#but I also wanted to get this out while I could before I abandoned it

[jaehaeryshater]

The King Come Over and his bride Ygritte Firekissed

art by : @shripscapi

Look at my King dawg we’re definitely getting through the Wall!!!

For the last month and a half, I have been working closely with Liesl to design concepts for Jon as King Beyond the Wall and Ygritte as his Queen. Personally, I’m not invested at all in Jon becoming King of the Seven Kingdoms despite him being my favorite character. He’s not very connected with the South and I don’t feel that it’s his birth right or anything, even being the son of Rhaegar. I am significantly more interested in him becoming King in the North, but my interest in Freefolk culture has led me to be far more invested in the idea of him rejecting Southron society as a whole and becoming King Beyond the Wall (this isn’t necessarily mutually exclusive to being King in the North later on).

The motivation for Jon becoming King as opposed to Mance stems from a theory that has been around since AGOT has come out: that the Others will only treat with/negotiate with a Stark. In the prologue of AGOT, when the Others are speaking among themselves before killing the Watchmen, what if they were confirming with each other that Waymar Royce was not a Stark and that they could go ahead and kill him? All in all, it doesn’t really matter if this is true, but rather that this is a plausible rumor that could easily have been passed down among the Freefolk which could lead Mance to conclude that Jon as a leader would give the Freefolk the best chance of survival. It’s not very hard, at least in my opinion, to imagine an AU like this, since survival is the most important thing to the Freefolk during the events of ASOIAF. But is it plausible that under these circumstances that Jon would abandon his Night’s Watch vows? I think so if he can be led to believe that only Stark blood could defeat the Others, but that is not the only factor. Jon Snow is insecure about his bastard status, plain and simple. He’s always lived in the shadow of his Robb, though he loved him. He’s wanted Winterfell, though he didn’t want to nor had any intention to take it from Robb. But he’s known since he was a small boy that he could never Winterfell and that would never inherit anything because he was a bastard. Jon also has thoughts, at least in passing, that Ned loved Robb more than him. He perceives Ned as having been more proud of Robb, of looking at him differently than himself. He’s seemingly always believed this, but there is a sort of confirmation of Jon’s feelings when Ned allows him to join the Night’s Watch without much preparation on what the Watch is actually like. Fully me making assumptions here, not something Jon has explicitly thought, but it’s unlikely that Ned would have sent Bran off at 14 to the Watch without much warning of what it was like, had Bran not become paralyzed. While we never get this exact thought process from Jon, in my opinion it fits into his psychology and insecurity. All this to say, if Jon is offered to be a figurehead, King, a title equal to his brother, but without taking anything away from the Starks or from Robb, that would almost certainly scratch that itch in him. It would be of his own merit, and there would be people behind him that don’t care that he’s a bastard, don’t see him as less than, and are willing to accept him for who he is. Not to mention that it also lets him feel like a hero and as if he is saving something far more precious than himself. And it probably doesn’t hurt that he would be able to remain with Ygritte as well.

We know from the descriptions of Mance and Dalla, as well as from being told directly by the former, that the King and his wife dress like all the other Freefolk, in thick furs. While the Jon and Ygritte arts from above are not particularly ostentatious by Southron standards, they are in obvious contrast to how Mance and Dalla are dressed. My idea was that Jon, having lived South of the Wall in a Lord’s keep all of his life, brought his own ideas to the Freefolk and added a distinction between a King and all other men. Nothing like in King’s Landing, all changes are inspired by his experience at Winterfell. I tried to think of what was achievable by the Freefolk, that would be difficult enough that it can’t be easily replicated for everyone else, but also keeping in mind of what could be done relatively quickly seeing as the Freefolk are focused on migrating South and saving themselves from the Others. The cultures I took inspiration for the clothing from are the Byzantines, Russians, Incans, Aztecs, and Mongolians. I wanted more “open” and flowy clothing, as opposed to more closed off and excessively modest clothing of 1300-1500s Europe that most of Westeros is based off of. Ygritte is still wearing furs, but they are dyed and there is weirwood embroidery in symbolism of the Old Gods and flame embroidery to symbolize her being kissed by fire. Her jewelry are simply clay beads that have been powdered blue. I didn’t want to give her any jewels as I felt it would be too difficult for the Freefolk to cut them directly and just overall would be against the spirit of the Freefolk. However, getting the blue on the clay like that still would be expensive and take a lot of time. I tried to keep the main color scheme surrounding gray as obviously that’s House Stark’s color. Jon’s clothes are similarly nice, with my main concern being him looking intimidating. I want the furs around his shoulders to be black because I wanted to call back to his time in the Night’s Watch without him keeping his psychical cloak, because I’m sure the Freefolk would not want him to do that. The furs are massive and make his shoulders look far larger, in an effort to make him look more intimidating, especially on a battlefield or in negotiations. He also has weirwood embroidery and his sigil is on the front of his outfit (my original idea was for him to have a flag with his heraldry on it, in which case the sigil would have looked far different, with a full length direwolf). There’s a white wolf on one side and either a crow or eagle on the other side (up for interpretation, both are relevant to Jon and one is one of the animals that can be used a symbol of the Freefolk) and the flame in the middle to represent Ygritte. The sigil is more than about Jon, after all, as it’s for the entirety of House Whitewolf, the House he founds. I thought the name fit far more in to Freefolk culture than something like Whitestark or something along those lines. Ygritte was supposed to have sewn on the sigil herself, and was very adamant about it, and that is meant to be why the thread is uneven and more visible than it ought to be. She’s not very good at the craft!

As I indicated before, crowns are not something common to Freefolk. That would be something else Jon would implement. Ygritte’s crown is very much like a hat, very casual. The beads are nice but obtaining them wouldn’t be unheard of, and holly most likely would not be particularly hard to come by. The reason I gave her a crown with holly is that during Christmas in the Tudor period and even before during pagan celebrations, people would go out into the woods and find holly and ivy to decorate their houses with. Holly was a symbol of masculine energy and ivy feminine energy. If you found more holly, it was meant to indicate that the man would rule the household for the year, and if you found more ivy then the woman would rule the household in the coming year (this was a way to “tell the future” not a rule lol). I liked the holly better for Ygritte so I’m just saying the Freefolk had the opposite belief. Jon’s crown is made of weirwood, which was important to me as I feel like his connection the Old Gods is also important as it is something that him and Freefolk both use to guide them. It ties them together. That being said, a weirwood crown is often used for Bran so I did not want to use a design that was too similar to the one used for him. Bran’s weirwood crown usually is made of weirwood branches, however, and not weirwood bark or logs, so I feel like it’s different enough. The frozen weirwood sap, as far as I know, is also unique to this design. There’s also some ivy to parallel with Ygritte’s holly.

The remaining bits and bobs I wanted to explain are the blue rose and then the face paint. The blue rose is obviously something associated with Lyanna Stark, who is widely accepted to be the mother of Jon Snow. I originally wanted to give him a rose somewhere, whether he was holding it or it was in his embroidery, but I forgot to ask during sketching, and then it was too late. But Ygritte holding the blue rose isn’t just about Lyanna. It’s also about Bael the Bard, a most likely fictitious person (or at least, the tale is fictitious, though I personally choose to believe it’s real) that went South of the Wall posing as a bard. He impressed the Lord of Winterfell so much that he granted Bael anything he wished; all Bael asked for was the most beautiful flower in Winterfell. This was granted for him, but the next morning he had stolen the Lord of Winterfell’s only child, a girl, and had left the flower in her bed in her place. He hid in the crypt with her for a year and they had a son together. Bael eventually went back North of the Wall and eventually Winterfell, having no other heir, passed to Bael’s child. Under this story, Jon is descended from Ygritte’s idol (maybe idol is stretching it, but she really likes him), Bael the Bard. Not only him, but all the Freefolk including Ygritte, according to her story. Following the story’s premise, Jon also poses as Bael and Ygritte as Winterfell’s daughter, with Jon joining her home under false pretenses and “stealing her”, as she calls it. So the blue rose has significance regarding both the Starks and the Freefolk. The face paint is inspired by tattooing done by cultures indigenous to North America. Indigenous Americans are not the only groups to use facial tattooing, the Vikings were famous for it as well, but Viking facial tattooing had more patterns based on shapes rather than lines and dots. I didn’t like the shapes so much, but the chin tattoo was one was that observed in all sorts of different cultures. Usually the chin tattoos with the line were on women in indigenous America, but I found some on men in other outside cultures. The dots I didn’t see outside of Native American culture and the claw marks on Jon’s cheeks I found mainly among Vikings. Because these all are an amalgamation of different cultures, we did them as face paint instead of tattoos because it seemed disrespectful otherwise. Not enough research went into it to be a proper representation of any one culture so paint was a better bet than a permanent body modification that is sacred to a number of cultures. The only thing that was meant to be a tattoo was the chin tattoo, which like I said, actually is from an amalgamation of cultures. Among the Freefolk (in this AU), dots on the cheeks are widespread, one of cultural mainstays of their people, and are generally a sign of peace, whereas the claws are meant to look intimidating and is applied to look like blood (Ygritte applies it for Jon) and is specifically used for military leaders. I really wanted to drive home the point that the goal with Jon’s whole look is to look fearsome.

I have so much more to say about Jon as King Beyond the Wall, how he negotiates with the Wall, the different rules he sets in place, how he sets up being King as a hereditary title once his daughter Bael is born, etc etc, but then I’d be here all day and approximately one person total read through all this. Oops! Ask in my inbox if you have any questions because I would love love love to answer them. All in all, shripscapi (Liesl) is so talented and she worked incredibly hard for me. She was extremely accommodating and changed as much stuff as I wanted. She never complained about the million times I decided something was not quite right and she sent me so many updates. I would recommend working with her to just about anybody. It was very cool what she was able to achieve and I got it in time for the holidays so I can enjoy my winter themed pfp on twt. So thank you from the bottom of my heart Liesl, and I hope everyone showers her with compliments because she deserves it. I also hope that people that don’t enjoy Ygritte very much can still appreciate the art and the concept of Jon as King Beyond the Wall. Hopefully I’ve gotten across how much I love and care for these characters to a chronically online degree and nobody accuses me of mischaracterizing them because that would make me!!!! very sad!!!

