#deviled eggs go hard

[expecto-kedavra]

I could crush at least 13 deviled eggs rn, EASY

[renee-mariposa]

I think my resolution for next year will be to eat better breakfasts. My go-to right now is cereal, which is fine, but I’ve noticed that I get a sugar rush that crashes just after I start my work shift, which isn’t ideal. And I’d like to actually get some decent nutrition at the start of the day (ie vegetables and protein, and carbs wouldn’t go amiss)

Anybody have any breakfast suggestions for me to try?

[wewontbesleeping]

Still haven’t fully decided what to make for my family’s Christmas party tomorrow. Feeling torn between white chocolate brownies (I have wanted to make these for a while so I think they’re a shoo-in), cranberry chocolate cookies, ginger molasses cookies, and a sugar cookie crust pudding pie (I don’t have a recipe for this one and would essentially be making it up, so I’m a little nervous about this one). And if I make all of them? What then?

[creepyclothdoll]

The Devil's Wheel

The Devil’s Wheel

“If you say yes,” said the Devil, “a single man, somewhere in the world, will be killed on the spot. But three million dollars is nothing to sneeze at, missus.”

“What’s the catch?” You squint at him suspiciously over the red-and-black striped carnival booth. You’re smarter than he thinks you are– a devil deal always has a catch, and you’re determined to catch him before he catches you. 

“Well, the catch is that you’ll know you did it. And I’ll know, too. And the big man upstairs’ll know, I ‘spose. But what’s the chariot of salvation without a little sin to grease the wheels? You can repent from your mansion balcony, looking out at your waterfront views, sipping a bellini in your eighties. But hey, it’s up to you– take my deal or leave it.”

The Devil lights a cigar without a match, taking an inhale, and blowing out a cloud of deep, sweet-smelling tobacco laced faintly with something that reminds you of rotten eggs. If he does have horns, they’re hidden under his lemon yellow carnival barker hat. He wears a clean pinstripe suit and a red bowtie. No cloven hooves, no big pointy fork, but you know he’s the Devil without having to be told. Though he did introduce himself.

He’s been perfectly polite. 

You know you need the money. He knows it too, or he wouldn’t have brought you here, to this strange dark room, whisking you away from your new house in the suburbs as fast as a wish. Now you’re in some sort of warehouse, where all the windows seem to be blacked out– or, maybe, they simply look out into pitch darkness, though it is the middle of the day. A single white spotlight shines down on the two of you. 

“Wait a minute, wait a minute,” you say. “I bet the man is someone I know, right? My husband?”

“Could be,” the Devil says with a pointed grin. “That’s for the wheel to decide.”

He steps back and raises his black-gloved hand as the tarp flies off of the large veiled object behind him. The light of the carnival wheel nearly blinds you. Blinking lights line the sides. Jingling music blares over speakers you can’t see. The flickering sign above it reads:

THE DEVIL’S WHEEL

“Step right up and claim your fortune,” the Devil barks. “Spin the wheel and pay the price! Or leave now, and a man keeps his life.”

You examine the wheel. 

The gambling addict

The doting boyfriend

The escaped convict

The dog dad

The secretive sadist

“These are all the possible men I can kill?” You ask, thumbing the side of the wheel. It rolls smoothly in your hand. Then you quickly stop, realizing that this might constitute a spin under the Devil’s rules. He flashes a smile at you, watching you halt its motion. 

“Addicts, convicts, murderers– plenty of terrible options for you to land on, missus!”

“Serial wife murderer?”

“Now who would miss a fellow like that? I can guarantee that the whole world would be better off without him in it, and that’s a fact.”

The hard worker

The compulsive liar

The animal torturer

The widower

The desperate businessman

The failed musician

The beloved son

“My husband is on here too,” you say. 

“Your husband Dave, yes. The wheel has to be fair, otherwise there’s simply no stakes.”

“I know what’s gonna happen,” you say, crossing your arms. “This wheel is rigged. I’m gonna spin it around, and it’ll go through all the killers and stuff, and then it’s gonna land on my husband no matter what.”

“Why, I would never disgrace the wheel that way,” the Devil says, wounded. “I swear on my own mother’s grave– may she never escape it. In fact, take one free spin, just to test it out! This one’s on me, no death, no dollars.”

You cautiously reach up to the top of the wheel and feel its heaviness in your hand. The weight of hundreds of lives. But also, millions of dollars. You pull the wheel down and let it go.

Clackity-clackity-clackity-clackity

Round and round it goes. 

The college graduate

The hockey fan

The Eagle Scout

The cold older brother

The charming younger brother

The two-faced middle child

The perfectionist

The slob 

Your husband Dave

Clackity-clackity-clackity.

Finally, the wheel lands on a name. A title, really.

The photographer

“Hmm, tough, missus, but that’s the way of the wheel. But hey, look! Your husband is allllll the way over here,” he points with his cane to the very bottom of the wheel, all the way on the other side from where the arrow landed. “As you can see, it’s not rigged. The wheel truly is random.”

“So… there really isn’t another catch?” You ask. 

“Isn’t it enough for you to end a man’s life? You need a steeper price? If you’re really such a glutton for punishment, I’ll gladly re-negotiate the terms.”

“No, no… wait.” You examine the wheel, glancing between it and the Devil.

You really could use that three million dollars. Newly married, new house, you and your husband’s combined debt– those student loans really follow you around. He’s quite a bit older than you, and even he hasn’t paid them off yet, to the point where the whole time you were dating you watched him stress out about money. You had to have a small, budget wedding, and a small, budget honeymoon. Three million dollars could be big for the two of you. You could re-do your honeymoon and go somewhere nice, like Hawaii, instead of just taking two weeks in Atlantic City. You deserve it. 

Even so, do you really want to kill an innocent photographer? Or an innocent seasonal allergy sufferer? Or an innocent blogger? Just because you don’t know or love these people doesn’t mean that someone doesn’t. 

The cancer survivor

The bereaved

The applicant

Some of these were so vague. They could be anyone, honestly. Your neighbors, your father, your friends…

The newlywed

The ex-gifted kid

The uncle

The Badgers fan

“My husband is a Badgers fan,” you say.

“How lovely,” the Devil says. 

Then it hits you.

Of course.

The weightlifter.

The careful driver.

The manager.

The claustrophobe.

Your husband Dave lifts weights at the gym twice a month. You wouldn’t call him a pro, but he does it. He also drives like he’s got a bowl of hot soup in his lap all the time, because he’s afraid of being pulled over. He just got promoted to management at his company, and he takes the stairs to his seventh-story office because he hates how small and cramped the elevator is.

“I get your game,” you announce. “You thought you could get me, but I figured you out, jackass!” “Oh really? What is my game, pray tell?” The Devil responds, leaning against his cane.

“All these different titles– they’re all just different ways to describe the same guy. My husband isn’t one notch on the wheel, he’s every notch. No matter what I land on, Dave dies. I’m wise to your tricks!” 

The Devil cackles. 

“You’re a clever one, that’s for sure. I thought you’d never figure it out.”

“Thanks but no thanks, man,” you say with a triumphant smirk. “I’m no rube. No deal. Take me back home.”

“As you wish, missus,” the Devil says. He snaps his fingers, and you’re gone, back to your brand-new house with your new husband. “Don’t say I never tried to help anyone.”

[see-arcane]

You know the one good thing about being a pessimist?

It feels great to be proven wrong.

Bravo, Bobby Egg.

I was so happily surprised by this. This film went through a fantastic puberty between the leaked script and the screen. The main points to note:

-No, Ellen is not hot for Count Orlok. She and Thomas are 110% in love. There are even certain Harker-flavored quotes thrown in to prove as much. (Details under the cut.)

-Count Orlok is a terrifying bastard and a half. Significantly more imposing than classic Orlok’s spindly rigor mortis-stiff figure and only wearing a sliver of Dracula’s performative charm. He is a Devil-Death archetype playing a monster who operates in deceit and contracts to wring out what he wants. That and a lot of corpses.

-This film is so beautiful. No gothic touch is skipped.

In sum, I more than like this film. I love it. It isn’t perfect, because no film can be, but damn. I am so proud of this nightmare you made, Bobby Egg.

SPOILERS FOR Nosferatu (2024) BELOW

-Getting some cons out of the way. There are points where a few of the actors lean maybe a bit too heavy on the ham-and-cheese in their deliveries (I’ll not blame the kids, they’re very young, but yeesh. That’s some cartoon acting.)

Yes, the g-slur is still used; though while I wish it hadn’t appeared in Eggers’ script at all, it does make sense within the context of the setting, i.e. Thomas and the Innkeeper probably only having the one word they know, same as in Dracula. And yes, naked teenage girl-on-a-horse does happen for the vampire hunt scene. Whee.

-Now, an early pro: Eggers nixed the ‘hot teen girl tries to pickpocket Thomas’ bit, and the ‘land of phantoms and thieves’ line never happens. All that happens after Thomas wakes in the inn—post witnessing the vampire slaying in the local graveyard, mud on his shoes to prove it was real—is he discovers himself utterly alone. No people, no horse. Cue the long walk.

-Ellen doing the ‘Come to me,’ bit early on is her in adolescence. It’s revealed that her Weird Girl elements have been turned up to 11, tragic lonely past included (replete with dad threatening to send her to a madhouse), and her prayer was just for company. The psychic ping was picked up by Orlok, who took advantage, turning an isolated and desperate barely-more-than-a-kid’s wish into a ‘covenant.’

-Thomas was met not long after this, cue them being genuinely in love <3

-Knock Does Not Jerk Off On Screen. If he does, his back is to us, and Little Knock is covered with some occult tablet or suchlike while he’s doing his ritual business. Also he kills a guy in his cell. Using his teeth.

-Castle time! Thomas is greeted by a driverless carriage at a crossroads and seems to be hypnotized into stepping in. A lot of things Thomas does once in Orlok’s territory seem to very clearly have psychic puppet strings attached. That and some increasing terror on Thomas’ part. There is no warm Dracula-style welcome from Orlok when he arrives, but a terse and strange leading to the dinner table where paperwork is demanded.

- We get a glimpse of this version of the Count’s ego. Thomas calls him sir. Orlok demands Thomas address him as my lord. And then we get the bread cutting scene. Thomas’ thumb bleeds. Orlok get far too interested. His voice, a very guttural and rasping bass, turns into something closer to an animal trilling and growling. Thomas is paralyzed beside the fire; cut away as Orlok closes in.

-Ellen and Anna Harding have a bit of a Mina and Lucy deal going on at the beach. It’s sweet <3 (Prepare for pain </3)

 - Orlok starts getting tricky. He 1) borrows (steals) Ellen’s locket from Thomas and 2) Tricks Thomas into signing a contract to ‘sell’ Ellen/break their marriage via a strange contract in a language Thomas can’t read, with Orlok using the prop of some gold to imply that this is merely a document in ~his native language~ to complete the property sale. Thomas signs, less for the gold than to be gone from the castle and back to Ellen…only for Orlok to insist Thomas is not well. He must stay the night.

