#but its more likely to come from a place of low self worth

[tarareindeer]

Hello pookie.

Since you're taking requests, I'm gonna shoot my shot.

How about something with Vander, where the Reader came into The Last Drop, perhaps they are like a friend/acquaintance of Babette's that had a rough confrontation with a rude client of the brothel earlier. And the client like also appears in the bar and some kind of brawl happens? Gender neutral reader if possible, maybe they're also like low-key sassy and strong. This is totally self indulgent not gonna lie.

Off topic, I love the Vander part 1 fic you wrote! The concept is so AAAAAAA FIRE to me. I can't wait to see what's going to happen next. I have so many assumptions in my head about events that might take place further on.

Also you're so real for the writing in English when it's not your first language, I'm the same.

thank u pooks,I'll do more in future give sum time to come up with the story :)

The Last Drop was as rowdy as ever, the kind of chaos that felt like home if you squinted hard enough. You stepped in, shaking off the leftover annoyance from earlier. Babette had convinced you to help out at the brothel for the night a solid mistake in hindsight. You were expecting the usual: side-eyeing greasy clients, keeping an ear out for any trouble, maybe breaking up a spat or two. What you didn’t expect was some wannabe top dog mouthing off like he owned the place.

And of course, now here he was.

You clocked him the moment you stepped into Vander’s bar. The same slimy guy with his oversized ego and cheap cologne, leaning over a table like he thought he was in a K-drama.

“Oh, hell no.” You muttered, weaving through the crowd. Your face must’ve been giving away your internal commentary because Vander caught sight of you from behind the bar, raising a brow.

“You alright there?” he asked, sliding a pint to another patron.

“Peachy,” you shot back, but your eyes were already locked on the dude. “Just peachy. Except for him.”

Vander followed your gaze and let out a low chuckle. “Guessing there’s a story here?”

“More like a Yelp review: one star, do not recommend, would fight again,” you said, rolling up your sleeves.

But apparently, karma was playing the long game, because there he was, right smack in the middle of the bar, holding court like he owned the place. You stopped dead, your jaw clenching.

“Don’t do it,” you muttered to yourself. “Not worth it. Be the bigger person.”

Then he spotted you, and his face lit up with a grin so smug it should’ve been illegal. “Well, if it isn’t Babette’s little errand runner,” he called out, loud enough to make the whole bar turn your way.

Oh, it was on.You grinned, all teeth, and took a step closer. “And yet, here I am. Living rent-free in that hollow skull of yours.”

You squared your shoulders and marched toward the counter, locking eyes with Vander. “Vodka,”

The guy stood up, all swagger and no substance. “Still salty from earlier, huh?” he sneered. “Thought you’d learned your place.”

“Yeah, I did,” you shot back, stepping closer. “It’s somewhere above you.”

The crowd ooh-ed, and Vander sighed, wiping a glass as though he hadn’t seen this exact situation play out a hundred times before. “You break it, you buy it,” he muttered under his breath.

You smiled, slow and dangerous. “Alright, bet.”

And with that, chaos erupted. Tables flipped, drinks spilled, and the poor bartender who tried to intervene got a swift “Stay out of it, Huck” from you. Vander didn’t step in until the dude was flat on his back, groaning like a broken accordion.

“That’s enough,” he said, grabbing the guy by the scruff of his neck and hauling him toward the door. “Out.”

Once the guy was gone, Vander turned to you, his arms crossed. “Feel better?”

“Immensely,” you said, brushing your hands off. “Also, sorry about the mess,"

“Yeah, but I’m the fun kind,” you said, grabbing your drink off the counter like you hadn’t just caused a small riot.

And just like that, the bar settled back into its usual rhythm. Well, mostly because now everyone was watching you like you were some kind of folk hero.

“Round’s on me,” Vander finally said, chuckling to himself. “Least I can do for the entertainment.”

[r3starttt]

GHOSTFACE ELLIE

PAIRING: Ellie x reader

SUMMARY: Quiet girl turns out to be a psycho <3

CW: phone sex. guided masturbation. fingering. knife play.

AN: as always @clairoscharm thanks for reading my stuff and supporting my delusional ass AND total creds to this for the dialogue

TAGLIST | KINKTOBER: @s4pphic-myth @levilvrr @girlkisser168 @bilsvlt @tlouloser @marsworlddd @softlikesilk-chiffon @grey-jedi12 @slut4ellienabby @roos4lm4 @elliezlils11utt @1-800-fantasy @ellieswifee232 @rob1nbuckl3ys @abbys-muscles | ELLIE'S TAGLIST: @ilovetaylorrr @imdrowningindispair @rkivedpages @elliesmistress @aouiaa @chlobearsworld @crispers @bruhhtsukjf @twopeoplee

Lying in bed, the glow of your phone the only light in the room, you scroll mindlessly, your limbs heavy with the dull ache of hours spent in the same position. A pillow is wedged between your legs, more out of habit than comfort, and the phone in your hand holds you captive in an endless loop. It’s been five hours, maybe more.

Your attention flits from one post to another until, once again, you land on her. That girl. The one you’ve been following for months now. She’s pretty, but not in an obvious way. She wears glasses, those chunky ones that somehow make her even more intriguing, and her wardrobe is an exercise in minimalism: basic tees, old Converse, jeans that have seen better days. Yet, it suits her. She doesn’t need anything more.

She’s intelligent, too. You’ve seen it in the rare moments she speaks up in class, offering insight that stands in stark contrast to the usual drivel from the self-assured brunette at the front of the room, whose every comment is met with the weary nod of a teacher who’s simply given up.

But not her. She’s different. She only speaks when she has something worth saying.

You’ve never really spoken to the girl you’re watching now, the quiet one, the one with the pins on her backpack that match all your obsessions. But you’ve heard her, overheard her really—laughing with her small group of friends, a sound that’s more music than noise. And that laugh, paired with her intelligent, effortless aura, keeps you coming back to her profile. You scroll through her feed again, trying to piece together more of who she is. But it’s hopeless, really.

You know better than to hope.

You’ve overheard her laughing with her friends, and once—just once—you caught a snippet of conversation that seemed to be about someone like you. They joked about how a person like you would be the perfect way for her to "get out of her comfort zone," before she rolled her eyes and tossed a gummy at her friend, who ate it off the floor with a grin. The image of that moment clings to you, taunting. Maybe if you were the kind of person who ate floor gummies, maybe if you filled your pink backpack with pins and trinkets like hers, she’d notice you. Maybe then you wouldn’t seem so insignificant.

But it’s a foolish thought, really. All of it becomes irrelevant when you see her newest post, a fleeting story—her hair, damp and messy, clinging to her face, and an oversized red shirt, soaked through in the same vibrant hue. The image is imperfect but mesmerizing. Did she mean to post it? Probably not, because just as you finish taking a screenshot, Instagram glitches, and the story vanishes, no longer available to view.

"Fuck," you mutter under your breath, a single word of frustration, though it’s nothing compared to the soft whimpers and low murmurs that follow as you shove your hand between your legs. That same position you were in a few minutes ago now doing the opposite, relaxing your stiffened body into something comfortable and private. Something that gets interrupted by your phone vibrating in a disturbing tone.

Your eyes open, your mouth closes and the finger teasing your clit quickly abandons its place to rest over your stomach. The sudden sound taking your breath with the vibrations. The pad of your thumb slid over the screen, hanging the call without even glancing to look at the number. Whoever it was should be able to use their fucking fingers and type whatever message they needed you to know at ten pm on a Friday.

The agitation slowly faded into that anxious palpitation in your heart, your body catching your needs again as the wet under your panties grew again. You took your time, sliding your shirt over your head, the small shorts being tossed somewhere in the floor and your panties and bra resting at the edge of the nightstand next to you beside your phone.

She was in your mind- creepy, but it'll be enough for your horny brain to work into making you cum. And truly it was working amazing, circling at your clit, caressing your own skin in hopes to trick yourself it was someone else. Your thighs clenching whenever you were too harsh on yourself. Nipples hard between the pads of your fingers. Your mouth opening the slightest to catch your breath at the somehow pretty sound of your wet.

But the vibrations appeared again. A disturbing sound that made you anxious.

With a groan you turned yourself on the side, managing to grab at the phone with wet still on your hands. Who cared anyway.

The phone buzzed in your hand, the screen flashing with an unknown number. You hesitated for a second, half-expecting it to be a wrong number or maybe some random perv dialing at the worst possible time. Or maybe it was just some grumpy old person calling the wrong number altogether—some mundane accident that you could dismiss with a quick tap.

But then, through the crackling line, your name came through, distorted and warped, like someone speaking through an old, broken radio. Your brow furrowed, confusion setting in immediately.

"Who’s this?" you asked, your voice sharper than you intended. Had you been too careless? Maybe given your number to someone you didn’t remember in class?

"Long time, huh? Didn’t think you’d answer," the voice replied, dripping with mockery. The eerie, disembodied tone was layered with heavy breathing, the kind that made your skin crawl.

You sat up straighter, fingers gripping the phone tighter. Your confusion only deepened, your eyebrows knitting together in suspicion. "Who is this?" you repeated, but instead of an answer, the voice laughed, a low, unsettling sound that rattled your nerves.

"Don’t be so impatient," they teased.

A heavy silence followed, stretching on far too long. Your heart started to race as the seconds ticked by, tension building until you almost hung up. Just as your thumb hovered over the screen, ready to end the call, the voice cut back in, calm and unnervingly intimate.

"I think you left the door open."

Your eyes immediately shot to your bedroom door, closed just like you’d left it. But something about the way they said it made you second-guess yourself. You suddenly wanted to throw the blankets off, get dressed, and rush downstairs to check every door, every window. You always locked up before bed—double-checking, even—but now that doubt gnawed at the edges of your mind.

"You know," the voice continued, smooth and casual, "you shouldn’t leave it unlocked. Makes it too easy for someone…"

Your pulse hammered in your ears, and a cold chill settled deep in your stomach. Every word felt like a creeping shadow, something lurking just out of view. You tried to force yourself to move, to shake off the growing panic, but their next words stopped you cold.

"I wouldn’t do that," they said, a twisted hint of amusement in their tone. "I’ve been watching you."

A wave of nausea rolled over you as the realization hit. This wasn’t a prank. This wasn’t some random caller. Whoever they were, they knew too much—things they shouldn’t know.

Your mind raced, heart pounding as you scanned the room, trying to process what was happening. "Who the hell are you?" you managed to stammer out, your voice shaking, but they ignored the question entirely, continuing as if the conversation was on their terms.

"How long do you think you have left?"

The playful edge was gone now, replaced with something colder, more deliberate. The words cut through the air like knives, sharp and precise. Whoever this was, they weren’t guessing—they knew something you didn’t, and it left a sick feeling crawling up your spine.

"I don’t—" you began, your voice faltering under the weight of the moment, but the distorted voice on the other end silenced you. "Go lay down again," they whispered, the words almost affectionate, but twisted in a way that sent every nerve in your body on high alert. "Come on, if you're good enough maybe I'll have pity. You're good at causing that." They definitely knew you.

You hesitated but obeyed their every command. Each step against the cold floor of your room sending a shiver up your warmth body, a thin layer of sweat growing on your forehead at the silence between the line. "There we go." He mocked you.