Bonus Jon with weirwood leaves:

[tortillamastersblog]

Back To You - Part 4 | Sam Carpenter

Pairing: Sam Carpenter x reader

Warnings: mentions of violence, death, blood, injuries, and swearing

Summary: When Sam left after turning eighteen, you were devastated. You’d been in love with her since you were kids and her leaving meant you never got to tell her how you truly felt.

Fast forward a couple of years, Tara gets attacked and Sam returns. . .

Previous Part | Next Part | Masterlist

_______________________________________________

Present

Billy Loomis is Sam’s real dad. . .

Tara’s words and her recount of her conversation with Sam makes all the puzzle pieces fall into place.

That’s why Sam snuck into my room all those years ago. That’s why she changed so much after, and that’s why she left.

It all makes sense now, but it doesn’t change the fact that she hurt Tara by leaving, hurt me by leaving. It also doesn’t change the fact that she wasn’t there for me when I needed her to most. When I begged her to come back and she just screamed at me to stop calling without even letting me explain why I was calling in the first place.

I’m feeling so many things right now, it’s kind of overwhelming, but I try my best to stay calm so I don’t freak Tara out.

She’s been moved to a private floor since Sam left and slept earlier while I called Liam and Paige again. Now, she’s awake once more, curled into my side while we’re watching a movie together.

I really try to focus on what’s going on, but my mind keeps drifting back to Sam.

She could have talked to me! She could have told me about her real dad. Why didn’t she? Did she think I was going to hate her for it? Did she think I would stop being her friend if I knew?

I wouldn’t have done any of that. Who her father is doesn’t change who she is. At least that’s my opinion. She must think otherwise, because if she didn’t, she wouldn’t have left.

I’m mad at her for abandoning Tara and leaving me. I’m sad she felt like she couldn’t talk to me, and I’m heartbroken thinking about how she tried to numb her pain by doing every drug imaginable and sleeping with anyone who would have her.

I still love her, that’s for sure because if I didn’t, I wouldn’t be feeling like this, but I’m just not sure love is enough for me to forgive and forget everything she’s done.

“Hey.” Tara’s voice and her finger poking my chin snaps me out of my thoughts.

I clear my throat quietly and look down at her. “Yeah?”

“You okay?” she asks, her kind brown eyes darting between my own.

“No, not really, Sprout.” Tara wrinkles her nose and I chuckle. She’s never liked that nickname. “But I will be, and so will you.“

“You sure?” she asks and I nod.

“I’m sure. Now watch the movie, or I’m changing it,” I tease, making her laugh softly.

“Okay, okay. . .” She looks me over one last time before turning her attention back to the movie, mumbling, “You’re so annoying.”

I just hum and scratch her head, settling deeper into the bed and actually focusing on the movie. Thoughts of Sam are still swirling around in the back of my mind, but I ignore them as best as I can.

About half an hour later, the movie is still playing and, much to my surprise, I’m actually invested in the story now.

Some shuffling and a grunt in the hallway outside makes me look away from the TV though. We’re on a private floor and no one but Deputy Vinson should be here. A nurse comes in every two hours or so to check on Tara, but she was just here before we started the movie.

Alarm bells almost instantly go off in the back of my head, but I don’t want to scare Tara, so I stay calm and shout, “Hello?”

There’s no answer.

“Vinson?”

Again, nothing.

My stomach drops. This is not good. This is not good, at all.

“Y/N?” Tara whispers fearfully, the beeping sound of her heart rate monitor next to the bed speeding up.

I swallow thickly and continue to stare at the open doorway, straining my ears to hear anything else. It stays quiet though, and with every second that passes, the uneasiness in the pit of my stomach grows.

“Y/N,” Tara whimpers and when our eyes meet I see the fear I’m feeling inside reflected back at me.

He’s back. It’s Ghostface. It has to be him. He’s returned to finish the job.

I can feel my own heart rate picking up speed, and after another beat of silence, I decide that we have to leave. We’re sitting ducks if we stay.

“Fuck this.” I swallow again and nod to myself before pushing the blanket to the bottom of the bed. “We’re leaving, Sprout.”

Tara’s eyes widen and she doesn’t protest when I disconnect the IV from the back of her hand. For a moment, she’s frozen, watching me disconnect her from all the machines she’s attached to, before springing into action herself.

With shaking hands, she removes the oxygen tube while I get up and pull the nearby wheelchair to the side of the bed.

I won’t be able to do anything with only one arm, so even though it hurts and I know I’m probably going to tear my stitches, I take off my sling.

I wince at the stinging pain that shoots through my neck and arm, but grit my teeth and help Tara with the rest of the wires. Then I make sure the wheelchair’s breaks are on before turning back to the bed.

“We have to get moving, c’mon. I know this is going to hurt, but we have to go,” I say, slipping my arms under Tara’s knees and under her back. I don’t lift her yet though, waiting for her to nod before hoisting her up.

The gasp she lets out makes me hurt for her, but I can’t stop now.

We have to leave.

Carefully, I lift her out of the bed and place her in the wheelchair, making sure I don’t bump her broken leg against anything.

My shoulder protests, screaming in pain even though Tara is easy to lift, but I don’t stop moving especially when the lights suddenly go out.

We have to leave, now!

Tara whimpers in fear and in pain, and I rush to turn off the breaks on the wheelchair before pushing her to the doorway.

He’s here. I know it.

I peek into the ominously dark hallway all while trying not to let panic take over my mind.

Fear is healthy, panic is deadly.

That’s what my father taught me, and I know if we’re going to get out of this alive, I have to keep a clear head.

The hallway is empty, and the only way out is by getting to the elevator at the end of the hallway, so I slowly push Tara out of the room, keeping my eyes and ears open for any movement near by.

Just get to the elevator.

The deafening sound of Tara’s phone ringing on the bedside table back in her room makes both of us jump for a moment.

Tara sobs quietly, and I tighten my grip on the wheelchair.

I glance over my shoulder, seeing the screen of the phone light up the room before turning back around. There’s no time to get it now, and even less time to answer it.

I push Tara into the hallway, slowly and quietly while letting my eyes dart around in the darkness for any sign of danger.

It still eerily quiet though and I don’t see anything, so I continue pushing her until we get to the nurses’ station.

That’s where a chocked gasp claws it’s way out of Tara and when I follow her line of sight, I freeze for a second.

Laying right there on his back on the ground, with a slit throat and a pool of blood around his head is one of the deputies Sheriff Hicks assigned to Tara’s floor. He’s still alive, even though only barely, and chokes on his own blood, his wide eyes staring unblinkingly at the ceiling.

There’s nothing we can do to help him, he’ll be dead within a minute, but still, the sight of him, so helpless and alone, makes the blood in my veins freeze.

That could be me, or worse, Tara.

Stop! Don’t think about that, Y/N. Focus.

My dad’s voice rings in my head and makes me snap out of it. He’s right, I have to focus.

I’m about to continue pushing Tara towards the elevator, but then a thought strikes me.

I pause and look around again before letting go of the wheelchair and crouching down next to the deputy. I reach for his belt, fumbling around until my hand grazes the holster of his gun.

With a gun, we’d at least stand a change against Ghostface, but as fate would have it, the holster is empty. The gun is gone.

Fuck.

Not only does that mean that we have nothing to defend ourselves with, it also means that Ghostface has the gun.

Tara sobs into her hands and watches me get back up, only to flinch and freeze a second later when we hear a door being opened somewhere down the hall.

There’s no time to ponder over the gun and its whereabouts now. I spin around and take a hold of the wheelchair again.

Getting to the elevator now is too risky. It’s too far away, so I wheel Tara into the room right next to the nurses’ station.

We need help.

Tara whimpers and cries quietly while I close the door behind us. I don’t shut it all the way, just enough to hide us from plain sight while still being able to see what’s going on outside. Then, I fumble around for my phone in my sweatpants.

Just like with the gun though, I come up empty, and the realization that it must have slipped out of my pocket while watching the movie makes my heart drop.

No, no, no, no, no. This can’t be happening.

My hands begin shaking, and it’s getting harder to keep my panic at bay.

We’re alone with a psychopathic killer, we have no way out, no help is coming, and I’m not in any shape to fight properly.

Tears well up in my eyes and I feel my bottom lip quivering. There’s no way out.

My heart starts pounding in my ears and my hands start shaking.

Please, no. Not now.

I’ve had enough panic attacks after my parents death to know what it feels like when one is about to start, and even though it sucks having them at any time, it would be especially inconvenient right now.

I force myself to calm my breaths and blink away the tears, but it doesn’t help much.

We’re trapped.

We’re alone.

I continue to focus on steadying my breathing while also keeping an ear out for any more sounds in the hallway.

That is until Tara nudges me. I clench and unclench my fists, and look at her. She has tears streaming down her face, but she’s urgently gesturing at something she can’t reach.

I follow the length of her arm with my eyes and almost start crying with relief when I spot the phone on the wall right next to the door.

I lunge for it and start dialing 911 with shaking hands only to stop a moment later when another door opens out in the hallway.

Tara clutches the back of my sweater with her uninjured hand and bites her bottom lip to prevent any more sobs from escaping her.

I flinch when another door gets opened, this time closer by, and hold my breath.

This is it. He’s here.

I lower the phone and square my shoulders, ready to fight when the door to our room suddenly swings open.

Tara yelps and I instinctively punch whoever just walked in.

“Ow!” Richie stumbles back against the doorframe and raises a hand to where my fist just connected with his jaw. “Ah, goddamn it!”

“Richie?” Tara’s pulls on the back of my sweater to get me to step out of her line of sight while I simply stare at Richie in disbelief.

I’m honestly relieved it’s just him, and that he’s here because now we’re no longer alone, but I can’t find it in myself to feel sorry for punching him.

“What are you doing here?” Tara asks as Richie continues to recover from the punch.

“Sam called,” he explains and as he continues to talk, I feel some of the tension in my body dissipate. “She said that you were in trouble.”

He doesn’t look at me when he says it, and the revelation that Sam probably only called about Tara is like a blow to the stomach.

