#but his brain is very much not braining right now

[ccsainzleclerc5516]

Co Parents To Lovers Again (part 2)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x reader

Warnings: fluff (smut in the next part)

part 1

It's been three days since the unfortunate misunderstanding with Charles and you haven't heard from him at all since.

You were overthinking the whole situation that happened on Sunday and couldn't come to any proper conclusion. At the same time, you were sad because he thought you would bring someone else into your bed, even though it wasn't your shared bed anymore, but you couldn't believe that he thought so little of you after all the years you'd spent together.

And yet on the other hand, you were thinking like any woman, you were glad that he was jealous and that the very thought of someone replacing him bothered him because that only meant he wasn't over you and that he still wanted to make things right between you two. Basically, you were torn between your brain and your heart once again and it was just a matter of what would prevail between the two this time.

Even though deep down you knew you couldn't fight yourself. You broke up over some disagreements that when you look at things more closely weren't worth destroying your relationship and your little family. You were both stubborn, he was a little too possessive, you were lacking in understanding, parenting, you spent most of your time alone with Lou and everything came together and exploded.

Now that you look back on the whole year you spent without him, you know that as hard as it is sometimes to be with him, it's ten times harder to be without him. You realize that you both made a rash decision, but then again maybe it had to happen only to make you realize how much you need each other in every way possible.

It's Wednesday night and while you're preparing tonight's dinner and tomorrow's lunch, Lou is sitting at the dining room table drawing. Soon your cooking is interrupted by the ringing of your phone on the kitchen island. A strange feeling comes over you as you wipe your hands on a dish towel and look at your phone only to see Charles' name on the screen.

You want to answer the phone, but you don't want the conversation to end in an argument so before you pick up the phone, you take a deep breath and try to calm down and strengthen your voice so it doesn't sound shaky.

"Hello?"

"Hey, it's me." He says it in a completely normal, calm tone and you're grateful for that.

"Hey, what's up?"

"Umm, I'm leaving tomorrow for the race so I was wondering if you could put Lou on the facetime so I can see her since I won't be able to have her for the weekend?" He asks.

"Sure, just let me switch to facetime."

Once you did, Charles face appeared on the screen and he smiled when he saw yours too. You tried to hide the blush on your face and quickly walked over to Lou putting the phone in front of her.

"Baby, daddy wants to talk to you" You said setting the phone in front of her and leaving them alone to talk.

Since the kitchen and dining room were connected, you went back into the kitchen and could hear everything the two of them were saying. You didn't want to eavesdrop, but you kinda did.

"Hey, daddy!" Lou exclaimed excitedly.

"Mon ange, what are you doing?"

"I'm drawing and-and mommy is cooking" She says.

"Yeah? What are you drawing?"

"I'm drawing you in a red car. See" She says putting up the paper in front of the camera for him to see.

"Good job, baby. It looks great!"

"It's for you, I will give it to you when you come get me" She says forgetting that she won't be spending the weekend with him.

"Thank you, baby, but unfortunately we won't be together this weekend because papa has to work, but we'll see each other next week, okay?"

"Oh.." She pouts.

"Don't be sad, we'll see each other very soon, okay? I miss you so much and I'm thinking of you all the time."

Your heart is completely softened by his words and the immeasurable amount of love he has for your daughter.

"I miss you too, daddy"

"Okay, baby. I'll talk to you soon, I love you."

"Bye, I love you too." She says waving her hand as he blows her a kiss.

You watch her from afar and see how her mood immediately changed when she heard that she wouldn't be seeing him. Shaken by emotions, you move closer to her and squat down next to her.

"What's wrong, bug?" You ask her.

She doesn't look at you but frowns looking down at drawing on the paper in front of her.

"I miss papa" She says, hear eyes filled with tears.

"Can I tell you a little secret?" You say and she nods. "I miss papa too." You whisper making her look at you.

"Would you like to watch him race this weekend?"

"You mean on the TV?" She asks.

"No, I mean how about we go and see him?" You suggest and her eyes light up.

"Really?!"

"Would you like that?"

"Yes, yes! And I can give him this!" She says excitedly and you chuckle at how sweet she is.

"Then we have a deal. Now, finish up your drawing and go wash your hands because dinner is almost ready okay?"

"Okay, mommy. Thank you"

Nothing can compare to the happiness you feel when you see your daughter happy. Both you and Charles would do anything for her, and that's why you decided to quickly run upstairs to your bedroom, turn the hoodie right side out.

When a print of an F1 car was visible on the black hoodie, you took a picture of it and sent it to Charles without any additional explanation, because you knew that everything would be clear as a day to him once he saw it.

After just a few minutes, your phone vibrated in your hands.

'Been looking for it for a while now..' Charles' message said.

'I really fucked up this time, didn't I?' He added.

'You kinda did.' You replied.

'I'm so sorry, y/n..'

'You're lucky your daughter adores you so much and you better send a plane for the two of us so we can make it to the race on time.'

part 3

@charlesgirl16 @aleatorio1234 @teamnovalak @watermelonslut @diaryofarandomkid @sunny44 @tempo-rary-fix @ggaslyp1 @janeh22 @seonghwaexile @seasonswinter @itgirlofthecenturysposts @ricciardosredbull @amz824 @sarx164

[night-raven-tattler]

The pains of being human

Summary: You're dealing with period related misfortunes, and you feel vulnerable... mostly because you reached a point where you had to share your predicament with someone you trusted (?).

Characters: Deuce, Floyd, Lilia and GN!Reader (separate, vague)

Warnings: mentions of menstrual products, food, medicine; discussions of periods and related symptoms (such as: bleeding, cramps, nausea, mood swings.)

By opening the document, you agree to Mx Tattly's terms of source confidentiality.

-ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

You were in your dorm room, stuck in a real predicament: not stocking up on your menstrual products, and leaving the room to buy yourself some seemed too risky, fearing you might get a stain and embarass yourself in front of the whole school

It wasn't a very likely situation, but the anxiety was not worth it, so you relied the first person you were close enough with to help you out: Deuce

You shot him a simple text

"i am on my period, can you buy me some products? i'll pay you back when you get here"

and expected an awkward but supportive reply, since teenage boys and periods can be like oil and water sometimes or demons and cruxes...

But the text you received in return was... mildly surprising.

"yeah sure. pads? tampons?"

"what size do you need?"

"anything else you need? painkillers? something sweet?"

You even double checked the number to make sure you didn't text anyone else

He even knew about sizes! And he thought about painkillers! You were more and more touched with each message coming through

And, with the proper instructions, Deuce was on his way to Sam's

He was not embarassed for even a second: he was there on a mission, and he accomplished it successfully without any missteps

...Well, except of his little delay, caused by a pair of nosy boys, who received their proper threats from Deuce for interrupting his mission with their toxic masculinity

He knocked at your door, and for a second he was expecting his mother to open the door; after all, she was the only one he has ever bought these things for before you

You gratefully welcomed him in, waddling your way back to your bed as you inspected the bag he brought you

"Thank you, Deuce. You're a livesaver... How much did everything cost you?"

Deuce saw the tired look on your face, the heavy lids that indicated a lack of proper sleep, and he shook his head

"It's on me this time."

You scoffed, knowing Deuce was also on a budget; as much of a sweetheart and an honors student he was, Deuce deserved to be rewarded

"...I wanna think of a compromise, but my brain is too tired right now."

You groaned, closing your eyes as you rested them for a few seconds

Deuce shook his head at you again and clicked his tongue in fond exasperation

He wanted to be nice and offer you an out, but you were dead set on being nice to him...

"...A latte."

You opened your eyes, looking at Deuce in confusion

"I'm sorry?"

"I want a latte. One of those fancy ones from that café in town. When you're done with the, uh... bear week."

A small snort escaped you as you gave Deuce an amused look

"Bear week? Not shark week?"

Deuce's eyes widened slightly, and he looked away as his cheeks grew warmer

"...Mom never called it that. She always said that fighting a bear is more likely to happen than fighting a shark... and that it sounds cooler."

You nodded, feeling very inclined to agree with his mom, and decided to steal that phrase

You were very relieved to have someone as reliable as Deuce near you, and despite the fact that Deuce wasn't the most diligent person, he always made sure to carry one of your preffered products with him at all times

No matter what kind of teases he received from anyone for it, he knew he was showing a level of care not many would

And while helping you... he was helping himself

He was still dealing with the guilt of being so embarassed when his own mom sent him to buy pads; he couldn't help his mom with such a simple thing even after everything she's done

But he can be more careful this time... more appreciative

The moment Floyd spotted you in the hallways was when things went downhill: Floyd didn't really bring sunshine and rainbows around with himself

By that point you were used to his shenanigans, but you still gave some interesting reactions

A gasp, a swat to his hand... but never tears

He wouldn't have yelled in your ear if he knew you'd burst into tears: he wasn't in the mood to deal with the aftermath

But he quickly put two and two together, seeing the way you were frozen on the spot, almost trying to pick between scolding him and saying something else

Unbeknownst to Floyd, you were simply trying to get back to your dorm after noticing a pretty sizeable stain on your pants from your period

And the anxiety from trying to go unnoticed put you on edge, making your reaction to Floyd so much worse

"...Please just get me out of here."

Your small plea came after a tense silence, in which Floyd was reading your expression with an almost uninterested look

But he still hoisted you over his shoulder without any hesitation, much to your embarassment

"Floyd...! Not like this, put me down!"

"Eh~? You're so hard to please, little discus!"

Floyd did not put you down, of course

It was causing a bit of a scene, so you decided that, in the end, you'll take whatever got you to your dorm room the fastest

"Alright, fine...! Just get me to my dorm then!"

"Boooring! Why can't we go somewhere more fun?"

Floyd complained while going in the direction of your dorm

"Because I'm not in the mood for fun, Floyd! I..."

Your cheeks turned red, realising you almost revealed something too personal

To your surprise, Floyd didn't point it out; he just pouted as he walked towards your dorm

You reached your dorm room soon thanks to Floyd's long legs, and you were able to change into fresh clothes, easing your anxiety and making you feel like crying from relief

Until you realised Floyd was still in your room, even after you told him you'd be having no fun together today

He looked you up and down, his face betraying his confusion

"Now can you tell me why you were smelling like blood? Did anyone do something? Do I get to deliver a revenge plan and squeeze some aquarium fish?"

Floyd's almost sadistic delivery did not phase you at all, and all you were thinking was that of course Floyd noticed

You had no other option but to explain

"I just... got a blood stain from my, uh... my period..."

Silence.

"...What do classes have to do with that?"

Your eyes widened as you came to a horrifying conclusion: Floyd couldn't know what period were, because he was a merman

You saw your short life flash before your eyes in horror at the prospect of having to explain periods to a teenager... when Floyd just burst into laughter

"Oh, you actually believe that! You are so funny!"