- No mind games here. Just Thomas pleading to leave and Orlok’s parting word being that he will stay, and that he will obey his orders.

-Orlok has already chomped Thomas on the tiddy as of last night. Next night, after Thomas almost lands a blow on him in the coffin—Orlok sleeps with his Orcock out in the box, by the way, alongside several rats—Orlok wills Thomas to unlock the door he shut between them. Cue Thomas being tranced onto the bed, pounced on, and basically dry-humped by Orlok as he drinks Thomas all but dry. Thomas is left that way, only to be woken by Orlok’s wolves—he has those too!—and go clambering out the window, dropping to the river below.

-Orlok makes Ellen’s life hell. Holy fuck. The 1838 quality ‘medicine’ definitely doesn’t help—corsets for correcting posture, draining blood because there’s too much in there, binding to the bedposts to stop sleepwalking, general drugging etc etc—but FUCK. Lily-Rose Depp did a great and terrible job of reproducing shaking fits and some of the faces and sounds she made had me thinking I might choke on my own tongue. And for all the sexually provocative poses/noises that happen, every time she comes out of it it’s clear that she hates this. It’s on par with psychic rape.

-The only times we see Ellen respond positively~ to Orlok’s dream-advances is when she’s telling Thomas about the ‘marrying Death’ dream where everyone died and she was deliriously happy and then the infamous trailer line about Thomas not being able to satisfy her as Orlok can~~~

Well guess what.

Guess fucking what.

That was Orlok leaning on her brain. The same way he did to Thomas when, eventually, after the nuns rescue him and pray the plague/vampirism out and he makes it home while half-dead, he lays in bed with Ellen and gets a panic attack combined with Orlok’s image being grafted over Ellen’s face…

…a reverse of the illusion Orlok gave him in the castle, with Thomas imagining it was Ellen on top of him instead. The effect terrifies Thomas all over again and he unwittingly tosses Ellen away, I can't breathe, get off of me, get off!

-Orlok does his murder snacking. Knock, who escaped, offers to find and kill Thomas to please the Count, literally on his hands and knees. Orlok calls him a dog and backhands him, insisting Ellen must be given, not stolen.

-Orlok has already visited Ellen by this time. He presses her to keep her deal with him. She tells him, flat out, I abhor you. In response, Orlok grabs her and chucks her like a ragdoll in a rage. He fumes, telling her he will give her three nights to pledge herself to him, and in the meantime he will start killing. (RIP to Anna and her little girls, the latter of whom ORLOK KILLS IN FRONT OF HER, EATING THEIR THROATS OUT AS SHE ENTERS THEIR ROOM.)

-Before all that, he spins bullshit about Thomas ~selling her to him for mere gold~. A technical truth that Ellen, mid-Orlok spell, spits back at Thomas amid a rage, along with details that are likewise based in only a granule of reality; but which Orlok did not mention in their scene together. Things like Thomas being weak and childish, that he ‘fell into Orlok’s arms like a fainting woman.’ Interesting choice of spin there, Orlok. But whatever.

This all culminates in what is either reality or a dream or a blend of both as Thomas makes sudden desperate love to her, Ellen weirdly heady about it, telling him yes yes yes they will show Orlok their love. Cue her snapping back to full cognizance (awake? dreaming?) as her eyes and mouth spurt blood in a vision. She collapses in fear and tears as Thomas holds her. AND THEN:

-Ellen. Drops. The I am unclean line. She wants Thomas away from her, she is not worthy, she puts him in danger.

-Thomas goes full Jonathan and clings to her. Nonsense. I love you. I love you. I love you.

-V i n d i c a t i o n

-Anyway.

-Dafoe-Von Franz-Van Helsing is a kooky science occultist. Finds a book that Knock had which fills the role of highlighting Orlok as Solomonari (hey, Scholomance shout out!) and Knock as a would-be beneficiary. Also includes the ‘maiden offers her body and blood to the monster to kill it via sunrise’ bit.

-While he reads this, he does NOT actually spell any of these details out to Ellen when they have their secret mini talk about tricking Thomas into hunting for the coffin with him and Sievers. He gives her a big ~you're the only one who can save us magic maiden martyr~ pep talk, but that's it. Meanwhile, Ellen was already preparing to offer herself to save Thomas and whoever’s left in Wisborg. Not the same kind of agency as the original, but still better than I was expecting.

-Harding, Thomas’ rich friend whose wife and children got drinked to death, dies of plague in the family tomb. They burn the bodies.

-In the ruin Orlok bought, cue the iron stake slamming down as they open the coffin..! But whoops. Knock’s in the box, not Orlok. Von Franz says Ellen offering herself is the only way~ Thomas doesn’t waste time throttling him, just makes a run for their home.

-Too late, of course. Orlok is there (with a very cool homage to the original stalking shadow silhouette routine) and Ellen welcomes him. While they are both naked in bed and it’s implied that they are/or intend to have sex, the bulk of the scene centers on Orlok taking Ellen’s blood from her breast. No clear shot of the Orcock on screen for that bit—Bobby Egg saved that pleasure for the Count flashing Thomas at the castle.

-Orlok’s death throes. Are so. Fucking. Cool. Definitely up there with one of the best vampiric demises I’ve ever seen on film. No spoilers there. You’ve got to see it.

-Heartbreak o’ Clock as Thomas bursts in just as Orlok has died and as Ellen is dying under him. There’s time for them to hold hands. And then she’s gone.

-We close on Von Franz popping up with some poetic soliloquy shit and a bunch of lilacs. The final beat is an overhead shot of Ellen, the Maiden, laying under the now-skeletal Orlok, as Death. Looks almost like a painting. Unlike the implication in the leaked script, she does not look happy/at peace. Simply asleep. The End.

-Other important notes:

1) Orlok has a little combover’s worth of hair on top and mighty and powerful ‘stache. Not Dracula-white, but it is there. Finally.

 2) The guy who plays Dr. Sievers has Alan Rickman’s voice. If he isn’t in opera, he should be.

3) I was too late to get a popcorn coffin box. I shall be in mourning until the New Year.

4) Bobby Egg if you can give me one more gift, let it be a deleted scene of Thomas beating Von Franz over the head with the iron stake, please and thank you <3

[iichfilwypj]

little devil | percy jackson

ღ percy jackson x reader: with the special participation of their dog, Zoë! ღ warnings: none? idk i think it's a bit dumb and funny ღ wc: 1.081

She had completely lost track of how many times she had to wipe the sweat off her forehead and lean over the famous ‘blue cookies’ recipe once again. Her arm was aching from the  effort, and she swore she could feel her body burning.

Percy remained asleep in their room, likely covered up to his head and snuggling with Zoë, the little Golden Retriever they had adopted a few weeks back, when they moved together. 

The girl was very excited to be the one cooking breakfast for her boyfriend, even though it wasn’t going great; the color of the batter was green, there was flour everywhere, and the mixture was way too thick. 

“This shit-!” Her hands shot to her face after sending the whisk flying somewhere across the countertop. “What did I do wrong?”

Her elbows slammed hard against the cold marble as she leaned closer to the paper, scanning the lines for her mistake. Her eyes widened as she realized what she had forgotten; the eggs. 

“Are you serious?” 

She didn’t hear her boyfriend’s grumbling about Zoë licking his face, footsteps drawing near the kitchen, or his whistle when he spotted her in the kitchen. Percy did make sure she felt the smack on her butt.

“Hi love,” he said, his tone far too casual as he opened the fridge to grab a bottle of water. “How are you?”

She turned her face toward her boyfriend, scanning him; Percy was barefoot, with his dark hair messy and wearing nothing but pajama pants despite the chill. Contradictory, with how hot he looked.

“Bad.”

“Oh, okay—What is this?,” He approached her side, one hand on his girlfriend’s lower back and the other on the bowl, inspecting its contents. “Is this… edible?”

“Don’t touch that!” she said, slapping her boyfriend's hands away. “Your mom told me you'd do this—and it’s not even done right!”

Percy’s face was picture-worthy at her outburst, all surprised and confused. As she grabbed the bridge of her nose, he glanced at Zoë, who was sitting in a corner, observing everything with her tongue out and tail moving happily.

“What is wrong with it?” He blinked, baffled. “If it’s because it’s not baked, I'll turn on the oven and we can—”

“I forgot the eggs,” she murmured, crossing her arms.

“What’d you say?”

“I forgot the eggs!” she exclaimed, throwing her hands up in exasperation. “And there are no eggs!”

“Oh—” Percy couldn't help it. A small laugh escaped him before he quickly looked away, clearly trying to hide his laughter.

She saw it. His shoulders shook slightly as he fought to suppress his grin.

“Are you laughing at me? I—” she had to bite her lip to stop herself from joining him. She couldn’t deny it; it was kind of funny.

“No—no, I’m—” Percy couldn’t hold it in anymore. He burst into laughter. “How do you forget the eggs?”

“Don’t laugh at me about eggs!” 

Soon, they were both laughing, tears threatening to spill as Percy leaned against the counter for support; she knew it was probably because he had just woken up, adding to his amusement. 

“Are you done yet?” she huffed, still smiling.

“Oh, God, I adore you,” he said between gasps, pulling her into a tight hug.

“Yeah, yeah, me too.” She rolled her eyes but melted into his embrace, sighing as his hand traced soothing circles on her back.

“We’ll go out for breakfast,” He pulled away just enough to look her in the eyes. “Thanks for trying,”

She stayed quiet for a moment, her hands resting on his chest. Then they moved to his hair, making her stand on her tiptoes to plant a soft kiss on the tip of his nose.

“You’re welcome,” she replied with a smile, before softly adding, “Asshole.”

Before he could reply, a sudden loud clatter from the counter shattered the moment, making them both freeze in place. They glanced at each other, their eyes wide. Without moving, Percy broke the silence.

“Zoë’s eating the batter, isn’t she?”

She didn’t even need to look, already knowing the answer. A resigned look appeared on her face as she sighed.

“Yeah, probably,”

“Your dog is a little devil. This is the third time since she learned to reach the counter.” Percy muttered, stepping away from her and scanning the kitchen for Zoë.

“Sorry, you mean our dog?” she shot back, already grabbing some paper towels to start dealing with the mess. 

But Zoë suddenly appeared from behind the island, her little nose covered in green batter, grabbing their attention. Percy’s eyes widened in disbelief as the puppy bolted toward the living room, a happy glint in her eyes. 

“Absolutely not!” he said, abandoning all pretense of dignity as he took off after her, his voice rising in panic. “Zoë, stop! Get away from the couch!”

And his girlfriend didn’t stay behind. She was quick to run after them, grabbing the digital camera from the nearby table and turning it on to record the scene. She filmed how Percy cornered Zoë, scooping her up in his arms, only for the dog to reward him with a batter-covered lick straight to his face. 

“Gross, Zoë!” he exclaimed, trying to wipe his cheek with the back of his hand as he struggled to hold the squirming dog.

But it didn’t help. The batter was stuck there, and Zoë kept wriggling in his arms, her tongue swiping at his face again.

He sighed deeply as he stretched his arms out, carefully pulling Zoë away from him. 