"See? wasn't so hard to obbey." You heard their slow, heavy breathing, each breath dragging out in an unsettling, deliberate rhythm. It was shallow, almost raspy, like they were too close to the phone. "Come on, lay down." His tone was quieter, almost a mumble. You did as they ordered, adjusting yourself in almost the same comfortable position you were in, before this creepy guy called to entertain himself tonight.

"You're shy now?" he chuckled. Your body reacted before you could even process, trying to make this have any sense. Your eyes wandered all over the dark in your room, there was absolutely nothing. Not a window half open or the courtains allowing much inside view, the door was closed too. "Spread your legs, yeah... just like that. Now, put your hands over your thighs- no, lower... yeah, closer." His every command was followed. The tip of your fingers caressed the inside of your thighs, sliding your hand up and down, over your knee and then down until you got too close to your pussy, the wet growing shamelessly fast. He didn't really put any more rules, his breathing increasing withint every touch you applied over your body. growing into it eventually.

"Good, good girl"

Your hands stopped in the inside of your thighs, gripping at your own flesh at the mix of fear, shame- mostly wanting her to just come inside and finish the main plan she'd had on her brain when you answered her call. "Don't stop now, you were doing so good..." Her voice had a fake pity on it, mocking you. "Move them over your stomach, come on."

But you didn't.

"I know you wanted this." Ellie whispered, it was the closes her tone got to that robotic distortion you've heard before. "You were whining my name."

Your breathing was unsteady, your stomach tightening in everything but pleasure.

"Let me hear you again."

Your hand slid between your legs, hesitant on the show you were about to give her. She must be able to see, right? somehow.

You rubbed small circles on your throbbing clit, scissoring your folds to make it last longer. "Fuck- good girl.... just like that." Your lips parted open, allowing the front teeth to show up a little. Whines coming in the warmth of your breath before her name started to slip in between. You were ridiculously wet. each touch on your pussy loud and explicit. Profanity elicting out of you withing every touch over you nipples, down your stomach and against your pussy. She didn't have to ask, you'd do anything for her, anytime.

"Fucking pretty girl... hear that. So wet for me." Her voice was almost a whimper. there was no shame and fuck if she was here. actually seeing it in front of her eyes. She'd be on her knees for you, offering to help, to touch, to clean. "Yeah... fuck- please-" her breath was loud, a cruel trick to make yourself think she was close.

"Wanna cum?" you nodded as if she could see. she had to see. "Stop- stop." the tone was firm and you had nothing to do but whine at it, rubbing your clit one last time. You did leave your hand there, just needed any sorth of pressure between your wet pussy.

The call ended. And you desperately abandoned your body to pick up the phone and call again. The tone would ring and ring until it didn't, was it a joke?

The back of your head crashed against the messy pillow behind you, catching your breath for the millionth time this hour. There was a mess consuming you. The fear and uncomfortable of being seen by her, as creepy as it could be, it made you wet. She was a craving you would kill to suffice anytime and you've got her so close. Even if she was cruel, if this was a joke to laugh at you, you'd still do it again.

Your eyes drifted to the end of the bed, glancing at your naked body before crawling to pick up your clothes. You made it to the mere edge of the mattress, stretching to pick at your shirt and maybe at your shorts too.

The door cracked slightly, letting in some light from the hallway. But no one came in, there was no sound, no step, no loud greeting. "Dressing already?" your attention turned to meet at the strange mask covered person- her. The black robe adorning her body, way too loose. Her boots were so loud against the floor, almost as loud as the sound form the door when she slapped it closed. You were drooling.

"Eager?" Her knees folded slightly, getting to your height. You heard the shine of her blade, watching it just a few seconds later beneath your chin. "Put that back." Her head tilted to the side, you could barely see her through the dark circles covering her eyes. It took you a while until you put the shirt back to where it was, tossed somewhere you'd think about later.

The cold of the blade dig the slightest into your neck as you turned back around. Her other hand was quick to get rid of the mask, allowing you to have the prettiest sight. There was no actual reaction but a whimper that had to brush through your lips as you sensed her lips over yours. It was sloppy and gross and desperate, all while the mere tip of the knife cut between your breasts, digging hard enough to let the blood drip down your stomach, stopping the second your back hit your matress. It eventually stained the pretty blankets beneath.

She slid under your neck, nibbling and sucking at the skin while her knife rested flat against the fat of your thighs. Her legs crawled to trap you in between, leaving enough space for your legs to spread a little, enough to fit her hand in your pussy, really. Which didn't take long, craving to hear your voice this close, right next to her ear again. "Fuck baby, so fucking wet for me?" you nodded, already a disturbing mess at the feeling of her hand cupping at your cunt, slapping at it.

Her digits got trapped the second she landed on your clit, not paying too much attention as she could only care about tasting you, licking at your skin and sucking at the trail of blood under your breasts. Leaving her name stained on your tender withint every kiss and sucking and touch.

"Lemme hear you, come on." She slid her digits with ease, thrusting in and out of your wet pussy. You clenched at her, cupping the back of her neck- up her hair, and forcing her to kiss you, needing to savor her for once. She was whining, as wet as you beneath that tough costume.

"Fuck- just like that baby? yeah? gonna cum for me..." There was a sloppy kiss between each word. Quiet whines and moans pressed against your skin to overlap the wet of her thrusts on your pussy. "Ellie- Fuck- els...." she chuckled at your words. Her quiet ego being fed at the sight of you, so fucked for her. "My good girl, mhm?" her weight felt too heavy, and her kissed too overwhelming. But she was fucking you good, way better than what you've imagined.

The knot on your stomach grew bigger with every praise, every squeal of her fingers against your pussy, every moan she'd let out and the vibration you'll get on your skin.

But the knife cut deeper this time, just as you'd open your mouth to have the orgasm you've been denied for so long. You saw her eyes, her flushed cheeks and those freckles you'd admired from afar in hopes to someday see them this close.

The warmth on your stomach now growing- drenching on the sides of your body. But fuck it was a good sight to see, what she'd been craving for a while now. Your pretty whine and her hand drenched in your wet not transformed into pure horror and pain.

"Good girl, yeah baby. I know" your hands wandered anywhere, not even thinking on defending but holding her, pressing her closer to you. Have her one last time. "I know."

[diamonddaze01]

May i request prompt 81 "you weren't supposed to hear that" with Mingyu? But something cute/fluffy? <3

seasoned with love

pairing: mingyu x reader | wc: 0.9k prompt: "you weren't supposed to hear that." au: chef!mingyu au | warnings: none a/n: set in the same universe as love: best served hot (shameless plug you should go read that too if u love chef mingoo)

The evening rush was slowly winding down, but the kitchen hummed with its usual rhythm. The faint crackle of oil, the hiss of fresh vegetables meeting the sizzling heat, and the soft clatter of plates filled the air. The smell—garlic, rosemary, and something richer that you couldn't quite place—wrapped around you like a warm blanket. Mingyu's kitchen had its own energy, its own language, a chaotic comfort that you had come to love.

You hadn’t planned on staying long—just wanted to surprise him, maybe share a quiet dinner together. You were no stranger to the hours he worked, so you knew he'd still be at the restaurant long after most had already called it a night. You lingered outside, listening to the sounds of the kitchen, the laughter and chatter of the staff mixing with the low thrum of pots and pans.

The door to the kitchen was slightly ajar, and you hesitated for just a moment before quietly stepping closer, drawn by the warmth and the sound of Mingyu’s familiar voice. You had every intention of just slipping in unnoticed—an unexpected visitor who’d make his night a little brighter.

As you approached, the voices inside grew clearer, and you halted when you heard Mingyu’s low voice.

“I don’t know how she does it, man,” Mingyu’s voice rumbled from inside, smooth and casual. But there was something softer underneath, something vulnerable in the way he spoke. “Like, no matter how tired I am or how crazy the day’s been… when she walks in, it’s like everything just... calms down. I don’t even need to say anything, she just knows. It’s kind of crazy.”

You paused, suddenly unsure whether to reveal yourself. But Mingyu’s voice was too soothing, too filled with affection to ignore. You couldn’t help but lean in closer, silently listening as he continued.

“I swear, she’s my grounding force, you know?” His tone shifted, a warmth lacing the words as though he was letting something private slip out without realizing it. “She makes everything feel... lighter. More worth it.”

You couldn’t help the smile that crept onto your face, heart warming at his words. You didn’t notice the slight creak of the door beneath your hand, and before you knew it, you had stepped fully into the room, revealing yourself to Mingyu.

His words cut off abruptly, and his eyes snapped to you, wide with surprise. The sudden shift in his demeanor was so evident you could almost feel it in the air. The cool, collected chef you knew now stood frozen, caught between a moment of revelation and his usual confident self.

“Oh—” His voice jumped up an octave as he quickly straightened, one hand instinctively reaching up to adjust the towel slung over his shoulder. His eyes flickered between you and the kitchen counter, a flush creeping over his cheeks. “You weren’t supposed to hear that.” His attempt at nonchalance was laughable; his voice was suddenly louder, a little too sharp. You couldn’t miss the slight nervousness in the way he stood.

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms with a playful tilt of your head. “And why’s that?”

Mingyu swallowed, clearly flustered, but the sly smile tugging at the corners of his lips betrayed his embarrassment. He scratched the back of his neck, trying to feign casualness, though his stance was all too stiff. “Uh, well... you know... it’s, uh, kinda embarrassing to talk about you like that... behind your back.”

You pushed yourself off the wall and took a step closer, a teasing grin forming on your lips. His warmth enveloped you as you moved, the familiar scent of his apron and the kitchen’s spices lingering in the air. You couldn’t stop yourself from leaning in just a little. “Mushy, huh? I think you’re just too scared to admit you’re soft.”

Mingyu blinked at you in mock disbelief, though the humor was evident in his eyes. “Soft?” He let out a breathless laugh, shaking his head. “If anything, I’m just... real about how I feel.”

You raised a challenging eyebrow, a playful glint in your eyes. “Oh, so you feel like you need to ‘ground’ me now?” you teased, leaning against the counter next to him, nudging your shoulder against his lightly. “Making me your ‘everything’s worth it’?”

For a moment, Mingyu’s expression softened, and you caught the slightest shift in his eyes, a vulnerability there that he rarely let anyone see. But before you could say anything more, he closed the space between you, his hand reaching up to gently cup your cheek. His lips found yours in a kiss—warm, slow, and full of everything unspoken. You melted into it, a rush of affection flooding you.

When he finally pulled back, his hand still resting on your cheek, he grinned, a faint blush coloring his face. “Yeah. But I’m not apologizing for it.” His voice was playful, but his eyes were sincere. Then, with a wink, he turned toward the stove, reaching for a pan. “Now, how about you stay for dinner? I’ll make you my specialty.”

You smirked, crossing your arms as you leaned a little closer to him, feeling the heat of his body as he moved. “Is that how you win me over? With food?”

Mingyu grinned, shrugging nonchalantly as he started to prepare your meal. “Among other things,” he said, winking at you as he added a little more heat to the pan. “But mostly food.”

send me an ask for my drabble game!

