#day1

[schrodingersboy]

Alright, first post on this magnificent hellscape of a site, and it is day 1 of Ectober 2024. I’m gonna be real with you I didn’t understand the past/future prompt system so for today we just have a vague concept involving Clockwork that I drafted at 10 pm in my concept dev class (I was not paying attention to the lecture)

There’s a lot I want to fix with this but this month I’m here to mass produce and they’re not all gonna be bangers

November update: they were not all bangers because they do not exist, I did exactly one day or ectober

[ltwilliammowett]

It's the first day and we're travelling back to the early days of the age of sail. May I introduce you to the Golden Hinde? The famous lady on which Sir Francis Drake sailed.

More about her below:

The Golden Hinde was a relatively slender galleon with a low aft deck and an even lower foredeck.

The outer walls consisted of two layers of planks with a layer of tar in between, and the ship had three masts: the main mast and the jib mast were rigged with square sails and additional topsails, crossbatten sails and fighting sails, while the mizzen mast was rigged with lateen sails. The ship was 37 metres long, 5.6 metres wide and had a draught of 2.7 metres. The armament probably consisted of 18 cannons.They were distributed over seven hatches on each side and four hatches in the bow.Three cannons were made of bronze, the others of cast iron. Around 60 men were on board at the beginning of the circumnavigation.

Queen Elizabeth I partly sponsored Sir Francis Drake as the leader of an expedition intended to pass around South America through the Strait of Magellan and to explore the coast that lay beyond. The queen's support was advantageous; Drake had official approval to benefit himself and the queen and cause the maximum damage to the Spaniards. This eventually culminated in the Anglo–Spanish War.

Her original name of the Golden Hinde was Pelikan. She was renamed on the day she entered the Strait of Magellan. It is generally assumed that Francis Drake changed the name in honour of his patron Sir Christopher Hatton, who had a golden stag in his coat of arms. A name change during a voyage was extremely unusual, even for the time, and Christopher Hatton was by no means Drake's only patron - other patrons included Queen Elizabeth I, Robert Dudley, 1st Earl of Leicester, Sir Francis Walsingham, Sir William Winter and Drake's cousin John Hawkins. The reasons for the renaming are therefore unclear, but are usually associated with the fate of Thomas Doughty: Doughty, an English adventurer and gentleman, was commander of the Mary on Drake's expedition, but was accused of mutiny in the Straits of Magellan, found guilty and executed. As Doughty was Christopher Hatton's personal secretary, the renaming of the ship is often understood as a conciliatory gesture towards Hatton, which is at least supported by the coincidence in time of the two events: the Golden Hinde's logbook of 20 June 1578 states: ‘Thomas Doughty tried for mutiny and executed. (…) Pelican renamed Golden Hind.

In 1581, the Queen ordered the Golden Hinde to be ‘kept in Deptford for perpetual remembrance’, and for some years the ship was one of the sights of London, visited by thousands of people. Soon, however, it became so neglected that in 1599 a Swiss visitor, Thomas Platter, remarked that ‘the ship is rotten and about to fall to pieces’. In 1629, the secretary of the Venetian envoy noted that ‘the remains of the ship resembled the bleached ribs and skull of a dead horse’. The last remains were removed in 1662.

A replica of the Golden Hinde is located in a floating dock on the Thames in London, and another is moored in Brixham harbour in Devon, England.

[melanieph321]

Hello :) could you do an imagine/story where Ruben and reader have a boy and he is a big momma’s boy like he’s jealous when Ruben kiss reader please (sorry for my bad English btw) if you don’t feel comfortable writing it that’s okay

I LOVE THIS REQUEEEST! 🤭💓🤭💓

Please keep em coming!

10 DAYS OF REQUESTS

(DAY 1)

Ruben Dias - Mommy's Boy

This one is so funny ����

Enjoy!

Having a six year old boy seemed more of a challenge than having a four - or three year old boy.

Six was the age of discovery. Discovery of how spicy a Portuguese pepper can be when devoured raw. Discovery of how fast a bicycle can travel downhill when you take off the training wheels. Or your son's most recent discovery — How high the swing in the backyard goes before its ropes snap and lunges him across mommy's neatly pruned rose bushes.

"My arm!" Your son cried out, as you and Ruben rushed down the steps to the backyard.

You had witnessed it all from the kitchen window. The last part at least, when the swings ropes snapped and your son's body was thrown across the yard. Before then, Ruben had your back pressed against the refrigerator, his lips tracing ever so gently down the slope of your neck while his rough hands crept up your thighs and under your dress. Nedless to say that your son's cries stopped it all, to your husband's annoyance, of course.