“Just Gross!”

“You’ve had worse stuff on you!” 

His gaze shifted to his girlfriend standing in the doorway, laughing uncontrollably, her cheeks flushed with tears. Seeing her like that softened his chest, and a grin tugged at his lips.

“Want some?” he asked, not giving her a chance to respond before he moved toward her with Zoë still in his arms.

Her eyes widened in mock horror, and she lifted the camera like it was a weapon. “I’ll kill you!” 

Zoë barked happily, her tail wagging excitedly, and the sound was contagious, making them both burst into laughter.

hii! i just wanted to make something basic, i wasn't finding myself with my writing and this wouldn't fail!! promise i'll be more creative! but how are youuu?

[dark-and-kawaii]

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ A Delicious Meal ˖⟡˚౨ৎ⋆

Summary: As long as he can see you writhe, begging, crying, pleading beneath him, he doesn't care. He is your sin, your pleasure, your addiction.

₊˚⊹♡ Pairing: Raphael x F!Tav/Reader

₊˚⊹♡ Content: NSFW - Creampie - Choking - Impregnating - Raphael Takes What He Pleases - The Devil You Know

You know his cock will leave you bruised, and the thought of walking back to your companions, limping and in pain, makes you moan against his neck. Your nails raking down his chest, leaving behind dark angry red marks against his devilish ruby like skin.

Raphael is relentless, taking, taking, and taking from you, making you beg for his cock. Beg to be filled by his length, his fingers, his tongue, his tail, anything. As long as he can see you writhe, begging, crying, pleading beneath him, he doesn't care. He is your sin, your pleasure, your addiction.

Through clenched teeth, he curses, groaning against the shell of your ear, “Such a pleasurable little thing you are. And eager like a newborn pup, so needy, so desperate to please.”

You can only moan and sob against him, the pleasure and the pain mixing together into one heady cocktail. One that only he, the devil you know could make for you.

Lifting his body, he places his hands against your delicate throat, using it hold his weight as pulls his cock out until just the tip is left, “Open your eyes mouse… I long to see the moment when your soul becomes entirely mine, when your being is at my beck and call. To use. To pleasure me whenever I desire it, wherever I desire it.”

The moment his fingers squeeze around your neck, you cry out, eyes shooting open, your vision filled with his face, the face of a devil, a man, a lover, a monster. His pupils are blown wide, and his mouth is slightly agape, tongue darting out to wet his lips. The sight makes you clench down on the tip of his cock...

“So obedient.”

With a punishing thrust, he bullies as much of his cock into your cunt as he could, bottoming out against your cervix and emptying himself into your tight, plump, and abused hole. Your scream, your pleasured moans, your tears, the feel of your nails clawing at his arms… Oh how it makes Raphael shiver.

It was all so intoxicating.

He continued to fuck you through his orgasm, his grip on your neck tightening as your cunt spasms around him. Raphael could visualize his seed seeping into you… Shooting deep within your womb, waiting for one of his children to find its way to an egg, working its way into its pliable wall to impregnate you. The very thought, the very idea of you pregnant, with his child, with his heir, makes his cock jerk and spill once more.

Your body was on fire, your vision blackened at the edges, and you felt a cold sweat overtake you as you cum, a gush of liquid pouring from your cunt. Raphael watches as you pass out, and the feel of you going limp in his hands is almost enough to get him hard again.

But for now, he must clean you, tend to you. You had passed out due to a lack of air. It would not do to let your lungs suffer, he had a fondness for your voice, for the sounds you made. His little mouse… His little songbird.

Slowly he pulls his cock from you, watching in fascination as his cum pours from your pussy, a mixture of yours and his, a perfect union, a perfect match… You truly were made for him, and perhaps he was made for you.

A soft smile crosses his lips and he leans down to capture your lips, whispering against them, a promise, a vow, a command, “Forever mine.”

[ayeyolooo]

SHARING A BED WITH THEM!

(gojo, inumaki, geto, yuji, choso.)

INUMAKI!

you heard three soft knocks on your room door, which made you wake up. “come in.” your voice rasped out. you rubbed your eyes as you looked at the door to see who was walking in. you seen your blonde haired boy. the both of you had just gotten into an argument so the both of you didn’t sleep with eachother today. but that changed soon as he walked in the door. his cheeks were rosy and so was the tip of his nose. “yes?” you sat up and turned on your bedside lamp. “bonito.” (hi) “hi inu what’s up, i thought you wanted to sleep in your room today?”he dropped his head down. “sausage with eggs and grits.” (i can’t sleep without you.) you pouted. “well it was you who said it.” he nodded. “tuna.” (i know) he replied. “caviar Rolls.” (i need you, i can’t sleep without you.” you pouted giving in you opened your arms wide having him smile and crawl to you. you held him and stroked his cheek and hair. “do you want to do bible study?” he perked up and immediately nodded. “okay go and get your bible so we can start.” you smiled grabbing your highlighters, and pens. inu came back with his blue bible and his notepad. the both of you prayed before reading the word together. you giggled at inumaki trying to read the words without having a hard time.

he giggled at you not understanding what some of the messages meant. he was happy to write them down for you. the both of you read psalms 91 which brought inumaki some comfort, due to him having a nightmare which brought him to your room. gojo opened the door quietly and seen the both of you holding hands and praying for eachother. he just smiled and closed the door back gently. he was genuinely happy for the both of you. inumaki has finally found his light, the person that brought his closer to God, the one who helped him with his nightmares. the one who prayed over him before every mission. y/n. you were literally heaven sent, and everyone was very appreciative of you.

an hour passed and the hoth of you were cuddled under eachother while the tv played in the background. the both of you were sleeping mouths wide open with slob coming out, and inumaki snoring.

some of the bible verses inumaki and y/n study on the daily.

—Jeremiah 29:11

'For I know the plans I have for you,' declares the Lord, 'plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you a hope and a future.

•inumaki sends you to read that verse when you’re worried about your future, or when you’re worried about school.

•you would send him this verse when he’s worried about a mission. when you send that to him, he feels at peace and calm.

—psalms 15:1

—Ephesians 4:26-27

"Be angry and do not sin; do not let the sun go down on your anger, and give no opportunity to the devil".

•the both of you would send this to eachother when you’d had just gotten into an argument, or when the both of you are stubborn gojo would slip these verses under the both of your doors signing them with your names so that the both of you would think that the other person sent it

—psalms 91:1

1He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High will abide in the shadow of the Almighty

•the both of you send this to eachother when you’re worried about going on a mission.

this is toooo cute🥹. i’m most definitely adding bible verses in my stories now🫶🏾.

[zuntoshere]

White book that BadBoyHalo found in Pomme's adoption chamber (22 pages) .

Text version and other pages under the cut:

" Once upon a time, there were three little eggs.

Three little siblings.

Full of life, they were happy to live. They loved playing with each other, and fell asleep at night while hugging each other.

They didn't know the reason of their existence, they didn't know anything about themselves, but they knew they had each other and it was all that mattered.

It wasn't an easy life they were living, but they had each other and everything was fine.

Full of love, they were kind souls at heart. Mischievous souls, they were having fun playing pranks together on their caretakers.

Sometimes, it was just playing hide and seek with them, finding all the best places to hide in these big white rooms, that were mostly empty.

Some other times, it was just taking some pencils and drawing on the walls with them.

And you may think, "what little devils they were!", but these three little eggs were always trying their very best to make their caretakers happy.

And they did everything they wanted them to do.

Being an experiment wasn't an easy life for them. Each day, they had to go through several batteries of tests.

Sometimes painful, sometimes not.

Sometimes, they swore they could hear a strange cracking sound, and the tests always immediately stopped, and the people around them were running frantically trying to find a way to heal them. Eventually, they were put to sleep and woke up feeling alright again.

Being an egg wasn't an easy life.

But despite how hard it was, the bedroom of these three little eggs was always filled with Laughter.

After all, they were only full of love to give.

These three little eggs were slowly discovering life.

All three of them loved flowers very much.

The first one loved poppies, the second one loved cornflowers, and the last one loved red coloured saplings.

One fell in love with music and playing instruments after a specific test studying reactions to sounds.

Another one fell in love with the snow after a specific test studying reactions to cold environments.

And the last one dreamed of living in a castle someday, after stumbling upon some fairy tales books for children.

Life wasn't easy. But they started having dreams, and were full of hope.

One sinister day, their caretakers didn't show up. It was other people instead. People who looked almost the same, but wore different clothes.

Because of their blank faces, it was impossible to guess what they could be thinking or what were their intentions. But something felt wrong.

Next thing these little eggs knew, they were separated from each other. Feeling lost, they felt anxiety overcoming them. A sense of dread filled them, wondering if it was time for them to start panicking or not. But brave little eggs they were, they just kept following these strange persons.

Eventually, they were led into very small rooms. Very tiny and cramped ones.

They got put into little glass cages, and they weren't able to go out of them by themselves.

Surely, it was just another test, right? They were used to it.

Everything was going to be fine.

The strange blank figures, although faceless, seemed to stare at them for a few seconds, completely silent. And without a word, they turned their backs and started to leave the rooms.

They closed the access to it, and silence filled the rooms even more.

And then, the little eggs started waiting.

They waited, full of hope these people would come back for them.

They waited.

They waited.

They waited.

No one came.

The days passed by. Each day felt harder than the previous one, each day felt more lonely. The hunger was unbearable, being more and more painful each day.

Eventually, they started giving up on hope to be found. But sometimes, you shouldn't give up on hope. Sometimes, you shouldn't let hope go away.

On a bright day of Spring, flowers were blooming. The wind was humming a soft melody. On April 15th, 2023, a little egg was found in an attic.

A month later, a plane crashed. Five French speakers survived. On May 16th, 2023, another little egg was found inside of a wall.

Some more months later, a detective walked into a room. journal was found. On August 30th, 2023, it was too late for this little one.

The first two survived, and despite how hard it was to survive on this island, they were still happy to live.

They had dreams and kept hoping for a better future, with their new-found adoptive families.

The two survivors became sisters again. They didn't know why, but both felt a connection with each other. Both felt very attached to memories.

At the end, they never really forgot Hope. "

[georgiapeach30513]

How I'm Looking At You, Part 4

Summary: What does Ari want?

Pairings: Ari Levinson X Reader

Rating: explicit

Warnings:  explicit language, explicit sexual content, oral sex (F receiving), nosy people, misogynistic thoughts, aggressive Ari, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 5.7K

Previous

Series Masterlist

Eggs. Stupid eggs. And stupid Ari for distracting you from your reading. You are always reading. And Ari is always smiling at you through every bite he takes, and then turning his attention to his newspaper. He never turns the page, so you know he’s not even reading, it’s just pretending. You try, but he’s distracting. You take another bite of eggs, laying your book down, and Ari grins, “What is it, Darling?”

“Do you have nothing better to do than to watch me?”

His fork clinks on his plate, while he stares, that permanent grin on his face. A grin that says he knows something that you don’t know. And judging by what happened at the swimming hole, he knew a lot that you didn’t. “Actually, no. Nothing is more beautiful to stare at than the woman sitting at the table with me.”