Much to your relief, Floyd's confusion was just a prank; he figured you had your period before you even said anything

He revealed that he took classes about humans, their customs and anatomy when he first decided to come on land

And he also dodged the pillows you threw at him with practiced ease

It was the last time you even talked about it: neither of you brough it up again, and you didn't know how to feel about it

On one hand, you were relieved, but on the other hand, you expected Floyd of all people to ask questions and be all annoying about it

But Floyd didn't really care about things like that

In fact, he found your periods hilarious: your mood swins in particular were funny, and he almost enjoyed making things that you could digest

And he would never admit it, but he felt proud when you seemed to feel a bit better after he helped you during your period

Every once in a while, you found yourself being enveloped in a hug from behind from the old bat

He would either hand you a piece of homemade chocolate by him or some cute trinket he thought sould cheer you up

Lilia was a very cute individual, and he was surprisingly affectionate for someone who was definitely a teenager and not a retired war veteran attending highschool, so you never questioned it

...until you found Lilia wrapping his jacket around your torso gingerly from behind

"...There we go. Not too tight?"

His cute, softer voice vibrated through your back as he still was glued to you

"It's... not, but why did you..."

"Oh, haven't you heard? Jackets wrapped around waists are the latest fad! It's cool and chic!"

You didn't argue with him on it, especially after you tried to untie the jacket from your waist and were blocked by Lilia, who was still holding you from behind

The proximity was getting to you, and you felt your cheeks flushing, your knees growing a bit weak, your stomach doing flips-

Wait, no. That wasn't butterflies in your stomach, that was a sharp pain from... lower

As you put two and two together, Lilia started walking you down the hallway into a secluded classroom, his hand around your waist and making you two look as casual and unassuming as always

The moment Lilia closed the door of the abandoned classroom, you his your face in your hands from embarassment

"Oh, my god... This can't be happening to me..."

The tone in your voice betrayed how mortified you felt, but was glad that you had this realisation away from prying eyes

You didn't even realise the leak, since you were already using products, and it already felt like you leaked blood all the time...

Lilia only chucked at your realisation

"Khee hee... Someone was a bit caught off guard today, huh?"

Your pathetic whimper was the only answer Lilia received, and his eyes sparkled with mirth

He still brought out his magical pen and waved it gently in the air, muttering something under his breath

"Take that jacket off and turn around for me?"

You did as he instructed, but only because you felt more... dry, all of a sudden

Lilia hummed in delight as he saw the spot being gone, his spell working

"Good. No more damning evidence... Now all you gotta do is go on your merry way."

You sighed in relief and slipped onto an empty chair, letting the small rollercoaster of emotions settle down within you

Lilia was nothing short of a lifesaver, and he handled the situation with so much grace that it left you speechless

When you asked about it, he just laughed

"I'm no stranger to blood."

That was all he said... Not ominous at all /s

Still, you were very grateful at the way Lilia handled everything

Since then, he started being even more doting on you whenever you were in your period

He was almost... motherly in a way

And for some reason, the idea of Lilia as a parental figure didn't seem too far fetched...

He always was on the lookout for any other accidents and even tried talking you into trying the reusable alternatives for your products

What surprised no one was when he became even more eager to supplement you with nutritional food whenever you were low on energy

And so much more disappointed when your nausea made his food somehow even worse to be around

[monstersflashlight]

Commission for Shylia

Request: Orc x female human that were childhood best friends and grew up together. Maybe they realize feelings getting jealous of the other going on dates?

A/N: Thank you so much for commissioning. <3 This is mainly plot but gets a bit rowdy towards the end, enjoy!

Out of jealousy

Orc x fem!reader || teasing, heavy petting, fingering, public sex (not caught)

You went on a date with a supposedly nice guy and had a good enough time, your brain supplying you a thousand other ideas that would be more fun that the dude’s boring job in the football league. But even then, when you entered your neighborhood, he leaned over the console to give you a half hug in goodbye and you accepted, already planning on deleting his number and telling him you didn’t want a second date. You knew you were being rude, and probably a bit unfair, he wasn’t the one to blame for your emotional unavailability. That was on you, and on your fucking stubborn orc best friend.

The same orc best friend who opened the door of the car you were in with a growl. “Get out,” he grunted. You weren’t sure if he was saying it to you or to your human date.

“What are you doing?” You asked him, confused by his antics. He was glaring at your date like he personally offended him, and you were starting to get angry. Who the fuck did he think he was? Why was he so mad? You dropped a thousand hints for him to ask you out, and he didn’t act on it.

He turned to you with a soft smile framed by his adorned tusks. Fuck, you hated when he smiled at you (but not really, you loved his smile). “I’m not talking to you, sweet-cheeks. I’m talking to that asshole who was about to touch you.” If words had colors, his would be green with jealousy.

“What are you doing?” You asked again, getting out of the car and in front of him, a finger pressed to his chest accusatory.

“You deserve better than him. He’s a piece of shit.” He was fed up, his breathing hard. And then he added: “He’s not even a monster, and I know how much you like monsters.” You gaped, completely taken aback by his words.

“Wha- what?” You stuttered, your heart beating fast. You thought he didn’t know you had a thing for monsters, you thought he didn’t know you had a thing for him.

He smirked, a hint of amusement in his eyes as he looked down at you. Ugh, you hated (secretly loved) how tall he was. “I’ve been in your room, remember? I’ve seen all those monster romances on your shelf.”

“Excuse me, but who the fuck are you?” The dude who you were with asked in the middle of your embarrassment. He was still inside the car but had half his body out.

The orc in front of you remembered then that you were with somebody and his face dropped, you would be scared if you didn’t know he was such a sweetheart. “I’m his fucking mate, and you need to flee. NOW.” Your world stopped.

“Mate?” You choke out. “What do you mean mate?” Your tone is increasingly angry.

You knew what mates were. You’d been living next to his family since you were little. You were there when his brother came back and said he met his girlfriend at the gym. You were there. “Mates” was a big as fuck word for an orc to say, and if what you think was true, if what he said was true… Then he was going to get his ass kicked by a very angry human in about five seconds.

“Leave,” you ordered your date.

Your tone must be angry enough that he didn’t even ask, he just turned the car on and drove away. In other circumstances, you would have laughed at the stupidity of the situation. But right there, your rage was burning high as you glared daggers at the orc in front of you, your best friend, your oldest friend. He was looking at the ground, unable to meet your eyes.

You weren’t sure you could deal with that right now, not with how much anger was inside of you. So you turned on your feet and walked to your house, just a dozen meters away.

“Where are you going?” He asked, his tone soft and calming.

You turned to look at him, anger and pain mixing in a bitter tone: “Away from you.”

“Did I- Do you…?” He tried to ask, you weren’t sure what he was about to say but his nervous stutter only made you angrier, making you stop in your tracks and step into his personal space, looking up at him defiantly.

“Since when did you know?” You asked. You knew the answer, but you needed him to verbalize it, you needed him to accept that he knew since you two met. That he had been waiting for you (without any reason) for years.

He tried to play confused: “What?” You raised an eyebrow, daring him to lie. “Since we moved in,” he confessed.

You stared at him, looking miserable in front of you, and all the anger inside of you bleed out, only a spark of hope and pain left inside of you. “Now explain why you didn’t say anything before.” He gaped at you, his mouth opening and closing a few times, trying to talk but not finding the words. In other circumstances you would have taken pity on him, but not now. “I’m waiting.”

He sighed, defeated. “You said you wanted to explore and experience the world and I didn’t know if you…”

And then you understood. “You didn’t know if I wanted to do that with you?” He nodded and you almost laughed at his stupidity. You got on your tiptoes and grabbed his face, pulling him down until his face is at eye level with yours. “You are so fucking stupid I want to hit your pretty face until you are more red than green,” you told him. “I’m in love with you, you stupid maroon!” You finally confessed, staring at his eyes when you did.

“What?” He looked flabbergasted, and you couldn’t contain a giggle.

“In love. With a stupid orc,” you repeated slowly.

You didn’t get time to react before he was on you. He was so fast you couldn’t even scream as he grabbed you and hauled you up to devour your mouth in one eager kiss. You moaned around his lips, his tusks framing your mouth in the most amazing way as you lost yourself in the pleasure of having him against you… finally.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for so long, you drive me insane,” he mumbled against your mouth.

“Good. I hope you suffered as much as I did just because you are stupid,” you said hitting his arm without force as you claimed his mouth in another frantic kiss.

“You are the one to talk…” He retorted as he kissed you with such passion you felt your pussy tingle.

He walked with you attached to him like a koala until your back was pressed against the side of your house, where the darkness made it impossible to see from the street. Or at least you hoped so, because the movements made your dress roll up and his clothed dick found the space between your thighs, where you were painfully wet already.

You both started panting, your kisses messy and heavy as you ground against the other. It was exhilarating in the best way possible. You felt like a teenager again, even though that was so long ago you barely remembered, but having him against you and his big body rubbing against all your right places, you were losing your mind in need.

“Let me make you feel good,” he whispered against your lips and you moaned in response. “Goddess, you sound so good, it’s driving me insane.”

You couldn’t hold back your teasing even if you tried: “I bet I’ll sound better when I scream your name.”

You felt his knees almost give out under him. “Ugh-ngh, you can say shit like that when I’m holding you up, I might drop you when all my blood rushes south,” he reprimanded as you giggled. You were about to retort like the little shit you were when his hand slipped under your panties and found your aching clit. Your voice broke in a moan as you threw your head back in pleasure, your hips moving faster against his hand. “Just like that, good little mate, taking your pleasure off my fingers. Are you going to come? Are you going to be a perfect mate and come against my fingers?” His words were making you frantic with your movements.

You could feel the pressure building in your lower abdomen as he kept rubbing your clit, one of his fingers finding your hole and playing with you. Your brain short-circuited as he bite the side of your neck, making you scream his name and exploding messily in his arms.

You were so wrapped in your pleasure you almost didn’t hear him when he made a choked sound and thrust up against your drenched pussy, his hips moving uncontrollably. “Did you just come in your pants?” You asked, amused, as he panted against your neck, his tusks making you shiver at the contact.

“Shut up,” he said without any force behind it. “I just touched my mate’s pussy for the first time, I’m allowed to come in my pants.”

Your amusement died with his words, your heart feeling so full it could explode. “Tell me you love me,” you whispered.

“Love is a weak word compared to what I feel for you, my mate,” he told you, looking at you like you held the moon. You melted, your body languid against the wall, caged by his arms.

“I love you too, my mate,” you let out in a breath, kissing his cheek sweetly. At the words he grunted, and you could feel his dick twitching where it rests against your pussy.

Well, maybe going out on a date to make him jealous wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

Reminder that you can commission me (info here) and you can also suscribe to my Patreon "monster fucker" tier to get a commission (info here).

[nanamiscocksleeve]

Reading While Cockwarming Them

Warnings: MDNI, PIV, general sex, teasing, some name calling and sadism in Geto's part. A/n: Found an old WIP that I half wrote then gave up on because I couldn't find the inspiration. I'm glad I got back into it because I almost feel like my JJK writing has become rusty nowadays, and I'm thrilled to find some ideas that might still feel new.

The book is open on the bed, right under your pretty, flushed face as you kneel on all fours, Satoru’s cock nestled comfortably in your slick pussy. 

Your mouth is moving, and you see the little black characters on the page, but your speech is slurred and syrupy as you try to form intelligible sounds. 

“The…he-he-ro…isn…ways…to…”

“What’s that baby?” Satoru taunts as he slides out of your drooling cunt, all patience and sweet smiles. He feels how your walls clench in protest as you try to keep him in, his tip almost out of your tight, wet, hole.