"Help, mommy. It hurts!" Your son cried, as you fought to get him out from the leaves and thornes. He was all bruised up once you did.

"I'll go get the band-aids." Ruben sighed. He returned to the house while you carried your son to the steps leading up to it. Your son cradled in your arms, his dark hair head nuzzling into the pit of your embrace as the two of you settled down.

"Oh, hubby." You cooed. "Why do you always have to get yourself into such trouble? Can't you see how you keep scaring mommy to death."

Your son sniffled in response. "I'm sorry mommy."

"Oh, no. There's nothing to be sorry about. It was all an accident."

"Yeah, right." A voice scolded behind you. Ruben, appearing in the backdoor with the band-aids in his hand. He dropped them in your lap and joined you and your son on the steps.

"Baby, what's gotten into you?" You said, noting the bitterness in Ruben's comment.

"Nothing, nothing." He muttered. "It's just funny that..." He paused to reconsider his words.

"Ruben?" Your narrowed gaze challenge for him to go on.

He shook his head with laughter and disbelief. "I dunno Y/N, but don't you think that it's very coincidental that every time the two of us....well...."

"Well?" You frowned, rocking the sniffling boy in your arms.

Ruben looked to your son, however, not with the same empathy as you. "If I put it this way. Last week, the two of us were in our room, in bed, doing what adults do during late hours, especially after a well played game like mine—."

"Ruben." Heat suddenly flushed to your cheeks. You knew exactly what events of last week that Ruben was referring to. However, it was highly inappropriate to bring up such subjects amongst children. "Your point is?" You emphasized.

"My point is..." Ruben declared. "I barely got to touching you that night before little Romeo here came running into our room with a burning tongue." Ruben's eyes darted at your son, who snickered at the phrase "Little Romeo."

"Honey." You felt obligated to defend your son. "He simply mistook your mom's peppers for a regular Bell one."

"Mistook my ass! What was he even doing roaming around in the kitchen that late at night? And do you remember that time we took the training wheels off his bicycle and he conveniently decided to send it down the hill. Do you remember that time?"

"Yes, Ruben. But what's that got to do with anything?"

Your husband ran a hand through his hair, looking to calm himself down. "All I'm saying is that you wouldn't leave his side after our son got his knees bruised up from his hell ride. Same thing as today. I mean, look at him."

You both tilted your heads to meet the bright beaming eyes of your son, who seemed delighted to be curled up in your arms despite becoming way too big to do so.

"Look, the thornes didn't even manage to cut him up that deep. I bet he just saw us kissing through the window while on the swing and decided to lunge himself off of it."

"Ruben?" You gasped. "Are you telling me that our son injures himself purposely just to get our attention?"

"Your attention." Ruben corrected.

You looked to your son and back to Ruben. "I can't believe you."

"Don't believe me? Fine, I'll prove it." Ruben's hand reached for the nape of your neck, tilting your head with the motion of drawing you towards him. Towards his lips, to be exact. But before his parted mouth could even brush pass your own, your son erupted in an ear shattering wail.

"Told you." Ruben grinned and let go of your neck.

You were perplexed, looking down at your son whose face had gone red from crying. He held up his finger, offering it to you. "It hurts, mommy. Kiss and make it better."

"I—"

Behind you, Ruben was trembling with laughter. "Huh, it seems like I'm competing with my son for my own wife's attention."

"But that...." You regarded them both in confusion. The whole thing utterly absurd.

"Don't worry." Ruben pressed a swift kiss to your cheek and rose from the steps, looking to return the band-aids. He paused in the door. "Our son will grow out of it. In the meantime, I guess he can have you....at least during the day."

The wink of Ruben's eye sent a tickling shiver down your spine. You quickly shook out of it to address your son. "You. Little. Gremlin." He giggled at your choice of words, and so you resorted to torturing him by tickling his belly. "You are such a mommy's boy, aren't you? A mommy's boy, that's what you are."

"Mommy, stop it. I can't breathe." He laughed.

"Oh, no. Not so fast." You continued poking his little belly. It was the least you could do for raising such a menace.

The tickling seized once the two of you were left breathless. By then, your torturing methods shifted to a serenation of kisses. Kisses you thought would annoy your son. Instead, he squirmed beaneth you, each peck of your lips making him errupt in joyous shouts. Perhaps Ruben was right that your sons admiration for you wouldn't last forever. Until then, you were going to enjoy having a little mommy's boy all to yourself.