I don’t get much time to dwell on it though because a split second later, Ghosface appears behind Richie, ready to strike with a knife in his hand.

“Look out!” I shout, stepping in front of Tara again.

Richie spins just in time to avoid getting stabbed, but the knife manages to cut his forearm. Ghostface goes in for another stab, but Richie manages to catch his wrist before he can bring the knife down on him.

He grunts and they struggle for a moment, but then Ghostface manages to grab the back of Richies head and slam him into the door frame, knocking him out.

“Shit!” I clench my jaw when Ghostface turns his attention to Tara and me, and quickly grab the IV stand next to us, flinging it at him.

Ghostface goes down because the monitor on the IV stand hits him in the head, and I rush to wheel Tara out of the room.

We’re almost back in the hallway, away from Ghostface, when he suddenly lands a punch on the back of my left knee, making my leg buckle. I stumble and manage to regain my footing without going down, but that little trip costs me a lot of precious seconds.

“Y/N!” Tara twists around in the wheelchair with wide eyes and even though I know Ghostface is now back on his feet and right behind me, it still catches me off guard when he wraps his arm around my neck from behind and punches me in the side, right below my ribs.

“Ah, fuck!” I grunt and grab his forearm, trying to pry it away from my neck, but it doesn’t budge. “Go, Tara!”

Another blow, this time to my ribs, takes my breath away, and even though I’m in pain, it fills me with an unexplainable rage.

Instead of trying to get his arm away from my neck again, I dig my heels into the ground and push backward until we hit a wall. Ghostface hisses in pain and I use the momentary distraction to get out of the headlock.

Then, I run to Tara, limping slightly and ignoring the sound of a phone ringing nearby. She’s crying and struggling to move in the wheelchair, and the sight of the blood soaked bandage around her hand makes my stomach clench.

I’m about to reach her, my arms already outstretched to grab onto the wheelchair, but then I’m tackled to the ground from behind.

My head hits the floor, making black dots dance in my vision for a moment and then my head is yanked up by my hair.

“Hold it right there, Tara,” Ghostface says, the voice changer eerily distorting his voice, “or I’ll slit Y/N’s throat.”

Tara freezes and wheels around in time to see Ghostface press the blade of his knife against my neck. He’s kneeling on my back and I know I have no way of escaping without getting my throat slit.

It stings when he pushes the knife down a little too hard, drawing some blood in the process, but I don’t dare to move.

“Y/N!” Tara cries and I try not to cough because of the weight on my back. “No, please don’t.“

“Tara, go!” I rasp, feeling the edge of the knife dig even deeper into the skin of my neck.

Tara shakes he head desperately, tears rolling down her cheeks. “No, Y/N, I—“

“Do you hear that, Sam?” Ghostface says and at the mention of Sam’s name my heart drops. He must be on the phone with her. “Your little sister and Y/N, begging for each other’s lives. Pathetic, don’t you think?”

Tara makes a move to wheel closer, but I pin her down with a stare to stop her. Go, I mouth, but Tara doesn’t move while Ghostface continues talking to Sam.

I can’t hear everything he’s saying because my ears are ringing, but when he suddenly gets off my back and approaches Tara with calculated steps, I hear him say, “So, the choice is up to you. Who is it going to be, Sam? Richie, Y/N, or Tara?”

Tara whimpers as Ghostface gets nearer, but she’s too injured to get away. She manages to turn the wheelchair around, but Ghostface is right there before she can even attempt to get away.

He grabs the handles of the chair and tips it forward forcefully, making Tara fall and land on the ground with a cry of pain.

No, not her. Not Tara. Please, anyone but her. She’s been through enough.

“Stop!” I groan, trying to get up, but slipping on something sticky on the floor. My shoulder stings and the side where Ghostface punched me burns, but I try to get back up again, and this time, I manage. On unsteady feet, I limp toward Ghostface who’s now standing over Tara.

He twirls the knife in his hand and raises his arm, getting ready to strike while Tara sobs.

“No!” I’m not going to make it. “Tara!”

Just then, the elevator dings and the doors open. Ghostface looks up, surprised, and dives out of the way when gunshots ring out.

My eyes widen at the sight of Sam and Dewey?! who dart out of the elevator.

“Tara!” Sam rushes to her sister’s side and drops to her knees, trying to help her to her feet.

“I’ll get Richie,” Dewey says, but then he freezes when his eyes land on me. “Y/N?! What are you doing here? Are you hurt?”

I wave him off and shake my head, looking around to see where Ghostface went. “Not now, I’m fine. Go get Richie, I’ll help Sam with Tara.”

“Okay.” Dewey nods and stares at me a moment longer before dashing past me to help Richie.

The last time we saw each other was at my parents’ funeral. He used to be like an uncle to me because he was friends with my dad, but after the accident, we kind of drifted apart.

Now is no time to dwell on the past though. I push through my dizziness and the pain in my side, shoulder and leg, and limp the rest of the way to Tara and Sam.

Sam’s already managed to get a crying and whimpering Tara to her feet, but Tara can’t walk with her broken leg, so as soon as I’m within reach I tug on Sam’s jacket to get her to stop dragging Tara to the elevator.

“Stop, let me help.”

Sam’s eyes widen. “Y/N, y-you’re here?”

“Of course, I’m here,” I snap, not because I’m mad but because there’s no time to talk. “Now, let’s get a move on!”

Still in disbelief, Sam doesn’t say anything else as I scoop Tara up into my arms.

“Ow,” she whines and I quickly apologize for hurting her.

I limp to the elevator with Sam hot on my heels and lean against the wall as soon as we’re inside. My legs are shaking and my entire body hurts, but I’m not letting go of Tara until we’re safe.

Sam holds the doors open while Richie and Dewey make their way to the elevator.

They’ve almost made it when, out of nowhere, Ghostface comes back, crashing into them from the side. Richie falls to the ground, and Dewey gets pushed against the wall which makes him fire his gun.

A struggle ensues between Dewey and Ghostface while Richie tries to get back up, and for a moment it looks as though Ghostface’s got the upper hand, but then Dewey headbutts him.

Ghostface stumbles back and Dewey grabs his gun off the ground, firing it at Ghostface before he can come at him again.

He stumbles back at the force of the shots hitting him in the chest until he crashes into the glass display cabinet on the opposite wall.

He sinks to the ground and stops moving, and even though I’m not convinced he’s dead, there’s no time to make sure he is. We have to get out of here as fast as possible.

Dewey must think so too because he gets to his feet and immediately pulls Richie up as well.

“Let’s get out of here,” he grunts, dragging Richie toward the elevator. “Come on, hurry up.”

They finally make it, and Richie slumps against the wall next to Sam who runs her hands over him and checks for any not-so obvious injuries.

“You okay?” she asks, her voice laced with worry.

Richie nods and exhales shakily. “Yeah, you?”

Sam nods. “Fine.” Then she turns her attention back to Tara who’s got her arms wrapped around my neck and is crying into my shoulder.

“It hurts, Sam,” she cries, and I press a kiss to her forehead while Sam takes a hold of her hand.

Dewey pushes the elevator button for the first floor, but before the doors can slide shut, he stops them with his hand and says, “The head. . .”

Richie frowns. “What?”

“You have to shoot ‘em in the head or they always come back,” Dewey explains, stepping back out of the elevator.

Sam gapes at him and asks exactly what I’m thinking. “Dewey, who gives a fuck?”

A forlorn look enters his eyes and as the doors slide shut, he says, “I do.”

“No! Dewey!” I try to step forward to stop him, but as soon as I shift my weight off the wall, my legs start trembling, so I slump back and grit my teeth.

It’s too late.

The doors close and the elevator starts descending. A tense silence settles over us for the duration of the ride, but then the doors open and Richie stumbles out first, shouting for help.

Doctors and nurses swarm us almost instantly and within seconds, a gurney is brought over and I place Tara on it.

She’s okay.

Seeing her being taken care of lifts a huge weight off my shoulders and the relief on Sam’s face makes me smile a little.

She’s going to be okay.

The dizziness I felt before suddenly returns full force now that the adrenaline is wearing off, but I can’t sit down and rest until Dewey is safe, too.

He’s up there all alone. Someone has to help him.

I stumble back to the elevator but a hand on my stomach stops me from entering it.

I look down, swaying slightly, before following the arm connect to the hand all the way up with my eyes until they land on Sam’s face.

Wait. . . Sam?

“Where are you going, Y/N?” she asks, frowning.

I blink to get rid of the irritating black dots growing in my vision and try to push past her. “D-Dewey, he needs—he needs help, Sam.”

“I know,” she says, stopping me again by grabbing a fistful of my sweater. “But you can’t go up there. The police are already on their way.”

“But. . . But Dewey,” I slur. I grasp at Sam’s hand to get her to let go of me which, much to my surprise, she actually does.

It doesn’t last long though because not even a second later my knees buckle and I fall forward, right into her arms.

“Y/N? Y/N!” Sam panics and grabs onto anything she can to stop both of us from toppling to the ground. “Oh my God, you’re hurt.”

I awkwardly slide down her body, bringing her down with me until we’re both on the floor and I’m gasping for air.

“Y/N, hey. . . Hey!” Sam grunts and manages to scramble out from underneath me before propping me up against the wall next to us. “Look at me. What’s wrong? What hurts?” she asks, but I can’t answer. My lungs suddenly feel like they’re on fire and every breath I take makes it harder to breathe.

“What happened? Did Ghostface—��� She falls silent when her eyes land on her hands and when I look down, I see why.

They’re covered in blood. My blood. But. . . how?

I think about everything that happened, and then dread settles in the pit of my stomach when the realization hits.

Ghostface wasn’t punching me. When he “hit” me all those times, he wasn’t punching me. He wasn’t punching me at all. He was stabbing me.

Welp, that explains why my side hurts so much. I thought I was going soft.

My eyes flutter shut and I cough, tasting blood in my mouth.

I guess no one noticed I was hurt until now because I didn’t feel anything until the adrenaline wore off and the blood soaking my clothes wasn’t visible because both my sweater and my sweatpants are black.