“Toru please…” you whine, knowing his enticing length was right there, but he was getting off on seeing you swallow your words. Determination that had been ample in hand at the beginning of this session had now gone flying out the window. You just had to insist that Satoru couldn’t fuck you dumb with his cock, denying his claims, and now you’re forced to swallow your pride as you realize you can’t focus on a damn thing. The letters all look like squiggles to you and your tongue refuses to cooperate, only allowing you to pant and babble nonsense.

“You’re the one that said you would read me a bedtime story.” He arches his hips away from you as he feels you lift your ass, hoping to slip him back in. “And so far I can’t understand a word you’re saying. I’m hoping this helps.”

You moan in frustration and try to focus your hazed mind on the print. “The hero isn’t always right. As told in the story we’re about to embark on-” Your breath hitches as Satoru glides back into your warmth as you started to read. The hot length of his cock spreads you apart so invitingly messing with your head.

“Oh don’t feel like you have to stop on my account sweetheart. Keep going. Just testing how deep I need to go before you start going dumb again.” Not very deep based on his observations. He’s barely halfway sheathed and your speech had already become halting and incorrigible. He slips out slightly and you clear your throat trying to not to sob and admit defeat. 

“Our story takes place in a time of old and ooohhh…” The sensual groan leaves you unrestrained as he pushes further in.

“Hmm so about three fourths of the way,” Satoru muses, looking at how much of him was buried inside you. “Keep reading. Trying to fine tune this pussy. I was promised a bedtime story.”

He starts to thrust slowly, letting you feel each inch of him as he withdraws before sliding back in, never bottoming out and leaving you aching with the knowledge that you're only half full. You're not even trying to focus on the words now, just moaning and knowing you'll likely have to let him win if you wanted anything tonight. 

“Satoru please…” You whine as he starts to drag his fingers along your moist slit, finding your bud and circling it expertly. 

“Aw. No bedtime story for me tonight?” he asks mockingly as he draws out a moan from you. You shake your head and he grins triumphantly. “Next time then. We'll train your pussy to not disconnect from your brain.”

Kento can’t stand the thought of not having physical intimacy. Cockwarming was his way of reconnecting, of being able to touch you, feel your soft skin and the warmth of your body, even if he was too tired for sex. 

The bed is so inviting, and your back rests against his chest as his cock pulses with life inside you. Warm sheets are wrapped around your bodies as you sit on his thighs with a book on your lap. Kento's chin rests on your shoulder as you read, his eyes tracking the words as the story flows from your lips, his breath tickling your neck. The atmosphere in the room is almost balmy as his hands massage yours, fingers molding to the spaces in between. Your pussy occasionally clenches around his velvety cock, enjoying the way he filled and stretched the space inside. 

“Are you paying attention?” You tease and pat his cheek to draw his attention back to the story. His large hands had started to wander from yours and were flirting with your ribcage, cradling your breasts in his palms and squeezing enticingly. After a long day, the massage felt more relaxing than arousing and you indulge him for a moment before asking again. “Kento…the story.”

“I am paying attention darling. It looks like our protagonist accidentally discovered something he wasn’t supposed to.” He thumbs your nipples, which had already pebbled from the squeezing, through the sheets and you throw your head back onto his shoulder, biting your lip and letting out a hushed sigh. Your juices had steadily dripped from your core and were pooling at the base of his cock, leaving a ring of wetness on his hard shaft.

“Are you sleepy?” Kento’s lips ghost the shell of your ear and you mumble a tired yes. His chuckle resonates in your ear, deep and rich, and he takes the book away and places it on the nightstand. “It’s all right,” he reassures you as he starts to lay you both down on the bed. “We can find out what happens tomorrow.” He rearranges the sheets while you settle your head down comfortably on the pillow. Sleep overtakes you quickly but you can feel Kento pressing little kisses down your neck.

“Do you mind…?” He whispers, and your half-awake brain manages to slur a yes. You knew what he was asking, and you honestly didn’t mind. His snug cock thrusts ever so sweetly inside you as he tries not to rouse you too much from sleep, breathing steadily into your hair as he tries to orgasm.

The slick heat from being inside you for so long helps in his efforts, lazily stroking your inner walls at an unhurried pace. Your languid body barely stirs as he sets up a deliciously slow pace, quiet squelches issuing from your pussy as he rocks his hips against your ass. He bites his lip as he nears his climax, letting out a muffled groan as his hot cum is released into your warm canal. 

“Darling…focus…” His clever fingers which were playing with your pulsing clit halt, and his cock, snug in your pussy, remains there, barely providing any friction. You whine and look at him pleadingly but he tuts at you, waving the little study booklet in front of your face. “Can you repeat what I was saying?”

Why had you agreed to let him help you study for the bar? Your lawyer boyfriend, so sinfully handsome and smart, was obviously worried about your progress. He accused you of getting too distracted, and the solution was to force you to study with nothing but distractions, hoping to improve your recall abilities. 

What he hadn’t specified was that it would involve sitting on your bed with his cock stuffed in your pussy  while you straddled him, repeating little vocabulary definitions and basic terms of law. Your poor, sloppy, pussy couldn’t stop dribbling, spilling all over him, as you tried to recall the words.

He smirks at your hazy expression, seeing your mind trying to gather itself back into a cohesive state. “Well?” he prompts you again. “Can you explain the concept of intent for this?”

“Ah…” your mind is fuzzy as your walls clench around his cock, still hard inside you. How long had he been doing this? “Mmm…intent…matters because…” Because why? Why did it matter? All that mattered was fucking. Fucking him, riding him, getting filled to the brim with his seed. 

“Tsk. Oh honey. You're never going to pass the bar at this rate.” His hands firmly hook themselves underneath your fleshy thighs. “Now repeat after me.”

He begins to pick up your frame, easing you off his cock before loosening his hands and letting you fall back into his throbbing erection with force, your ass cheeks slapping his thighs as you slide down all the way to his base. 

"It. matters. because. The. Mental. state. Of. a. client. Affects. Our. Ability. To. Prove their. Innocence.”

Each word is punctuated with his hands picking you up and letting you slide, the sound of your ass pounding back into his lap echoing through the room. Each time, the bulbous, mushroom head of his cock kisses your cervix and you swear you're seeing stars each time. You sob each time, your cunt squelching as it takes him all the way in, desperate for an orgasm that wasn't likely to happen. 

“Hiro… Please… Need to cum… study later…”

“You'll never improve if you can't study through the distractions.” His eyes are hooded and dark, barely able to restrain himself from wanting to fuck your brains out until you're spilling all over his thighs. Oh the sight of you, struggling to remember basic words, thoughts too occupied with his cock to remember even the most basic concepts relating to your job. 

“Tell ya what. I'll give you a scenario. If you can explain intent based on that I'll give you an orgasm. How's that?”

You look at him hopefully, still shivering from the intensity of his last movements, and nod. 

“Explain the intent behind a young woman who invites her boyfriend over to help her study for the bar but decides to answer the door in just her underwear.”

Oh the bastard. Feeling your patience snap you admit your motive.

“Clearly she wanted to get fucked nice and good but her boyfriend is a naive moron who really thought she wanted to go over flashcards.” 

“You’ve got the flash part down spectacularly darling.” Hiromi fondles your nipples and you whine, your cunt clenching around him like a vice. 

“Hiro please…”

“I suppose I could count that as an acceptable answer. Nice work.” He spanks your ass in appreciation. “Admission of guilt always helps. Now show me how you plan to alleviate it.”

Your boyfriend was mean. You hadn’t really noticed it until just now. He was more of the type to tease you than anything else. Until you had suggested reading to him while sitting on his cock. 

For some reason, you had assumed he was going to be sweet about it. You hadn’t anticipated how hard he would make this for you. Your lips tremble and you’re a quivering mess as you hold up the book with shaky hands. Tears streak your cheeks as you try again, feeling Suguru’s thumb relentlessly playing with your clit, depriving you of just enough stimulation to keep you focused. 

“T-t-t-the for-forest i-is the…” You wet your lips trying to concentrate. “The fas-test way to the…hi-hi-hidden-”

“Too slow.” You squeal as Geto spanks your already swollen clit, the sting bringing back clarity to your senses. “I thought you were better than this. Are you so fucked out on my cock that you’re taking an hour to read a sentence?” The harsh slap of his hand on your wet folds makes them pulse and you squirm, and you close your legs to avoid the reprimand.

“Tsk. You really are a dumb whore right now.” A cry leaves your lips as he harshly pinches your nipple, twisting it cruelly. “Who told you to close your legs? You seemed pretty confident when spreading them open for me earlier.” Sniffing, you reluctantly part your legs and then let out a noise of discomfort as he slaps the little bud again. 

“Suguru…” you whimper pathetically only to have him roughly rub your clit again.

“Suguru.” He mimics in a high-pitched mocking tone. “What, you thought I would sit here all night while you take your sweet time? You haven’t even finished a page yet. Your cunt is going to be as empty as your brain if you don’t get it together.”

You whine and try again. “The solder…wanted to raid the amry… to get a sard- OUCH!” Suguru gave you a truly hard whack that sent you reeling, a confusing haze of pain and pleasure running through your body like an electric shock.

“What was that? Are you sure that’s even a word?” Slap. “Solder?” Slap. “Amry?” Slap. “Sard?” Slap. “The words are soldier, armory, and sword you stupid slut.” Each spank to your clit is punctuated with a yelp of pain from you. 

“Suguru! I’m sorry please-!” 

He pulls the book from your grip and tosses it aside. “This is why little whores shouldn’t try to brag about talents they don’t possess. Now why don’t you showcase the only real skill you have and cum on my cock like the desperate little cocksleeve you know you are?”

© nanamiscocksleeve original work | no copying, plagiarizing or translating

@aether-seawolf @makingtimemine @snwvie @facelessfionna

@theimmortalbuns @sweets-kozume @supernaturalbaesduh

@marusatonanhin @pwd54gr54 @brekkersgf

[morallygreychaoticneutral]

Astarion doesn't ask for affection because he can't..... yet.

Ah, more tea steeping in this seeming endless sea of thoughts. This brew is a bit strong on the heart. Read with caution.

Warning for game spoilers and talk of abuse.

This perspective is from game content only. How anybody cannons their relationships or behaviors is perfectly right. No blame, no shame, it's your game.

I was always miffed at the lack of initiated affection from Astarion as a partner. YOU ask him for a kiss. YOU ask him for a hug. YOU ask him to tell you thank you after being an amazing partner and killing a massive beastie just for him! Brat...

But then I had a sudden realization. Given his past, affection is probably insanely hard to ask for. Like it can be for a lot of us.

Stay awhile and listen. (nerd)

Now when I speak of narcissistic abuse I am only speaking from what I know about it. I have no academic or phycology degree on the matter. Just good ol' tossed in the pond and forced to sink or swim experience.

Astarion spent 200 years under the crushing weight of narcissistic / psychopathic abuse. One of the things these types of abusers love to do is take what you love and make you hate it and then make you hate yourself for ever having liked it to begin with. All very nasty business that. But it's one of the main corner stones for the cage they build to control you.