[jitterdogart]

[coffees4sleepy]

Happy birthday, Jason!!!

Why does it say 17? Because it's my birthday, too, and I'm turning 17! Jason's cake is pink because why not. Pink is good.

[insanyu]

Frans Week 2024. Day 1 -Blushing (@fransweek)

ErrorCore - comic 404: AU not found by @nuvex

Core!Frisk by @dokudoki

Error!Sans by @loverofpiggies

[couchtaro]

A while ago I was working at my desk I looked behind me and my cat was rolled over looking at me with the roundest eyes on planet earth

[deiaiko]

Day 1: Angel/Memory - Outsider POV/Comic format

The next morning, it returns to watching the Khun. The Khun is watching the Irregular make breakfast, hair still messy from sleep and exhaustion still clear in his gaze. But there is a faint blush on his cheeks. The Guardian lets its consciousness sink a little deeper into the Khun’s mind, and for a moment, it can see a flicker of wings and horns and a Thorn thrumming with Shinsu.

[nerdcubed]

Advent begins too! Watch as Ashens and I open a whopping six calendars over the next 25 days as we slowly go insane.

[phoenixnakama]

Inktober and ATLA

[ashintheairlikesnow]

All We Have Is Each Other

CW: Intimate whumper, captivity, defiant whumpee, biting, creepy whumper, obsessive whumper, noncon kiss, vague noncon references, drugging. For @amonthofwhump Tropeathon Day 1: Duel

The Motherfucking Gallaghers Masterlist

Takes place during Jax’s second captivity. As always, Jax is used with oversight and permission from @comfy-whumpee)

-

Savvie rolls dice every time she uses the mortar and pestle in the kitchen to grind up one of her collections of pills and mix it into Jax’s drink.

She’s always gambling with the drugs. The first part of the game is seeing whether he’ll drink it before he realizes there’s something in it. If she doesn’t mix it well enough, he’ll see the cloudy bits floating around in the glass and look at her with terrible sad eyes. Sometimes she can’t take it. She just takes the drink right back out of his hand and pours it out, makes him a new one. 

Other the other hand, sometimes his sad voice and sad eyes piss her off worse than anything else could, and she just tips it up until he chokes and makes him finish it anyway. Or shocks him, pressing the button to the remote and watching his muscles lock up, knowing he’ll look sweeter once he’s fighting the way his muscles jerk afterward, the unconscious twitches he can’t quite get rid of as the aftermath works its way through him. 

Sometimes he even looks scared. Those nights are some of her favorites. Savvie never loves Jax as much as she does when he is scared of her. 

But... she can’t keep him scared all the time. What kind of marriage would they have if she did that? No, the drinks aren’t to scare him, they’re just to make… to make things easier. And she doesn’t always do it! She doesn’t always drug him, but it’s enough that he never trusts her. She knows that. He doesn’t… trust easily. 

That’s okay. 

Their relationship got off to a rough start, that’s all, what with Jax starting off as one of the staff, bought and paid for. Plus, Jax’s dad convinced him Savvie was evil, once upon a time when he ran away from her. Taught him to hate her. She had to have her uncle fly all the way to England to bring Jax back, and it’s taking years to undo all the damage that stupid old man did. 

That’s okay. He’s getting better, he’s definitely getting better. He is. He has to be getting better. 

Still… he’s not an easy man to be married to. Not with having to keep an eye on the remote to his shock collar so he can’t take it off and try to run away again, not with the way he watches her sometimes like he wants to dunk her head into the toilet and hold it there until she drowns. Putting stuff in his drink just lets Savvie be able to relax. 

She doesn’t have to worry about what he might do when he’s so high he can’t do much of anything. Besides, it’s only like one out of every ten nights, sometimes twenty, sometimes she even goes for a month or two without doing it. 

She really doesn’t even want to. If he would just learn to be happy without it, she wouldn’t have to keep drugging him, would she? If he’d just stop being so difficult about being her husband… but that isn’t fair. He can’t be any better than he is, not really. Jax just… isn’t wired that way.

So she has to help him a little, to make it so he can have nights when he can’t stay mad at her. Or at least nights when his anger isn’t able to simmer in there behind his eyes while he says Yes, Miss Savvie or No, Miss Savvie like there’s a gun to his head. 

Still. Trying to give him these evenings where both of them just relax… it’s always a gamble. 