[charliemwrites]

Awooooooo!

Content: Voyeurism, Dog Urination, Implied Non-Con Touching

Your dog is weird. Just.. just weird. Like, all dogs are weird. They have their quirks and their oddities, silly babies in fluffy bodies.

Johnny though…

He snuggles up in your bed every night; you don’t even bother trying to kick him out. He’s presses up tight against you, head almost on your pillow. Have to start sleeping in a shirt because one too many unfortunately placed cold nose bumps…. Yeah. But that’s fine. The fuzzy space heater is worth it.

(So what if you sort of wake up sometimes and half-dream its skin you’re snuggled up to. If you imagine a more human rasp to the quiet snores by your ear. If the tongue on your cheek is softer and smaller than you’re used to….

Your dating life has been dry for some time.)

Johnny pees in every room of your house at least once, but that’s not entirely surprising - he’s an intact male, after all. (Something you’re trying to, heh, fix. Though the appointment mysteriously keeps getting moved or cancelled.) thankfully, though, once he’s “marked his territory” he starts asking to go outside.

And that’s where the weirdness begins.

The first time you let him out off leash, he shoots off into the woods and only returns once he’s done. You panic, feel so stupid and irresponsible, near tears by the time he gets back. When he sees you upset, say on the porch steps, he darts to your side and leans into you until you calm down.

You stop worrying so much about his little “trips”. Means you dont have to clean up after him to keep the yard tidy after all.

The first time he bounds off into the woods and doesn’t come back after a few minutes, you almost go searching. But.., but well he’s a good boy. An hour later he comes back, scratching at the door.

You’re not sure what he’s up to and it makes you anxious. Don’t like the idea of an “outdoor” dog. All of yours have been in-home pets kept in sight at all times. You’re scared Johnny’s going to get hurt or bitten or hit by a car.

But he always comes back healthy whole.

One hour turns into two, then three. Entire mornings, only returning in the evening to climb into bed. Eventually a whole day. You have someone install a doggy door big enough for Johnny to slip through so that he can come and go as he pleases.

You get used to having a pet that’s only around sometimes, though you sniffle that you miss him when he’s gone. As if understanding, he’ll always lick at you, comforting.

The other weird thing - he demands to climb into bed while you’re doing “self care”. Again, dogs don’t get human social boundaries. He’s allowed on the bed so why is it that he wouldn’t be allowed up even if it’s not bedtime? It’s understandable dog logic, even if you have to stop the first several times it happens.

Keeping him out isn’t an option. Even if you manage to shut the bedroom door on him before he wriggles inside, he makes such a ruckus. Barking, howling, knocking over the trash and scratching at the door. You almost step directly into a puddle of pee once.

You just keep the lights off, close your eyes, and try to ignore the odd brush of fur or gust of air from his nose. Pretend he’s not there at all; and not staring the way he tends to.

Not getting off just isn’t an option. You make your peace with your dog too dumb to even turn away.

(You also learn very quickly to wash your toys as soon as you’re done. Can’t even wait to catch your breath. Calling him nasty makes his tail wag. You know it’s not reasonable to think he’s doing it on purpose.)

“Johnny, drop it!”

Instead of doing that, he drops his front half low, a lacy black pair of underwear in his teeth. He snatched it right out of your laundry basket while you were trying to start the washer.

“I’m going to turn you into a pair of boots. Put those down!”

Chasing a giant wolf-dog for your panties is ill-advised but what are you gonna do? Let him shred your underwear?

“I wanted to wear those out tonight, you bastard!”

You’re supposed to have a date. At this rate, you won’t even be able to shower, never mind get ready. Johnny’s been a nuisance all day, ever since you got off the phone with your mom this morning, updating her about your life and plans for the evening.

Determined, you give up and go to finish the laundry - only to hear a crash and a yelp. Johnny’s knocked over the mirror and stepped in the glass.

“Oh, baby boy,” you groan. “Dammit, John-Bon.”

You text your date for a rain check, then call ahead for the emergency vet. Huh… your first aid kit is much better stocked than you remember.

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Masterlist

[noxturnalnymph]

Devotion 🖤 Masterlist

Series Summary: When is it enough? When is it too much? When does Devotion become Obsession?

I. Stronger Together CH 1 CH 2 CH 3

II. Predator or Prey? CH 4 CH 5 CH 6 CH 7 CH 8

III. Path to the Future CH 9 CH 10 CH 11 CH 12

Epilogue Some Summer Sunday

Series Warnings: 18+ MDNI, canon-typical violence/death, death of clickers, guns, blood/injury, references to previous SAs (not described), Reader has low self worth & trauma, this group/cult is not feminist - women aren’t treated as equals, Joel has sexual relationships with other characters (not described in detail), possessiveness, manipulation, stalking/spying on, Joel gets mean, DubCon Oral, Joel gets abusive (verbally, mentally, physically (he hits, throws, and bites), thoughts of self-harm and suicide, talk of periods & pregnancy, unprotected PiV, oral sex (m & f receiving), come eating, DIRTY TALK, brief reference to breeding kink and creampie kink (but reader does NOT get pregnant in this story).

A/N: OBVIOUSLY this is canon-divergent, but it is post-outbreak. The events of outbreak day have not changed (sorry Sarah). Reader does have a developed background that plays heavily in her character arc, so in that sense she is very much an OC. Reader has a nickname and some minor physical descriptions.

LAYOUT OF JOEL'S HOUSE

AO3 LINK

MOODBOARD BY @strang3lov3 MOODBOARD BY @beefrobeefcal

*🖤*NOTES ABOUT THE CULT & JOEL BELOW*🖤*

ABOUT THE CULT

The Cult's Core Ideology

Build up a community (and supplies) to return to a thriving society that can keep people safe & find a cure.

The Cult Operates by its 3 Tenants:

How Joel does it (what he "preaches")

I. Build Trust (We are Stronger Together)

Makes people feel beautiful, important, HEARD

Shares the wealth (food, shelter, women)

Seeks Power & Control to get others to help him

II. Us vs Them (The Predator Vs The Prey)

FEDRA is the enemy, do not trust them

Assimilate or Destroy all other people/groups

Attack them before they attack you

III. Gather & Prepare (Create a Path to the Future)

You can never have enough, always take take take take

The community you create now will determine future society (fair, honest, hardworking)

Once you are well-prepared and rebuild, you can work on finding a cure

🖤

Notes about Joel and the Cult:

He and Tess began this community together in 2010 after they met Bill and Frank and they felt that the QZ was becoming too dangerous and unstable. They settled in a small, remote town in the mountains of Vermont. Tess helps him "run" the community but she has a submissive role. (Their dynamic here is different from canon.) Tess has his respect probably more than anyone else does but she is not looked upon like an equal by anyone in the community.

Timeline/Ages:

This takes place in the fall of 2012, so It’s been 9 years since outbreak day. Joel is 45, my HC for Reader is Early 30's (Tess is 39/40). Reader's exact age isn't given, but she was in her early 20's on outbreak day and I wanted her to have experienced a fair taste of an adult life before the world ended. I didn't want to write the reader as inexperienced or with too large of an age-gap, although I think 11-14 years is still pretty significant. She has a history that plays a significant role in her personality (wary, untrusting). She has been hurt/abused by men - both those that took advantage of her when she was young, as well as by those that she trusted/loved. There are very few physical descriptions but she is very much an OC. Note that her age is not something that's explicitly mentioned because I did want to keep it inclusive. I hope everyone who wants to read this can use their imagination to fit themselves into the story in a meaningful way.🖤

[ineylesian]

— INHERITENLY UNJUST DESTINY

AVENTURINE X READER

AO3 | NAVIGATION

WORD COUNT — 900

WARNINGS — slight 2.1 spoilers, lowk angst, word vomit about aventurine’s lack of self esteem, sappy unconditional positive regard, handsy aven bc he’s touch starved, preesetablished relationship

SUMMARY — aventurine does not understand the twist of fate that allows him to stand beside you.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — the lack of official aventurine art is making me gnaw at the bars of my enclosure, sloppy headers for now!!

Aventurine isn’t sure how to feel. 

The low hues of noon cast a gentle light upon his gloves, giving light to the sea of shattered stones that lie in his grasp. A sea of dazzling green, torn and fragmented beyond repair.

He’s sure he sees it now, a reflection of the wildly wretched life he’s lived sitting in the palms of his hands. The remnants of the only control he’s managed to retain in his life frail as dust in the winds. SIlent he remains, still as a pound dog that has had its bone ripped away from it. 

It isn’t until he feels the ghost of your hands along his own that Aventurine realizes his heart is racing. You spin him to face you, and his heart lurches at the worry that etches itself upon your features. He fights with narratives in his head that play games of fallacies, yet the scorch of his devotion to you leaves his tongue tied.

Facades are a game that come like second nature to Aventurine, but he swears he will not do to you what he deems business in his schemes. Instead, he pulls at what little honesty remains in the depths of his heart and his breath shutters. 

“Guess I’m back to where I was five years ago.”

The words come out quiet, too soft for his nature and simply small. It’s a confession that makes him wonder how many other pieces of his life will break apart until the whole is severed. There’s a fear that lingers within, bubbling to the surface as he attempts to withdraw from your hold.

Aventurine does not believe that his life holds any meaning with or without the cornerstone. Yet, that title made him seem as if he truly meant something, and without it, what little reign he held over his life disappeared. 

He believes you deserve fire, yet he is no more than an ember flickering on a stoked match. He cannot burn in flames bright enough to keep you.

Silently, he awaits your scold, the reprimand that deems him as worthless as he believes himself to be. A reminder that it was all but a stroke of luck that brought you to him, a trial that has run out as you see him for who he truly is, barren and scared.

His hands shake as you guide them to pour his shattered stone into the box at his feet. Shock etches itself upon his features, and he looks to you with nothing but raw, unparalleled fear as you speak. 

“You will always be the same to me.”

Aventurine does not understand the twist of fate that allows him to stand beside you. Single handedly, you vowed to peer into the wasteland that was his soul, and devoted yourself to his inherently unjust destiny. And, even as his life’s worth is ripped away from him, you love him unchanged.

An insatiable want carves at his soul like a day yearns for night, and Aventurine knows no other place to put his hands but around you in embrace. His hold is tight, as if he imagines that you will fade away if he abandons it. Yet, the weave of your fingers through his hair is enough to tell him that you’re no illusion, a sensation that will cease to disappear as long as he lives.

“Let me see you, Aven.”

Your words flow as lost prayers on the horizon do, and Aventurine retracts his grasp on you, allowing his knees to bring him to the ground. Your hands, gentle as streambeds in the spring, cup his face, running over spilt tears from keeled eyelashes. Instinctively, his hands latch onto your wrists, desperately chasing after your warmth and attempting to sear it into his skin.

Aventurine outwardly sighs as you run your fingers along his jaw, stopping to tuck a stray wisp of hair behind his ear. Although your gaze rocks with the deepest seas of adoration, the child deep within his heart beckons him to gamble with his luck once again. A risk that trails the faint quiver of his lips, as he would utter no such words to any other being in the entire cosmos.

“Will you kiss me?”