“Y/N, hey! Don’t you dare close your eyes.” Sam cups my cheeks and shakes my head slightly to get me to open my eyes again. “We need some help over here!” she shouts over her shoulder before looking back at me.

She’s frantic, more frantic than I’ve ever seen her, and her eyes are filling with tears. Her hands drop off my face and she’s quick to push my sweater up to take in the extent of my injuries.

“Oh my God.” Her voice cracks and when she presses her hands against my side to slow the bleeding, I cry out in pain.

I gasp like a fish out of water, still struggling to get enough air into my lungs, and push at her hands.

“No, stop— Stop!” she protests, desperately pressing her hands against my side again.

“Hurts,” I wheeze and Sam nods frantically with tears dripping down her cheeks.

“I know, I know,” she says, “but I’m trying to help.”

I writhe in agony, but don’t try to push her off again. I don’t think I even could if I tried because with every passing moment I feel weaker.

My eyes are also threatening to close again and when Sam notices, she presses down harder on my side and shouts for help again.

This time, a nearby nurse notices and she springs into action. She rushes over, dragging a doctor with her and tells another nurse to bring a gurney.

I don’t focus on her though. No, I keep my attention on Sam and how she’s desperately try to stop my bleeding.

She’s crying, covered in blood, and on the verge of hyperventilating, but she’s still beautiful.

So beautiful. . .

I cough again just as the nurse and doctor drop down next to me, and when Sam takes her hands away so they can examine me, I give into the urge to close my eyes.

_______________________________________________

Whew! I wrote this in one sitting, and only proofread it once, so please excuse any mistakes I may have made/overlooked.

Tag list: @artrizzler19 @btay3115 @canyonyodeler @quadofthec @pussyydestroyer @bella423

[arpicityandneed]

Congratulations on 100! Also-- gradschool apps can be draining, please make sure you're taking care of you! We care about you <3

For your 100 prompts, I'd like to request 3 or 10 with Bucky? But I'm excited to see everything and anything you do!

Thank you, as always, for sharing your work and congratulations again!

This was so sweet omg ♡ I really enjoy writing on tumblr because of the interactions I can have with readers like you. Thank you for the support, it really means a lot cause these applications child...

Bucky (#3 fully clothed x stark naked)

18+ f!reader. Avengers!Bucky. Creampie. Light spanking. Daddy kink. Established relationship.

He punched in the code to his rooms at Stark Tower with a silent thank you to that asshole for making the technology whisper quiet. He frequently came back from missions in the dead of night and never wanted to wake you accidentally. He abandoned his bag at the entry way and crept deeper into the modern space moving without a sound until he reached the master bedroom.

Inside he found you sleeping in his bed, naked and so cozy it mended his fractured heart all over again. You slept deeply, like you knew down to your bones nothing could touch you without incurring his wrath.

His woman.

He crouched beside you and took a moment to just look at you. The slope of your cheek bones, the curve of your jaw, the little pout of your lips. Every inch of your body was bare to him with such trust it made him hard. He couldn't resist brushing his lips against yours and smiled as you woke up with a sleepy murmur of his name.

"Missed you doll. C'mere." He tugged you into his arms easily, your soft body pressed against his tactical gear. The dark grey and gold of his arm glinted in the low light of the room as he grabbed your ass cheek and pulled you closer- guiding you to wrap your legs around his waist as he sat on the edge of the bed.

"Hm, missed me real bad didn't you baby?" You blinked awake as you felt his erection pressed against your core, smiling and taking in his handsome features. "Hey." You mumbled softly before kissing him properly this time.

"I want you just like this, soft and sweet just for me." Bucky was lost, hands roaming over your body like he couldn't settle for just one touch.

"Then have me, Bucky, you don't gotta ask twice." You smiled at the way his eyes lit up, a small squeak escaping you were lifted by one bionic arm. His other hand went to his belt buckle. He didn't bother with the rest of the gear, only taking out his cock and dragging it through your folds- groaning when he felt how wet you were.

"Were you-?" His eyes shot to yours, hopeful.

"How else do I pass the time while I'm waitin' on you? Get's lonely at night in this big bed without you, Sarge- fuck!" You couldn't focus on finishing your teasing when the blunt head of him was pressing into you. Inch after thick inch filled you until you were trembling in his lap, rocking your hips and rubbing yourself against him like a bitch in heat.

"Then I expect this, warm welcome, fucking hell-" He growled biting down on your shoulder as he tighten his arm around your waist. "Every time I come home."

"Anything, just come home to me." You promised, feeling him throb inside you. Somehow it was the tender confessions that seemed to bring out his urge to ruin you.

"Anything?" His voice was low, heavy with intention as he planted his feet firmly.

"Anything, baby. Anything you want." You nodded and kisses his nose, your last coherent action before he used his arm to hold you still- fucking his fat cock up into your drenched heat again and again until you were dizzy with need.

"Gonna let me use you? Whenever I want? However I want?" Bucky was feral, his flesh hand slapping your ass when you were too fucked out to answer quick enough.

"Yes!" You cried out as you felt the tip of his cock kiss your cervix wetly as he buried himself balls deep inside you.

"Tell me why. Say it." He growled in your ear, smirking when he felt your nails try to scratch at his shoulders through his kevlar. Your clit was grinding against his fingers before you remembered his hand moving.

"Love you!" You squealed as he pounded you through an orgasm so forceful you saw stars.

"That's right baby, louder." He groaned, losing his rhythm as he got close. "Tell me again, fuck."

"Love you, daddy," you slurred, drunk on his cock and the orgasm that drenched his shaft.

"That's just unfair-" Your fluttering walls were soaked in his seed as he grinded up into you, cradling you against his chest and kissing your temple.

"But I love you too doll."

[hotasfahrenheit]

I HAVE BEEN SUMMONED

(no literally Rachael reminded me about this and sent it to me so i could add to the list)

i have SO MANY feelings about kpop and we're gonna cover a pretty wide spectrum of stuff here including some classics that still stand the test of time that you may or may not have heard if you're newer to kpop. all of these groups i recommend more than just these mvs, but these are places to start if they're groups you haven't listened to so let's gooooo

Monsta X

fave song by my fave group first, obviously i'm gonna start here. Monsta X is an insanely talented group and just everything they do is great? they have so many bangers and especially now that they're writing and producing most of their music themselves, they're constantly thinking outside of the box with style and song structure and just. i love them so much and i love this song so much. you literally cannot go wrong with them. they're one of the few groups with multiple no skip albums for me. absolute kings.

Bigbang

wanna talk about groups i have feels about? i already had so many feelings about Bigbang, and GD's new songs plus the performance at MAMA this past weekend have had me crying 3-5 times a day the past few days so we're gonna go with this anthem. Bigbang was my intro to kpop in 2008 and so much has happened and things have changed to say the least but just. the grip they have on me and always will. this song goes hard and has almost 700 million views on youtube as i write this for a REASON.

2NE1

MY QUEENS. no girl group can or will ever top them for me. sorry not sorry. icons. that's all there is to it.

SHINee

i did say i had been a kpop fan since 2008 so you shouldn't be surprised this list is 2nd gen heavy so far. i deeply love a lot of newer SHINee songs too, but View is the jewel in the crown that is SHINee's discography. one of the most talented groups that's ever existed, in all ways- dancing, singing, production, composition, styling, everything.

NCT Dream

you ever hear a song that gently pokes you in a bunch of your emotions including the nostalgic and sad ones but still leaves you with hope and a sense that everything is gonna be better and like the future is bright so it's okay to be optimistic? Broken Melodies soars.

NCT 127

returning to the harder faster heavier beats vibe of the first few songs in this list. 127 covers a pretty wide spectrum of styles like a lot of groups, but this is the stuff i gravitate towards the most so here we are. uhhhh i don't know what else to say about this pick or these boys. i just really love NCT and all parts of it and this song was in my top 5 songs on Spotify last year despite not coming out until October so that should tell you how good it is. yes.

Oneus

Oneus has finally started getting the kind of recognition that they deserve and Luna is the song that cracked that for them. they're masters of mixing traditional sounds with modern kpop styles and have done it more than once. this song is rare in modern kpop also for the fact that the entirety of the song is in Korean without a single English lyric through the whole thing. it's gorgeous.

Onewe

Oneus's brother band (literally, there's a pair of twins split between the two groups) definitely deserves more attention too. their music is fantastic and their vocal blend is top notch, and Dongmyeong (their half of the twins!) plays KEYTAR how could you possibly go wrong?? they let themselves get covered in water for this MV and drowned a bunch of copies of their actual equipment, no nice instruments were harmed in the making of this mv.

A.C.E

do i have a deep love of underrated groups? maybe yes. the styling in this MV is INCREDIBLE, even if the song wasn't phenomenal it would be worth watching it just for the outfits, a stunning blend of traditional Korean clothing mixed with modern cuts, fabrics, styles, and accessories. it's just so cool and everyone looks so good.

WayV

listen i'm sure we could debate on whether or not WayV should be on a list like this but they're part of NCT and they're essentially just a mostly Mandarin singing kpop group. they release a lot of their songs with Korean versions (like Frequency which literally came out today and has only a Korean MV) and they live in Seoul and they perform on Korean music shows and etc. whatever. just listen to Phantom because it's incredible and they're beautiful and this MV is dripping in spooky vibes and luxurious outfits and men being entirely too pretty for their own good.

if you try any of these out and you want more recommendations about a specific group let me know! it was really hard to pick specific songs for this list.

also if you're curious about what's going on with this whole NCT thing and its subgroups (NCT 127, NCT Dream, WayV, and the others i didn't include in this list) then stay tuned to my posts because i'll be posting a redo of my guide to getting into NCT soon!

now go forth and listen and enjoy things! and also, if you want, reblog this with your picks and recommendations and loves! sharing is caring after all 💖🌟

kpop sampler

my dear @auriette was asking about my non-skz kpop feelings, and i have so many of them, so i thought it would be fun to make a little playlist.

i'm sticking with the 10 link limit (which is v hard) but if you also have a lot of kpop feelings, please rb with a song/group rec of your own!

in no particular order:

The Rose (k-rock)

i love them. They are super funny on social media, and their music is incredible. Screaming this song at the top of my lungs fixes me a little every time. Woosung is also a soloist and he's amazing.