Even if he drinks whatever she makes without realizing it’s spiked, he doesn’t always react the same way. If she’s lucky - if her dice rolls well - the drugs make Jax… softer. He’ll lean against her when some of his strength slides away, not seek out touch but loathe it less. Those are the nights she can coax a sound out of him that isn’t clipped or tense. She still thinks about the night she gave him a back rub and he genuinely fell asleep sitting on the floor between her knees, his head drifting until it rested on her leg, the knots of tension slowly loosening beneath her kneading hands until she got distracted by the movie and forgot what she was doing. 

Sometimes he smiles, when he’s blurry and unfocused. Smiles, enough to show teeth even… God, sometimes he even laughs at some of Savvie’s jokes. It’s rare, but it happens. She loves those nights the best. Those are the nights that their marriage almost feels normal… if she just ignores the dilated pupils and the way he can’t stand up on his own. 

Sometimes he gets so foggy he can’t stop laughing, which is irritating but at least adorable to watch and take videos of to make him look at later on the next day when he sobers up again. Sometimes the side effects make him too scared to smile, his eyes darting nervously everywhere watching the movements of shadows he swears are watching him. She… tries not to give him those pills anymore.

The nights tend to end with her telling him to take off his shirt so she can enjoy the view, or even his pants, too. She usually waits on that, though, because it doesn’t matter how good the drugs are - he always hesitates when it comes to taking off his pants, as soon as his fingers touch the boxers with their oddly rolled waistband. 

It reminds him he doesn’t want to be here. Makes his addled mind come back to the collar he wears around his neck, to the reality of the life they’re living, the marriage Savvie has built all by herself whether he wanted to or not.

And he… he didn’t want to. 

So normally she waits on the getting naked bit until they’re in the bedroom and what he wants matters so much less that neither of them think about it any longer. The drugs, at least, make it harder for him to slow her down in there. 

Savvie tries not to think about that, because she doesn’t remember it that way. She likes the nights best where he doesn’t even try to fight, just lets her pull him upstairs and she gets to bury her hands in his hair and tell him what to do and have him, languid and loose-limbed, follow every command without the tension and misery he usually carries into their bed. 

She doesn’t always roll well. 

Sometimes, she rolls snake eyes… and she gets this, instead.

“Fuck’s sake,” Jax groans, words slurring around the edges, rubbing a hand over his eyes. He pushes clumsily away from her, nearly falling off the couch before he manages to catch himself. “For… f’r fuck’s sake, Savvie, what the fuck.”

His wedding ring glints, light from the TV bouncing off the deceptively plain platinum band. She’s hit all over again with a wave of love for him, for the life she’s built after he was brought back home to be hers forever, just like he always should have been. She’d been an idiot not to see it, not until he was gone and she spent years in prison dreaming about getting him back. 

“Fuck’s sake what?” She asks, voice light, smiling at him and poking him in the shoulder where they sit on the couch. 

He doesn’t slap her hand away, but she sees him look at her and… he wants to. His expression is dark. The light is bouncing off his hazel eyes, too, giving them a strange sheen of white that wipes out the color, obscures even his dilated pupils slowly taking over the iris. “What the fuck was it?”

“What was what?”

“What the fuck did you give me?” He goes to push himself to standing only to have his knees buckle beneath him, crashing him to the floor, barely catching himself on his hands. Savvie’s mouth waters, and she swallows, trying to ignore the flutter of fascinated interest in watching his fingernails scrape the rug as he tries to steady himself. “What the fuck is it, Savvie?”

“It doesn’t matter,” She answers, without changing her own tone, leaning forward with her arms resting on her thighs. Her hair falls in heavy waves down her back and over her shoulders. “It’s not anything that could hurt you.”

This time, he doesn't say Miss Savvie or try out the sad eyes. Instead, he looks away. She can nearly hear his teeth grinding. “Yeah, but once I’m all fucked up, you will.”

“Don’t be rude,” Savvie chides him, but she doesn’t move. He looks good, on his hands and knees on the floor. Well, he looks good all the time, really, but he looks even better on his hands and knees. She knows the physique he’s built with the workout routine she makes him do, knows the muscles there hidden beneath the green sweater and jeans he’s wearing. “You’ve been stressed all week. I’m just trying to help-”

“Fucking shit, the hell you are!” He manages to sit back on his knees, then collapses back until his back hits the edge of the couch cushions, upright through sheer force of will and a bit of good luck. His hands lay limp at his sides, now. When he turns to look at her, his eyes don’t focus quite right - but the fury in them is clear.