Wordlessly, you nod, and Aventurine closes his eyes. The soft touch of your lips quells the troubles that brew within, igniting fire against endless water. His hands fall to his lap, melting in the passion of your touch, and his heart craves to continue beating as if you are the oxygen that fills his lungs. 

He refuses to leave you until there is no air left for him to breathe. Gasping for the vitality of you that runs rampant through his veins, Aventurine tilts his head upward, and your heart flutters at the gentle smile that greets your gaze. Brilliant hues of purple and blue shimmer amidst the night, and his hold on you returns, hands moving to interlock themselves with your own. It’s the same gesture that holds you in the deep of dusk, never waning as lost prayers to the universe whisper behind closed doors. 

The words that follow are never far from you, spinning like soft woven silk that rests in your dreams when he’s away. Your eyes shut as he presses his lips to the corner of your mouth, spreading warmth to your cheeks that subdue the chills of frosted wind. In yearn, you wait, reveling in the soft fan of his breath over your skin.

“I love you.”

[basu-shokikita]

About Depths of Humanity

So, I talked about The Duel some time back and I thought, why not do the same for this song too? It's actually one of my underrated faves from Doomstar Requiem.

This more of a rant than a strict analysis though, I just really enjoy thinking about the implications of this song and what it means in regard to Skwisgaar.

Let's start with Ishnifus' warning. He claims that inside lies danger, the ghosts of their pasts and their fears. He cautions them to stay alert and Dethklok brave forward, even if scared.

Inside, they encounter their old manager, old groupies and Skwisgaar's old guitar teacher, in that order. As promised by Ishnifus', they're all people from their past, coming back to haunt them.

Immediately, these people start recriminating Dethklok for not having paid them back after how much they helped them. In short, they're jealous of Dethklok's fame and money.

The band is clearly affected by the plaints, quickly forgetting what they were here to do. Except Skwisgaar, who reminds them all they have to find clues about Toki's whereabouts. It does not seem like they're listening to him, though.

Now up to here, I want to point out 2 things:

That Nathan and Pickles seem the most upset by these confrontations.

That, while Skwisgaar is disturbed, he still has their goal in mind.

About Nathan and Pickles, I think it makes sense, they are the leaders of the band, they're most conscious of its tremendous success. They also know they're extremely talented musicians, meaning, they're aware of their value. They know they're far from being these miserable pricks demanding rewards. Nathan had a nurturing family while Pickles used to be in a huge band, previously to Dethklok. They're both people that have been inherently helped by other people, which is why being confronted is actually uncomfortable.

Skwisgaar is certainly a different case. I have to say, I was pretty surprised to find out that he had a guitar teacher. Based on the flashbacks in Fatherklok, I assumed he had been self taught. Skwisgaar himself has admitted he was pretty poor in his childhood so it's hard to believe Servetta would've invested in his music education. Plus, he can't read music which I think would be hardly the case if he had gotten classes.

But anyway, I'll play along. This teacher is speaking English and he doesn't make any mistakes so I'm guessing he's american. Meaning, Skwisgaar took classes when he went to America, which was later in his life. To strengthen his game and/or learn the technical bits he might have missed before? Maybe? And if this was the case, then Skwisgaar would've felt less obligated to indulge to other people in his life, when he learned to be independent from a really young age. He doesn't feel like he owes shit to other people, because other people didn't give him shit. Thus, the Depths of Humanity effect is not that strong in him.

You could also argue that the loss of Toki is a far more terrifying prospect than these bitter acquaintances from their past but I'll elaborate on that further in this post.

Murderface? Well, Murderface has low esteem and is the less popular member in the band, so of course he can't fall victim to guilt-tripping. Because that would mean acknowledging he feels like he's in a better place than others, it would mean that he actually believes himself superior than others. But he doesn't, Murderface is convinced he's worth nothing, so this whole charade is more grating than anything. Which brings us to the next moment.

The way Murderface is coaxed by the Depths of Humanity crew, is when a seemingly fan approaches him and starts praising him, claiming he's the best one. And then, is when Murderface is hypnotized by the attention. He's already such a negative person, of course more negativity isn't going to get to him. But positivism? That's another deal.

Skwisgaar once again insists that they have to find a clue on how to find Toki but it falls on deaf ears. Nathan is grabbing his head in despair while Pickles clutches his chest in what seems to be an impending panic attack.

Now I really like the wording 'I'll look if you do, too' from Skwisgaar. It almost feels like, even in this situation, he's trying to sound cool about it. He doesn't want to be the only one caring this much about Toki, he doesn't want to be the one leading this operation. He's not a leader, he's never been a leader, even less when it comes to emotional stuff, which is the implicit purpose of this search. They care about Toki, and that's why they're looking for him. But is Skwisgaar seems to be unconsciously rejecting this fact. This attachment.

However, his bandmates aren't listening, too self-absorbed in their anguish to do so. Skwisgaar continues the search and is quick to point out at something on the wall. It's a flyer that he grabs and, immediately, seems to connect the dots about. In an unusual display of leadership, he tells Nathan to grab Murderface so they can leave. Their purpose has been fulfilled and they can finally escape this horrid place.

Okay, so this is my favorite bit, obviously. Once they're outside, Nathan and Pickles keep complaining about what they were just subjected to, and Skwisgaar stops them to show his discovery. It's the same flyer he just grabbed, and it features the place where Toki had his audition. Also known as the place where they all met Toki for the first time and Skwisgaar and him had the legendary duel.

We don't have a precise Dethklok timeline but it's been a long time since Toki joined the band. Several years, at the very least. And this building is nothing but a far away memory, from when they were a lesser band. From when they weren't the big rockstars they are now. So, it really begs to question that not only did Skwisgaar remember the place, but he did so at once, when he hadn't seen or heard of it in years.

...Unless, he had been thinking about it recently?

We know, thanks to the beautiful central section of the movie, that Toki had been thinking of his audition, of joining Dethklok, as a means to cope with the devastating reality he was faced with. We know reminiscing of his dazzling battle with Skwisgaar and the happiness he found within the band gave Toki strength to carry on. But what about Skwisgaar?

For someone who considered himself much better than other guitarists, to the point he didn't want to play with another one, to actually find an equal, someone that challenged him, it couldn't have been anything short of extraordinary for Skwisgaar.

The summit is for the very best only, yet it's quite lonely too, and Skwisgaar had been basking in that isolation his whole life. Until he played with Toki, then the idea of sharing his field no longer felt like an insult, but potential instead. He found someone that could improve his own playing, someone that could compliment his guitar, take it to even higher heights.

And so, Skwisgaar was the one to invite Toki to the band, more specifically, to tell him he wanted him in the band. While we can't factually know how the rest of the members joined Dethklok, we know for sure that Skwisgaar was the sole responsible for making Toki join, as the rest were already bidding him farewell for failing to keep up with Skwisgaar.

So, when the one person that challenged Skwisgaar's playing was taken away, it wouldn't be a stretch for Skwisgaar to look back on how it all happened. To ponder about the circumstances that lead them to the current situation. It's clear the whole band loves Toki and, unable to deal with their own sadness, drank and fucked to oblivion. This also applies to Skwisgaar, except that with him it's especially complex, given that he's the one that brought Toki to his world to begin with. Given that Toki and Skwisgaar share the same instrument. (Fun fact: you don't actually see Skwisgaar fiddling with his guitar in Doomstar Requiem, just puttings dat out theres.)

Obviously, this is a bunch of mumbo-jumbo but as any Pepe-Silvia-scene impersonator that respects themselves, I want to point out how interesting of a coincidence it is that, less than 2 songs later, Skwisgaar is saying this:

Right before they head in to rescue Toki and Abigail, Skwisgaar imparts some reflection of his. He's been wondering if maybe it wouldn't be better to go back to being a one-guitar band. Toki has been in Dethklok for a long time now, so it's interesting Skwisgaar has been thinking about this...

...Except, that's exactly what his mentality used to be like, before meeting Toki. Right when he was trying to convince Pickles that they didn't need a rhythm guitar, he spoke these words exactly. One-guitar band.

It's almost like Skwisgaar is trying to do some self-preservation by returning to his aloof roots. He made Toki join the band, now Toki's gone and in danger, and maybe this wouldn't have happened if they had stuck with Skwisgaar's original plan. Because they attempted to replace Magnus is why this came to be. The revenge Magnus promised did arrive.

I just wanna be clear. I don't think Skwisgaar believes he's the sole to responsible for this, I'm sure he knows Magnus is the main perpetrator here. But the facts remain the facts, and had they all stayed as they were, then they wouldn't be risking their lives now to save their fifth member.

Like this, it seems entirely logical that Skwisgaar would be thinking of his former reluctance, of the Duel, of everything. It's all fresh in his mind once again, because Toki's kidnapping has forced him to realize they're not actually untouchable. Their mortality is back on the table, and so are their bonds.

In short, Skwisgaar had been repressing all his emotions about Toki's disappearance, but from the Depths of Humanity onward, he can't help but show them. He can't help but admit to himself and others, that he wants Toki back. So much, that a bunch of angry and entitled people can't affect him enough to forget it. So much that it's making him remember how distant he used to be, before Toki. So much that it's making him realize how different he is now.

[absolutebl]

Top 10 Great BLs That Are REALLY hard to find (but worth tracking down)

You may want to go hunting anyway!

Seven Days

Seven Days: Monday-Thursday

Seven Days: Friday-Sunday

Japan 2015

Never doubt my ability to recommend this show. One of the best live action yaois ever made, with perfectly structured angst, fantastic characters and acting, and no problematic tropes (rare in Japanese BL). The leads have excellent chemistry although it’s low heat there’s still some really cute mutual kisses.

Cherry Magic AKA 30-sai made Dotei Da to Mahotsukai ni Nareru rashii

Japan 2020

The sweetest fluffiest magical realism BL, packaged as a pinning office romance, very low heat (practically chaste) but the cutest. It’s truly great.

Cherry Magic Thailand

Thai 2024

A soft charming warm hug of a show about crushes and mind reading and self worth, with no-fuss execution from a consummate team and an OG lead pair proving why they remain eternal and deserve to grow up. Look, here’s the thing, Cherry Magic is a great Thai BL in its own right not comparing it to any other iteration. But even when I do compare (and I've seen all the Cherries and read the manga) it still stands. I personally like it slightly better than the Japanese live action, but I think that’s because I just really like Thai BL and I LOVE TayNew. Also all the kissing was both present and better than any other iteration. As it should be from Thailand.

I Feel You Linger in the Air

Thai 2023

IFYLITA is an exquisite BL, from filming techniques to narrative framework (much like Until We Meet Again). Steeped in history and family drama it edges into lakorn (but no as much as To Sir With Love and with way less scenery chewing). This is an elegant and classy BL... from Thailand which normally doesn't even try for classy. The main couple (both as a pair and individuals) were excellent, particularly Bright (Yai) whose eye-work acting style is a personal favorite of mine. Pity about the ending. Oh it wasn’t that sad but it wasn’t good either. This show could easily have earned a 10/10 from me except that it fumbled the… erm… balls in the final quarter. Argh. Whatever.

All about the ecstasy and the agony here.