WOODZ

This song gives me the shivers.

He also has a cover of Hype Boy that is A+

The duality of man.

I think WOODZ is vastly underappreciated, and i wish more people were as into him as i am.

Ateez

i know i already talked about them a little bit, but i have to do it again because i love them. just a bunch of insanely talented, stupidly hot weirdos. i love that they're all nerds who make legos together and that everyone but hongjoong and jongho have zero concept of personal space. wooyoung and san are medalists in the kiss your homie olympics. (woo is also bffs with changbin and also yeonjun from txt)

i'm still obsessed with this song and this MV. the ateez lore is very intricate and this is basically cinema.

TXT

insane dance skills, super talented, great music. it was hard to pick which song of theirs to include here, but this is defintely a favorite. def check out devil by the window" also.

they collabed with the jonas brothers and anitta and both songs were incredible. yeonjun just released a solo album. more talented goofballs. i love them.

OnlyOneOf

i am obsessed with OOO. they are incredible. they do most of their own choreo, they committed to making their MVs queer af and include messages of acceptance and support for the lgbtq community in the notes for all their videos. they paired themselves up and talk about kissing each other casually.

and they back it all up with high concept MVs, insane choreo, and great music that will absolutley get stuck in your head. picking a song was hard, but this choreo is too iconic

Hwasa

i am obsessed with her. she is also in mamamoo, who are great, but i am currently absolutely obsessed with her cover of lunch. but this song which is a pretty direct call out of the rampant body shaming in the industry is so much fun.

KARD

kard is the only mixed gender kpop group i know of, and we need more.

they are all adults, and their music and MVs are, too. killer dancey tracks. their friendship is a lot of fun.

BM is also a soloist, and has some very explicit horny songs that don't bother with the (barely) innuendo that kard plays with. he's also hilarious on SM, and on the daebak show

Enhypen

they're just good. i love a concept album, and they killed it with this.

Evnne

i love them.

they were all on boys planet, and i love all the groups that formed from that show (i was going to cheat and make a whole playlist of bp groups, but i'm just going to share this one and i'll make a whole separate bp post)

this video and song are just so fun, and they're so good, and i wanted to yell about them.

(all the boys planet boys are also stray kids levels of obsessed with each other, which i appreciate --zb1 is probably the worst-best about this, but they're all super close)

oh gosh only space for one more... ahhhh who to choooose

Blitzers

this is just so much fun

no one really sounds like blitzers. the horns and big band elements are wholly unique and fit surprisingly well. they are super talented and clearly having a good time with what they do, and it's just a good time.

I hope you like at least some of these songs/groups!

(Now, to play by my own rules and not add another ten in a reblog unless specifically asked to do more!)

Please add your favorite kpop/krock groups to share the joy of good music that we can all be super normal about together!

[r0-boat]

Why do I feel like Ingo would have a praise kink, even if he might not admit it? Call him a good boy or say he's so handsome, he'll be putty in your hands. Tell him how good he feels inside you, or how hot he looks underneath you, and he'll become determined to make you feel even better than he does

👀 I see you, That's so big brain I'm not sure how I haven't thought of that before I'm going to rotate this in my head

Praise kink!Ingo Hcs

Praise Kink! Ingo, who cannot handle your praisel, but simultaneously is so desperate for it. He's making you feel so good; all he wants is for you to tell him how good he's doing. He wants to hear more than just your squeals and moans. He wants that drooling kissed bruised mouth to tremble out broken sentences of how good he feels deep inside you.

Praise Kink!Ingo Who will respond back with praise of his own. He can't help himself, moaning about how much he thinks about you, commenting on everything you're doing to his him. This is about the only time Ingo fully voices his possessiveness. The possessive thoughts that he only keeps to himself. Ingo is not only extremely vocal when it comes to moaning or groaning, He also cannot stop trying to praise you Even though most the time his sentences are broken with moans and whimpers he still tries so hard to make sure you hear nothing but praise.

Praise Kink!Ingo bucking his hips faster as soon as your shaky words fall from your lips."So big! Filling me up!" You squeal, and he's already about to cum; his eyes roll back as every last bit of control slips through his fingers, pounding your cunt with reckless abandon. Your praise alone brings him to orgasm and makes him beg for more.

Praise Kink!Ingo is obsessed when you tell him how much you love him and pamper him, all the while your hand strokes his cock up and down. You can see the hearts in his eyes when you go in for a kiss, fingers threading through his hair in one hand, and the other is meeting his hips with every buck. He's a busy man and it's nice to come home with a partner that could melt your stress away and use your mouth to not only Tell him how handsome he is and how good he makes you feel but also pamper him in 'other ways'

Praise Kink!Ingo is like a puppy, He would do anything just for you too praise him in bed. He has learned your body already now it's time to learn about other things that make you come. Whether it be kinks or new positions.

Praise Kink!Ingo to enjoys eating you/sucking you because he not only gets to taste you. But he pleasures you and he gets to feel your fingers in his hair in your hand on his face. He gets such an ego boost when you tell him how good his tongue is.

Praise Kink!Ingo Dom phrases:

“You’re a pleasure to use.”

“I love the way you look when you’re on your knees”

"So good for me, and all for me."

Can't stop thinking about you... You ruined me."

"You're so hot, how did I get someone like you?"

"I think I'm in love with you."

"I can't keep my hands to myself, You're too irresistible"

"oh~! Hah! So good... Feels so good..."

"Don't wanna stop! So addictive!"

"Pure-oh fuck-! temptation incarnate...!Cumming!"

"So glad you're mine..."

[immediatenature]

Work in progress? Idk if I want to color it properly, I’ve been up working on this after the stream ended

[anarchy-and-piglins]

Lots of good replies on this post but I got inspired by @sohrleas' mention of doomsday prepper Philza. So have a little AU idea!

Philza is a doomsday prepper. He believes the end of the world isn't only possible, it's inevitable and it's only a matter of a waiting game before it happens. And when it happens, he does not want to be caught unaware. His wife Kristin makes good money, so he has all the time in the world to devote himself to this eccentric 'hobby'.

Techno, a local college student, befriended Phil when he was looking for a community garden to plant potatoes in for a school project back in high school. He could not find any, but Phil has a lot of land around his house (safely held between fortified walls) and offered up his garden in exchange for some of the produce he could pickle and jar up. Techno thought it was a little sus but took him up on the offer.

Phil turned out to be a very chill guy, they have some interests in common (literature, history, etc), and Techno has a shitty family (no parents, lives with an uncle who is drunk or gone most of the time) so he ends up growing very close to Phil, and also Phil's son Wilbur who is a few years older than Techno, and Tommy, a younger boy who Wilbur views as a little sibling after they met through music camp (Wilbur is a camp counselor and Tommy had one summer of thinking he'd want to be a pianist. He's since abandoned the dream, but Tommy is growing up in a similar situation as Techno, so that's why he hangs out with Wilbur and Phil and sees them as his family).

Techno does think that Phil's conspiracy theories are a little out there but it's not like Phil is doing any harm with them, and Phil manages to be a very nice individual when he's not talking about the coming doomsday, so Techno mostly ignores that whole thing.

Until one day, he goes over to Phil's place for tea and a chat, and ends up feeling very groggy after only a few minutes. Techno has just enough time to realize Phil drugged him before he passes out.

He wakes up a little while later with his right leg chained to a bed.

The bed is in a very nice room, a fully fitted bedroom with living space, bathroom, and everything. And the chain does allow Techno a decent range of motion. But that doesn't change that he's chained up, and there are no windows, and the door is made of steel, bolted from the outside.

Tommy is also in the room, not chained to a bed.

Phil and Wilbur come down after a little bit, and apologize for the circumstances. See, the world has ended, much like they expected it to. And thus, outside isn't safe anymore. Techno asks what the heck that has to do with them being kidnapped and locked up. Phil explains ever so patiently that they've not been kidnapped, they've been saved. Techno and Tommy are part of the family, no way are Wilbur and Phil going to let them die. They're locked up as a precaution, since neither of them has the survival training the other two do, so staying in the room is safer for now. The chain is because Phil has a fair idea of how stubborn Techno can be.

(Techno does instantly prove him right by trying to throttle him.)

Phil also explains that they shouldn't worry. The house is set up to be defendable and loaded with enough supplies to keep them going for at least a few years, not to mention it being completely off the grid in terms of electricity and water. Kristin will be home soon. It will be a while before they even have to think about venturing outside, and when that time comes Phil and Wilbur will do it so Techno and Tommy can be safe and sound. They're younger, after all. Less prepared. It makes sense. They'll have time to learn how to survive too.

Techno tells them they're insane if they think they'll get away with this. It's going to be super obvious when two people with a strong connection to Wilbur and Phil go missing.

Phil shrugs, and says that since almost everybody outside of their house is dead, he doubts anybody is going to come looking for them.

Over the course of the next week or so, Techno and Tommy stay confined in the room. They're brought food, items to occupy themselves with, anything they need. Techno manages to pry out of Phil that this thing that supposedly has ended the world is some sort of disease, but they're being super cagey with the details. They keep telling them not to worry about the specifics. They're safe. Techno tries a few escape attempts, but can't get far because of the chain. Tommy is reluctant about helping because he's a bit confused and scared, he doesn't think Wilbur and Phil would do this without reason, and also because it's honestly not that bad, is it? No more school, just hanging out all day? Tommy doesn't really miss his old life.

But Techno keeps insisting that they need to get out of there and alert the authorities. Eventually, Tommy does help him pick the lock on the chain. The next time Wilbur comes in to bring them food, Techno uses an improvised weapon (a chair leg) to knock him out. Tommy isn't happy with that and refuses to leave when Wilbur is bleeding unconscious on the floor. Seeing no other option, Techno tells Tommy he'll alert help and come back for him, before sneaking through the hallway. He finds a window and climbs out, then books it across Phil's garden to the wall. He manages to scale it somehow, even as he hears Phil yelling for him to come back.

Techno can run quite fast for a nerdy history major.