Well.

Tonight’s not going to be the best night for them, then, she supposes. She feels the edge of a headache starting up, and sighs, looking mournfully at the movie she’d pulled up for them to watch. Another night, then. A night when the gamble pays off and doesn’t backfire. A night when he can’t remember how to be angry at her.

“Fine,” She says, heavily. “I’m not trying to help you. I’m trying to help me.”Her own voice changes - drops almost a full octave from her usual carefully constructed diction and sweetness to something sharper. “I’m making tonight easier on me. Making you less… less-” She can't think of a good way to end the sentence, so she just lets it hang there between them. 

Jax snorts, looking away again. His head keeps lolling forward until his chin nearly touches his chest before he jerks it back again. “Yeah, I fucking know,” He manages, but his slurring is getting worse. “Shit f’r brains.”

Savvie sniffs, but the fake tears aren't coming as easily as they usually do. She probably accidentally gave him too much again. It’s just sometimes so hard to remember exactly how much the dose is supposed to be…

“I don’t enjoy you being cruel to me any more than you enjoy it when I do it to you, you know,” She says, suddenly… so tired. She spends so much time and effort creating a marriage herself out of a man her uncle bought for her once and abducted for her the second time, and she’s doing this all on her own - no one helps her, not really. And Jax never gives up.

She’d been sure he’d start to settle in and understand by now, but he just… he just doesn’t. And she’s so tired. Her fingers toy with the little black remote to his shock collar. Maybe she should just… just give up on having a good night and punish him for the cursing until he just bites off his stupid tongue. 

No, wait. 

She likes what he does with his tongue, when she gives the order. He’s so good with it now. Maybe… maybe just a small shock. Just to remind him he's hers. She takes a deep breath. “Jax… get on your-”

“On m’knees f’r discipline?” He starts laughing before she can finish, cutting her off, letting his head fall totally back against the arm of the couch until he’s staring at the ceiling. He sounds wild, almost like an animal. Her quiet watchful husband is feral, and Savvie resolves never to give him the pill she gave him tonight ever again. “Yeah, fucking… fuckin’ do it. Second I don’t play along, there y’go. Bzzzt.” He cackles, a cracked bark of laughter she’s never heard him make before. “Shut me up so you don’t hear me say it.”

Savvie’s heart twists. “Say what?”

The laughter dies in him as suddenly as it appeared. He turns his head, or tries to - it mostly just falls to one side until he’s looking at her. Their eyes meet, his all black pupil and hers with nearly no pupil at all. “How much I fucking hate your fucking guts.”

“You don’t hate me.” She says it firmly, as if he’s being ridiculous. “Don’t be mean, Jax. You don’t hate me at all.”

She takes a deep breath. Married couples have fights, even ugly ones sometimes, and they work it out-

“Yeah. I… I really do.” Disgusted, that’s the tone in his voice. Disgusted with her. “I do. I hate you.”

“Why do you hate me?”

The look he gives her is such a blatant are you a complete fucking moron that she can hear his voice even though he doesn’t say a word. 

“No, hold on.” She waves one hand, dismissing her own question. His eyes briefly follow the movements of her fingers, distracted by whatever the drugs make him see there. Trails of light, maybe. It’s probably beautiful. “Hold on. I know why-”

“Do you?” His question is sharp, snapped, even as his every muscle can barely tense enough to move. “Do you fuckin’ really?”

“Yes. I do.” Savvie’s too tired to talk him in a circle tonight. She’s just… too exhausted by her bad gamble, bringing neither the snuggly Jax or the scared one, but this angry, vengeful animal instead.

Her headache is getting worse. 

She grabs her glass of wine off the coffee table and chugs it so fast a little drip escapes the corner of her mouth and runs down her chin. She has to wipe it away, wincing at the… at the idea of how that looks. Her mother would have had a fit about it. If she hadn’t died years ago. “Because I had you kidnapped.” 

Jax is silent, for a beat. He squints at her. “Fuck… what’d you say? Might be hearin’ shit.” 

She laughs, softly. Not her usual laughter, crafted to fill up a room and put all eyes on her. This laugh is barely there, but far more genuine. “No. You're not hallucinating, that shouldn't happen with what I gave you tonight.”

“Oh, good, not this fucking drugging, then, jussss-” His head falls too far to one side and he forces it back up, groaning. “Jusss… others.”