Restart After Come Back Home AKA Risutato wa tadaima no ato de

Japan 2020

Atmospheric study in rural Japan meets complex family dynamics built on a romance framework of city boy meets country boy, grumpy/sunshine. It’s beautiful and icy sweet. Slow moving in places but ultimately worth the patience, low heat, low angst, and stunning.

Given

Japan 2021

Boy joins band, falls in love with other boy. The singing is terrible, fast forward through that but with the possible exception of the hair styles, this BL could have been made in 2015 and no one would be surprised. As such, it wasn’t ground breaking, but it didn’t disappoint either.

Make a Wish

Thai 2023

A doctor who can see the dead strikes a bargain with a wish-granting irreverent tree angel - naturally they fall in love (from Sammon: Manner of Death & Triage). Stars Fluke Natouch opposite not-Ohm, but who tf cares because Fluke has chemistry with everybody. Once again the Thai afterlife is incredibly bureaucratic but I enjoyed the premise and the unfolding of the story (it’s not predictable but still satisfying and with nice little twist). I like that the doctor is just gay AF - fag hag bestie and all the swagger. The cast is excellent even if the comedic stylings are a bit overblown and tonally off. It had sad parts and did make me cry but is ultimately happy with a great sex scene, good smiley kisses, and all the agency. Definitely recommended.

2 Moons The Ambassador AKA 2 Moons 3

Thai 2022

A Thai pulp that felt like it came out 5 yrs prior, with many of the flaws inherent to that time and studio system, including manufactured angst and convoluted plot, but an ultimately sweet main couple that (as a pairing) feels a bit more modern and satisfying to watch than they started out. This will probably go down in history as one of the few BLs where I genuinely didn’t care about any of the side couples. All that said, I find this show oddly appealing and rewatchable and I have no excuses for that except, I enjoyed it probably more than it deserved. Nostalgia & d**k, it's what's for dinner.

I Want to See Only You AKA Kimi no Koto Dake Mite Itai

Japan 2022

This is a beautiful well acted piece of cinema, about two boys who are opposite personalities and grew up together. Gifted and serious Sakura pines after outgoing eccentric manic pixie dream boy, Yuma. It is very pretty and this is the kind of atmospheric elegantly performed BL that only really comes from Japan (complete with dead fish kisses - what you though Korea invented them? oh no). If you want something stylish, this is it.

Triage

Thai 2022

BL does Groundhog Day featuring a doctor stuck in a time loop who must save a poor little rich boy from death by seducing the stuffing out of him, then PLOT TWIST, poor little rich boy must do the same for the doctor! Unfortunately... stuffing keeps leaking. I thought the plot was engaging if a little redundant and occasionally exhausting. The pairs were all well done, low heat but with decent chemistry and the support characters were likable (or unlikable, as required). If anything, the romance arc detracted and distracted from the main plot, but that doesn't stop this from being a genuinely good show.

HONORABLE MENTION

Great Men Academy

Thai 2019

Bodyswap involving unicorns turning a teenage girl into a boy makes this questionable as a BL (because, ya know, gender). But the fact remains that James is killer in the lead, and I (who do not like bodyswap) loved this damn show. Look, there is actual plot, hotties at boarding school, "bully the one you love" trope, some weird VR shit, very bad CGI, and yes, the boys end up together... whether they boys or not, so to speak.

Some of these shows may appear on a smaller streaming service, like WeTV, or they may be on a legal platform in your territory. I hope it goes without saying you should check there first.

(source)

This list updated Spring 2024, not responsible for cool stuff that went missing (or was added to a platform) after that date.

It's it last in a series the rest of which are:

[merbear25]

Hi! I hope you're having a great day.

How about a Day 4 scenario of a polyamorous relationship with Sanji, Zoro, and a female reader?

Maybe some nipple play, reader has the most experience and has the most energy 😉

Heyy! Ohohoo quite the dynamic you asked for 😏I'm still new to writing for poly relationships, so I hope you like it! 💜🧡

You’d been trying to spice up your love life with the men for a little while now. As eager as they were in the bedroom, they were still inexperienced when it came to certain areas. You were more than happy to introduce new aspects and of course, taking on the teaching role made things more exciting.

CW: NSFW, MDNI, fem!reader, poly, sex toys (on fem and masc anatomy), nipple play, slight choking, overstimulation, cumshot

Out of their comfort zone (Sanji x reader x Zoro)

“How would you feel about including a bit more spice in the bedroom?”

The question was only asked moments ago, but the men’s lack of response accompanied with a deer in headlights stare made time stand still.

“It wouldn’t be anything crazy!” You reassured them. “Just some toys I’ve had my eye on for some time now.”

Sanji’s face flushed while Zoro’s remained rather perplexed. Their minds raced to completely different scenarios, each one climbing to completely opposite sides of understanding what was in store for them.

Your eyes fluttered between their expressions. The heat rising on Sanji’s and the curiosity on Zoro’s brought out different forms of desire in you. They both captured your heart in entirely different ways, which you perhaps enjoyed exploring the depths of too much at times.

“I could demonstrate with some of the ones I have if you’d like.”

The blonde man nodded without hesitation, while the green one leaned forward in interest as you turned to sort through the drawer with your delicates. When you pulled out a clit vibrator, you gently positioned yourself on the bed in front of your audience. 

Your cotton panties were already damp from the thrill of discussing intimacy with your two lovers. The low, rhythmic vibrations ran over the thin layer, causing more friction to make your legs spasm from their shock waves.

As you pleased yourself in front of their widening eyes, the wet patch between your legs spread to each side of the laced edges. While you panted and quaked from the rush, you could see them getting restless.

You stopped your self-indulgence once they began gripping at their thighs and hunger replaced curiosity. There was a thin string of your juices attached to your vibrator when you set aside. Reaching down in your drawer, you pulled out a rabbit vibrator along with a cock ring. From the look on their faces you could tell who would be more well-suited for what.

“Zoro?” You asked coyly. “Come here, won’t you?” You got him out of his pants to reveal his still hardening length. 

You motioned him to the side of the bed, which he gladly did. The cock ring was placed on your mouth, easing his semi-hard cock into it and coincidentally into your mouth. Your soft hand helped push it to his base. The swirling of your tongue around his now reddened tip made his gasps sound as if he was at his breaking point.

“That feels good, doesn’t it?” With a few strokes, you had shivers running down his spine.

Sanji’s hands were caressing your thighs, lovingly squeezing and kneading at them. His face was bright red as his eyes stayed locked on your increasing wetness. He wanted to go on and touch you with every fiber of his being but understood that you were going somewhere with all of this. The pay-off was sure to be worth the wait.

A playful smirk graced your face with Sanji’s eager touch roaming your lower half. “And you, my sweet boy, can start with this.” You traced the tip of the vibrator around your perky nipples.

He gripped the sides of your panties and tugged them off swiftly. The slight glisten from your slick arousal made him moan.

Taking the toy from you, he ran its length in between your pussy lips—the soft pink material being coated in your wet sin for what was to come.

Your hand began stroking Zoro, leaving him gripping the sides of the bed for dear life. When Sanji pushed it inside you, you groaned. The hunger within you was growing faster than you could satiate it. You opened your mouth to welcome Zoro’s aching need for you—your warmth and slick tongue got him panting and cursing under his breath.

Each sound of pleasure coming from you vibrated throughout his entire body. Even with trying to suppress his own groans, he was ultimately rendered helpless. Low grumbles turned into husky grunts the more he shakily plunged into your throat.

The manhandling from Sanji wasn’t making it any easier for the two of you either. He was instantly lost in the sight of your creamy arousal seeping around it. The little bunny ears played with your sensitive clit, which led to your sweet nectar dripping onto the bed sheets.

Not wanting to miss a second of shared euphoria, your hand slapped at the still open drawer. “Huh?” Zoro looked down to where you were calling his attention to.

He pulled out a chain with clasps at the end. The saliva trailed off of him, layering over your makeup smudged face. “Put them on me,” you instructed.

The vibrator was being plunged deeper inside you as Zoro clamped each one around your erect nipples. Your choked moans were soon muffled by Zoro shoving himself back into your hot mouth. He gently held onto your neck, squeezing just slightly as each thrust increased in speed.

Your choked sobs of ecstasy, your twitching pussy, and the creamy mess you were leaving on your toy: Sanji couldn’t hold back any more. 

Feeling him completely fill you up caused your eyes to roll back. The sudden shocks of pleasure jolting throughout you only got more and more intense with each slap against your hips. 

One of Zoro’s hands reached for the chain and tugged on it while the other kept a firm placement on your neck. Your shrieks were audible even with a cock in your mouth. Tears began running down your face, painting you with streaks of black.

Watching you unravel was a sight to behold. Sanji grabbed the clit vibrator and held it against your twitching bundle of nerves, while he rammed into you with abandon.

“You’re so beautiful.” His voice was ragged with the need to see you completely lose control.

The added vibrations coursing through both of the men were forcing them to their breaking point. Each convulsion made them greedier. Your walls wrapped around Sanji as if your life depended on it, and your groans when paired with your slick tongue lathering him, forced Zoro and Sanji over the edge.

Pulling out of you, their strangled groans complimented your gasping breaths perfectly—a symphony of shared carnal urges reaching their peak.

The layers of their white hot lust coating your sweet face and heaving stomach was the only way you would have allowed such escapades to end. Licking your lips to savor the taste of one of your lovers filled you with overwhelming satisfaction.

“God, that was wonderful,” you said breathlessly with a tinge of lewd indulgence. “You boys don’t know the door you’ve just opened for yourselves.”

[solradguy]

idk if your a good person to ask but you seem to know a lot of guilty gear fans on here so i figured its worth a shot. i just got into strive and i love love love the music. do you know of any other groups/artists that have a similar style? no pressure

YESSS hell yeah. Outrage—Xrd/Strive lead vocalist Naoki Hashimoto's band—is really close to how the heavier GG tracks sound (Ride The Fire, Shotgun & Head, Dice) and are a good place to start. Daisuke draws from old thrash and heavy metal bands for inspiration too, so you may also enjoy early Metallica (Ride The Lightning, Master of Puppets, the black album/self-titled), basically any Iron Maiden, Helloween, Gamma Ray, Guns n Roses, Queen, and Judas Priest.

Metallica, Iron Maiden, Gamma Ray, and Judas Priest seem to come through the most in GG's OST, imo, with Helloween and Queen in the slower, more ballad-like tracks, like Freesia and Let Me Carve Your Way, etc.

I don't care for Guns n Roses and can't comment on how they've influenced GG outside of Axl Low's aesthetics, but Daisuke's mentioned them before in interviews/books so they're in there. Somewhere haha

I don't know if Daisuke or Naoki have ever name dropped Yngwie Malmsteen, but my god just listen to these guitars. You could plop this bad boy into +R and no one would even notice

If you like the neoclassical GG tracks (Holy Orders (Be Just Or Be Dead)/basically anything Ky-adjacent) check out Stratovarius too

[batfambrainrotbeloved]

I'd like a tip! How do I survive highschool? I'm being very tired and I don't wanna and you already did please

~✨

Darling let me say that considering ME a vestiage of sound advice is fucking wild- even worse is I actually have sound advice, though ill stick with general shit

SOCIAL LIFE

If you're worried about socializing? Everyone is. Its highschool. Best advice I can give is the corny "Get involved" stick but im not kidding. BE the fun person, check your schools calander, dress up for spirit day. Give away your Wednesday nights to help build theater sets and every other Tuesday tag along for your friends chess club meeting.