Your body flares to life. Heat radiates from your core all the way down to your toes, and even up to your ears. Your entire body is on fire from a few simple words. He is of the devil, and you should fall to your knees and repent, but instead you find yourself wanting to be commanded to your knees just like the books. Have his bulge right in your face while he tells you to take him out. You want your fingers to study every bit of his body. Curiously discover the things that make him hard.

“Is everything okay?” No. Nothing is okay. Your body is betraying you. Your mind is supposed to be the most powerful thing, and yet it’s overpowered by the slick that pools in your core. You shake your head no. Lying is a sin, and you’re already sinning enough as it is. “Tell me, what’s wrong.”

“Do you get wet, too?”

“Are we talking about what you’ve been feeling between your thighs?” You glance down at the table, hands folding in your lap as you nod. “Darling, I know that the way that you have been raised has taught you feelings of the flesh is a sin, but it is natural. Can you at least look at me? Maybe we should get you some different books if it’s becoming too much.”

“But I like them,” you finally meet his gaze, and you refuse to back down. “I know nothing about,” choose your words carefully. You have noticed an animalistic need in Ari when you say the forbidden words. “Sex. I-I-I don’t know anything. I don’t know what’s happening to my body. I don’t know how to stop the things I’m feeling. I don’t know how to not imagine you and me with every one of these books. Except the ones with many men. That’s just confusing. But it’s always us.”

Ari’s arm that is carefully laying on the table tenses. He grips the edge of the table so hard that his knuckles bleach. Anger? Jealousy? Ari’s emotions can be confusing at times, “Who do you imagine the other men are?”

“None of the men here. They wouldn’t…three sounds like an awful lot.”

“Perhaps,” his body is still taut. The last thing he’d want to do is stifle your fantasies. Fantasies are normal. But he still has to figure out if it’s just that or something you might want to put into practice. “Three men. Three mouths. Three cocks. Your entire body could be stimulated all at the same time. You could have two sucking on your succulent tits, while another is feasting on your cunt.”

Heat blooms in your belly. An odd sound ripples out of your mouth, and he smirks. He’s never been a sharing type of man. But seeing you absolutely ravage, if that’s what you wanted, didn’t sound awful, “And then when you want the cocks inside of you, who is going to go where? You have three holes that can be filled all at once. They could have you writhing in so much pleasure that it’s almost agonizing.”

You shake your head no, eyes dropping to that stupid mark on the table. The table. There is one part of a book that really struck your mind. Being submissive for some of these women isn’t so bad. You understand fake from reality. But the men in those books worshiped them. Yes, they’re submissive, and sometimes bratty. But the undying devotion and love is palatable. It’s too quiet in your home, but you find yourself wanting to explore your body more than once.

“What — what would bending me over the table mean?” There is some language in the books that didn't truly make sense to you. But bending the woman over a table, a knee, the counter, the couch. Bending over is a regular theme, and you want to know what it is. You aren’t a child, and you caught Ari locking the door behind you as you came into the house. He didn’t want Jacob or the others to walk in, so you should take advantage of that.

He smiled as you took tentative steps up the stairs, and to your room. You wondered if he imagined what you had put on. Did he know if you chose something more sweet, or did you go more adventurous? Did he wonder if you put on one of the matching sets? Did he visualize what you had on under your modest dress? Ari has given you so many options of lingerie; you know he wants to see them on your body.

“Explain what you mean,” his voice is nearly hoarse. A vein on his neck pops out. Is this what it means to command him? You think it is. While he commands you on your innocence, you command him with his control. Is he breaking? There’s something powerful about knowing that you have this amount of control over him!

“In the books,” he nods once. There’s a part of him that has thought about reading these books, just so he knows what all you are learning. “They — the man is always bending her over something.”

“Why?”

“For various reasons,” does he really want you to explain all the reasons that they’re being bent over? Surely he knows. It’s this really weird sick fascination that he has to see you sweat, and say the most vulgar things. Filling his ego as much as his pants are filling.

“Hmm, and what reasons might those be. Try and be…explicit,” that same smirk curls the edges of his mouth. “I just want to learn where your pretty little head is.”

“Sometimes it’s for a spanking,” he nods his head. That grin permanently on his mouth now. “I don’t think I like that.”

“Me neither,” that’s a relief.

“Sometimes it’s,” closing your eyes, your words come out so fast and too loud, “so they can fuck her,” Ari pops his neck, a low growl rumbles in his chest. “But it’s also to,” deep breath. This is the one you’re really interested in because it isn’t so invasive. “Inspection.”

His chair scoots back quickly, and in two steps he’s by your side, and you gulp. “Do you need me to inspect you?” Licking your lips, you barely nod. Before there was water to separate you. Now Ari could look wherever he wanted. “Stand up, so I can bend you over this table, and see how wet I make you,” those are the words you have been quaking to hear Ari say.

Your chair gives an awful squeak as you push back. Standing in front of him, his size difference becomes even more apparent. His giant hand presses on your shoulder before he spins you around. Adding pressure, so you lean forward. Not stopping until your face is squished onto the cool wood.

“Darling, I’m going to lift your dress up. I want to see what color of panties you’re wearing today, okay?” You give a nod of your head as he lifts your arms to lay on the table. “Okay?”

“Okay,” the voice that comes out of your throat is weak. Pinched off and so desperate sounding. Your chest heaves as Ari squats down behind you. His meaty hands grab at the bottom of your dress, and he lifts it carefully. You swear he’s making the dress drag against your skin, so you know just how much he’s ascended.

He doesn’t stop until he bunches up the dress at your back. You struggle to try and get a good look at the face he’s making. You need to see his reaction to seeing you with nothing but lace separating you. He’s quiet. The house is even more quiet. All you hear is the deep breathing he’s doing. “Ari? Am,” the idea that you aren’t desirable for him stings in your chest. “Am I satisfactory?”

Ari clears his throat as his hand presses against your backside. The panties are simple, white, sheer lace with a bikini cut. Hiding nothing. He smooths his hand to each cheek before his middle finger slides down your split. Not stopping until his hand cups your weeping hot cunt, and you elicit the most delicious whimper.

“You’re perfect,” his voice whispers, rubbing over your pussy. “So perfect. What’s got you so wet?” He leans over your body, putting his lips on your bare back, and he peppers all the way down your spine. Stopping at the ribbon that replaces the elastic on your panties. “Is this for looks or practicality,” to be honest, not much is practical about this style of panties. Should the ribbon come untied, there wouldn’t be anything holding them on you.

His teeth attach to the ribbon, and he pulls. Loosening the ribbon, he drops to his knees, pulling the sheer fabric down. “Oh my. These sweet little things may be the most devious of all. Breathe, Darling,” he reminds you as heat flares in your center. Ari uses both hands to pull the lace down, and he spreads you open fully.

His blue eyes stare at your tight little entrance, licking at his lips. “Can I taste you?”

“Yes, please,” you breathlessly answer. You just wish you could see him. See how he looks as he gazes at your body. The books talk about a man devouring the woman, but Ari is slow and calculated. His tongue barely sweeps over your velvety lips, and he does it again. And again. Each time getting closer. His cheeks press against your skin before he buries himself into your folds.

Laving up your juices while you are a mewling mess. Not even daring to move when the thick muscle of his tongue pierces inside of you, “Ari,” you push more into him, and this is where the word devour comes from. He eats from your cunt like he’s a man starving. Slurping, licking, and his mouth circles around your bundle of nerves, and you keen.

Nails dig into the table trying to stabilize yourself. If this is a sin, you’d gladly go straight to hell with his mouth on your body. Your moans fall in line with his own as pleasure rips through your body. “Ari,” you repeat again because it’s just nonsensical words.

“Ari,” his teeth scrape over your clit and you come undone. Slapping on the table, trying to right yourself, but his face stays glued to your core. “Mmm, oh god!”

He grunts, trying to plant himself deep inside of you, and a banging on the door reverberates through the house, and you try and push him off you, “Son of a bitch,” his voice is low, and he falls back on his ass, smiling as he stares up at your swollen pussy. “That’s a pretty sight.”

The knock on the door is louder as he rights himself. Pulling up your panties and tying them back on before too carefully for Jacob’s booming beating on the door, “Ari! Is everything okay, I heard — crying,” that is not at all what he heard. You weren’t crying. There might have been tears in your eyes, but you weren’t — you were crying out.

“Mother fucker is determined to ruin things,” he gives a quick kiss to your shoulder, his beard still damp from your juices. “Go to the sink. He doesn’t have to see your face,” what Ari wants to say is that your face is glistening with sweat, and your eyes are heavy lidded from pleasure.

“I’m always hiding my face in the sink,” Ari shrugs. He didn’t honestly care who knew that he was interested in you. But for your sake, it was best to keep things quiet. “I’m coming,” he mumbles under his breath, “I just had to make her come first.”

Ari slings open the door, and Jacob glances into the house. His eyes scan over everything until he sees you, picking up breakfast dishes. Too much food is on the plates. Ari’s hand wipes down his glistening beard, and he looks at Jacob. “What?”

“I’ve been knocking. And I heard — things,” Jacob looks back to you, and then his eyes sweep down Ari’s front. Straightening himself up, standing taller, and he looks away from the giant man in front of him.

“And as you can see, everything is fine. Shall we start our glorious day?” One where he had moved some seeds into the cellar, where they didn’t belong. Oops, looks like he’ll have to end this day early. And maybe ride into town and get more seeds. Dammit. What a waste of a day. Oh well, he can bring you along with him. Take you shopping if you want to.

Take you out to eat. Whatever your pretty heart desired. Drive out to the middle of nowhere, so he can let you sit in his lap, and discover what friction is. Whatever you could come up with. Maybe dance in the drifting sunlight. He got his fill. He just hopes you had yours.

He follows the now annoying as fuck man out into the field. He was having the best breakfast, only for some stupid man child to be bothering him. He knew what to do more than Ari did, why didn’t he just get started, and Ari could have joined later. That makes too much sense of course.

“So how does dating in the Amish community work?” Ari stares out into the horizon, squinting his eyes from the rising sun. This is a bit of a late start. There’s no telling what this stupid boy heard.

“Date? You mean courting?” Ari shrugs, grabbing some stupid hand tool. This way of living is a bit ridiculous. The work is not reducing his stress, but now he’s in a quandary. If he stopped, and told these boys to go back to their farm, then he couldn’t have you stay here. “You…you ask the father for permission. Sometimes it’s predetermined. But it’s expected. You got to further the Amish line.”

“Do you know how that’s done? Furthering an Amish line, that is,” the other two nameless boys smirk at him. One even giggles and motions towards the house. “Is there a problem?”

“You’re not Amish,” Jacob’s voice is hard and emotionless. “You can’t be with an Amish woman. Besides, she’s no good.”

“Excuse me?” Ari’s tool falls to the ground, and he squares up with the young boy. Anger prominent in his features. This dumbass insulted you, he’s sure of it, and he’ll make sure before he deals with it.