“Only one of the pills does that. And you were cute when you thought there were monsters in the bathroom.” She gets that flat stare from him again and this time she can't hold eye contact, looking down and away, still fiddling with the remote to his collar. “I just. I do know what I did, Jax.”

“Yeah, I fucking know you know-”

“I had you kidnapped.” She takes a deep breath. It feels oddly good to say, like a scene in a movie confessing to a priest. A foul-mouthed priest she’s been sleeping with for over a year. The thought makes her smile, just a little. “My uncle had people watching you, and when I was ready, he knew where you’d be and he abducted you for me. I know that. I know that you’d run, if you could. I’d take your collar off right now if I thought you’d stay without wearing it.”

Jax is silent for so long she briefly wonders if he's flat out forgotten how to talk. Then he shrugs - or tries to, his arms don't quite follow his commands. “You’d find somethin’ else, some other reason for shit ‘round my neck. You fuckin’ like it.”

For the first time, she doesn't deny it. “I do.” She laughs at the way he looks almost comically surprised, unable to keep his usual closed-off expressions in place with the drug coursing through his veins. “What? Can't a girl have a kink?”

“Sure fuckin’ can, but you… you don' have a kink, you got… goddamn victims.”

“... I… yeah. But it-... that's not my point. It isn't about the collar, Jax. Your wedding ring does it for me, too. I could barely wait to get you home after we signed the marriage certificate.”

The glare is back. His hatred is blistering her skin. She watches him try to stand, making it nearly upright before he falls back down again with a heavy thump. 

Her mouth twitches. “You want help, sweetie?”

“Ffffuck you.” 

“Well, I mean, if you’re asking so nicely.” She giggles at her own joke. 

He mumbles something she can't quite hear, trying to stand one more time but quickly giving up. He makes it onto the couch, at least. Savvie stands, turning to grab his ankles, shifting so he’s lying on his back, head and feet each cushioned by the arms of the comfortable, overstuffed couch. He struggles weakly, and it's hard work, but she gets him where she wants him. She barely breathes, taking in his chest rising and falling under his sweater, how his inhales are coming more sharply. 

She can't help herself. 

Savvie climbs on top of him, like she’s done a hundred times. She straddles him, sitting on his hips and leaning down to kiss his neck, nosing under his jaw. At first, his head tips back in resignation - but then he curses and pushes at her weakly instead. “Don’t.”

She grabs his wrists and shoves them above his head. He’s so weak, the drugs have taken all that muscle and made them… useless at holding her off. There’s a shiver of excitement down her spine. “Uh-uh, sweetie. You’re the one who said to fuck you, remember?”

She feels a thrill at saying fuck, like she’s still a kid sneaking swears in her room when her parents won’t overhear. 

“Don't,” He groans. “Sav-... Savvie, stop. G’t off me. I hate you.”

“I know.” She smiles down at him. His eyes meet hers, tired and bleary. Furious and almost resigned. “I know you hate me, Jax… but I love you.”

She leans down, her hair a waterfall curtain, blocking them both off from the world. She can smell the cologne she buys for him, blended with her own pricey perfume. His wrists jerk against her grip and she digs her nails in until he grunts in pain and the skin gives beneath. 

“Savvie,” he whispers. 

“Sssshhh.” She lets go with one hand, shifting both his wrists to her other one, and presses a finger against his lips. “I love you so much,” She whispers. “And I don't need you to love me back, sweetie, I don’t. I just need you to lie for me.”

 She kisses him, then, pressing her lips firmly to his. For half a second, his mouth is slack and unresisting even as his body shudders with disgust. He’s warm, his skin burning up beneath her. Her mouth moves against his, trying to get him to answer her, to open up.

His lips gently part. For a brief moment, Savvie feels the rush of victory.

Then he bites.

Pain blooms in a sudden flare as his teeth bury themselves into her lower lip and he jerks his head to the side, sensitive skin tearing.

“Shit!” Savvie jerks backwards, staring down at him wide-eyed. She can taste her own blood in her mouth. It’s smeared on his lips and his teeth like badly-done lipstick as he gives her a smile that's really a snarl. “Oh my God, Jax-... how dare you-”

“Fuck you! Don't fucking touch me!” He gets his arms more or less under his own control and shoves her off of him. She crashes into the coffee table, the legs giving out, tumbling her to the floor. Pain spikes hot and demanding along her hip where she hits the hard angle of the corner and she finds herself the one lying on the floor, while Jax slowly sits up, wiping blood off his lips. 

Her blood. 