They make you feel as if the request of a simple hug is the most pathetic thing you could ask for. Or the most selfish thing as it inconveniences them. They don't want it, why should they give it to you?

Shame, belittle, degrade, devalue..

200 years with a master who used him like a tool. 200 years with siblings that fought amongst each other so much comfort was a liability. Nights coming home assaulted only to be mocked for your tears. Insulted for your need of comfort.

"Pathetic! Weak! Disgusting! "

Shame, belittle, degrade, devalue..

Affection was nowhere to be found there, I assure you.

And for a Narc. anything given is expected to be "earned" in any way they see fit. And if you were "rewarded" with anything, it comes at high price.

And how dare you not find it fair. You ingrate!

Shame, belittle, degrade, devalue..

Hugs are pathetic. Kisses are an intrusion. Or they become gateways to other unwanted behaviors. To be held...what are you? A baby? The only way you are going to get held, is down.

Shame, belittle, degrade, devalue.. The pattern continues.

But you ask HIM for a kiss. And he says..

"There is nothing I'd like more."

And he means it.

I'd bet a mountain of gold he wants to just ask you himself. But years of conditioning to expect pain when seeking pleasure probably keeps him in a choke hold. Like rats that are shocked every time they try to eat food out of a dish. They learn it is safer to starve.

"I want to ask Tav for a kiss or a hug, but they might think i'm weak. But if they ask me first then it's them who wants it and they can't degrade me for it because they asked, not me. It's safe then."

"I want to ask Tav for a kiss or hug, but they might reject me for being too needy and shame and berate me for being so selfish or demanding of their time and person. But if they ask they have time and want me to kiss/hug them."

"I want to ask Tav for a kiss or a hug, but my primal brain keeps telling me they might demand more than I want to give in return for it. But if they ask, I have the power of negotiating the outcome."

This leads me to believe he would view sex and affection very differently as well.

Where most find affection safe and nurturing, it's anxiety educing and unsafe. It means there are feelings and if there are feelings there is the risk and fear of rejection or judgment. It's much scarier.

Where most find sex to be connecting and intimate, it's been used so much it's lost any meaning. Something you can do a thousand times over and walk away the second it's done and feel nothing afterward.

This may even be a part of the reason why he wants to stop having sex.

He wants to connect with you in ways denied to him. He wants the experience of being courted, treasured, nurtured. It means so much more to him than sex. It is so much more connecting.

Feeling this way is wretched and lonely. The most basic instinct is to want to seek comfort in the arms of those who love us. But it's broken. The risk is too great.

And it's hard. Because you could be the sweetest most honorable Tav in the whole of Fearun. But after being fed poised apples one too many times, all apples appear poisonous regardless of if is true or not.

I have no doubt that this prickly elf soaks up every second of non sexual affection you give him. And truly is grateful for your patience while he slowly and carefully disarms the safety measures he put in place to survive. The fact that he even allowed you to touch him like that at all was a monumental act of trust. And why not? You are incredible after all.

I'm going to go ask my elf for a kiss now. And then cry in my cup.

[robo-writing]

wait so I have an idea for single mother! reader and Logan. maybe single mother! reader has a toddler, and she’s just desperately needing help, so like she asks Logan for help, and Logan finding the reader gorgeous, he quickly says yes without hesitation, so he takes care of her and her toddler, Logan and reader are falling HARD for each other, and like Logan had made himself such a big figure in her and her kids life, that he just says “I love you darlin’ please let me stay with you. I can help you. I can help with everythin’ you need help with. Just let me stay. Let me love you, and let me be there for you two.” AND LIKE SO NOW LOGAN IS SO LIKE IMPORTANT FOR THEM and her toddler is so happy because she thinks Logan is her dad, and knows reader is her mom.

Logan comes around much more frequently as of late, as if he didn’t already before.

What were occasional visits now become once a day, it’s gotten to the point that he doesn’t even bother with excuses now—he just shows up to your doorstep with a bouquet of flowers and a predators gaze, laces his arm around your back and buries his face into your neck—missed you sweetheart, did’ya miss me?

He holds you close, firm—the smell of oak and bourbon assaulting your senses—it makes you dizzy; the intimacy of it all, the carnality that bleeds from his fingertips. Possessive of something he doesn’t even have.

“Logan, you shouldn’t—“ you begin, palms splayed against the wall of muscle that is Logan, only to be met with mocking laughter.

“Shouldn’t, or can’t?” His breath is hot, nicotine laced. His tone is sweet, but his words betray the beast that lurks within. “Because I’ll tell you now—you’re not gettin’ rid of me that easy.”

His words give you pause, and in the moment it takes for your brain to catch up he’s already leaning away. “Besides, I like this little game we’re playing—you pretend you don’t want me to fuck you stupid, and I pretend that you don’t walk in front of the windows in nothing but a t-shirt and panties at night.”

You sputter in embarrassment, suddenly self-aware. “I-I do not—“

“No, no, it’s fine sweetheart,” he begins. “But if you want my opinion, I like the lacy ones the best.”

“You’re a fucking pervert,” you growl, and he has the audacity to laugh in your fucking face. The need to meet your hand to his face rises, but you’re not a hundred percent sure it would even phase him—worst case scenario, it would actually turn him on.

As much as you want to kick him out, you can never seem to find the courage to do so—he’s great with your daughter, and unfortunately a babysitter is too expensive for your income, so you grit your teeth and bear with it.

You let him in—of course you do—if only to appease your squealing daughter galloping towards the door at the sound of his voice. He picks her up in a single arm, leaving the bouquet impressively untouched as he hoists her into the air, her laughter bringing a smile to your face.

It’s not because you actually enjoy his company, and it’s not because the thought of him sets your blood on fire. It’s not because he’s right about how you bury your head into your pillow, two fingers deep imagining how his cock would fill you better than his fingers, and it’s most certainly not because you moan his name when you come.

He’s just a very good babysitter.

He’s just a very good babysitter.

As your daughter leads him further inside, he looks back at you with that cock-sure grin—the one that makes your hand itch again.

“Same time tonight?”

[crepezinhos]

Bohemian Rhapsody

POV: Ever since you found out that your boyfriend’s nickname has been mentioned in one of your favorite songs, Bohemian Rhapsody, you’ve not let him have a single minute of peace from it yet. You’ve been sliding puns, jokes and commentaries in every single conversation you two have had yet, and when you finally realized how cutely grumpy he’s been acting recently, he’ll finally out you back to your place by sliding something else inside you.

⚠️ WARNINGS:

— This is a NSFW piece

— Reader is FEMALE and uses SHE/HER pronouns

— Really quick oneshot

— Degradation, praising, usage of toys, bruising, hair-pulling, overstimulation, creampie and usage of nicknames such as “toy” and “pet”.

“When will this end?” That was the only phrase that has been running in your head for the last minutes.

Because how is this taking so long to end?!

Yeah, Bohemian Rhapsody is 6 minutes long, but you’ve been in this position for barely an hour! You want to rest so bad, but you’re barely in the middle of the song and Scaramouche is going to make sure that you’re 100% done with every syllable of it.

Wrists tied behind your back, legs and feet tied shut together, leaving your ass hanging in the air vulnerably to him, Scaramouche, who was sitting down at the bed with 2 pillows behind him with your chest laying down in his lap and fucking your brains senselessly like he was playing a game.

One of his hand was checking his phone for the lyrics of the music, while his other hand messed with the vibrator’s controller independently. The vibrator was shoved deep down in your pussy long time ago, thrusting you in and out over and over, and you’ve had an orgasm already, which explained your inevitable exhaustion and the creampie hanging in your folds, which he thought made you look twice as beautiful as you already are.

“Mama… ooh-ooh-ooh…” You repeated the lyrics, genuinely using the ‘oohs’ to moan your pleasure out of your body.

“Good…” He praised you while gently tapping at your buttocks with the same hand holding the controller.

“Just killed—” You were immediately shut down by his palm brutally slapping your ass for the tenth time and turning the strength and speed of vibrations to a higher level than before, causing you to scream and whimper in the spot.

“Wrong!” His tone was very ironic, but still very demanding. “Start from ‘Mama’.” He caressed the same spot of your buttocks he slapped, trying to relieve it, although his mean grin told you otherwise.

Every time you made any sort of mistake, he’d punish you just like that. Make you repeat the entire line, sometimes adding the line before it, while being brutally bruised by his hands and overstimulated by the vibrator’s intense waves around your gummy walls.

“Mama… ooh-ooh-ooh… I don’t wanna die…” You paused for a quick moment to process all the pleasure you’ve been trying to condense for the sake of your life.

“I..?” He tried to incite you into continuing with an enormous grin, enjoying every little corner of your pathetic face, whimpering, shaking and mewling with his torture.

“Sometimes—” He sighed and interrupted you again with the same punishment he’s been using, but this time you felt your hair being pulled in his direction right after bruising your ass.

“Word. By. Word.” He leaned closer and whispered in your ear in that dominant tone of his that turned you on.

“I sometimes…” You breathed in and out to process all that pleasure he was giving you. “Wish I’d never been born at all..!” You screamed as loud and quick as you could to make him stop with his punishment on your poor, abused pussy and hair.

“Good, good… Oh, look! Now is your favorite part!” Scaramouche thankful lowered the intensity of the vibrations and the force he applied to your hair, which relieved you so much, you threw your head down to his leg, drooling on his pants pathetically to grin Ally breathe properly . “Oh, no, no, no… you’re not going to relax now, not when we’ve finally arrived in hour favorite part.” He sounded more genuine with his dominance this time, pulling you back to his face by your hair, but this time using your roots instead, managing to control your head too.

So he used that newest power to make you directly stare at him.

“Say. It.” He grinned at you with a maniacal, sadistic smirk, although his other hand, which he used to begin cleaning your drool out of your chin was extremely caring and gentle.

“I see a little silhouetto of a man…” You closed your eyes and begun saying it.

“Which man?” He asked, trying to incite you to continuing as quick as possible.

“Scaramouche, Scaramouche… will you do the fandango?” You opened your eyes again, knowing that it would turn him on like hell to see you filling his ego so submissively and pathetically.

“And am I gonna do the fandango?” He asked, barely blinking in excitement for more of your self-degradation.

If only you hadn’t pissed him off by repeating that verse over and over throughout the entire week… maybe you wouldn’t have to be being so brutally punished like this.

“N-No… you are not…” You shook your head side-to-side, despite his brutal hair-pulling.

“And who’s gonna do any sort of fandango-lap-dance on my dick as soon as we’re done with this?” He touched your foreheads together.

“Me… I will…” You felt Scaramouche other hand move from your cheek to your head immediately after you said such submissive thing.

“So, let me repeat this verse...” He prepared his throat before beginning singing too. “Y/N, Y/N, will you do a fandango-lap-dance on my dick and worship it like the beautiful classic it is?” He sang the verse but in an extended, satirical version of it to degrade you.

“I will…” You nodded. “I’m sorry for pissing you off with my jokes… They weren’t even funny in the first place. From now on, I’ll be a better good girl for you and not piss you off like this again…” You said the words he’s been aching to hear ever since you began moaning the song.

Do you think he hasn’t been preparing this whole punishment and apology session for you when you realized you fucked up? He even made you rehearse that line a couple of times before doing the actual act. You’re dating Scaramouche, girl… what did you expect?

