your systems display an error.

You try your best to fend off hallucinations, to reboot your systems to put out and audio lure or seal off a vent.

Only for Springtrap to appear in front of you in the darkness.

He moves the monitors out of the way, a permanent grin on his face.

"Hello there, doll~!"

They way you scream makes him laugh.

Oh you're so cute when you're vulnerable!

He watches as you fall out of your chair, staring at him with big scared eyes.

"I loved our game... hope you wouldn't mind having it every night, dear?... or did you have something else in mind?"

Your game on your last night switches things up.

Instead of him coming to you in your office, it's you running through the attraction away from him.

It's agonizingly long... you're constantly darting in and out of vents and hiding behind walls.

Yet Springtrap knows your attempts at escape are futile.

Eventually you'll grow tired, eventually you may even injure yourself... then he'll strike.

He knows this place better than you.

You aren't the one roaming it every day and night in a bored stroll.

Which means only he knows about the secret backroom.

One he expertly corners you beside, just to push you inside and close the door.

The game is now over... he's won.

You're trapped in the roam, the smell of the rotting animatronic stunning you.

You look around, no other escape....

Where is this? A storage room?

"I've been waiting for this." The greenish rabbit hums, keeping you trapped in a corner.

"You see... you're just about the only company I've had in years. Decades, even."

You fear to ask, yet you try;

"Decades?"

"I've been dead for thirty years in complete agonizing silence. Dead yet living in this robotic shell. But honestly? I've never felt more alive!"

The rabbit laughs, standing over you.

"Now... I have long awaited company, doll. You'll be fun to play with. I think I'll have a lot of fun with you."

This becomes your fate.

You're forever meant to entertain the remains of the sick serial killer.

If he feels he has to, he'll make you immortal with him.

It'll be painful... but to him he thinks it'll be worth it.

That way... he can keep you with him forever as his doll, pet, and toy...

Even when the building burns down... you'll be stuck with him... forever his.