Savvie pulls her fingers from her mouth and gasps. There’s a smear of red, bright and vibrant, the unmistakable sense of blood trickling down over her chin. She tongues at the wound, then winces as the pain flares bright, like he’s bitten her all over again. She considers tears - looks at the loathing in his eyes, the absolute rage written in the lines of his face - and then decides they’re wasted on him tonight. Instead, she just shakes her head. “That hurt.”

“Good. Don' like bein’ the one fucking bleeding for once, huh?” His eyes drift closed. He struggles to open them again, to keep his eyes on her. “Shit feelin’, isn't it?” 

“God.” She swallows. Blood on her tongue is making her feel nauseous and she gets to her feet carefully. Her mouth and hip throb. She’s going to be so bruised tomorrow, going to ache so much. “You’re awful sometimes, you know that?”

“Yeah.” He grins. He hasn't bothered to try and get the red off his teeth. “I know. So… so fffffuckin’ get rid of me, then.”

Savvie snorts, limping a little as she moves to pick up the spilled wine bottle from the floor. She could shock him now - that’s what she would usually do. Or call Isaac and have him carted off to spend another month locked in the kennels with the dogs. He… probably doesn’t care about that, though. Anything to get away from her. Anything is better than her, to him.

“Get rid of you?” She drinks the last swallow in the bottle, washing blood down her throat with the wine. “Then what, Jax? I should just… live here alone, without you, for the rest of my life?”

“Fucking-... yes, or go fucking die. I don't fucking care.” The flush of hot anger bleeds away, his voice softening a little. “I don't… don' care, Savvie. I don’t care about you.”

“No. You do.” She feels a burst of desperation to make him understand. “You hate me, right? That’s caring about me, still.”

“Savvie-”

“No. I love you. You are mine, and I am keeping you. This is love, Jax. What I feel for you is true love.” 

He shakes his head, swaying a little where he sits. He tries to push her away again as she takes him by the arm but his burst of energy seems to have used him up. He lets her, in the end, get him onto his feet. She leads him on his unsteady legs out of the room, and he stumbles along with her. 

“S'not love,” He mumbles. She keeps an arm around his waist to help him balance. “Fucking… fuck you. Let me leave, Savvie.”

He doesn't have the strength to push her away, not anymore. He has to use her to stay up as they take the stairs one at a time, although after three or four he jerks away again and uses the railing, leaning heavily against it as he drags himself upwards, inch by inch, step by step. 

She lets him pull away, watching his determination to not need her, how badly he doesn’t even want her. There’s a canyon inside of her, something dark and deep that hurts so much worse than her hip or her torn open lower lip, threatening to claw its way out as she watches the man she has forced to play the role of her husband do anything he can to avoid her touch. 

Her jaw sets. “It is. It is love, and you know what? It’s all the love you’re going to get. Ever. No one else will ever love you.” Savvie’s voice stays low. “You’re not… you’re not lovable, Jax, but I don’t care, I love you anyway. Nobody else would. No one is ever going to even want to love you but me.”

He slumps. The fight’s all gone out of him, for now. Her gamble failed tonight and Jax is buckling under the weight of what runs through his veins, the heavy expectations in her eyes and her smile and her devotion. 

“Fuck,” is all he says, barely a whisper under his breath.

Savvie sighs, touching her fingers to her lip again. The bleeding has slowed but there’s still a spot of red. “Goes both ways, though, I think.”

He doesn't look at her. “What?”

“This… how much you hate me… how I had to kidnap you, and put that thing on your neck to keep you here, how you wish you were anywhere but here with me… you know, I, I get it.”

He has to stop at the landing and lean over, resting his forehead against the wall. 

She lays a hand on his back, leaning over to speak right against his ear. “I get that your hate is all the love I’m going to get, too, Jax. Nobody else will ever love me, either.” 

Her throat feels tight, and she can’t tell if she really feels the twisting nerves in her stomach, the sense of dread, or if it’s part of her act for Jax. Sometimes even Savvie isn’t sure when she means the things she says. Sometimes, even worse, she really does.

“All we’re ever going to have is each other.”

He doesn’t answer her. But when she takes his arm in her hand, he allows himself to be dragged along towards her bedroom. The fight might be gone, but so is the feeling. There’s nothing in his eyes that shows he even heard her.

That’s okay. She can be honest, in the dark, in the middle of the night, knowing that he’s too drugged to remember anything she said when he wakes up again. She’ll lie to herself again by morning. So will he.

She just needs him to lie. 