You wont wander in places and suddenly meet your best friends- but you wont be as isolated as Highschool sometimes makes people feel. As overwhelming as it sounds, it is easier to show up then to let yourself slip into the background, and harder to force yourself back to the foreground after.

GRADES N SHIT

Academics? Do not let yourself fail. C's get degrees, but for how fucked our system is, a shit GPA actually does fuck with your future oppertunities in a lot of ways. Also if you're talented in something, check about local school competitions, they're fun and low commitment for the most part (Also my hoh dumbass getting district 3rd place in LISTENING SKILLS??? I will never let it down)

But seriously- I know you have that feeling looking at 30 projects and wanting to just go to bed and finish it last minute. Some classes that works, I did 90% of my history homework in scribbled handwriting in my Psych class. But other classes you CANNOT get away with that, and you will find those out very quickly.

Don't EVER even humor the idea of dropping out (just don't- its NOT worth it) because the more you consider, the more days/classes you skip not out of nessesity, the more you let your grades fall "As long as im passing" you set yourself up for stress and failure alone

And unlike every 80's movies, being smart WILL get you respect (as long as you arent condesending, very clear difference.) from the right people at least. Its also a matter of self pride, you WANT to be proud of your academics, especially if you work hard for them.

You don't need to fight tooth and nail for A's, but getting an 80 on a project you were SURE you failed is a special kind of joy/pride.

CONFLICT

Lastly, if you ever deal with the more unfortunate side of being surrounded by a bunch of hormonal teens which is bullying. It fucking sucks, but its unfortunently common.

I never had to deal with much so I couldnt give advice on personal experience beyond a few things. But I was president of my schools GSA so I had a lot of kids come to me with shit and you bet your ass I handled that. So heres my advice

"sTiCks AnD sToNeS~" That bullshit will get you bullied HARD Pretending like you're the bigger person, ignoring it, etc etc- it works for SOME people, but not always. Tried and true methods? Guilt and Shame. Let me tell you a story of one of the few bullying/ mean fuck adjacent experiences I had and how I handled it As I said, I was part of my schools GSA, and for Day of Silence we had a lunch table information booth. Well some kids decided to be dicks and printed out a super straight flag (in color, had to respect the dedication) and were marching together past our table.

So what do I do? I locked eyes with a few of the boys (kids I knew by name, who id seen in elementary during their braces phase, who id helped carry books with in middle school, whose mamas knew me because of how involved I was my whole life), gave my best genuine smile and went "Oh hey do you guys have any question's? We also have some candy thats free for the taking"!

Every. Single. One. looked at me wide eyed, and apologized saying "Oh no thank you" and a few even accepted the candy. That flag they printed out?? It vanished, crumbled up in someones pocket, the moment I smiled at them.

"Kill em with kindness" Works better than you'd think when its more of a "Oh Im being genuine" then a "Oh im being the bigger person". The moment you match their energy, you fuel it. So instead you have to be that sound mind, shove a mirror in their face and go "You're being a dick."

Of course that only works with people who have any level of self respect, and also men because mean girls are a whole different breed. For girls, just act embaressed on their behalf- don't say anything, but if you ever get a "Woah I didnt know you spoke your always so quiet" You hit them back with a "Haha wait really? Thats so weird to say." or if you wanna still try for peace "Yeah I havent' talked to you before, though this is our first class together- oh and I love your necklace, silver is perfect for you- wheres it from"?

TO SUMMARIZE (and more)

Keep track of school events, and participate

DO SPIRIT WEEK- PLEASE, Its not cringe it actually is cool as hell (and a lot of people involved in school planning get so excited if they know you participate- easy way to be known in a pos light)

Find out your teachers fav candy, Buy them a little treat, make them a doodle. For the love of god let them know you outside your work (Ive had wild exceptions because teachers knew my character enough to GIVE me that grace otherwise not given)

Have a space finished essay tucked away if you are ever like "I just.. cannot" (same for PPT formats)

DONT USE CHATGTP I dont care the situation, at MOST I will say okay on help with ideas/phrasing- but do not copy and paste shit

Go to school theater productions, they are unironically cool as hell

Respect social etiquete, yes there is wanting to be "your own person outside the system" thats great, but not when a bunch of hormonal teens are stuck in a poorly ventilated building for several hours going over US history

Bring gum/mints and offer to share sometimes (if they are chill)

Always have some hairties, spare tampons/pads(even if you arent a girl), bandaids, deoderant. Basically anything someone could go "Oh fuck I forgot-" be the one prepared. Also Earplugs/ a quiet subtle stim toy do wonders

Bullying becomes a problem?? Document EVERYTHING. And dont let people act like its not a big deal.

Pull your weight in group projects, and be VERY truthful on group reviews (If you get stuck with a shit project? Ask the teacher about alternate assignments)

Have a fun little backpack (my senior year was a childrens white with neon rainbow dinosuars and I fucking loved that thing)

ALWAYS HAVE A SPARE CHARGER/EARBUDS

Best advice I can give? Be the person people recognize in a positive light. Reputation is ALOT. Not in the sense of "Oh Tiffany B is a whore so no one should talk to her" But in a it just makes stuff so much easier

Say hello and goodmorning, ask the teacher about their weekend (but plz god not during a group discussion), congratulate your classmate on winning regionals competition, ask a friend if they want gum, offer someone the homework awnsers or a quizlet you made last week, learn the lunch ladies/cleaning staff by name and greet them. All the little simple things add up.

Ive had some shit days in highschool- everyone does. But walking through the halls- having a dozen people call your name, wave, give even a head nod in your direction- it makes you feel seen which to most people, that means the world.

[thollandsgirl2013]

𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐚 𝐐𝐮𝐞𝐞𝐧

Parings → Vampire! Tom Holland x Reader

Warnings → blood

Summary → Tom's stubborn but you know how to make him to do stuff.

You sighed, pacing back and forth in your flat as your phone lay on the coffee table. Five missed calls. Seven texts. Not a single reply.

Tom had a bet going on with Harrison, to see who's gonna last longer without any blood. Tom didn't want you near him while the bet was going on because he didn't want any distraction. Yeah, you're kinda his blood bag. The first three days of Tom’s ridiculous bet with Harrison had gone smoothly enough. He had been his usual playful, teasing self—face timing you late at night, sending you flirty texts, and keeping you updated on his progress. You had told him from the start not to participate, warning him that it was reckless, but Tom was stubborn. He loved competition and hated losing, especially to Harrison.

Now, it had been two whole days without a single word from him. You were worried. Something didn’t feel right, and you weren’t the type to sit around and wait. Grabbing the spare key to his flat, you decided it was time to take matters into your own hands.

---

As you pushed open the door to Tom’s flat, you were immediately hit with darkness. Even though it was broad daylight outside, Tom had somehow managed to make it night inside. Curtains were drawn tight, blocking any hint of sunlight.

"Tom?" You called out, your voice echoing through the unusually quiet space.

A low grunt came from the living room. You followed the sound, finding Tom sprawled out on the couch, his face buried in a pillow. His hair was a mess, and the normally vibrant energy he radiated was replaced with something…off.

"Babe, get up," you said, standing over him with your hands on your hips.

Tom’s muffled voice whined from the pillow. "Nooo…"

You rolled your eyes. "Come on, Tommy. Get up."

"No," he groaned again, this time flipping over to face you, though he squinted as if the faint light from the hallway was too much for him. "I'm too weak... I'm going to die..."

You raised an eyebrow. "Really? You’re dying? What is this, a dramatic one-man show?"

Tom let out another exaggerated groan, draping an arm over his forehead. "I'm serious! I'm burning up. I’m going to turn into ash. I can feel it. My body is crumbling."

"Stop being a drama queen," you said with a chuckle. Walking over to the nearest window, you yanked the curtains open.

Tom instantly threw the pillow over his face, shrieking. "Oh my god, close it, close it please! I’m melting! My skin! I’m gonna—"

"Tom," you cut him off, striding back over to the couch and sitting beside him. "It’s just sunlight. You have your daylight ring, you’re not dying."

He peeked out from under the pillow, giving you an exaggerated pout. "Feels like I am…"

You shook your head, but as your hand brushed his, you stopped. His skin was ice cold. Even for a vampire, Tom usually kept some warmth from his human side, but now he was paler than you’d ever seen him. His face had lost its usual mischievous glow, and his eyes were dull, lacking their usual spark.

"Tom," you said, more softly this time. "Have you really been like this for the past few days?"

He nodded slowly, his face still half-covered by the pillow. "I thought I could handle it. I thought I could win the bet, but I haven't had a drop of blood since this stupid challenge started, and…" He sighed heavily. "I didn’t think it would get this bad."

You placed a hand on his cheek, feeling the chill beneath your fingertips. "You should’ve called me, Tommy. I was worried when I didn’t hear from you."

He closed his eyes, leaning into your touch. "I didn’t want you to see me like this. I thought I could tough it out."

Your heart softened, and you couldn’t help but smile at how stubborn he was, even now. "You and your need to win," you teased. "It’s not worth making yourself sick over, babe. You have to let this bet go."

Tom’s eyes opened, and he looked at you with a hint of desperation. "But Haz… he’ll never let me live it down if I back out now. I can't lose to him. Not again."

You sighed, shaking your head. "Who cares about Haz? You’re not doing yourself any favors by starving. Look at you—you're practically living in a refrigerator." You pressed a hand against his cold chest to emphasize your point. "And besides, he wouldn’t want you like this."

Tom groaned softly but stayed silent. It was clear the stubborn part of him didn’t want to admit defeat, but his body was betraying him.

"Tommy," you said gently, "you need to drink. You’re not going to make it another day like this."

He closed his eyes, his expression conflicted. "I don’t want to hurt you," he murmured. "I’ve been craving your blood this whole time, and if I—" He paused, swallowing hard, as if just the thought made him weak.

You smiled softly. "You’re not going to hurt me. You never have."

Tom’s hand reached out to yours, his thumb brushing over your wrist where your pulse beat steadily. He licked his lips, hesitating. "I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop if I start."

"You will," you assured him, leaning closer until your lips were brushing his ear. "I trust you."

Tom took a shuddering breath, his resolve weakening. His fingers tightened around your wrist, bringing it closer to his mouth. You watched as his eyes darkened, the veins beneath them becoming more pronounced as the hunger inside him took over.

He pressed his lips against your skin, his cool breath sending a shiver up your spine. "Are you sure?" He asked, his voice low and strained.

"Yes," you whispered.

And with that, his fangs slid into your skin. The familiar sharp sting was brief, and soon replaced by the warm, almost comforting sensation of Tom feeding. His grip on your wrist tightened, but not painfully, and you could feel the tension in his body easing as he drank. His pale complexion began to regain some of its usual warmth, the deep hunger fading from his eyes.

You began to feel lightheaded after a moment, and you gently placed your free hand on his shoulder. "Tom…"

He pulled back immediately, his eyes wide with concern. "Shit, sorry," he muttered, licking the last drop of blood from his lips. "I didn’t mean to take that much."