“Good fucking girl.” He slapped your ass in the same spot again, but in a more praising tone. “Now, continue, please…” And despite his satisfaction with your proper apology, he will always prefer to have you more than apologetic…

Also known as… broken.

“Thunderbolt and lighting… very, very frightening me…” You said it, but Scaramouche couldn’t hold his will to giggle at you once again.

“You’re mine… my worthless little fuck-hole to use and dominate whenever the fuck I want…” He commented while admiring the beautiful view he had of you. “Of course you’re forgiven, my love, but you’ll still have to show me just how much you regret being such a naughty, annoying girlfriend this week! So, be a good little pet f’me and keep singing the song like the pathetic, regretful and obedient whore that you are.” You nodded to every single degradation of his and swallowed all your exhaustion down.

“Yes, my mas—” He slapped your ass again, looking more serious than ever.

“Ah, ah, ah, what did I say? Keep singing.” He increased the intensity of the vibrator, chasing your whole body to tremble and arch in his direction.

“Galileo, Galileo…”

Taglist: @amoyanderes @the-stinky-winky @shyentsfoundherink @kindofshyent @bigmantiddys @luminieee @alatusorrow @goofy-ego

Sorry, the fluff is nowhere to be seen!

Don’t forget to like and comment if you liked it <3

[mooshkat]

i haven't watched the episode. don't really care to. but apparently eddie is looking at houses in el paso?? and i've always related way too much to buck and the way people in his life leave so much so.

listening to 'please don't go' by abbey glover while writing this is devastating btw. highly recommend to add to the hurt.

tw for suicide attempt.

Buck drops Eddie off at the airport and then just...doesn't go home. He doesn't think as he drives, taking turns and just alert enough to be safe on the road, but honestly? He has no fucking idea how he ends up in the mountains, parking in the small dirt lot at the end of the hiking trail.

Everything feels numb. Static fills his brain and spreads down his neck, all the way to the tips of his fingers.

He turns off the Jeep and takes out the keys. Drops them carelessly into the cup holder.

He should've seen this coming, right? People leave; they always have, and always will. Everyone from his own sister to his ex-girlfriends, and his ex-boyfriend. Now his best friend.

There's just something buried deep into his very being, something built into the coding for Evan Buckley, that makes people leave him. No matter how much he clings and wants to fight for it, they'll walk away from him and his love.

It's him, it has to be.

Buck leaves behind his wallet, his keys, his work bag. Everything is left in the Jeep except for his phone, because no matter how much people leave him with barely a goodbye, it goes against everything that makes Buck, well, Buck to do it himself.

He knows this trail. Tommy and he have been on it before, once or twice after Buck dragged him along with him. They'd stopped at the top, where a small cliff overlooks the beautiful scenery with LA off in the far distance.

He remembers the way Tommy pushed him against a tree and sank to his knees, looking up at Buck with an adorable, bright grin with scrunches up his nose. Buck misses that grin fiercely.

The sun is just beginning to rise as Buck starts his walk. He doesn't go up the mountain with a specific plan in mind, didn't wake up to take Eddie to the airport at four in the morning, and think I'm going to kill myself today, but the higher he gets on the trail, the more he knows.

It's early enough that he has the trail to himself. That's good. It's not, he needs to turn around and go back to the Jeep, go home but his feet keep moving him up, up, up. There's nobody around who will have to see what he's about to do and be traumatized by it.

He's seen more than his share of deaths through work, he knows how badly it can fuck you up. He doesn't want to do that to someone else.

When he gets to the top, Buck stops and just breathes. The air is fresher up here, cleaner. It makes some of the buzzing in his head quiet down. He can feel his fingers again, feel the way his heart pounds from the cardio workout of climbing, and make his hands throb.

He walks to the edge of the cliff and sits down, his feet dangling over the edge. There's a boulder a few feet away from the edge that holds memories of him leaning back against it as Tommy kisses him, holding Buck's hips with hands hot enough to brand him.

His very soul feels branded by Tommy. His chest aches every day, making his stomach sink with a homesick feeling he hasn't had since before he moved to LA. His apartment is still full of the baked goods that he creates every time he has to try to not call or text him.

He doesn't stop himself from calling him today.

Buck almost thinks it's going to go to voicemail before it's picked up at the last second.

"...Go for Kinard?" Tommy answers, clearing his throat. His voice is sleep-rough and deep, and Buck hasn't heard it in so long that it's like applying balm to very shattered, torn edges of a wound. "Hello? Who is–Ev—Buck?"

"Did I ever tell you," Buck starts, and he sounds just as rough, but he's more awake than he ever has been, despite the bone deep tiredness that fills him, "about the fact that I was made to be a savior baby for a brother I never met? My parents made me in a science tube so that they could use my bone marrow to heal my brother, Daniel, but it didn't work. I thought for a little while after I found out that it was because I was defective, but I get it now."

Sheets rustle on the other line before Tommy sits up again. "What are you talking about, Evan? What's wrong?"

Buck continues talking, bowling over Tommy's questions like he didn't hear them. "I think there's something inside of me that's toxic. Toxins drive people away, it makes them sick, it's the only thing I can think of that makes sense for why everybody I love gets sick of me and leaves. It has to be me, right? Nobody stays, not forever. There's something wrong with me and I've finally figured it out."

"No, Evan," Tommy says, voice soft. He can hear the concern, though, the urgency hidden under his tone. There's the sound of jingling keys and a door opening and closing. Tommy's too far away to stop him.

"Sometimes, people leave. It's just what they do, it is nothing about you or what you've done. It's them. Their problems. My problems, that we should–we should sit down and talk about. Evan, where are you? I'm worried."

He almost doesn't want to tell him, but maybe it'd be better for someone to come out and collect his body so he doesn't ruin the trail. Leave it as you found it, or whatever. He gives Tommy his location and ignores the way it starts a mental countdown in the back of his mind. He doesn't have long now.

"It is me, Tommy. I want to believe you, but I can't. Not when hard evidence for almost my entire fucking life says otherwise. My parents emotionally left before I was even born. Maddie. Abby. Other girlfriends. I even lost the 118 at one point–thanks to that stupid mistake with the lawyer. Everybody leaves. And–and now with you, and Eddie. I'm tired, Tommy. I'm so goddamn tired."

Tears drip down Buck's cheeks. It's exhausting, viewing every relationship as a ticking time bomb waiting to go off, waiting for them to exit left out of his life. He thought things might be different with Tommy, it was one of his longest relationships, but he was wrong.

"You know, when you broke up with me that night, you said you'd be my first, but not my last. You were wrong. I-I love you so much, Tommy, even though you broke my heart. I hate you for leaving just like everyone else, but I also love you. You'll always be my first and last now. It's my turn to leave."

"Evan!" Tommy shouts into the phone and Buck cringes. "Evan, please, don't do anything. I'm on my way, okay, baby? Please just sit still and wait for me and we can talk–about everything. Please."

It'd be so easy to lean forward and let gravity do the work to drag him off the edge. The side of the cliff digs into the bottom of his thighs and he kicks his feet, knocking against some of the dirt and watching it tumble down.

His phone starts buzzing insistently in his hand with texts. Tommy must have sent out a message. He doesn't look at any of them as he pulls his phone to set it on Do Not Disturb before putting it to his ear again.

He doesn't know what to do. He wants the hurt to stop, he just wants it all to stop, but he's afraid. What if he's too weak to commit? Just like he's too weak to not let people back into his life, even if he knows they'll just leave again.

Weak and toxic.

He drops his phone onto his lap and hunches down, elbows pressing into his knees as he covers his face. He can hear sirens in the distance getting closer.

A strangled sob rips its way from his throat and he makes his decision.

"Okay. I'll wait for you."

There's an audible sigh of relief from Tommy. "Thank you, Evan. I'll be right there, okay? Keep talking to me, baby."

He doesn't know what to say anymore and tells Tommy as much.

"That's okay, Evan. I-I heard from Howie that you were baking lately? What have you been baking?"

Buck knows what's Tommy's doing. He's stalling so that Buck doesn't kill himself before Tommy and the first responders can get to him. He's done it dozens of times before to people on the edge while he's rescuing them.

"A lot of bread, really. Pumpkin bread, banana bread, butternut squash. I even, uh, have a sourdough starter that I've been feeding for a couple of weeks now. I named it Billy because it looks sometimes just like the, uh, boils I got from the curse when it expands."

Tommy lets out a watery laugh. "Of course, you'd name your sourdough starter." He clears his throat and the sirens are suddenly much louder in Buck's ears before they cut off abruptly. Quiet, rushed talking that Buck doesn't understand before Tommy starts running. "What else?"

"I made baked Alaska pretty soon after we broke up. It took me hours to make, and the entire time it was setting in the freezer, I had to bake other things to stop myself from calling you. I-I don't know if Chim told you that's why I started baking, but it is."

When Tommy responds, it's not through the phone. He comes to a stop beside him. "It sounds like your coping mechanism was more productive than mine, at least. Want to get away from the edge for me, Evan?"

He holds out his hand and Buck takes it with a shaky laugh. "Oh, yeah? What was yours?" The knowledge that Tommy was moping just as bad as Buck makes him feel...something.

"Eating entire pints of ice cream by myself on the couch while watching rom-coms." Tommy pulls Buck to his feet and wraps his arms tight around him. Buck can feel how badly Tommy is shaking. "Thank god you're okay. Thank you so much for calling me, Evan. Fuck."

Buck hugs him back and ignores the paramedics lingering behind him. He knows he's going to be taken away in the ambulance and put under a 72-hour hold because of this. He doesn't think about that, or what it means for his job when he's let out.

He focuses on Tommy and the way he clings to him. He came back. Sure, maybe he'll leave again when the initial scare of everything fades away, but it's more than most people have done in the past.

Tommy pulls away first and holds Buck's face gently in his hands. There are tear tracks on his cheeks and more spill over as he looks Buck over. "I love you too. I didn't say it earlier and didn't say it then, but I am now. I love you so much, Evan Buckley.

It doesn't fix everything, doesn't even scratch the surface, but it raises something dangerous in Buck's chest.

Hope.

[nuria-schnee]

Dead Boy Detectives - Fic Rec List (Part 1)

I've been wanting to do a rec list for a while, and now I have found a bit of time to do so. I've read A LOT of DBD fics in the past months, so I'm gonna split this rec list so this doesn't get insanely long. Also, check the tags of the fic because I'm just adding a few for length's sake.

Anyway, let's dive in! ❤️

Run your fingers through my soul by Hse11z5 (@thenyoumaykissthebride)

| T | 3k | Tags: Love Confessions, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Feelings Realization, Miscommunication, Idiots in Love, Fluff |

“Charles-” Edwin started, his voice catching over his friend’s name. “Just let me… Can I go first, please?” Charles begged, his hands still caught up with Edwin’s. Edwin nodded and swallowed the words he wanted to let escape. “Okay. Don’t be mad. But there’s no case.” Edwin scowled and opened his mouth. Charles winced. “I said don’t be mad! Now, I had to bring you here because there’s something really important I’ve been needing to tell you for a while now and it’s that-” Charles stopped. His hands fell to his side because he no longer had Edwin’s hands to hold. One second Edwin was there and then the next he just… wasn’t. Charles looked around madly, trying to work out what had happened, what kind of magic could have caused him to just disappear in a puff of smoke. That was when he saw the small orb bobbing behind the board games. aka The One Where Charles Fucks Up His Love Confession So Badly Edwin Orbs Out.