“She’s past her prime. She’s had several good Amish men that were interested, and still she acts as if she’s so much better off alone. Her parents were too old to be having children, and now their line is going to die off,” Ari’s chest puffs up, and he steps even closer to the young man. He was referring to you. Little bitch.

“You sound bitter. Would one of those men be you?” Of course he was one of your suitors. He should have known by the way Jacob was too aware of Ari’s interest. He was too aware of even yours. He had the ability to ruin you, if he wanted.

“No,” Jacob starts messing his tool in the dirt, and another boy laughs quietly. “You don’t get to come here and act like — like — well, you’re not even Amish. The more time she spends with you, she’s going to be nothing but a shunned whore.”

Ari’s nose scrunches, and he adjusts his pants legs before leaning in front of Jacob, but the boy keeps working. Pretending that Ari isn’t so close to him, but Jacob can feel his breath. “If you want to insult a woman, you better fucking look me in the eyes.”

Jacob’s cold dark green eyes turn to look at Ari. “Y-y-you don’t think we know what you’re doing? She — she isn’t even working like she’s supposed to be. I-I-I see her walking around upstairs, and closing the curtains. Y-y-you’re poisoning her mind. She chooses an Amish man, or she’s alone forever. If-if she lays down with the likes of you, she’s ruined. Sh-sh-she won’t be able to stay here. She’ll be used goods, and — and I’ll let everyone know,” what an ignorant thing to say. The boy was contradicting himself. According to him, you were already past your prime. So nobody wanted you, but now you’d be ruined?

Ari shoves at his shoulder. “Y-y-you can do what’s right, and leave her for…for an Amish man.”

“Men like you don’t even know how to treat a woman like her,” stupid ass had already called you nothing more than useless to an Amish man.

“I-I-I know…know what sex is. And — and how it’s done. You j-j-just leave her alone,” he is scared of Ari. His voice trembles as he speaks, and he couldn’t stop stuttering. Good.

Ari clicks his tongue. Looking over to the two boys, and they look away quickly. “You do sound a bit bitter. And I am being a good employer. But now you’ve pissed me off, you have insulted her more than you’ve praised her.”

“Women know th-their place.”

“You’re scared shitless, you know that? Tobin, Malachi?”

“That’s not their name.”

“Whatever the hell your name is. Do you hear this conversation? It didn’t happen. Just like nothing is happening between me and her,” Jacob glares up at Ari. “Do you have a problem?”

“No, but your dick did earlier,” Ari only lurches, he doesn’t touch the boy, but Jacob cowers, flinching away from him. He said the wrong thing.

“Boy, you get her in trouble, and I will gladly let people know what you and these two assholes talk about. You think these men want to know how you’re talking about fucking their daughters like they’re whores. You want to act like you’re so much better than her, and you talk, and spread your filthy lies about how many of these women you’ve ‘fucked’. Tell me, Jacob. Just how many women have you fucked? How many weren’t Amish? How many whores have you paid to suck your limp little dick?” Jacob spits on the ground by Ari’s feet.

“Your Amish cock isn’t too good for prostitutes are they? You don’t think I know what you dumbasses bring to my barn? Think before you fucking speak. And if you want to have her name on your filthy little mouth again, you better be saying it with respect,” Jacob spits again. “Do it one more time, you asshole.”

“You want to know why no Amish man will have her? She’s the community dump,” Ari places a foot behind Jacob’s feet, and pushes him down onto the ground. “She is. All of us have had her. You’re not special.”

“And you’re a goddamn liar. You’ve got nothing but a little whiskey dick. Hiding in my barn, while you pay for a woman to show you what sex is, while she’s at home with her parents. Say another fucking thing, and I will ruin you,” it’s a threat he has to make. Jacob knows too much. Well, he thinks he knows too much, and Ari won’t have your name tarnished in this community.

But Ari has actual evidence that could end them. He had to take precautions. Your reputation is on the line, and he won’t have it ruined. Especially if you choose to stay here. He could tell Jacob to leave, and he could run his dirty little mouth, and then the entire community would turn on you. He knew enough to know they wouldn’t question these young men. But you would be ostracized.

“N-n-not lying.”

“Alright. Go tell the elders. But remember. My barn has cameras,” the boys all look amongst themselves. “Cheap whores are never a good look for an upstanding Amish man like yourself. Jedidiah, aren’t you courting someone? Or are you just practicing to make sure you know how to handle a woman? You two can thank Jacob. I no longer work on this farm. But you do. I’ll sit and smoke on the porch while I watch you three work like jackasses. I don’t need this bullshit. And don’t you dare threaten me when you’re trembling like a leaf, boy. You want to threaten me, or her, you better stand up tall and on your fucking feet. You look me in the eyes, do you understand?”

He gives a nod, starting to return to his work, but Ari clears his throat, “Say, ‘yes sir,’” the other two boys gawk at Jacob, unsure of what else to do. “Go on, say it.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Remember, you keep her name out of your mouth,” all of them respond with a ‘Yes, sir,’ and Ari nods. He walks back to the house before he sits in one of the rocking chairs. Kicking his feet up on the banister, and grabs out his cigarettes. That’s one way to get out of this backbreaking labor. The only back he wants to break is yours. And the only one he cares to protect is you.

——

You smile as you look at yourself in the mirror. Vanity is a sin, and yet, you couldn’t stop staring. You feel and look completely different. A glow radiates your skin and you feel flawless. Ari had touched you. He feasted on you, and was moaning and groaning like it was the best meal he’d ever eaten. Again, you were rudely interrupted.

Surely the English didn’t have to deal with a constant barrage of people trying to ruin everything. They were given privacy during intimate times. Jacob knew the jobs of the day, he was the one that told Ari what they were going to do. He could have started to work without Ari, so you know he came to the door to ruin it.

You have a feeling Jacob knew that something was going on. Jacob. He’s a little — asshole. The books said it, so can you. Yes, he’s an asshole. The more time you spent with Ari, and just how open he is to the world, you realize just about everyone here was an asshole. They are demeaning, and you were flowering. They just wanted you to be a shut in just like them. There was so much more out there, and you were stifled to believe that house work and being a wife and mother is all you were good for.

Even with sex. Yes, you can call it by its name. Sex and whatever pleasure Ari gave your body was natural. Sex is what made babies, and it was so much more than that. It was allowing another human into your body. It was trusting them, and becoming one with them. It was a separation in ways. You didn’t want others to look at your panties. That was just for Ari.

You didn’t want anyone but Ari to see and feel those parts of you. And my goodness, how you wanted him to feel you. Touch you. Be inside of you. Yearn for you the way you yearned for him. You couldn’t spend a day not thinking about the way he will feel over you. He would. You can tell by your relationship that’s where things are headed. And that’s what you wanted. Him. And all he has to offer you.

You’d be silly to think you hadn’t thought about a future though. You’d seen it in a few of the books, conquests. Is that what you were for Ari? Nothing more than a game. And where would that leave you if he left? Ari wasn’t meant for this world, and not that you think you are, but you don’t have the resources he does. You didn’t know anything about the English world. You couldn’t just leave and hope for the best.

Obviously it’s a fear. If you proceed in this, then what? Is this a game or some way for Ari to pass the time. He’s annoyingly been with many women. But did they feel like Ari was etching himself into their soul the way you did. You wanted to see him so badly, and that made it all the worse. You’d never tire of looking at him. Touching him. Why was he so huge and beautiful? Why can’t your hands paint over his skin?

Instead of worrying about your vanity, you’re going to put on a different pair of panties. The books say that the men love panties. He should get to keep these. You lean over, pulling the pretty lace off your legs before walking into his bedroom with a sly little grin. And then you see only the boys. There is no Ari.

Leaving the panties discarded on the bed, and not at all hidden like you wanted, you walk down the stairs. Your heart pounds in your chest as you open the front door, and Ari, leaning back with his feet kicked up on the banister, takes a long slow drag from his cigarette. “Hey, Darling.”

“Why aren’t you working?”

“That boy,” he points at Jacob using the hand that holds his cigarette, “pissed me off.”

“How?” Jacob won’t even look up at you. Him and the other two boys keep their heads down, looking at the dirt. “Ari, how did Jacob — make you angry?”

“He’s got a big mouth, and thinks his balls are big enough to drag the ground,” you didn’t understand what any of that meant. His mouth looked normal. His teeth were a bit crooked. “Have you ever had sex with Jacob?”

“What? No. No, Ari, I — no. Why would — no. Nononono,” he looks up at you with a serene smile, and reaches out for your hand. Squeezing it gently. “I wouldn’t. No. I hadn’t even — you’ve been…no.”

“I believe you.”

“Then why would you ask?”

He stares up at you, his smile is so warm and soft you want to hug him. You are so scared, and aren’t even sure why. You just know that you hadn’t even kissed anyone. Much less been intimate with them. “That jackass claimed he had. Along with others.”

Tears sting your eyes, as you shake your head. You know what they all say, and they are wrong. They are liars. “No,” you answer solidly as a tear escapes. “It’s — no.”

Ari looks out the field quickly before standing, “Darling, go in the house.”

“But I didn’t do anything. It’s a lie. Lying is a sin,” he stands in front of you, using his body to block the boys working in the field.

“I know you didn’t do anything. But I’m not going to give them the satisfaction that this hurts you. Get in the house,” his hand rests on your hip as he pushes you into the house. He kicks the door close, and pulls you into his chest. His arms wrap tightly around your body, and he holds you like he’s never held you before.

He caresses you gently, while you try and process what he told you. “It’s a sin. Lying,” you say leaning away from him. “Lying hurts people.”

“I didn’t believe him,” it didn’t matter if he didn’t. It didn’t matter that nobody believed them. Their lies never went to the elders. It was a cruel joke amongst the younger men and women. They didn’t have a choice on who they could marry, and somehow you did, so they hate you. They want to lie and say it’s because everyone has been inside of you. The community whore that wasn’t good enough to marry, just fuck.

“But some people do. If lying is a sin, and it hurts people,” your chest heaves as you put your feelings together. Trying to vocalize your fears. “I’m not hurting anyone with the way I feel about you. How is it a sin?” How is this pure adoration you feel for Ari a sin? It is beautiful!

“Fear can make people act irrationally. Especially with women. Women hold more power than most men ever want to admit.”

“What if I only want you?” his cerulean blue eyes move across your face before he starts to lean in. “Don’t kiss me; answer me. What if I just want you. And — whatever that brings me? I know if we continue, and we’re caught I’m ruined here. I know if we’re not caught, I can’t live without you. I don’t want to be here without you. And I don’t want to leave without you.”

He’s too quiet. It feels brutal, and it hurts to think that he just wants you while he’s here, and then will blow away with the wind. “You don’t mean that.”

There it is. He doesn’t want you past your little community. Whatever he is doing here, it won’t last. Grunting you push his arms off you. Looking around his living room, but you have nothing here. Starting to walk to the door, Ari jumps in front of you. “Where are you going?”

“Home,” you answer with finality. “Figure…figure something else out.”