"It’s okay," you said softly, leaning back against the couch and taking a few deep breaths to steady yourself. "I’m fine. Just a bit dizzy."

Tom moved quickly, pulling you into his arms. "You shouldn’t have let me do that," he said, though his voice was softer now, less frantic.

"You needed it," you replied, resting your head against his chest. His skin was warm again, and the familiar comfort of his embrace made you relax. "Besides, I told you—I trust you."

Tom’s arms tightened around you, and he pressed a kiss to your forehead. "You’re too good to me," he murmured, his voice filled with guilt.

"I know," you teased, smiling up at him.

He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through his chest. "Thank you," he said, his voice sincere. "For coming here. For…saving me from myself."

"Someone had to," you replied, poking him playfully in the side. "You’re hopeless."

Tom grinned, his eyes lighting up with amusement. "Hopelessly in love with you."

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t stop the smile that tugged at your lips. "Alright, drama queen. Let’s just cuddle and take it easy, okay?"

Tom didn’t need any more convincing. He pulled you closer, wrapping you in his arms as you both settled into the couch. With his warmth surrounding you and the faint sound of his steady breathing, you felt yourself begin to drift off, the exhaustion catching up with you.

Tom kissed the top of your head one last time, whispering, "I love you."

"I love you too, Tommy," you mumbled, snuggling deeper into his embrace as sleep finally overtook you.

°:. *₊ ° . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ° .•

[putrid-sex-machine]

KiNKTOBER DAY 15 ☾ CHRiS

PROMPT: size difference, marking & hunter-prey w/ werewolf!chris

WARNINGS/TAGS: smut (obv), werewolf, p in v, unprotected (stay safe), monster fucking, gn afab!reader, slight dub con but nothing serious, chris is an absolute horn dog, one shot, rutting, grinding, pet play if you squint hard enough, size difference, marking, a/b/o themes ig, knotting, idk it’s supposed to be little gross @ parts

A/N: im absolutely feral for werewolf!chris, bro, you have no idea. i was listening to a 3 hour long werewolf ambiance video i found on youtube the whole time i was writing this incase any1 cares. tumblr also didn't save the first like, 3 attempts at starting this fic off so i've got the beginning portion mesmerized by heart atp</3 the openings a biiiit of a drag btw, i apologize. i got a little caught up in the world building lol. it's worth it tho, trust

this fic has nsft content. you have been warned.

You're being chased by a lycan. You think so at least. It's the only plausible conclusion you can come to, based off nothing but fleeting glances. Then again its not whats chasing you that you're worried about, rather the fact you're separated from your team, low on ammo, and in the middle of the woods, defenseless. Far from ideal.

Your lungs ache, your legs ache, your whole body aches, really, joints threatening to give out due to overuse. But you can't stop to rest now. Not when the lycan (you think) is hot on your trail, gaining on you no matter how fast you run. You think briefly about calling out for help on the off chance a team member of yours miraculously manages to hear it. You're quick to dismiss it, though. Making sound will do you more harm than good. Besides, Captain Redfield is out in these woods somewhere. Surely he can't be too far.

You continue running, dodging trees and roots expertly, all while ignoring the branches scratching ruthlessly at your face. There's no time to rest, no time to regroup. You have to keep going.

And you do... until you're no longer running, years of military training ultimately failing you as you find yourself face-first on the forest floor, pain searing through your body. Fuck. A quick once-over confirms two things; 1. you, in fact, didn't trip and aren't an absolute failure to your team; 2. you've been caught. Easier on your conscience but still not good. The sheer weight on your back is enough to make your heart race, struggling doing nothing to deter it. If this is a lycan, it's the biggest you've ever encountered. Impossibly so.

There's a snout pressing uncomfortably into your neck, the padded skin strangely warm. The creature huffs, sharp claws threatening to dig into your sides as it holds you in place, smelling you.

You hear your name, a soft, animalistic growl, the creature’s hot breath fanning against your neck as it speaks. Your heart just about stops. You know that voice.

“Captain?” you manage, your voice small and breathless, practically suffocated beneath the lycan’s— no —Captain Redfield’s chest. There’s a grunt, his nose shoving further into the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply.

It takes all that remains of Chris’ self control to not ravage you right then and there. But your eyes are wide, practically trembling beneath him, the intoxicating smell of fear radiating off you in waves. No, no, no, he doesn’t want you to scare you. He flips you into your back in one quick movement, seemingly thinking you seeing his monstrous form will help sooth you. He licks your cheek, nuzzling further into you.

The word werewolf is really the only thing you can think of to describe him. With everything you’ve been through, this isn’t that strange. Not any less disturbing though. He’s massive — easily 8 feet tall — towering over you, pinning you to the ground with nothing but his absurd weight. You’d be lying if you said it didn’t do something for you.

And fuck, Chris can’t help himself, not with you under him like this, entirely defenseless, that hint of fascination in your eyes as you stare up at him oh so sweetly. He needs you. All at once he’s hit with the overwhelming need to have you, to breed. Really, it’s a miracle he’s managed to starve it off this long. He ruts against your stomach with a shaky gasp, unable to help himself, soft shameful whispers of “m’so sorry,” leaving him as he does.

“Fucking… need you,” he growls, panting softly as he continues humping against your abs. You whine, unable to so much as struggle against Chris as he pleasures himself on your shirt. An unfamiliar need courses through your veins. You hadn’t realized how goddamn pent up you were until now.

Chris flips you back onto your stomach, all self control out the window as he tears your pants open in one quick slash. You shutter. The mental image of how sharp his claws must be has you strangely wet. Those were combat pants.

“M’sorry… Jus’ wan’ you so bad,” he whines, his cock head pressing against your entrance. “M’so fuckin’ sorry… Need you. Need to fill you.”

You don’t have time to formulate a response, Chris’ patience running thin as he shoves himself inside you. You scream, burning, white hot pain searing through you. Chris stiffens, attempting to give you time to adjust to the stretch, but clearly unable to control himself. He continues rutting into as you cry out, a clawed hand wrapping around your face, attempting to silence you.

“M’sorry… So fuckin’ sorry… Can’t help it— Can’t— hah S’too fuckin’ good. Need you so bad.”

You don’t know what to do with yourself, you can’t even think. His knot rams into your clit, unable to fit just yet and only working to overstimulate you further. You can’t focus on anything other than the intense pain and pleasure, sobbing stupidly on his cock. It feels like you’ve been split in half. You have to be bleeding now.

Chris can’t stop himself, hips snapping into yours as he desperately chases his high. He still has the mind to feel bad though, apologizing with every thrust, uselessly attempting to slow himself.

“M’so fuckin’ sorry… You’re takin’ me s…fuck so well… Thank you. Thank you s‘much.”

You can’t even think of a reply, not when you’re being fucked better than you’ve ever been. Not with your face shoved into Chris’ hand, his calloused palm swallowing up your guttural moans. Not with all his weight on you like this, his big, beefy chest pressed up against your back, forearm easily holding you up, positioning you just how he wants.

He’s reaching so deep inside now, his tip ramming into your g-spot head on with every thrust, the overstimulation making your body twitch uselessly. You can’t fucking breathe, choking on your own spit as your eyes roll back, back arching instinctively into Chris’ hips. You’re practically suffocating. You’ve never wanted anything more than this.

And it’s all so sloppy, too. You’re drooling all over Chris’ hand and he’s smearing it across your face, all while as he slobbers all over your damn shoulder. The lewd sound of his hips snapping against your ass is deafening, somehow even louder than the pitiful squelching of your pussy around him. He’s growling in your ear now, soft useless whines leaving his mouth as he curses into your shoulder, chanting little fuck, fuck, fucks as you feel yourself getting closer.

“Taking me s’well, taking me s’fuckin’ well,” he practically howls. “M’gonna fill you… Gonna fill you with my pups. Gonna make you take them.”

You can’t help but nod stupidly, hips slamming back to meet Chris’ whimpering and whining like a goddamn dog. You can tell he’s close, his thrusts growing uncoordinated as he babbles senselessly. Your cunt burns as an orgasm tears through you, momentarily blacking out. Your satisfaction is short lived, though, as Chris shows no signs of stopping, continuing to abuse your cunt despite it all. You have no choice but to take it, attempting to cry out and make him stop, your pleas muffled by your Captain’s hand.

Even when he cums he shows no signs of stopping, continuing to fuck his seed into your stupid hole as your body’s wracked with another orgasm. You’ve lost track of how many you’ve had now, barely capable of distinguishing them from the never ending overstimulation. You can barely breathe. It’s all too much… it’s been too much.

You want this.

[frodothefair]

꧁ Master Meriadoc’s Missive ꧂

Summary: Éomer gets a letter from Merry with happy news, and mourns the state of his own marriage. Pairings: Éomer x Lothíriel; Frodo x Marigold Gamgee Rating: PG ┃ Words: 950 A/n: I couldn't help myself, and wrote the fic crossover nobody asked for. (This may or may not end up in a future chapter of my Eothiriel longfic, The Golden Hall. For those utterly confused as to what's going on, this piece references events in my AU fic, Flowers of Mordor, where Frodo did not sail to Valinor but healed in Middle-earth. Both fics in question may be found in my masterlist). @emmanuellececchi @konartiste @from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras @dilettantefeminist

The lamp was burning low, and Éomer sat in his study, opening envelope after envelope, and running his eyes over the dizzy lines of text.

Even Éothain had retired – and he would burn the midnight oil as enthusiastically as he had once swung a sword – but still Éomer sat, turning over lists of numbers, puzzling over terms he did not always understand.

Since he had become king, he realized he hated making people wait, but he needed the extra time to formulate opinions, so this became a nightly ritual. Before he discussed anything with anyone – even Éothain – he would peruse the correspondence alone, giving himself ample time to think.

It was taxing work, but a thousand times worth the pain. Indeed, the dry nature of the petitions and accounts made it all the more pleasant to come upon a friendly missive, and this night, it was a thick letter from one Meriadoc Brandybuck, his good friend from the Shire and an Esquire of Rohan.

Éomer sliced open the envelope with his well-worn letter opener – which resembled a sword, and was inherited from Théoden – and ran his weary eyes over the text.

The hobbit was a most entertaining correspondent, and this time he related, in his usual, plainspoken manner, how his cousin Frodo Baggins, the Ringbearer, had married the sister of Samwise Gamgee, his best friend and esquire.   

The wedding was, by all accounts, quite grand and the talk of the season, with “half of the Shire invited,” immoderate food and drink, and as a culmination of the festivities, the bride and groom feigned disappearance in a cloud of smoke – which hearkened back to a trick the Ringbearer’s uncle had played on his eleventy-first birthday. 

Éomer chuckled as he read the account – sparing no detail or opportunity for a pithy metaphor – but even so, he felt suddenly lonely.

His mind traveled back to when he met the Ringbearer – initially in the Field of Cormallen, and then several times in Minas Tirith. At the time, he had been struck by how hollowed out the hobbit looked: like a person who had once been vibrant, if his friends were any indication, but his labor had left an indelible mark, and now he was perfectly pleasant but somehow distant, and whenever he spoke, he had a mournful look in his eye. 