He gets to the town and finds it deserted. Like, nobody is around. There are cars abandoned on the asphalt, broken store windows, and the smell of rot in the air. But no people at first glance. A large patch of dried blood stands out.

It hasn't truly sunk in for Techno yet that the world did end. He just wanders down the street, confused.

He sees a shape not too far off then, crouching over something else, and automatically calls out. The person - pale, gaunt - turns towards him. Their chin is covered in more blood. They're hunched over a corpse, eating it.

The zombie lunges at Techno.

Techno hits it with the same chair leg he hit Wilbur with, knocking the person - the monster - down. He turns around and tries to run, but strong hands latch onto his ankle and he's pulled down too, hitting his head on the ground hard. He kicks at the thing, feeling bone crunch beneath his heel. The person barely reacts. It has no eyes anymore, and patches of skin have slouched off the flesh. Techno squirms as it lifts his leg and then opens its mouth, sinking teeth into his flesh to tear at it. He screams, kicking again, and manages to get it off. Through vision blurred by pain, he somehow manages to pick up his weapon and bash the person's skull in, over and over and over, until gray matter leaks from the hole and it stops moving.

Techno barely has a moment to process what just happened before another zombie jumps him.

His shoulder slams into a car, then his forehead meets the pavement a second time, so concussion is guaranteed at this point. His ankle burns and he's losing blood fast. He thinks it bit deep enough to rip into his arteries. The second zombie is even more ambitious, teeth gnashing to reach his throat. Techno struggles to fend it off with his hands on its shoulders but he doesn't know how long he can keep it up.

Right as his strength is failing him, a gunshot rings out across the street. The zombie's head explodes into a spray of gore. Techno just slumps, going boneless, exhausted and hurt.

Phil looms over him, looking so genuinely scared. Seeing the bite on Techno's ankle, he curses. He says something else, but Techno passes out before he can really grasp it.

He wakes up chained to a bed again.

Though it's his other leg this time. Because his right leg, the leg he was chained with the first time, the leg that got bitten, is gone.

Phil is sitting next to him, and he's so relieved when Techno manages to squint at him. He apologizes to Techno. Not for the whole 'locking him up' thing. For not doing it better.

Phil never wanted Techno or Tommy to see all that terribleness. Phil and Wilbur were prepared for all that, but Techno and Tommy weren't. Phil wished he could have done a better job, and shielded them from the cruelty and the gore. At least until they were older, more adjusted. That's also why he hid the details of the disease earlier. It makes people ravenous, hungry for human flesh. It turns them into monsters. He thought it would have been easier if Techno and Tommy believed the disease simply killed people. That it would give them some peace.

Techno is sick, feverish, as he listens to the explanation. Phil says he thinks he was in time with the amputation. Techno will live, though the long-term effects of the virus might be nasty even in a low dose. Techno could be prone to bouts of sickness forever, and never regain full strength. Not to mention he's short a leg now. It's regrettable since Phil was planning to teach both Techno and Tommy how to survive in the long run. For Tommy, that's still an option. But for Techno, he might be forever incapacitated to some degree.

But that's alright. Between the four of them, they can take care of Techno even if he needs some extra help. That's what family is for, after all.

In completely unrelated news, zombie apocalypse AUs slap and I should write one if only I had a good idea

[anthromimicry]

[jessamine-rose]

/obey me! vent/

[floralsapphics]

.

[localwebslingers]

It had been about as awkward as he expected when Norman did show up, with a couple of doctors behind him by the looks of it, but Harry had been right. Despite how Peter had initially assumed it would go, the man didn't throw him out immediately, and even was what would pass for civil about him being there. Maybe not completely pleased that Peter was, and maybe hiding his surprise at the fact, but civil. It was the best that he could hope for really. By the time it was late enough he needed to leave, not because he wanted to but becuase Harry needed sleep and so did he, there was one more issue to talk around and Peter did his best. Explaining that he lived fairly far and he unfortunately wasn't always free to make the trip back to visit. But did so as often as he could, for as long as he could, and promised that he would be back as soon as he possibly could be.

There was nothing he'd have wanted more than to be able to stay in that universe for several days, even weeks, while Harry started readjusting but it wasn't possible. Not realistically, and as much as Peter loved Harry he couldn't just up and abandon his responsibilities back in his own universe. Knew that if there wasn't amnesia complicating things that Harry would agree and wouldn't hold that against him. For a moment as he explained, he thought that maybe there was understanding about it still there, in it's own way, but couldn't be sure.

Only a few days had gone by when Peter was able to step away again, and with the way his own city was it seemed like he could be away for more than just the afternoon. As long as he checked the news later that night to make sure that really was still the case. The time let him get the photos fully developed though, all of Harry's city rather than his own, figuring it would be the one to be slowly recognized the easiest. Taken when he'd left, before actually going home and after touching base with MJ to fill her in. Something Peter also had asked Harry about, because it wasn't for him to decide if people got to know sooner or not, or about how much they got to know. Now the photos were developed, and after stopping at the penthouse to grab a couple of small things, Peter made his way back into the lab.

It was even easier the second time around, both because he knew the way in and this time, they knew he was coming and to just let him in. Not that Peter exactly used the front door anyways, but at least when he passed someone in the hallway they didn't threaten to call security. He still wasn't even sure if there was security on site.

Peter pushed the same set of doors open to this time see someone already in the room. It was weird to see Conners in person again, even if it wasn't the same one. He shut the door softly behind him and this time, grabbed a chair to bring with him along the way before smiling a little at the two, "Hey, don't let me interrupt the talk, I can wait my turn." the camera in the corner was already focused on him and he again wasn't sure if that was security or if it was Norman watching his arrival. The chair was set at about the same spot he had been in the last visit, and Peter set the bag down on the floor for now to sit and wait for the conversation he walked in on to wrap up.

|| @inhcritance ||

The promise of pictures was welcome, as much as the teasing was. Because there, with so much of his attention in Peter, and only a sliver of it on the approaching footsteps, he couldn't help like that was the only whisper of normalcy he'd felt in ages. Something that felt right, and natural, and meant he did feel more like a person than a caged animal, even when faced with his father's astonishment, brief and guarded as it had been. Harry had even waved at him, his own amusement grim.

The days had gone by slowly, almost boringly, in a way. But if nothing else, Peter's visit had meant changes for good: with everyone keeping outside of the room, Harry was able to have conversations again. To actually talk, and inquire, and as much as he trusted only half of what he heard -because he had nothing to compare it on- it was... a beginning.

It also meant that as much as Harry kept feeling like his instincts were always a moment away from turning him dangerous, he was not so tense all the time. He even had been handed some old papers Connors had been looking over, once he was finished with that, and between them and the newspaper, at least he wasn't bored all the time.

It didn't escape him that having Connors be researching something so close to the Lizard Serum felt almost cruel, but he didn't push on it. He didn't want his doctor to think the only thing Harry remembered of him was his greatest mistake... for all it had saved Harry's life twice already. Maybe thrice, but that was just a theory centered around Peter.

Peter, who he'd been missing ever since he left, and he knew better than to show it too much, not before his father and his doctors, and not when he was used to them both being busy, even if he could hardly recall the specifics.

He'd actually been asking Connors about the paper he'd been reading, holding back his own frustration at how he lacked so many basics and yet twice something far more complex made perfect sense, when he noticed yet another set of steps, and so much of his annoyance vanished.

Because he was there for everyone else's safety, but he'd been used to being busy and now he was bored to no end.

@localwebslingers

[risingsunresistance]

ugh

[whateveriwant]

Actually I'm not done talking about Mr. Simon Fucks-Himself-Stupid Riley just yet :(

I'm picturing a scenario where you, a civilian, are visiting your boyfriend at his base. Maybe you're there to deliver something, like a file he forgot at home or the lunch he said he didn't need. Either way, whatever your cover story for being there is, the end result is the same: you, on your back, knees up by your ears, sprawled across Simon's desk as he fucks you like his life depends on it.

Being a Lieutenant grants him the luxury of having a private office where he can engage in such extracurriculars, but that doesn't mean it's without some major risks – namely, prying ears that might be lurking in the hallway outside.

But being discreet shouldn't be an issue, should it? I mean, a man known infamously as “Ghost” should have no problem staying quiet, right?

Wrong.

Turns out, not only does that tight hole of yours reduce your boyfriend to a dumb, drooling mess, it makes him a dumb, drooling mess who can't keep his fucking mouth shut.

So while you have the wherewithal to clamp a hand over your lips to try muffling your lewd noises, Simon is out here moaning and groaning unabashedly like something sent forward in time from the Paleolithic. You could try asking him to cover his mouth, but it seems an impossible task; his hands are a little preoccupied with making sure he doesn't fuck you right over the edge of his desk.

While you don't want to stop, you also don't want to get caught, so you settle for urging him to keep it down. It's after a third softly gasped ‘N-Need to be qu-quiet, Si’ that your warning finally worms its way into his brain, and he acts in a way to appease you, just… not how you expect.

Swiftly, Simon removes his hold of your waist and brings one of his arms forward. He grabs for the center of his t-shirt, tugs the material up, and quickly stuffs the fabric into his mouth.

It only takes a split second for the action to happen, but immediately, you see how effective it is. The moment that standard, army-issued tee is captured between Simon's teeth, there's a drastic reduction of noise in the room.

Now, he can fuck into you with reckless abandon, and he snaps his hips forward with enough force to make your whole body ripple. Even as you pulse and constrict around him (sometimes inadvertently, sometimes not), the sounds that climb their way up Simon's throat are heavily dampened by his cotton gag.

It's as Simon begins the ascent to his peak that the cloth in his mouth really comes into play. As he pumps into you, he starts grunting lowly, gutturally, exhaling through his nostrils in quick, harsh bursts. It's a deep sound, animalistic in nature, like a bull huffing before it digs its heels into the dirt and charges.

His thrusts turn sloppier and sloppier the closer he nears his high, his hips propelled forward only by some basic hindbrain instinct. His lashes start to flutter, his eyes roll towards the back of their sockets, and when he cums, he throws his head back in a full-blown snarl.