“What? Why?” How did he not understand that he admitted you were just a toy while he was here?

“I have no desire to be your little plaything, and then you leave me used and wanting more, and you won’t give it to me. Enjoy your hand,” you give his solid body a little push, but he holds firm. “Move.”

“No. Let me — there’s too much happening, and I can’t think.”

“Ha, welcome to the club,” he looks at you confused. You aren’t even talking like yourself. “The only thing I’ll miss are the books,” you spin on your heels, and still he jumps in front of you. Stopping you, again, “Stop it!”

“No. Just give me a minute.”

“You haven’t given me a minute since I started here. You have constantly invaded my brain to where I can’t think straight. All I ever think about is you! Your body, you inside of me, but mostly — just you!” And he wants a minute to sort through his feelings? No. He can be given the same amount of confusion you have been given.

“I said you didn’t mean that because I’m not good enough for you!” You glare up at him, he raises his voice. That is not at all what he meant. He meant that when he leaves he’ll forget you, and move onto another girl. Goodness that hurts! The thoughts of him with anyone else burns into your heart, and you — hate it.

“I’m not. I don’t know what you see in me,” you see the best man you’ve ever met. The only one that makes you feel weak and empowered.

“You’re perfect,” he snorts. “You are to me,” he is flawed, like all humans. But to you he is perfect. You woke up earlier just to get here sooner. You walked home with a smile on your face because you got to be around him. You hated Sundays now because you didn’t have him. You looked around the crowd of people, knowing he wouldn’t be there.

“Darling, I have been running through my mind what I’m going to do because I can’t make you choose between your life and me. And I can’t stop whatever this is. And I don’t want to, but I’m not going to be the reason that — you know what they’re going to say.”

“The things that Jacob has accused me of? What they have all accused me of? It’s never been taken to the elders because they know it’s not true. It’s them just gossiping because I’m not like them. Because I don’t want to be. I can’t go back to that life after having this,” it hadn’t been enough time, but it wouldn’t feel right with Ari not being here. Returning back to your boring mundane life. It was him you wanted, not this life or the outside world. Just him, and wherever he was.

“How about,” Ari starts to bargain. You say all these things now, and yet the one thing that he thought you would say, you didn’t. You’re still just learning. Still haven’t discovered your own self. He wouldn’t be the one to make that decision for you. To make you choose him over this life if it wasn’t love. There was no longevity in sexual relationships.

“How about we’re careful. And by the end of the harvest season, I’m leaving. If you still want to go, or if you want to change the course of this relationship, I will understand,” he’s giving you a choice that no man in your community ever would. Women didn’t have this luxury. They were told what to do, and they would just do it.

“Darling, it’s a different world out there, and I won’t be your mistake.”

“What if I wanted you to be?” He wasn’t a mistake, no matter how much he degraded himself.

“What if we slow down?”

“And what if it’s not enough time?” He smirks. Apparently surprised that you could keep up with your counter options.

“Then, after the harvest, you let me know, and I can stay longer,” you give him a smile that he returns. He is letting it all be up to you. You couldn’t ask for more. You didn’t have to rush into just sex. You could ask him for a date. A dance. A dinner. Something more romantic than wanting him inside of you. You could make it worth it.

“You promise?” You need to know. Need to know that he respects you enough to give you the option.

“I promise.”

And he does. Promises with every part of him. He didn’t want to live here, and didn’t want to live out there if you couldn’t be in his life.

“I promise.”

Next

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @peaches1958 @seitmai

@smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @cjand10 @midnightramyeoncravings @kmc1989

@pandaxnienke @rogersbarber @buckybarnesisdaddy @theinheriteddutchess @patzammit

@theolivia-graham @steviebbboi @jeremyrennermakesmesmile @kandis-mom

[what-even-is-thiss]

One of my friends requested I write down my deviled egg recipe for them because I make really good deviled eggs and I figured I might as well share it here as long as I've got it written down. My personal secret ingredient is the vinegar. If you use it in small amounts you can't taste it but it makes a world of difference with the texture. I do most of this by sight these days but this is basically how it goes:

Deviled Eggs by Roman

(Scale up or down, adjust seasoning to your tastes, makes 2 dozen, best served as an appetizer or potluck dish.)

12 hard boiled eggs peeled and washed

½ - 1 cup Hellmann’s/Best Foods mayo

1 tsp white or apple cider vinegar

2 tsp mustard powder (adjust according to desired spice level)

1 tsp salt

1 tsp black pepper

½ tsp paprika, more for garnish

Slice eggs in half, placing the yolks in a bowl. Set the whites aside.

Add spices, vinegar, and salt to the yolks and smash them in with a fork until the yolks are broken up into very small pieces and the spices and vinegar are evenly distributed.

Add mayo one large spoonful at a time, mixing into the yolks with the fork and getting any lumps out. Keep adding more until the mixture is the desired texture. It should be smooth and pasty enough to fit through a piping bag but not so full of mayo that it’s turning pale.

Taste the yolk mixture and add more spices if desired.

Pipe or spoon the mixture into the egg white halves. The mixture should completely fill the egg whites and go over the top just a little bit. 

Sprinkle lightly with paprika for decoration and cover eggs and refrigerate for at least an hour and no more than a full day before serving.

[captain-joongz]

Abraxas; Masterlist

Pairing: mafia boss!Min Yoongi x police office!reader

Genre: humour, angst, investigation themes, dark themes, enemies to lovers, slowburn, eventual smut, some fluff

Summary: My downfall ended up being a story in three acts. The introduction, the seduction, the damnation.

Or; Young and fresh out of police academy, I set out to take down one of the biggest gangs in Seoul. I didn't expect the whirlwind my life would become after meeting the one and only Min Yoongi. Caught between two worlds, it was hard to say whether I was pulled down or returned where I always belonged.

Current word count: cca 78k

Warnings: dark themes, talks of illegal activities, murder, sexism in the workplace, brief reader x OC, eventual smut, innacurate description of police work, some slight stalking (reader tailing Yoongi), each individual chapter will have its own warnings

A/N: welcome to my new and very first series! I will attempt to update this every month, so it's done quicker. Hope you enjoy your reading, don't be shy and feel free to interact!

Taglist is open! Let me know if you wanna be added ^^

playlist / songs that fit the vibe : daylight by david kuschner, love again by dua lipa, let the world burn by chris grey, nothing matters by the last dinner party, killshot (slowed + reverb) by magdalena bay, a little death by the neighbourhood, adore adore by yoav, little girl gone by chinchilla, play with fire by sam tinnesz, the night by choi baek ho, astonist's lullaby by hozier, take me to church by hozier, smoke sprite by so!yoon!, all the good girls go to hell by billie eilish, my strange addiction by billie eilish, nobody's soldier by hozier, wet nightmare by bibi

Act 1;

Ch. 1 | Interlude I. | Ch. 2.1 | Ch. 2.2 | Ch. 3.1 | Ch. 3.2 | Interlude II. | Ch. 4 | Interlude III.

"That which is spoken by God-the-Sun is life; that which is spoken by the Devil is death; Abraxas speaketh that hallowed and accursed word, which is life and death at the same time. Abraxas begetteth truth and lying, good and evil, light and darkness in the same word and in the same act. Wherefore is Abraxas terrible."

- 3rd sermon, Seven Sermons to the Dead, Carl Jung

The First Companion | An Old Friend | Boy Warrior |

Act 2;

TBA

"The bird fights its way out of the egg. The egg is the world. Who would be born must first destroy a world. The bird flies to God. That God's name is Abraxas."

- Demian: The Story of Emil Sinclair's Youth, Hermann Hesse

The Prodigal Son | Enemy of an Enemy is a Friend | The Golden Maknae |

Act 3;

TBA

"It is splendid as the lion in the instant he striketh down his victim. It is beautiful as a day of spring. It is the great Pan himself and also the small one. It is Priapos.

It is the monster of the under-world, a thousand-armed polyp, coiled knot of winged serpents, frenzy.

It is abundance that seeketh union with emptiness. It is holy begetting. It is love and love’s murder. It is the saint and his betrayer. It is the brightest light of day and the darkest night of madness.

To look upon it, is blindness. To know it, is sickness. To worship it, is death. To fear it, is wisdom. To resist it not, is redemption.

It is the delight of the earth and the cruelty of the heavens. Before it there is no question and no reply.

That is the terrible Abraxas."

- 3rd sermon, Seven Sermons to the Dead, Carl Jung

Epilogue

[kyber-shack]

stan getting impregnated with alien dna by ford for one of his experiments while he sleeps. you know, for science 😈 stan's a little dumb and doesn't figure it out until an alien baby is halfway out of him lol

drooling at the Dubcon context to this... making this Trans!Stan :)

Ford's already gotten the green light to perform some experiments on Stan so he takes it Way Too Far. there's a specific alien species that gestates in a whole earth day, its too easy for Ford to replicate an egg and matching inseminating fluid. Almost too easy to drug Stan so he doesn't wake up while Ford's fucking the alien semen into him.

Stan would sleep for the next five hours, waking up to a bloated belly and feeling queasy. Ford would make some excuse to leave the dock and go into the town of whatever port is there and expertly time it so that he's back as soon as Stan's going into labor. Stan doesn't think anything of it, but quickly realizes something's off as the hours pass.

His stomach skin stretches, his balance is more off than usual, hips aching. It's only when his rounded out belly starts to cramp considerably, groaning as he wobbles to the full body mirror in their little boat to gaze at green stretchmarks across his tender skin.

Needless to say, he's freaking out alone and wondering what the hell is happening. He listens to his body, groaning loudly when it's time to push but doesn't connect-the-dots until, like you said, he's crowning.

From his place on the couch on their boat, he can feel his insides opening up, burning the entire time. Once Stan reaches a hand down and feels something solid coming out of his hole, he realizes this is some messed up experiment that Sixer took way too far this time.

He's mad, but deals with it as he pushes through the pain alone, only interrupted by the Devil himself returning and calling for him. Stan hears the door behind him open, Ford gasps, as he lets out a long grunt as he tries to push the large head between his thighs out of his tired pussy.

Ford approaches hesitantly, as he was supposed to be back before this part happened. He watches as Stan's muscles flex; thighs, stomach, hands gripping the edge of the cushion. His hole is straining open around a pale orb of the alien life he bred his brother with, at a full crown and even almost to pushing the head out. Stan cries out beautifully, in another hard effort he finally pushes it out with a gush of fluid. Ford's cock twitches, and he hears Stan whimper, "Bastard, at least warn me next time."

[princessracecar]

“Describe to me in detail the exact texture of a perfect pumpkin pie.” Says Armand from behind his notebook.

“Uh” says Janet, the manager at the all night bakery exactly 3.475 miles away from the condo he shares with Daniel.

He doesn’t need Daniel knowing about his plans and Daniel is a great many things, but stupid is not one of them.