It was hard to imagine such a person doing much of anything, much less getting married, or planning a feast, or playing an elaborate trick.

He wondered what could have caused such a transformation – and Meriadoc’s letter was quick to explain.  

Apparently, Samwise’s sister, whose name was Marigold, and whose kindness, beauty, and learning Meriadoc praised for half a page, had trained as a healer, and had nursed the Ringbearer back to health over the better part of a year – and now, Meriadoc was delighted to report, the Ringbearer was nearly back to his old self.

Éomer clicked his tongue in wonderment, and shook his head.

He had to meet this extraordinary woman, as well as the newly healed Ringbearer, and make him a better friend. 

Perhaps, one day he might travel to the Shire, under the guise of a diplomatic mission, or perhaps the Ringbearer might be well enough to accept an invitation…

He folded the letter carefully, and placed it back in its envelope, tucking it into a drawer of correspondence that he wished to keep.

But even so, his smile was one part joyful, one part bitter.

He pressed his fingers into fists, and longed to get up and start pacing, to quell the acrid feeling in his chest. 

For this – this was the proper basis for a marriage. Caring for one another, coming to know one another, living simply side by side – not a series of chaperoned meetings and letters written by others. And yet, he was not the Ringbearer: he was not so ill that he needed a dry nurse to look after him every day, and outside of Éowyn, the women in his life were either servants or entertainment. Indeed, he was starved for female company for so long – that is, female company that might have had a future – that he built up castles in the sky, and those around him were only too happy to encourage his illusions. It had nearly led to tragedy, but now that that was over, he was married but alone.

Indeed, Lothíriel had every right to hate him, and he could not fault her for it. And yet, all he wanted was to put his head into her lap.

Did the Ringbearer put his head into his wife’s lap? He wagered that he did, every night.

Éomer sighed, and pushed his chair away from the table.

He was going to start pacing after all. Which was just as well – at least it would keep him from punching things. 

He measured out the length of his study with his strides, his arms folded behind his back.

But truly, was all hope to be abandoned?

When she was not jabbing him with barbs, Lothíriel certainly had her moments. She was tender and sweet when she begged him to spare the horse that had almost thrown her. She was attentive and kind when she learned of his troubles with sleep, and entreated him to stay. 

He recalled the touch of her hands, soft as silk. And when they made love, she had dropped all pretense and sang her pleasure like a bird.

What would it take, for them to abandon the games and the artifice, and simply be?

What would happen if he went to her that night, and asked to put his head in her lap?

[nevertheless-moving]

But Peter Parker (no not that one, the other — yeah that guy) does actually have an OnlyAdmirer’s account though.

He doesn’t remember exactly when he started it — sometime after losing the job at the pizza place and before picking up the tutoring hours; he remembered he was short for one of Aunt May’s prescriptions that month, but isn’t sure anymore which one it was. Sometime during college.

Low ebb on crime that week, which meant he wasn’t making much from the Bugle, but he did have some extra time, enough to take a deep breathand set up the encyptions on his account (he should probably go this hard for all his spiderman stuff too, but eh, it had been fine so far).

He wears a mask (no not that one, though he did consider it because, you know, it would be freaking hilarious).

He pulls...a grand, whopping total of.... $100 a month. Wahoo.

Ok, maybe a little more on average; and sometimes its up to $200! It’s just worth the fees and the time, and after a while he has to admit it’s less stressful than any of his other gigs.

At first he’s paranoid about someone finding out, both in his personal life and his superheroics (he has, like, 10 self righteous rants prepared about the moral neutrality, nay the moral Good of sex work).

(He’s a little disappointed that it never comes up.} Eventually he doesn't think about it, especially not on patrol, not any more than he thinks about the taco shop, or the GrubHob gig, or any of the bazillion odd jobs that come with working class heroics. Eventually he doesn’t think not to mention it, and the set-up was perfect for him to — ok— sue him, he might have been trying to sound cool in front of an X-Man who was laughing at his jokes— He, uh. May have forgotten. How much X-Men gossip. It’s not like it would have been a big deal had the press event not happened two days later, and— why do other people always get a laugh when they repeat his jokes anyway!

Plus! He was on maybe two hours sleep when the tabloid asked him point blank and for a moment he was so wrapped in the euphoria of a non-Bugle rag interviewing him, and also not yelling at him for damages or anything serious, that he forgot he lived in a world where sex-work was stigmatized so— yeah. Good news! His secret identities are still fine, no-one’s even figured out which OnlyAccount is his. Bad news! Because his secret identity’s still intact, and noone’s figured out which twink is spiderpowered, he’s still only going to make $134 this month, which is barely more than minimum wage when you include prep time.

Other good news! Most fun he’s ever had explaining something from the internet to Jonah.

[aylish91]

Your writing is fantastic! I'm always so excited to read anything you post. Congratulations on all the followers!

Would it be OK to ask for something Dream x Reader? Happy, sad, angsty, fluffy, whatever you feel inspired to write (I'm sorry, I know that's not a very helpful prompt ^^; )

Thank you so much and thank you for giving me the opportunity to write this self-indulgent piece!!! Though it kicked my anus at times, I enjoyed it! It has an alternate ending for a Royal Au that's not quite finished as well. I will reblog it with the addition as soon as it is completed.

For now, have a dream meeting our fair reader in an older Au! I feel as if Dream would like the nostalgia once in a while. 😉

~~~

To Meet Beneath the Old Apple Tree

Nestled into the woods outside of your village stood an old apple tree. It sat far enough from the road that others seldom visited but close enough one could walk without trouble. It had been there since you could remember, and though old, it stood tall, reliably bearing fruit throughout the years. Steadfast and reliable. But most importantly, it was your favorite place to spend your time.

From how the sun shone through the leaves, to the trickling of the nearby creek; It created a sense of calm and safety. It was the only place that brought you a semblance of peace. 

You stared, contemplating the bountiful fruit above you. Birdsong echoed through the canopy but you remained still, thoughtful of your goal of gathering apples. They were ripe and in season, providing the sweetest of fruits for your endeavor.

If you could reach them.

It was a real conundrum. You had gathered as many of the low-hanging fruit as you could, but the rest were seemingly out of reach. Even standing on your toes, your fingers barely touched their bottoms. You couldn’t get enough of a hold to pull them down.

You huffed, wondering whether it was worth trying for more. You had enough to make something small, but the thought of leaving without a full basket gave you pause.

Apples were better before they fell to rot on the ground…

Making a decision, you settled on bringing a large rock over from the creek. It gave you the extra height you needed. Unfortunately, its nature and shape were not suited to the purpose for which it was being used. Though the apples were in reach, the rock wobbled dangerously beneath you. Undeterred, you carried on.

However, you did not anticipate a finely gloved hand brushing passed yours.

“Perhaps I may assist y—"

Your soul lept into your throat. You had not expected anyone to come this far down the path. The jolt it caused had the rock rolling and you tumbling back with a cry. Apples flew from your basket to litter the ground. Had it not been for the strong arms pulling you against a sturdy chest, you had no doubt you would have injured your ankle.

Through your heavy breaths, the concerned voice of your savior pulled at the back of your mind, their words not registering from the panic and apologies hanging on your lips. Scrambling to right yourself and turn, the subtle pressure along your arms escaped you.

“Oh my goodness! Forgive me! I didn’t realize...”

Your mind stalled. Finally looking up, you found yourself in awe. Golden eyelights and fine linen captivated you with their intricate designs. Despite the gentleman being of bone, his expressions were smooth, filled with a worry that radiated warmth you couldn’t comprehend. The soft chuckle as he spoke only served to instill your amazement.

“Please. It’s quite alright. No need for apologies. It is I who should be apologizing. I should have announced myself sooner.” Glancing towards the rock, his smile turned sheepish. “It was not my intention to startle you.”

The motion made your cheeks burn. You had not intended anyone seeing you foolishly teetering for apples, let alone someone of their standing. Adding to your shame, you only now realized he had been bracing your arms when his gloves gently slid over your sleeves. You didn’t know how to hold yourself. Opting for the customary politeness you were accustomed to, you did your best to ignore the lingering touch.

“You are too kind, My Lord. But if it wasn’t for my silliness, there would not have been a need to worry. But I do thank you for preventing my fall.”

His hands slid lower to grasp yours, lightly bringing one to his teeth. It made you painfully aware of his natural heat through the contact.

“My Lady, I would gladly catch you a thousand times if it got you to fall for me but once.”

You swear his eyelights brightened.

“M-my Lord!”

You didn’t think your face could become any hotter. You simply couldn’t find the words. You had known the man less than a few minutes and he was already sweeping you off your feet, physically and metaphorically. It turned you into a stuttering blushing mess as you desperately tried to calm yourself. It came with no surprise when he gave another chuckle, relinquishing his hold to step back and bow at the waist.

“My name is Dream. I do hope you can forgive me. I seem to keep getting ahead of myself. Something about this place…” His gaze wandered through the branches before he shook his head. “But I digress. Allow me to help you. It is the least I can do.”

…

Everything about the man in front of you was different. Strange, but charming and new.

With a great bit of deliberation and halfhearted denials to his pleas, you eventually relented to his help. Its oddity continued to perplex you. No one had ever taken the time before, and surely not as enthusiastically as Dream. His soft smile had remained as he knelt to gather fallen apples, offering small talk as you went. You couldn’t stop the smile his help in reaching more brought you. The longer you spent with him, the more relaxed and at ease you became.

You paid no mind when the basket filled and you both made your way to sit in the soft grass. The conversation was enjoyable, his company desired. You didn’t want it to end. He was as warm as the sun and just as interesting to speak with.

Unfortunately, all things must come to an end. Yours came in the form of a hurried skeleton monster dressed in white and black, hand gripping the hilt of a drawn sword as he called for your companion.

Dream, similarly, was quick to turn in answer.

“Cross! I was not expecting you. What…” For the first time, Dream’s features tightened into a well-hidden cringe. “Give me a moment. I will be with you shortly.”

Branches from the apple tree swayed above you, their fruit glinting in the light. You hated the look of regret Dream gave as he extended a hand to guide you. The way he avoided looking at you directly had your heart sinking.

“…It appears our time has come to an end. Though, I must confess. For what little moment we’ve shared, you have bewitched me body and soul. I have never known another that has captivated me so...” The gold of his eyelights finally met yours, hypnotic in the way their light swirled when your hands clasped one another’s. “It would do me a great honor if I could see you again.”

Something pulsed in your chest.

It felt like you could burst. You must have looked so strange with how wide your smile became. It wrinkled your eyes and made it harder to see.

“Of course! Please, I would like nothing more!” If there was any way you could see him again after this, you wanted to take it.

“Then so we shall. Right here? In a fortnight?”

The sun shone brighter through the trees, bringing with it a hope you thought you had long since forgotten. “I’ll be waiting.”

As quickly as he came, Dream left through the winding path, the strange knight following at his side. You were left dazed, watching long after they had vanished through the trees. Soul thrumming, phantom breath from his parting embrace pulled at the back of your mind.

… You would wait. Willingly and hopeful, you’d wait beneath the boughs of the old apple tree.

Dreamtale Aus GrandMaster