Notes: This was the cutest thing ever. I loved it so much, I swear.

and at once i knew i was not magnificent by aletterinthenameofsanity (@aletterinthenameofsanity)

| T | 3k | Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, First Kiss, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Angst with a Happy Ending, Unreliable Narrator |

The problem with being Charles Rowland- or, rather, the truth of being Charles Rowland- is that he is not somebody that people kiss because they truly want to. Or rather, because they truly want him. When he was alive, it was because girls wanted the other guys on the team and he was a decent second option. It was because girls wanted to try out kissing and he did too and why not figure out their problems together? And now that he's dead, it's more of the same, isn't it? Crystal kisses him to try to feel something. And Edwin kisses him because their mouths are close together, and Edwin has just helped Charles through his crisis about his father and Brad and Hunter, and emotions are high, and, well- It makes sense that Edwin kisses Charles right now, doesn't it? It makes sense that Edwin is testing something out, and Charles is the person he trusts to test things out with. (Edwin kisses Charles at the end of Dead Dragons. Charles thinks that Edwin is doing it for practice. Edwin will just have to correct him, won't he?)

Notes: This broke my heart in a million pieces, but it was very worth it. This fic is absolutely brilliant.

the great snogging debacle of '95 by thatgayprince (@prince-simon)

| M | 26k | Tags: First Kiss, Feelings Realization, Getting Together, Disguise, Gender Fuckery, Near Sex Experience, Charles Rowland Has ADHD (DCU), Bisexual Charles Rowland (DCU), Internalized Homophobia, Canon Compliant, Pre-Canon, Post-Canon, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Past Child Abuse |

London, 1995 – Charles Rowland gets ambushed at a house party. He doesn’t think about it for the next 30 years.

Notes: Look, I'll be forever screaming about this one. It was amazing from the first word to the last. I think it rewired my brain, because I couldn't stop thinking about it afterwards.

i’ll be waiting for twenty years (praying for redemption) by aletterinthenameofsanity (@aletterinthenameofsanity)

| E | 4k | Tags: Heavy Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Pre-Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Canon, First Kiss, First Time, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Religious Imagery & Symbolism |

The kindest thing that anyone has ever done for Charles was guide him to death. The cruelest thing that anyone has ever done is tell Charles that they would rather Charles have left with Death in that attic than stuck around. Charles has spent the last thirty years being haunted by the same ghost, of course. What an irony that Charles only started being haunted after he died. (What an irony that Charles only realized he was in love after that same ghost proved that Charles still had a heart in his dead chest, because that heart had broken the moment that Edwin had turned on his heel and left a shattered Charles in the place they once called a home.) And yet, Charles cannot stop wishing for Edwin to just turn around. For Edwin to just turn around and smile and laugh as he did in that attic. For Edwin to smile at him, for Edwin to accept him back, for Edwin to love him. (Edwin and Charles go their separate ways in 1990 and spend the next thirty years pining for each other. Don't worry, they'll figure things out eventually.)

Notes: The way this broke my heart and put it back together, I swear- Absolutely amazing. It's angsty and it hurts, but I have no regrets. I wanted to give it a thousand kudos (please, AO3, let me).

so I try to talk refined by shadowquill17 (@shadowquill17)

| E | 6k | Tags: POV Charles Rowland (DCU), Self-Esteem Issues, Internalized racism, Jealousy, Oblivious Charles Rowland (DCU), Misunderstandings |

Edwin tells Charles about the Cat King taking his appearance and Charles, after he's done being angry, thinks about it some more and comes to the conclusion that the only reason that could happen and Edwin could still be more flustered by the Cat King when he didn't look like Charles... is that Edwin doesn't find Charles attractive. He has no idea why it feels so painful.

Notes: This made me feel INSANE in the best of ways. I re-read it often and enjoy it as much as the first time. Thank you, @shadowquill17, for this amazing fic.

That Story Ends Tragically by Alexander_Writes (@neitherthehoneynorthebee)

| M | 12k | Tags: Ep 7 canon divergence, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Found Family, Pre-Canon Scenes, Violence, Internalized Homophobia, Trauma, Love Confessions, First Kiss |

"Can you explain this?" Charles begged. "Charles, don't leave," said the boy behind them. Edwin glared, but forcefully smoothed his expression when he looked back at Charles. "Hell is ... perceptive. It likes to snare souls. What is ..." He swallowed, throat moving with it. "What is the thing that you are most scared of, right now?" "Losing you." Or, what if Charles got lost trying to find Edwin in Hell?

Notes: MY GOD THE BRILLIANCE OF THIS. This was so well written it had me on the edge of my seat from start to end. The angst and the resolution of it were incredible.

Turnabout's Fair Play by LikeMmmCookies (@likemmmcookies)

| E | 7k | Tags: Edwin learns to flirt, Charles is down so bad, Edwin wears SHORTS, Charles walks into a door about it, Cute and silly, Cheesy flirting |

Edwin learns how to flirt.

Notes: This one had me giggling and kicking my feet because it was so amazing. It was such a fun and sweet read that I just had to include it in this list.

A gentleman by Superfriki

| Not Rated | 2k | Tags: First Kiss, Getting Together, Courting Rituals, Fluff, Love Confessions, Charles being a simp, Niko and Charles being friends |

“Niko, I can’t walk into the office with a flower bouquet and ask Edwin to let me court him. He would shit himself and run the other way” He looked at the girl, worry etched into his brow. “Don’t worry, you can do some things before that. Maybe you could start by getting him a gift or being a gentleman with him” “Oi! I’m always a gentleman with him” - Or Charles tries to woo Edwin in the Edwardian way.

Notes: ABSOLUTE FLUFF. The love. The courting. Everything about is a 10/10.

The Case of Richard Rowland by RB (BlueflowersandWings) (@writerofstuff)

| M | 31k | Tags: Post-Canon, Case Fic, Abusive Parents, Past Child Abuse, Childhood Trauma, Recovery, Hurt/Comfort, Homophobia, Angst with a Happy Ending, Developing Relationship, Getting Together, Romantic Tension, Mutual Pining |

"Right on time, Charles," Edwin calls as he phases in through their office door. "It seems that we have a new client. We were just about to—" Charles freezes. "As I was saying," Charles' father coughs, sat across from Edwin with his back to the door, "my name is Richard Rowland, and I believe I have been murdered." — Or: Charles' father dies on a Sunday. On Monday, he arrives at the doorstep of the Dead Boy Detective Agency.

Notes: One of my all-time faves, honestly. This one hit me in the feelings with such force and shook me so fundamentally I had to stare at the wall for a bit after reading some scenes. It's angsty, but it's brilliantly written. Thank you @writerofstuff for this masterpiece.

a part of me that will never be mine by tragedy_machine (@tragedy-machine)

| E | 22k | Tags: Mutual Pining, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Unreliable Narrator, Oblivious Edwin Paine, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Getting Together, First Kiss, First Time, Love Confessions |

Edwin tells Charles he loves him in Hell, but when Charles quickly responds with his own breathless 'I love you', Edwin assumes his friend meant it platonically, so he gives up halfway through his confession, leaving out the crucial 'I'm in love with you' part. Dejected, he decides to keep his feelings a secret. Meanwhile, Charles has been in love with his best mate for years, so when they unexpectedly exchange 'I love yous' on the staircase of Hell, Charles happily assumes that they've just started dating and are just going at a really slow pace. Needless to say, they're not really on the same page. --- OR: because of a misunderstanding during the confession in Hell, Charles thinks they're dating now, while Edwin believes his love will stay unrequited forever

Notes: This fic has my whole heart, I swear. It's one of my faves ever, and the sensation of receiving the email when it was updated was unparalleled. A true jewel. Thank you @tragedy-machine

pinch me (I don't want this to be a dream) by shadowquill17 (@shadowquill17)

| E | 15k | Tags: Accidental Mind Reading, Light Angst, Oblivious Charles Rowland (DCU), Misunderstandings, Love Confessions, First Kiss, Getting Together|

Charles has never met a magical object he didn’t want to use. He might have gotten cursed a couple times over the years, but he also found some great stuff that way, and it keeps his afterlife exciting, you know? So when he and Edwin find something called “Desire’s Pince-Nez”, spelled glasses that make you see someone’s desires if you look into their eyes, Charles doesn’t really think twice before trying them on.

Notes: This one killed me and revived me with every line. I cannot express properly how much I loved it, but it's one of the fics I re-read most often, so I guess that says something. Seriously, it's amazing,.

[reflingthefox]

When Tango notices it, lying down maybe a dozen blocks away from the Factory's entrance, he jumps so high he hits his head into the upper blocks.

He lands butt flat on the floor, dull ache in more than one part of his body now. Gasps for air; fear slowly receding in his lungs is replaced by disbelief. Tango scrambles back to his feet, whips a torch out of his inventory and steps closer to look.

The snail shell, highlighted by the flickers of fire, is still there.

Unmoving.

Tango chokes down a distressed sound and makes one step closer, looking the shell over. He can clearly see the red-and-black patterning on the shell, the leather accessory that imitates his vest pockets. It's gotta be the same one, from the Life server, or a very good replica.

Is this some sort of a prank? Why now? ...Why him? Tango notices the first wisps of anger settling inside him, his breathing starting to taste like smoke. You don't prank people with something that chased them to death so many times, that's evil and traumatic and -

The shell moves.

Tango screams and attempts to flee, tripping over his tail and falling face first in barely ten steps.

He pushes himself on his back, gasping every tick, and watches as the snail emerges, plopping out a first long, redstone-torch eyestalk, then another. Mind going blank from fear, Tango tries to crawl backwards, make some distance or -

He expects the directed movement, the jump, but the snail doesn't seem to pay attention to him. It stretches out its body, waves its eyes around a bit, and starts making its way towards the Factory wall. Oh - oh, maybe it's gonna eat the walls, Tango's brain supplies. That's kinda - normal? Considering that's what snails do. And what Tango did in that Life game, too.

He lets out a shaky laugh, and tries to reach for the comm. It's unlikely that anyone else is awake and free, it's kinda night o'clock outside, but - what if. His hands are shaking so much he almost drops the comm; Tango steadies them, and types in chat, watching the foul beast crawl all over his wall.

[Tango:] Question to all Lifers: does anyone hve a snail around?

The creature seems to decide vertical surfaces are overrated, and crawls back down, settling on a patch of grass and munching on it. The comm beeps, and Tango jolts with a squeak again, dropping it this time.

[GoodTimeWithScar:] what do you mean a snail

[GoodTimeWithScar:] OH MY GOD A SNAIL

Not to say that someone else's misery makes Tango feel better, but - It does. It honestly does.

Then, the snail makes an eye contact with him.

Tango tries to get moving, scramble away, as it starts moving towards him. Eerily silent, too - no weird vocalizations it had back then, no heralding its approach. Another push of his limbs fails, he freezes, as if paralyzed, terror pounding in his skull, and the murder snail closes the distance.