The bakery’s two regular employees, Elizabeth and Garret shoot them furtive glances from behind the counter. He’s not allowed to talk to Elizabeth and Garret anymore. Apparently he was being “creepy” and “intense” and waiting to ambush them with questions out in the parking lot was also not acceptable. Daniel wants him to rely less on his vampiric gifts. “If you’re going to act like a human, you should maybe try to actually act like a human” he had said. Whatever that means. Armand hasn’t been a human in a very long time and many of their behaviors are confusing to say the least. But if he isn’t to use the Mind Gift to parse the answers he needs, he needs to be… personable.

And so he sits with Janet, who had agreed not to call the police on him as long as he promised to “stop being weird” and buy something. The look on her face implied that he should buy several somethings. Perhaps many somethings. There was now a box of individually wrapped slices of cake settled on the table next to them in the corner booth that they are currently occupying. He can’t bring the cakes back to Daniel because then he will absolutely know something is going on, but perhaps he can leave them on the doorstep of a family the next street over without arousing suspicion.

He can tell that Janet is trying very hard not to ask him why he doesn’t try some of the pies the bakery has on display. It’s a fair question. Maybe he can pretend to be allergic to eggs. There are eggs in pies aren’t there? Food is so much different now than it was when he was alive. He takes a breath he doesn’t need and says very quickly “This is my first Thanksgiving with my husband and I want it to be perfect.” There, that was a normal thing to say. It even had some relation to the truth. Somewhat. If you squinted a lot. Janet, however, visibly relaxes in the booth across from him and beams in delight.

“This is Armand.” Says the still smiling Janet to the tall and rather disheveled looking blonde woman wearing chef’s whites with her hands buried in some sort of floury mixture spread out across the top of the metal table in the back room of the bakery. The woman had tersely introduced herself at Katia before turning to Janet and proclaiming “Isn’t that the guy who was being weird on the security cameras?”

“This is shortcrust pastry.” Says Katia after several tense minutes and a very pointed eyebrow from Janet. Armand dutifully writes “shortcrust pastry” in his notebook.

Katia takes on the air of someone about to deliver a very in-depth lecture. The slight tightening around her eyes (as well as her inner monologue) implies that he had better pay attention.

“It’s used in both sweet and savory pastries, tarts, and pies and is referred to as a “short” crust because the texture is light and crumbly.”

Katia explains to him the process of making the pastry. For some reason there is rendered animal fat involved and he is made to absolutely promise that he will not use “the devil’s ingredient” although he is utterly unsure what “Crisco” is. Perhaps some sort of poison.

“We roast our own pumpkin in house. It’s sourced from a local farm that’s known for their pie pumpkins.” says Katia. Armand feels his eyes widen ever so slightly in doubt.

“Of course, you can always use canned pumpkin” she continues with the air of someone who has just suggested that he eat raw sewage.

“It appears very… orange” hazards Armand. Katia narrows her eyes at him.

“I am certain most humans love it!” He backpedals. Katia gazes at him a moment longer and then visibly moves on.

She shows him the finished pies balancing on the cooling rack. They are no less orange than the roasted pumpkin that she had shown him earlier. He had looked up pictures of pumpkin pies on the internet and hoped that they would perhaps look less orange in person. He thinks that actually, the opposite is true. At least the baked ones no longer looked like soup.

“And people enjoy these?” He asks

“Yes.” Says Katia irritatedly. “Now get out of my kitchen.”

He strolls home through the night, box of cakes wedged awkwardly under one arm. He had no idea human food was so complicated. He supposes that he hasn’t given much thought to human food in a very long time. When he was alive it was more about sustenance than pleasure. He realizes that he wants this meal to be pleasurable for Daniel, after all it will be his last Thanksgiving as a human.

[catiuskaa]

COACH OR PLAYER?

SUMMARY: there’s always a time when one just has to know, but is the coach able to risk it and play their own game?

WC: 1.43k (omg)

CW: caution! content hot! lol, just suggestive, a sneaky reference to the devil wears prada, some sports/gameplayer terminology.

REQUESTED! by annonie right here. i gotta say, good music taste, pookie. I had fun with this one, I really hope you do too! <3

[⛓️☆ 🎀 ☆⛓️]

Bet.

“Do I look that cold?”

You hesitated, smiling after he lend you his jacket.

“Maybe.” He shrugged playfully, scrunching his face in a funny way, which made his glasses fall a bit further down the bridge of his nose. “Maybe I’m just that hot.”

You rolled your eyes, biting your lip.

Sometimes you wished you could just forget about it.

“He said that?” Your roomate Jeongin scoffed. “Man figured a way to lower a standard that was already non-existent for his category.”

You blinked, deadpanning at him before sighting and merely continuing making a simple grilled cheese for dinner.

“Now’s when you ask, Innie, what category?”

The olive oil teased you, its sound almost threatening as you pulled your sleeves as far as they could reach, trying to cover your hands.

“What if I’m not interested?”

He scoffed with a smirk, already munching what had been meant as a dessert, his eyes never leaving the sliced pieces of fruit.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Andrea, everybody wants this.”

You laughed, sitting down on the sofa next to him, and he lowered the TV’s volume, going as far as to sit propperly —criss-cross is propper, and that’s on period, he’d say— and facing towards you, clearing his throat and leaving the plate on the coffee table.

The crisp feeling of toast was better than you imagined, considering you’d thought you weren’t even that hungry at first. You chewed gingerly, unbothered by what was starting to feel like a piercing stare to your forehead.

“Jeongin-a.” It was funny how hard he tried to play it as if he hadn’t been startled by your tone. You blinked again, merely meeting your eyes with his. “I’d rather you speak than drill holes on my head.”

He groaned, throwing his legs over the sofa’s armrest, passing his hands through his face. You ate quietly, waiting for him.

“It’s just that…” he sighed. “I never know when you’re going straight ahead for someone. I don’t think I know now either.”

You frowned, covering your mouth with the back of your hand, still eating. “The fuck you mean, pal?”

He stood up faster than you expected, which almost threatened your grilled cheese sandwich to end up facing the floor.

“I know you like him. Shit like that is your whole modus operandi. But ever since our bet, I just don’t know.”

It’s probably a famous last word. At the rate it’s said, it’s gotta be. It’s easygoing, slipping off one’s tongue quickly, as if ripping off a band-aid.

“Bet on it.”

“That just scrambles my eggs, dude.” You had winced a while back, playing half-annoyed, suddenly focused on the contents inside the can in your hand. “I don’t think I’m interested.”

He had chuckled, opening another can of beer.

“Why?” He said, smirking teasingly. “Even coach leaves the fucking bench if the rest of the players suck,” his face was serious, his pink-tinted cheeks obvious, considering his weak alcohol tolerance.

“That’s not even funny.”

He had dissmissed your denial, grunting a bit, approaching you further, and laying a hand on your shoulder.

“You’re normally blind to this type of things, but with this guy, you can’t even say if he’s just playing.”

Alas, your can had been empty. But now, a small idea had blossomed and filled a part of your mind.

“I bet that if I flirt back, he’ll back off. That’s my bet.” You had slammed the can against the table, your expression that of a winner.

Silly little thing.

No one can win if no one wants to stop playing.

[⛓️☆ 🎀 ☆⛓️]

“Hey,” you grinned, watching him smile at you as he took his big headphones off and left them hanging on his neck.

You closed the door of the studio behind you, taking a seat on the chair next to him.

“Pity. I had a better seat saved for you, doll.” Jisung teased, tapping on his thighs playfully.

You chuckled, biting your lip.

Every player knows that rules exist for a reason. The issue in the gameplay is the rules. They limit one’s extent to keep the game going. Rules are there to make sure the result is fair.

But what if any fairness can get out of this?

Your eyes didn’t leave his when you smirked.

“Sure thing, jagi.”

The chair threatened to move backwards with the added weight, but Han planted his shoes on the ground with more firmness, his arms traveling to your waist, making sure that even if the chair gave up, you wouldn’t end up on the floor.

Your back was facing him, and you knew you were using that to your advantage when you stoond up just enough to sit a little further, just a tiny bit, now able to lie your head on his shoulder comfortably.

It’s no surprise that this match’s winner could have been already decided, considering your current position in less than ten minutes together. A good player knows when not even the VAR can rule these points out if they wanted to.

Han knew he wouldn’t.

You don’t, however, so it could start to look like the gameplay may take a turn. He could get the upper hand, seeing as his arms cheekily traveled around your waist and he sighed, his breath hot against the skin of your neck, and your head could figure out you had lost, judging by how hard it was to fight off the shivers that ran through your spine because of him.

You were blushing, sitting on his lap. You weren’t sure you could remember what you were supposed to be doing in the studio anyways.

After all, rules are followed because everyone knows them. But what happens when none of the players can decide where to draw the line?

“What do we have here?” Your tone sounded cheeky, yet neither of you will comment on it as you point at the big screen slightly above you.

“A beat I was working on.” His voice too felt slightly lower, its sneaky undertone able to hit you like a truck if spotted, hunting you like a sweet you couldn’t help but crave.

Your hands traveled to his neck, and you fidgeted with the golden chain there, teasing as you purposefully graced your fingers against his skin, tickling, tantalizing.

“Can I listen to it?” You snickered while putting on his chain.

Sometimes, one of the players may not be really acquainted with the rules. And at the end, in this gameplay, at least, no winners can achive said golden medal when you’re not able to ignore how his fingers never once stopped playing with the light-coloured threads that decorated the end of your high-waisted shorts.

The drums and beats and bass all filled up the sound-proofed room once Jisung pressed play.

You giggled, returning the chain to its rightful owner, letting it dangle, following its patter from his nape, to his collarbone, and down to his chest.

He shivered, almost unnoticeable, and you smiled.

“It’s a fire beat.” I’m winning. “Have you planned what to add to it?” Turn it against me.

He smirked, nodding, his hands pressing you even more against him, as if that could make you able to read his mind, then make him able to take your breath away as he’d finally let the bomb inside him explode, take you from your thighs and sit you on the table before him, not bothering to move anything an inch as his fingers unbutton your blouse and how you would hastedly discard his sweatter off him.

But that won’t happen as of now, so he just grinned, taking your hands, always a little colder than his, and used the sleeves of his sweater to cover them, warming them up with the fabric. Which was as intended. Not merely holding hands as he kept at bay all of the thoughts that flooded him whenever your studio sessions came around.

Of course not.

“Oh, yeah.” He replied, a faint blush not noticeable thanks to the coloured lights. Its direct if you’re thinking the same as him, but that, he won’t know, so still, he replied cheekily.

“There’s still things to do.”

His eyes found yours, and he smirked.

“I don’t think I’ll be done soon.”

It’s ridiculous how he bit his lip, almost threatening you to follow along and bite him too.

“It’s just a little too good. Don’t you think, doll?” The way he paused after every sentece started to drive you wild, and you fidgeted with his rings again, both of your hands hidden in the holes of his sweater.

It’s also sweet how you didn’t know he was not wearing anything else underneath it.

At least, not yet.

Rules says you’ll have to wait a bit longer.

And Han Jisung is and has always been a thorough player.

[⛓️☆ 🎀 ☆⛓️]

~Kats, who thinks has been exposed to lots of euro matches to end up writing this. lol

catiuskaa, july 2024 ©

[twistedwonderlandshenanigans]

Valentine's Day...Gifts They Give You?? I Think. IDK.