Simon's a bit shaky on his feet after he climaxes in you, but he manages to pull out before he stumbles backwards, plopping down heavily into his chair. As you start cleaning yourself up, you see how he makes no attempt to move. He just sits there, completely brainless, pants around his ankles and t-shirt still tucked between his teeth. You have to walk over to him and purposefully tug on the shirt to get him to release it, and once it's freed, you see the damage that's been done.

In the center of Simon's shirt rests a big, blotchy wet spot, like he's tried to do his own slobbery take on the classic Rorschach test. The fabric's been wrinkled to all hell and there's a few imprints left behind from where his teeth had bitten down, and if you were to inspect the hem closely, you'd see where he popped a stitch or two in his ecstasy.

The sight of his mangled shirt has you tutting in disapproval. He can't walk out of his office looking like this, and he certainly can't forgo wearing a shirt altogether. What would the people around base say if they saw their normally put together Lieutenant looking so unkempt? You don't think he'd ever hear the end of it, nor would you for that matter.

In the meantime, as you wait for Simon's brains to un-liquify themselves, maybe you can scrounge up something else for him to wear. There's got to be something lying around here to help make him presentable once again. It's too bad as part of your cover you didn't think to bring an extra set of clothes to change into.

You'll have to remember for next time.

[hurlingdown]

          ❛ FUCK YOU LIKE . . . AN ANIMAL ?! ❜ — NANAMI KENTO.

synopsis. your husband nanami kento has always secretly prided himself on being the one to tame you. but what happens when you, a fully grown werewolf, gets exposed to the full moon while curse hunting together in an abandoned building? spoilers: you chase, he runs. wc. 2.9k

tags. top werewolf reader, bottom! nanami. reader has a cock. bit of sub top / dom bottom dynamic. monsterfucking, rimming, anal sex, male squirting, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, dry orgasm, creampie, knotting, biting, stomach bulge, flavoured lube, praise kink (reader receiving), breeding kink, nanami gets his ass eaten for 2k.

Full moon. That only meant one thing. 

“Kentoo,” you crooned, and it sounded strange with your fangs growing and getting in the way, words forming in low gurgles. “I'm getting bored. Come out and play with me.” 

You could hear his breathing sounds all the way down the hallway: the vague inhale, the hurried exhale. Second or third door to your right, probably under a desk, with his hands clamped over his mouth. He was hiding. From you. 

You could feel your innards metamorphosing, heat boiling low in your core, resisting the urge to rip off all your clothes and bask in the silver light streaming through the broken window that had caused this mess in the first place. Dark grey fur had burst through your skin moments before at first contact with the full moon—your legs bowing back, bones crackling, the rest of your body except for your face shifting into some sort of hybrid between beast and man. 

You gave in to the instinct to hunch over, like a predator stalking prey. And maybe you were. 

“Kento?” you called out, an innocent and curious lilt to your voice, pretending that you didn’t already know his whereabouts. “Are you…” You pushed open the first door to your right, a creak resounding in the abandoned building, a stark contrast to your light and silent footsteps. “Here?” 

Nanami’s breath quickened, and so did his heartbeat. Thump, thump, thump. You wanted to eat him. 

“Kento… come on, it’s not that funny anymore…” you mumbled, the exaggerated pout clear in your voice, retreating from the empty room and slowly making your way to the second door. “I miss you a lot…” 

The second room was also empty. You pretended to sigh despite the excited twitch in your pants as you caught a whiff of his mouth-watering scent, sharp and clean and masculine—not something that alphas would go for typically, but to you, it was ecstasy. You licked your lips in sweet anticipation, sauntering over to the third and final door. 

“There’s no need to hide, y’know… we’d be so good to you.” Half of that was a lie. You were going to press him into the ground and defile him the moment you get your hands on him, submitting to your instincts to mate and breed—if the huge, excited bulge at the front of your trousers wasn’t enough proof of that. “Tell me, are you—” 

You flung the door open. 

“—here?” 

The wind rustled through the half-opened window on the other side, but the room was… empty, to your surprise. Nanami had probably escaped through the same window, but that wasn’t all. Surely enough, lying under a desk near the wall, was your husband’s yellow spotted tie, neatly folded and left in his place to taunt you. 

“Kento,” you growled, displeasure coursing through you, but you bent down to pick up the tie, bringing it up to smother your face, breathing heavily in the lingering scent. Delicious. You would have your revenge. 

You ended up stalking your way back home, following the trail of his scent, cock straining against the fabric of your pants, swollen and heavy and painful, like the rest of your body. You had discarded your shirt somewhere on the road, your body overheating too much to care about being shirtless in public. 

Sweat trickled down your back and shoulders, your scent glands dripping with fragrant oil at the back of your neck. The moon was right behind you, and your awaiting prey was right inside the house before you. You would have him, finally. He would be yours. 

The door was already open when you reached it, the strong, assured scent of your mate safely resting inside your territory making you giddy with pride, a constant subvocal growl ringing at the back of your throat. “Kento…” you warbled, making your way up the stairs towards your shared room. “Ten seconds. And then I’m coming in.” 

“... It’s alright,” a muffled voice said, coughing lightly. “I’ve already… prepared myself.” 

And that was the only green light that you needed. 

You snarled, leaping up the remaining flight of stairs and slamming into the doorframe, the door forcefully bursting open. You could hear his choked-up gasp before you laid your eyes on him. His goggles were removed and lying beside him on the nightstand, and you salivated at the sight of his mostly naked body, blue dress shirt unbuttoned and a breeze away from slipping off the shoulders that you so desperately wanted to sink your teeth into. 

“Mate,” you purred, eyes trained onto his hard, leaking cock against his stomach as you palmed yourself through your pants. “My mate.” 

Nanami visibly swallowed, backing up against the bedframe, his hips lifting slightly to show you the efforts he had made to please you. A pink, puffy asshole, stretched wide enough that you could see the lube trickling out from within. 

“Yeah,” he breathed, leaning his head back to expose his throat, an act of submission that he knew would make you feral. “All yours. Come n’ get me.” 

You growled louder, stalking forward on your hands and knees. 

He feigned composure, despite the fact that you could hear his heart pounding wildly from where you were, the slight hitch in his breath that gave away his fear and uncertainty. Keeping his eye contact with you, he reached between his legs to stroke his cock slowly, pumping pre-cum out. “Oh… yes. Reminds me. Did you bring my tie back?” 

“Yeah,” you murmured, reaching back to pull out his tie from your pocket, albeit it was crumpled and soaked in your drool. He winced at its poor state, taking it from you anyway. 

“Thank you,” he muttered. “... Always so good.” 

You crooned at the praise, climbing onto the bed with little grace and crawling between his parted thighs, immediately nuzzling affectionately into his neck, jaw firmly snapped shut despite your instincts telling you to bite. “... I caught you.” 

“You caught me,” Nanami echoed, looking at you—this version of you—with an expression no less than tender. You were somewhat larger than him, now, and certainly not human, staring down at him with golden, eerie eyes, hungry and strange, and he stared right back into them, unfazed.

All of this was making you hungry. You bared your teeth as you leaned in again, wanting to mark him up as yours already. 

“Later,” he chided, pushing your face away, and then reached over to pull your swollen cock out from your trousers, calloused hands thumbing gently at the tip. “This first.” 

“Okay,” you groaned, the small amount of pleasure already making it hard to focus, warmth stirring in your abdomen. It was funny how you had promised yourself you would ruin him the second he was in your hands, but now that he was, you didn’t even bother to resist his command. “Anything you want.” 

You smiled innocently, and you watched as his gaze softened, features relaxing. 

He let go of you to turn around, knowing that you preferred it when he was presenting as an omega werewolf would, but you grabbed his ankles, grip tight and keeping him in place. “No.” You shook your head, frowning. “I’m not—not fucking any omega. I’m fucking you tonight, Kento.” 

Nanami made an appreciative noise at the back of his throat, almost a whine if you didn’t know any better. “That’s... good. That’s very good,” he says, breathless. “Fuck me, then.” 

You slid your hands up his bare thighs, the tender touch making him shiver, before you cupped the back of his knees, very, very slowly pushing them against his chest until he was one press away from being bent in half. His eyes were sharp, trained onto your every movement, but you could feel the intensity resting within, the heat and desire, the impatience. 

You wanted to play with him, so very badly. 

“What are you—” He let out a choked groan at the first swipe of your tongue against his hole, hand shooting forward to grip the fur at the top of your head tightly. “—hngh.” 

You sucked wetly at his rim, tasting the flavoured lube that you had jokingly got him as an anniversary gift, tangy and disgustingly sweet. Fuck. You were drooling already. 

“Kento,” you whined, burying your face between his asscheeks as your tongue slowly breached and unbreached him, careful not to graze him with your fangs. “Tastes so good. Wanna eat you.” 

What the fuck. Eat him? Did he hear you correctly?  

And he might just be too worked up, but why did it feel thicker and longer than usual? 

“Don’t—lie,” he gasped out, struggling not to rut up against your hot mouth, to take you deeper inside his hole. “I chose the- the worst flavour possible.” 

“It’s you,” you murmured, crooning with delight as his hands moved to spread himself open for you, further exposing his sensitive hole. “You always taste so good, no matter what. You always smell good, too.” 

“You sure talk a lot,” he grits out, stifling a moan. “For someone who promised to fuck me.” 

You bit down a smirk at how subtly eager he was being. “I’ll get to that, don’t worry. Just—this first. Please?” He scowled at the fact that you were using his words against him so sweetly, but he relented silently, pushing his hips towards your face as you slid a pillow under the small of his back, immediately returning to stretching him open with your tongue.  

“Oh—” 

His lips parted to let out a deep, sexy groan as you jabbed at his prostate, not once, but twice, and you kept going, enjoying the sight of your mate falling apart.

“Fuck.” His thighs were trembling, his head thrown back at the intense pleasure, because no, you weren’t just eating him out, you were making out with his fucking asshole. Every lick and probe of your thick, thick tongue made stars explode before his eyes in the most insane way possible, touching him in places inside him that even he didn’t know existed. 