Nothing bad can happen to him, right, Tango tries to frantically reassure himself. It's Hermitcraft. He just respawns, and everything will be fine. Right?

The snail approaches his outstretched leg - Tango tries to pull it closer to himself, but fails - raises its head, waving it around unsure for a couple seconds, and nuzzles his boot.

Tango stills his breath, waiting for a flash and a yank of respawn.

Nothing happens.

The snail pulls its face over his boot, nipping at the shoelaces and wiggling its eyestalks. Tango forces himself to start moving - after several long unsuccessful attempts, he manages to bend enough to sit up, raise his stiff paralyzed arm, and touch the snail's face.

It contracts on itself, eyestalks retracting into the face, but nothing else happens.

No murder.

Relief washes over him so fast that Tango simply flops on the ground, an approximation of unstuffed plush toy. His heart still pounding in his head, mouth feeling like ashes - he takes a breath, and another, and lets out a long, tired groan, closing his eyes.

He still feels the snail crawling further up his leg, very interested in that part of his pants where he knows the biggest redstone stain sits, - and he can't hold a gaspy, shrieky laughter.

Cute snail. Cute little hungering beast.

That's a change of plans for tomorrow, though - he gotta go murder Grian.

[homeofhousechickens]

Arctic Eggs and CHICKENS ramble

There is a ton of themes and stuff and different interpretations going on in this game but Im going to just talk about the chickens an the stuff i noticed.

To start off, the chickens are modeled after a red sex link production hens a type of hen bred for egg production at the cost of their lifespan. Battery hens rarely make it past their second birthday. Im not sure if the devs chose this breed on purpose or if it was just what a generic chicken looked like in their mind. Maybe they chose this breed because a white chicken would be washed out in the arctic environment.

The game starts with the player looking at the chickens in the cages and it brings up a lot of questions. Why are there so many chickens? Why are we the player character here? After you walk through this poultry prison you are tasked with the job of a poultry prepper meaning you cook eggs. It doesn't matter how many eggs you drop there is always more to fall into your pan. Its interesting to me that there is a surplus of chickens and eggs but their is apparently a food shortage going on in the game.

I think the player character has much more in common with the battery hens then they realize. It doesn't matter though you are greeted with the first line in the game, "Can you fry eggs ontop of Mount Everest?" It seems like and irrelevant question and in a way it is.

This game is quick to show you that you have very little freedom, same with the people you are cooking for. A lot of people are hungry and its not really for food is it? You cook cigs, bullets, beer, sardine cans and cockroaches. Eggs are not the only thing on the menu.

As you play the game multiple people tell you they are caring for the chickens but they are worried about what happens to them when they get taken away. Many seem quite distraught that they aren't being told what is happening to them especially since eating poultry has been banned (but not eggs). Some people still think about eating the chickens but are quickly disgusted by it soon after. One person even said they all "taste like tomatos now"

We can almost see this worry about caring for something and having it be taken away paralleled to the robot prisoners and their cockroaches, one of them weeping over the roaches you cooked for them like they were their own children. We can assume people also get taken away in this game, we see the prisons and the discarded brain in the garbage after all. Maybe this isnt about losing the chickens or the roaches? Maybe the poeple raising the chickens wish to know if they are being eaten?

There is no privacy in this game, people squat over toilets full of feces in front of everyone and the prisoners do the same as the guards watch. It reminds me of the conditions of a chicken battery cage, cramped and full of feces. These people are living very similar lives to the chickens with little freedom to choose how they live.

After feeding the necessary amount of people you go and meet the Saint of Six Stomachs, the supposed ruler/dictator of this place. He is an amalgam of organs and.. chickens? To me It is implied 3 of his stomachs are hens. You see these trapped chickens right before you see his face. Perhaps this is why chickens are banned because the Saint is made up of chickens, maybe this is where the chickens who are taken away go. This part of the Saint's anatomy fascinates me. You go and cook the hens 6 eggs.

Afterwards you are met with the Saint's head eerily making eye contact from their glass container. After cooking his egg he asks "Can you fry eggs ontop of Mount Everest?" He says he never thought about it since it was irrelevant to him. He is right about that, how would someone in his situation even think about doing that, like you and the chickens he is trapped. Just like to the player character it is a nonsense question that is irrelevant.

The credits roll after you grasp the saints hand, you pilot some kind of fighter plane to a mountain where you have a serious crash landing. As you and your friend look over the wreckage (where you may have died in tbh) you ignore your objective of frying eggs since you abandoned your pan at the Saint's and climb the mountain finding a chicken out of her cage perched on a rock. Maybe the chicken is here because you need an egg or maybe she is here because she made the choice to be. It is quite likely the player character will die on the mountain or is already dead.

The game ends after you slowly reach out and pet the chicken.

This game is absurd and challenging. The surreal vibes can kind of make it easy to not take it seriously especially with all the silly dialog but there is something very special about this game and what it is saying. I think it really "gets" chickens as a symbol as well and it was nice to see a game really use them for its story.

[some-stars]

not sure what this is or if it's part of an actual story but here, have 500 words of soft poolverine co-sleeping, why not.

--

The first night Logan shares a bed with Wade, he sleeps like the dead out of pure exhaustion. So does Wade, as far as he can tell, because when Logan stumbles dry-mouthed and confused into consciousness well past noon the next day, Wade's still passed out and drooling onto his pillow. It's not until the second night that things get back to normal--normal, in Logan's case, being the nightmares that rattle him awake every couple of hours, every muscle in his body clenched tight.

He hasn't given any thought whatsoever to what normal might be for Wade, but lying there soaked in sweat and trying to breathe his pulse gradually back down to something that doesn't hurt his chest means he has a front row seat to Wade twitching, muttering, jerking, and generally seeming to have a pretty shit time. After a minute or two, watching him like that starts to feel uncomfortably like none of Logan's business, so he rolls over and tries to fall back asleep. It's hard to ignore, especially when Wade lets out a low whine like a hurt dog right as Logan's on the edge of drifting off again. But he manages eventually.

It happens again the next night, and the next, so it's clear that this is just a fact Logan knows now about his new roommate, among the other facts he's accumulating. Wade watches cartoon porn in the living room in the middle of the day; Wade asks for "Thai hot" when they order takeout and actually likes it that way; Wade's liquor cabinet is stocked with two dozen flavored vodkas and three kinds of Kahlua and nothing else; and Wade sleeps bad. He never seems to wake up from whatever bad dreams he's having, though, or at least Logan never sees it happen. He wishes Wade would wake up. Logan knows how much worse it is to be trapped in the nightmare.

It gets harder and harder to ignore. A couple weeks in, after jerking awake from his own dream to find his left claws halfway out and buried in his pillow--if they'd come out all the way they'd be stuck in his own fucking face, so at least he's not dealing with that--Logan finally snaps. Wade's mumbling something incoherent that sounds from the tone like a plea, and his face is streaked with tears, and Logan's too tired to think about what he's doing when he scoots over next to Wade and wraps his arm around him, pulling him in close. 

Wade does wake up then, lifting his face from Logan's chest and meeting Logan's eyes with his own, wide and worried. "What--" It comes out as a hoarse whisper. "What are you...are we cuddling?"

He sounds genuinely confused, not even awake enough to make a joke. "Go back to sleep," Logan tells him, and closes his eyes.

After a couple seconds, Wade relaxes against him. "Okay," he says, agreeable and content like Logan's never heard him when he's awake. Maybe ten seconds later he's out again, breathing deep and even, soft in Logan's arms. The easy rhythm of it is hypnotic. Logan falls asleep and stays that way until morning.

--

tumblr hid the first version of this post because apparently i used a Naughty Word in the tags, but they refused to tell me WHICH word and just suggested i "change the tags around a bit" and see if that helped. which i can't even do, because of course a post from seventeen hours ago isn't going to show up in the Recent Posts view in the tag whether or not it's tagged with the Forbidden Term. so here are the original tags and if anyone is still giving any money at all to tumblr, i am BEGGING you to quit.

#the original plan was porn but i realized i'd need more groundwork for that#if this does turn into a story it's going to lead to logan offering to get wade off to help him get back to sleep#and wade who is still fuzzy and dumb from nightmare-brain agreeing to it#so logan spoons him and jerks him off and when wade comes he kisses the back of his neck and they both fall asleep very quickly and easily#then the next morning wade wakes up with his dick out and logan (still asleep) rutting lazily against his ass#and then. idk tbh. haven't gotten that far

[animeyanderetalker]

I think this will be a Gojo/Geto/Sukuna thing. If the Darling is insecure about her looks, they will fuck her infront of the mirror/s and forcing her look at herself. Maybe even fuck her, when she is leaning on the window or even Infront of their followers/minions.

Tw: Nsfw, non-con, dub-con, mirror sex, humiliation kink, power display

I 100% agree with Sukuna for the point of fucking his darling in front of his minions. It's just such a power display for him, knowing that he can bully his cock inside of you and have others watch as he rails you into the ground all whilst knowing that no one dares to speak up or voice their uncomfortable feelings with the situation.

I take it one step further and say he'd even fuck his darling in a bloody battlefield of his enemies or even other women who threw themselves at him, offering themselves in hopes of mercy, protection or simply to seduce and use him. If he were to consider you ugly and worthless you would have ended up like the dead bodies around you, dismembered and severed with limbs scattered in all directions.

By all means, sweet-talking and Sukuna are two words that do not belong together and he would certainly degrade you verbally just as much. However, if he tells you that your looks are alright you will stop moping around like a bratty kid and if he has to fuck you to hammer that into your brain he will gladly do it.

Mirror sex I can see most realistically see with Gojo. He would never expose his darling to the eyes of others, especially when she's naked and vulnerable beneath him. Now, considering that Gojo attracts people left and right it is not unsurprising that you might start to get insecure about your appearance because you realise that theoretically Satoru has a lot of choices besides you.

Gojo, as a response when noticing your insecurities, would amplify his affection tenfold. That's when mirror sex probably comes in and with the shit ton of money that he has I wouldn't even be surprised if he designs an entire room filled with mirrors and then makes love for you for hours in that room and no matter where you look, your reflection will always look back at you.

Whilst he wouldn't ever let anyone see you naked I can imagine that in case someone attempts to seduce him and convince him that they're better he makes an audio the next time he makes love to you and then plays it to the other person, clarifying that they could never elicit such sounds from him like his darling.

Geto is kind of tricky because he really struggles to accept the fact that he is in love with his non-sorcerer darling. Similar to Sukuna he isn't the kindest with his words either as he actively tries to put you down so that you feel like the worthless monkey that you are. As his followers share his beliefs I do not believe that he would fuck you in front of them.

There could be a point made for him doing the dirty deed with you in front of other non-sorcerers because to him they are disposable and even more worthless than you are. However, even that is rare and would most likely be used when he really wants to humiliate you or punish you in which case the non-sorcerer being forced to watch might be someone far too close to you for his liking.

At one point he would switch his feelings as he is forced to embrace his feelings more and more. He still is far away from a Prince Charming for obvious reasons as he will never view you as an equal to sorcerers but you are no longer in the same category as the humans he views as monkeys. Then he would be more confrontal if you were to harbor insecurities because he still chose you, meaning that you should at the very least realise that you are more special than other non-sorcerers.