-

@whumpyourdamnpears consider this my evil savvie gift to you

[personalzombie-tv]

Whumptober day one: Swooning

Timmy aka AnimosityGaming from @aquaquadrant and @lunarcrown's Hels to Pay AU! I've been wanting to draw this sad pathetic bird man for a hot minute and whumptober's a perfect excuse.

Not promising i'll do every day but I havn't been drawing as much this year as i've wanted to so I'm gonna try!

[onlythegoodpretzels]

Straight from the sketchbook King Rauru from Tears of the Kingdom. I might color this sometime, but...glowing...so many layers...

I love the idea of him surviving sealed with the Demon King, and he and Link having to share the arm. Usually Link has it. It only reverts to Rauru when he's in a very bad way and can't stop the reflex calling it back trying to survive.

For @amonthofwhump trope-a-thon day 1: Duel

[minimoxha]

Kinktober 2023- THE ALBUM

⌆ sᴏɴɢ ᴏɴᴇ- ᴏʀɢᴀsᴍ ᴅᴇɴɪᴀʟ

⌆ ғᴛ: sʜɪɢɪʀᴀᴋɪ, ʙᴏɴᴅᴀɢᴇ, ᴛᴇᴀsɪɴɢ, ᴏᴠᴇʀsᴛɪᴍᴜʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴ, ғᴇᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ,

ENJO

"Stop struggling ; it won't change the fact that you're in punishment," Shigiraki whispered, leaning into the girl's personal space. She could feel his presence even though she couldn't see him because of the blindfold that he had covered her eyes with. Even though his voice was raspy enough to make it seem like he wasn't as severe or as mature as he thought, she was the only one who knew that this tone meant business with her.

She shuddered as four fingers pried her legs open and tied them to the chair to which her hands were already tied. The woman let out a light moan, the entire situation making her cunt drip all over the chair. The way his hands sensually moved across her body as carefully as possible, decaying her clothes and tying her in intricate knots, gave her a rush of adrenaline that quickly sent a signal to her pussy. Shigiraki dug his fingers into her leaking cunt, giving the girl some pleasure before quickly removing them. She whined; the loss of pleasure being extremely unpleasant in her current state. He continued with that for a bit, fingering her in order to give her a false sense of pleasure before pulling out and sucking her juices off his fingers. When finally, she got tired of the overwhelming emptiness and started to beg the man. “Please- Please let me cum. I need to cum.” Her voice echoed throughout the room, the other villains outside could probably hear her pleas but she didn’t care. The only thing that went through her head was receiving the orgasm she ever so desired. To him, her begging was so fucking pathetic.

“You keep begging me to make you cum, it’s pathetic.” He sighed in between his words. “I guess i have to allow you to cum on my cock, hm?” His words excited her, her pussy growing wetter now as she awaited his cock to enter. He filled her up completely and then waited in her, waiting for her to beg for his cock. She did and he started with brutal thrusts. With every thrust, his cock dug into her walls, making his claim to her with his precum and her juices mixed together in her pussy. His brutal pace and his finger on her clit, rubbing it at the same pace he fucked her with was enough to bring her to orgasm. But before bliss could watch over the girl and she could feel the beat orgasm she had ever felt; the man stoped his assault on her body. In seconds, all of her pleasure was taken from he and she felt empty.

“What? I was so close!” She whined, so sexually pent up that she could burst. With all the ability she had while being tied to the chair she started to thrust her body up, begging for the man to do more even if it was just fingering her sloppy cunt. Shigaraki looked at the way she begged and let out a laugh before leaning down to the height she was in the chair and whispering into her ear. “I know you didn’t think i’d let you cum that easily.”

If she had the ability to let her eyes widen, they would’ve because deep down Y/n knew what kind of trouble she was in. It’s funny how that only settled into her mind now, not when she was flirting and playing around with other people. This was going to be a long night…

[devotedgossamerreader]

day 1: the Yellow Bug

my hc is that when Henry turns 16, Emma gives him the bug. after all, it is his dad's car that she stole from him‐ er, the car his dad stole and then she double stole? anyway, after so long it feels right to her to pass the car down to him and to get herself a different ride to make new memories in as part of her "happy beginning." even so, the car will always hold a special place in her heart and Henry's.- because when they look at it, they remember the chilly evening when he showed up at her apartment, and that car carried them safely back to storybrooke and to the first chapter of her journey back to her family.

[closetweebsmh]

why hello im back (prob the last hananene content for now)