That insatiable tongue of yours. Nanami couldn’t decide if he hated or loved it more. It was making these obscene squelching noises, with all the lube and saliva being pushed further into his hole with every wet thrust, making room for more. It didn’t help that you were a messy eater, smearing drool all over his ass and thighs, looking at him with such hunger that made him dizzy with desire. 

My husband, who is a werewolf… is eating me out. 

Nanami grabs his cock hurriedly, pumping it quick enough to chafe if it weren’t for pre continuously dribbling down the side of it, crying out hoarsely as one clawed finger rubbed on a specific spot on his perineum, stimulating his prostate from both ends. 

“Haah, fuck, please—” he cried out, grip on your fur now tight enough that you could almost feel the strands being ripped from their roots. He couldn't wait anymore, he needed you now, and preferably inside him. “Fuck me. I said it. Please.” 

To his absolute horror, you only growled into his hole in response, ignoring his pleas, too lost in the feeling of it clenching repeatedly around your tongue. The squelching sounds grew louder as you slurped him frantically. Everything he did only spurred you on, and you grabbed onto his hips with your claws to dig deeper. 

“Ahh—haah, shit!” Nanami’s breath was laboured and shaky, eyes squeezed shut as he could do nothing but take you and everything else that you had to give him. “Please, sweetheart, feels too good... I’m gonna—ah, gonna cum, but I don’t want it t-to end like this, please. Want you inside me, not like this…” 

He can’t possibly keep going, it’s not possible. He must be tired of it now, and even if not, his jaw should be—

He was shivering as the pleasure bordered on painful overstimulation, tears gathering in his eyes as he grabbed the base of his cock—fighting with everything not to cum, even as you snarled against his hole in sharp disapproval, showing your fangs. “No—listen to me—hnngh. Th-thought you were gonna give me—anything I wanted. Let me- let me make you feel good, too. D-don’t you want to knot me?” 

Of course you wanted to knot him, keep him lodged on your cock for hours, days, for as long as he allowed you to. Breed him full of your puppies, even—make him carry them. But if he was using a brainless assumption like you not feeling any pleasure as a reason for you to stop, then he would have to try harder. 

You forced your entire tongue inside his tight rim, as deep as you could reach, rubbing firm clockwise circles into his perineum.

Nanami was letting out a stream of the most unholy noises you had ever heard, whimpering lewdly as he could feel the cum bursting past the tight restriction his hand had formed around his cock. “Gonna cum—” he choked out, back arching and toes curling as he crammed his thighs hard around your head, your fangs digging into skin—making you see stars. “Oh, fuuuuck—” 

He screamed out hoarsely as he came with violence, cock squirting everywhere, thick watery spurts painting his abdomen and both of your chests, with a few stray drops splattering onto his face and collarbones. You reached a hand out to hastily jerk him off while continuing to knead your tongue insistently on his sweet spot, wanting to milk his orgasm to the fullest—and he let out a dry, pathetic sob, orgasming for a second time, legs jerking as cum dribbled out from his spent cock. 

He pushed a hand onto your face, shivering and shaking his head. 

“F-fuck, puppy, no more.” 

You pulled your tongue out from his hole as you panted, making him whine breathily at the sudden emptiness. The slip of his nickname for you had barely registered in your head, your eyes immediately zeroing in on his plump, heaving chest, now decorated with strips of his release. Almost as if you were possessed, you leaned down, drooling as you pressed fang-shaped hickeys into his muscled pecs while eagerly licking up his squirt and cum. 

It was sweet. All of Kento was sweet, and you wanted more.

Nanami shuddered helplessly as you grazed his nipple with your sharp teeth before running your tongue over the abused nub, as though to apologise. This was… okay. It felt good, in a strange way. Soothing, even, especially after what you had done to him. That violent hunger, that insatiability. You were relentless. 

But before he knew it, there was something thick and hard rubbing on his swollen entrance, something way too big to be considering intrusion. 

“You said you’d let me knot you,” you mumbled, “Kento.” 

He bit down a shudder, fighting down a wave of panic. “No. No, I didn’t say that—don’t twist my words. I asked if you wanted to knot me. Before I came.” 

“Same thing,” you said, already pushing in—and he let out a barely audible cry, voice completely wrecked from all the begging earlier. “You said you want t-to make me feel good, right?” 

“Yes, b-but that was then. It’s too- too sensitive now, at least give me some time—” 

You groaned loudly as you bullied your way in with one strong thrust, burying yourself to the hilt inside his warm hole as his walls spasmed and tightened around you. “That’s more like it.” 

Nanami was wrecked. 

Tears were spilling down his cheeks, soft, overstimulated whimpers spilling out from parted lips as his cock twitched uselessly, trapped between you and the swell of his stomach. 

“You… really don’t listen, do you…” 

“Sorry,” you murmured, nuzzling his neck in apology. You didn’t sound sorry at all, and you knew it. 

You gave a shallow, experimental thrust, the base of your cock already swelling heavily with knot, all worked up from all the noises your mate was making earlier. “Kento…” you moaned, sharp claws digging into his meaty thighs as you knot-fucked him deeper, making him take you all the way. “You’re making me feel so good…” 

Seconds turned into minutes and minutes turned into what seemed like hours of you fucking him into the mattress, wringing orgasm out of orgasm out of him as you fucked him through all three of your knots, each one bigger than the last.

He gave a feeble moan as your hips finally stuttered to a stop, letting your final knot catch. There was a bulge visible over his abdomen as you filled him up with the warmth of your seed, groaning loudly, and Nanami let out a soundless whine in return, hips bucking weakly as his cock jumped, no longer able to cum.

You grinned dopily, feeling pride surge through your chest. You were the one who had made him like this. 

You were tired, and he was exhausted. The both of you were panting heavily, but it didn’t stop you from taking one long look at your mate, your husband, and feeling a surge of want, no, need—to kiss him. His tired eyes, his sharp cheekbones, his soft lips, all of it—fanged and brutal and loving. 

Nanami’s trembling hand reached over to grasp your clawed one, entwining it with his in an intimate gesture. You watched carefully as he brought it to his face and gently pressed your ringed finger to his lips, eyes screaming out to you with an affection so intense it almost made you forget how to breathe. Take what you want, they were saying. Take what you want from me, and I’ll give you all that’s left. 

Golden eyes gleaming in the dark, you returned his gaze with a similar one of your own. 

kinktober masterlist! masterlist!

[theladygazingatemptiness]

hm. I sure have been playing some Very rash and potentially dangerous games as of late ha ha

[bunnys-kisses]

i have this little thought bouncing around in my head! single father simon. (a drabble)

*shrug*

simon ends up with his daughter winnie after her mother abandons her at his doorstep. he was the father, it was his turn to take care of her. simon could handle warfare, he could handle guns and sweat and metal. he could handle blood and bruises.

but a fussy newborn was a little too much for him.

enter you, it was your summer off from university and you were making extra money by babysitting for parents who couldn't afford weeks of posh summer camps. it was decent work and you were pretty good with them! so being concerned for your neighbour, simon's well being, you offered to watch winnie.

simon very well fell in love with you the moment you took the baby girl into you arms. winnie instantly got settled into your grasp, almost like you were her mother.

"what a lovely baby girl." you cooed, you looked at her with such affection already. you looked at simon and smiled, "she looks too cute to be yours." a playful jab.

you watched winnie while simon was at work. you didn't know what he did for work, but you tried not to ask too many questions. all you knew was that the checks didn't bounce when you cashed them.

but being with winnie for so many days had gossip go through the apartment building. you had a baby with simon? why were you in two separate apartments? where did the lovely newborn sleep? she SHOULD be sleeping with her mother (you).

when you tried to correct them, simon always said, "ah don't worry. we'll be havin' our own place soon enough!" his large hand snaked around your waist.

you just looked down at winnie who was sound asleep in her stroller. she couldn't care less who her mommy and daddy were. it wouldn't be hard to be the mother she'd otherwise be without, right?

that was the angle that simon too.

you'd make the most perfect mrs. riley. you were already taking care of winnie, but also him when he came home. you shouldn't be the nanny, you should be winnie's mama.

"she really loves you." simon remarked when you went with him to the pool.

you were in a one piece swim suit and you were making sure that the baby was out of the sun and had sunscreen on. you didn't want her to get sick or burned.

currently she was resting on your chest while you were in the shade. in your free hand you had a book in it and the other was on winnie's back. you said, "i don't know what you're talking about." as if you hadn't heard the comments from the little old ladies about how sweet you two looked.

"look like a real mama."

you looked to him and raised your eyebrows, "i thought i was the babysitter, mister riley."

simon placed a hand on your thigh then rubbed up and down, "nah."

it didn't take long for you and simon to get intimate. he asked you to stay because winnie had been having trouble sleeping. you two shared a glass of wine and then you found yourself face first into simon's bed. the scent of him filled your head as he fucked you into the comfortable mattress.

he loved the sound of your pussy as he fucked you without much abandon. the thickness on your hips would only grow once he made sure his next child was inside of you. you'd be such a good mama, unlike that previous bitch who left him.

maybe there was a good reason why she left him.

cum clung to the fuzz on your pussy lips and was a bitch to clean in the shower come morning.

he woke you up and said, "she needs her mama. she gettin' fussy, doll." then watched you stumble around to find clothes to wear while you checked on winnie as if the little girl was your own. his hand was wrapped around his cock. he wondered how many more times he could finish in you before you stumbled back to your apartment.

the answer was four.

it wouldn't be easy carrying for a sprouting little baby plus the baby boy you were currently pregnant with. you've put school off for a little while and moved in with simon, your due date was in the middle of the semester. now you were trying to figure out what food was good for a teething winnie while also trying to manage the riley son that was occupying your womb.

you were making dinner for your growing family with a cute little maternity dress of. simon was at the table with winnie. he knew that one day he'd have to tell her that you weren't her actual mama. but you were raising her and her little brother too.

"see there's mama." simon said in that grumbled voice of his, pointing in your direction.

you didn't imagine that you would've ended up as a stay-at-home mother to two children who were than a year apart. but as you felt the shift of your 'second' baby inside of you, you smiled.

you heard winnie make a little noise to get your attention. you checked on the pot of sauce on the stove before you turned away to check on your little girl.