[boom-butterflyeffect]

bless you and your until dawn hcs, they feed the freak in me...[hehe]

anyways until dawn men with a reader who likes biting them and how well the boys would react to it, PLEASE AND THANK YOUUUUU

i am here to feed the freaks

(very slowly tho because my brain sucks a bit)

UNTIL DAWN MEN BITEY STUFF

Matt

Hmm... this is a difficult one. I don't think Matt would be into biting, but if there was a reader who enjoyed biting him, he'd just kinda get used to it, and find it silly and a bit funny. Gets bit and just shakes his head with a sigh and a smile on his face. "You're a weirdo. Y'know that, right?" but his tone couldn't be more affectionate.

Chris

I feel like biting would catch Chris very much by surprise, and he wouldn't know how to feel about it. Could probably initiate some playful wrestling with him restraining your hands, "Would you stop that?" with a big smile on his face. Would make zombie and/or cannibal jokes.

"I know I'm just so irresistibly muscular and whatever, but can you try not to eat me?"

Josh

Oh boy. If you bite, he's biting back harder. I hc him as a bit of a masochist as well as a sadist, and would absolutely LOVE a reader that bites him. Lots of play wrestling, biting, getting pinned, all part of the fun for him.

Now if you bite during sex, that's a whole other thing. That's just motivating him to go even harder.

Mike

Mike thinks it's funny and endearing, even though it catches him off guard sometimes. He gets used to it. He scolds you like you're a puppy,

"Hey, that's not nice." as he pries your teeth from him, with that trademark smirk of his on his face, trying not to laugh.

During sex, it's like a bit of reassurance that he's doing good, and that you're enjoying it, so he's got no complaints.

[userautumn]

i need to have this on my blog and then i need to never think about liam payne or one direction ever again (until july 23rd. naturally.)

sitting here on the day of his funeral, i realize i have yet to articulate all my thoughts and feelings surrounding liam's death. the way he died haunts me, and the patchwork good-and-bad of his legacy in the eyes of the public is a quilt left unfinished. that bothers me the most. the finality bothers me. not in a depressing way, in an annoying way. the itch in my brain that regards death with a blase practicality goes to war with the author in me who likes to tie character arcs off with a nice, satisfying bow, but both sides hate when things are left unspoken and unsaid. that shouldn't be allowed; a person shouldn't be allowed to die when so many parts of their story are left unwritten. that doesn't seem fair. but if the concept of fair truly existed, i'm not really sure we would be here anyway.

there are so many aspects to liam's person that i have pondered over these past four weeks. and as i sit here trying to articulate these aspects in a tumblr post that is, alarmingly, shaping up to look like something of an obituary, i realize that to try to articulate these feelings is a losing battle. to do so now would be to shift all the thoughts that are currently in my head from where they are (my job and the implications of the us election) to where i'd need them to be (my youth, and the impact one direction had on my life when i was young) in order to make the words and feelings stick, and i can't (won't) do that right now.

what i will say is that liam payne was young. he burned bright like a falling star. my relentless optimism and faith in his inherent goodness believes he would have rebuilt himself one day if he'd given himself the chance. but what ifs and speculations are often poisonous and misleading and, as they will never come to fruition, they're meaningless to ponder anyway. i mourn who liam was in his youth; i mourn that floppy haired boy with the bright smile and the spoonphobia (ha.) i mourn who he was at the time of his death, a man who was lost and absent from reality because his current chapter held no joy and no hope, no promise of change. and i mourn who he never got to become, because all those version of liam payne are, indeed, versions of liam payne. and i had (and still have) so much love for that person.

i've never been a "rest in peace, i'll see you again soon </3" kind of person because, well, i've always found it to be corny, if i'm honest. (no offense or judgement to anyone who grieves that way). as mentioned, i approach death very practically and matters of the afterlife and faith are met with the same complexity. i don't know if we'll see liam again. but i do know that liam payne exists to me as he always has - as a voice playing through my speakers, as a kind face on youtube, and i am thankful for the years in which i got to exist at the same time as him. what a gift and a treasure they were.

[in-uthenera-we-wait]

It's been a few days since I completed the Veilguard and I am going feral about the dynamics between Mythal, Solas and Lavellan...

It's just a bittersweet kind of pain when I think of them and I want to get my thoughts out before I am overwhelmed by them. Also, this post took way longer than expected to write!

Detailed deep-dive under the cut (to avoid spoilers)

Colour-coded because my brain is weird like that!

Also this is a loooooong post... you have been warned!

On Mythal:

It is clear right from the start (of when we discover the memories of the Dread Wolf) that Mythal is an integral part of who Solas was... Or should I say, who Fen'Harel was/is.

Solas, as a spirit had no desire to take a body and took one for the love of Mythal.

And when I say love, I do not see it as something purely romantic... It goes above and beyond that and not always in the right way.

She sought to mould him into someone she could use. She saw it as Benevolence (the attribute that her spirit is supposed to represent), but I think her purpose had been corrupted even then, even before Solas gets his body at her behest.

The reason I believe it's so is because, true Benevolence doesn't discriminate and denotes a desire to do good for others. Compassion is that desire enacted.

Mythal's benevolence was conditional. Her benevolence came at the cost of suffering for the Titans. So, there was a sliver of selfishness to her purpose. This isn't necessarily bad but this means that she is no longer truly what her Spirit was supposed to depict, not completely. And this sliver of selfishness is what permeates the entire relationship she has with Solas.

We, as the player, have only ever seen Mythal either through the very rosy lens of the Elvhen who worshipped her very much like the way Solas does, or through Flemeth. The latter is no longer the Mythal that Solas knew. She is a fragment of the original who has gained the wisdom and experience of millennia through the hosts she inhabited.

The truest depiction of what Mythal must really have been like is the fragment we encounter in the Crossroads. She honestly, isn't as likeable as Flemeth/Morrigan was/is.

She is openly haughty, expecting her petitioners to convince her of the dangers to the world outside, and sounds almost bitter that her most ardent devotee hasn't visited her once since she was killed and the remnant of her essence was extracted from the dagger to reside in the Crossroads. She faults Solas to an extent for her fate, and clearly doesn't hold him as beholden as he does her.

So, it felt weird to me that she would be so willing to release him from her service, even more so if you had to fight her for the fragment (as I had to).

The only way I can see her being moved to help convince Solas (especially if we fought her in her dragon form) is that she was observing the world outside the crossroads when she is in Rook's possession, the way Rook interacted with Solas, and even more so the way the Inquisitor speaks of her friend/vhenan.

On Solas:

Solas... the man, the myth, the legend! Where do I even begin to unravel the mess that he is!

Originally, a spirit of Wisdom, tied to Mythal in a way that has him put through the thumbscrews of War and Strife, so much so that I see his transformation into Pride as something like a callus that forms over skin that has been rubbed a few times too many.

His love for Mythal was the start of his doom, and right there, his purpose was changed from Wisdom. Because, wisdom would have remained a Spirit.

Now, the nature of that love is up for debate. Again, I don't see it as something that is purely romantic. Though, I think the way he feels for her is different from the way Mythal feels about him. There is more devotion on his side. He says that he will follow wherever she goes and takes on a physical form for her.

And then, slowly, one step after another, he strays away from the path of wisdom - crafting the Lyrium dagger, making the Titans tranquil, allowing the other Evanuris to claim godhood, letting Mythal persuade him to each of these steps, his regrets have her face.

Remember the following dialog he has with the Inquisitor after they drink from the Well of Sorrows? When he asks them how they will ensure the Inquisition doesn't fail, and when the following dialogue ensues...

Let me present you with evidence on how much he was hurt by that.

INQUISITOR: I trust my friends.

SOLAS: I know that mistake well enough to carve the angles of her face from memory.

We had already posited that the 'her' in the dialogue above was about Mythal. But back then, we had assumed it was because of the trust Mythal had in the evanuris that caused her death. What if it wasn't so? What if he was speaking of the trust HE had in HER?! He trusted Mythal to stand by him as he had stood by her. And she had failed him.

It could be that this is after her death, but something tells me this was before. Because Felassan's response to Mythal not joining them would be different if it was because she was dead.

So, we've established just how hung up he is about Mythal, because he has this vision of hers that might not even be true. He views her through the lens of adoration and worship that ends up putting her on a pedestal rather than view her as the flawed person she is. He could never be truly free unless he sets aside these feelings he has for her.

I also found it interesting that he has refused to visit the fragment of Mythal that was stuck to the dagger when she was killed. That fragment is the truest version of his friend as she was when she died. He refuses to acknowlege Flemeth and even Morrigan as Mythal.

Even in the end, it is this fragment of Mythal that he knows and remembers that releases him from her service. Because he wouldn't accept it from anyone else!

And with that established, let's move to the final part of this triptych.

The Inquisitor is a tricky one to analyse because they can be so many different things depending on the player. But for this essay, I will be focussing on Lavellan who romanced Solas and sought to change his heart.

On the Inquisitor:

She is everything that Solas believes is wrong with the veiled world his actions resulted in. A shadow of his people, tranquils with no connection to the Fade (especially true if Lavellan is not a mage). He also begins to believe that the anchor is what makes her who she is. That has to be the case, because any other explanation would make his future plans questionable!

But then, she walks into his life, curious and bright, kind and caring, asking him questions with an open heart! The first thing she does is assure him she would protect him from prosecution. She changes everything!

He tries to justify his feelings for her by assuming that the anchor has changed her. But nope! She shoots that down as well. She is truly herself, with or without the anchor. A rare and marvelous spirit.

Lavellan sees him for who he truly yearns to be seen as. Wisdom. She seeks to understand him and asks nothing in return. She is ready to help him whenever he asks for it, and even when he doesn't. She tells him he does not need to mourn alone, when his spirit friend passes!

His one true fear: Dying Alone... and she allays it by promising to be with him, no questions asked.

He almost decides to give it all up and stay with her... as just Solas. To be with the one true person who truly saw him beyond the cool and collected mask he wears. But he doesn't... In another world perhaps but not this one.

And so, he leaves her in the end, because his regrets are too much to be set aside so easily. He also sees bringing down the veil as an act of self-sacrifice, now more necessary than ever because this would mean She would live on happily in a world where his mistakes don't exist anymore. Also, he doesn't want her to see what he would become.

But she perseveres. Every time he pulls away, she reaches out. The parallels between the Solas/Mythal and Lavellan/Solas relationship is just *Chef's kiss*!

She represents Hope for me. And I'd say, she is true to her purpose that way. Even when things don't go the way she wishes it did, she still hopes. Her Hope springs eternal. And that is what saves her, Solas and the entirety of Thedas!

So, towards the end, her Hope burns bright against his Regret. But he is unable to see it until he sets his own regrets aside. And for that to happen, he needed Mythal to release him.

Mythal was his past. But Lavellan is his eternal future. It was up to him to move from one to the other.

Once he was free from that bondage, he could look towards Hope.

Only then could he truly see it... that she had seen him as he truly was, and she loved him... that she loves him still.

In the end, her love did endure, and how!

'Var lath vir Suledin' indeed!