HAH SCHOOL CAN KICK MY BUTT BUT BY GOD AND THE DEVIL WILL I SHARE A LITTLE BIT OF LOVE!! (I'm suffering Jesus fucking CHRIST this course is gonna eat my fried up brain for breakfast lunch and dinner) This is done assuming they're pining for Yuu, save for Ortho he's Idia's little wingman. GN reader as always bbssssssssss if anything seems canon divergent, check out my HCs lmao

Heartslaybul Ace: He thought about making it super romantic, like he spent the week leading up to Valentine's day brainstorming ideas on napkins and doodling on scrap paper, trying to come up with a way to ask to hang out that would make it feel different than normal, but not so obvious that he...you know, likes you. He ends up showing up at Ramshackle before class with a box of chocolates he bought the day before and a bit of a blushing mess. "I just got these because who knows how much Sam will have by the end of today, you owe me half, ok?"

Deuce: He absolutely called his mom to ask for some advice, and asked his dorm mom (Trey), to proofread the hand written note he had meticulously written and supervise while he tries to make a heartshaped quiche. Why quiche? Well he knows you guys have...Memories about eggs, and he remembers it fondly, and he knows that quiche freezes well, so if he makes a big batch, you can eat what you want and have a readily available breakfast to just pop back in the oven whenever you want it - hopefully you'll remember him each time you do, and you'll ask for more when you finish it! He ends up at Ramshackle a little disheveled and out of breath, trying to make the quiche early enough in the day that he could make it there before breakfast so maybe you could share a meal before class. "It's still warm??" "Yeah, I ran here as fast as I could once it was cool enough to handle." "You didn't have to..." "I wanted to! You're more than worth the effort it took to be here on time." Trey: Mans has a major advantage in that he is great in the kitchen, but he can't just make your favourite dessert. He can do that any day. No, for weeks ahead of time, he plans, makes, tests, and revises a new recipe, something that is unique and meant to be for you. It's more effort than he normally puts into his work, but it's so worth it when he shows up at Ramshackle in the evening to deliver his gift and a small note, though he gets shy. He leaves it on the front door step, knocks once, and moves to hide by the side of the house, relying on Grim's nose to bring you to the door if you didn't hear him knock. Seeing the way your face go from confusion to joy and excitement as you read the note is worth every moment he spent crouching. He knows tomorrow you'll want to talk to him in person, but for now, that's more than enough for him.

Cater: Consumerism Capital lmao. He has a really sweet, genuine gift to give to you, but the time he's spent with his sisters makes him second guess whether or not something is "good enough". So, yes, he will have spent 72 hours painting a fucking masterpiece on a phone case for you, or a pair of shoes you said you wanted, or a skateboard so you guys can skateboard together, or something you mentioned you wanted offhandedly months ago, but he's not sure if it's enough, so to "make up" for his "shitty handmade gift", he buys a shit ton of Valentine's day merchandise! He shows up with the giant teddy bear, the bouquet of flowers, the chocolates, the sappy movies, a trending perfume and some sort of specialty drink he picked up at a cafe. Depending on your reaction to all that stuff, he might actually give you the gift he worked on, otherwise you'll see it by accident or something and he gets embarrassed and a little flustered because What If You Don't Like It, Isn't Everything Else Better Than That Thing I Worked On Specifically For You. Treat him gently please. That's a personal request slkdjfhlskdjf

Riddle: He's new to this. So of course he researched long and hard on how to best express his interest in you without trying to push anything on you. Cater tried to show him cute stuff on social media, but it all seemed so scripted, disingenuous, or so over the top he couldn't see himself doing it that way. Or on the other end - they were couples, well into their relationships and living together- that wasn't where he was with you, at least....not yet. He ends up watching, reading and listening to tutorials on how to put together the perfect bouquet - his beloved rose garden would have more than an aesthetic use now, and with a little magic, a beautiful gradient came easily to the bunch of roses he arranged beautifully. Before you, this holiday just seemed ridiculous. Maybe it still was, but he would indulge if it meant it brought a smile to your face.

Savannaclaw

Jack: He can't be direct for the life of him, not in terms like this. The night before Valentine's day, he's still stumped on what to do for you that won't be...inherently romantic and obvious, but show that he cares about you!! His eyes end up settling on his little cactus and he ends up finally getting an idea. Somehow after class, but before you got home, he managed to gift you your own tiny cactus. He left it sitting in a box, a small knitted coaster of sorts sitting underneath the flower pot - he put it in the box just so that the yarn wouldn't snag on the uneven wood outside of Ramshackle- and a tiny cowboy hat sitting on top of your cactus. It had been from one of his little siblings dolls that ended up in his bag from the last time he'd gone home, but either they didn't even notice it was gone, or he could get them a replacement later.

Ruggie: "Do you have plans for Valentine's day?" "Yep. Wait for it to be over." He doesn't really care for Valentine's day, but the sale that starts on the 15th? Goddamn, yeah, he's gonna capitalize on that....and he might even like you enough to share a little bit of it...maybe while watching a movie....and snuggling up under the same blanket at Ramshackle...that he may or may not have snagged from Leona's pile of Really Nice blankets....all it takes is for you to say you want some chocolate or treats too.

Leona: He really doesn't care for Valentine's day and all the shit that comes with it, but his sister in law asked him to at least try to make the best of the day. Initially, he was going to...at least try to contest it, but ultimately decided there was a simple way to do it. He ends up firing you a quick text to meet him in the greenhouse. While the way he pulls you into his little nest for napping is rather unceremonious, once you've settled he tucks a pink camellia behind your ear before abruptly telling you he's going to sleep and you're welcome to join him or you can get out of there if you want. He hopes, that just maybe, you'll be able to identify the flower he gave you and find out what it means.

Octavinelle

Floyd: Azul is making him work overtime for Valentine's day, he doesn't get up early enough to do anything Before classes, and by the end of his shift he's EXHAUSTED and MAD. He likely has the wherewithall to bring you a serving from the special menu in a takeout container before flopping down on the couch next to you, then onto you, just looking for a little bit of physical affection. The next day he does feel a little bad for not making you feel as special as he could have, so he'll wake you up with breakfast in bed. Jade: Again, he's been working overtime but he was more ready for Valentine's day than Floyd. While he can't take you anywhere on the day of, he has an easy hike and picnic planned for the weekend if you'll join him. Despite being in the wild outdoors, he's determined to make you a dish that would be worthy of serving at the lounge. He will not handle being asked to stay home very well, but ultimately will if you want that more....but it's going to be in your backyard.

Azul: He had so much on his plate leading up to Valentine's day with marketing, organizing shifts and maximizing profit. But, some of that profit was already planned to be set aside specifically for you. It was about time that you got a bit of a leg up, right? I mean working for Crowley can only pay so much, and he's the head of the dorm that represents generosity anyways. So on the day after Valentine's day, he shows up in the evening with a laptop, and envelope with cash, and a grin, ready to show you the wonders of ✨investing✨. He may have forgotten you still...want to go home. He'll backtrack a bit and offer to help you find contractors that will renovate a part of Ramshackle for you.

Scarabia

Jamil: He didn't even bother trying to plan something for himself with you. How could he? It was a holiday, as ridiculous as it was, it meant that Kalim would inevitably want to celebrate it on the dorm level, and Jamil, of course, would have to plan and organize and arrange everything in order to make it work out. However, that didn't mean he wouldn't make sure to invite you. It didn't mean that he wouldn't make the time to ensure your favourite dish was served. Or that your favourite song would come on during the dance party portion of the celebration. Or that he wouldn't check on you just as, if not more frequently than he did on Kalim to make sure you're enjoying yourself. And if you're not, if it's all too much, he accounted for that already and will show you where you can stay until you feel okay again. Of course, if you show up an hour or two early and demand (you can't ask, he'll say no) to be given a task to lighten his burden, he might just admire you a little bit more (even if he still says no).

Kalim: Valentine's Day means partayyyyy time!! There's gonna be food, and dancing, and games, and lots of people, and live music because he, Cater, and Lilia are gonna perform, won't you come see him?? He needs you there so he can perform the best he ever has!! Come on Yuu, please??? They did actually practice, because they had to change a few lyrics so that it could be a better cover for Valentine's day and he was thinking of you when they modified it, so can you pleeeeeeeease come?

Pomefiore

Epel: He isn't sure whether he wants to continue a tradition he had from home or not, where he would show up at school with handmade lollipops and give them out to people....but his class at primary school was soooo much smaller, it wouldn't make sense to do it here for everyone. Not to mention, he usually had his grandma help him make them, he's never done it on his own. He likely does it for all the first years in his little friend group because he doesn't want to be obvious to anyone person that maybe...he likes them a little more...however your lollipop is the only one that seems to have no imperfections. Funny how that worked out.

Rook: Screw your alarm clock, he knows when you wake up anyways and will be outside your window, serenading you until you wake up. Even if you end up rolling out of bed lookin like a sewer rat and peaking out the window, once he knows you're awake he'll start reading poetry to you. He kinda just lingers until you're done getting ready enough to come great him outside, where he gives you a single rose and a few sheets of paper that he's written his poems about you on. He'll kiss the back of your hand and offer to escort you to class. ** I just want to say, for as much as I gripe about Rook in other posts, I genuinely believe that if he knew or found out you had no Valentine, no plans, and nobody treated you, he would, by the end of the day, at least have left a rose and handwritten note on in front of your door apologizing for not having asked to be your Valentine earlier and going through and complimenting you, though the note is completely anonymous. Rook is a bleeding heart (hehe Snow White ref) and regardless of his feelings for you/your feelings for him, he wants to make sure Valentine's day is positive for you.

Vil: Ugh, Valentine's day. It's a tacky, meaningless holiday that corporations push for the sake of profit. He agrees to model stuff still, sure, he has to in order to try and keep up with Neige, but he hates it. He gets his nails done so that they are jet black. Part of him wants to go goth for the day, but really that would be an overreaction to something so minor. He rejects any Valentine's day gifts, and likely won't want to do anything special, so if anything, you get to see a slightly out of character Vil as he either facetimes you to make sure you've been drinking water today and rant about the industry and how it's ruined Valentine's day, or. You send him a really cheesy gif wishing him a happy Valentines day and he very reluctantly replies, but tells you to never do that again (and it segues into Above).

Ignihyde

Idia (+ wingman/little shit Ortho): Ortho didn't really intend to snoop, but his big brother just left his phone out in the open...well he threw it onto his bed and mumbled something about being a loser. According to Ortho's analysis of Idia's phone, he hadn't been on a mobile game, so what got him so worked up? He sifted through until he found the culprit- the draft of a really sweet...and yeah, kinda cringey message he had written out addressed to the prefect of Ramshackle. Eugh he didn't need to read that...but...but Yuu should. He sends the message for Idia right before his brother comes back into the room, mumbling about how he needs to delete something. His eyes go wide as saucers as he sees not only has the message been sent, but the prefect has read it and is replying in that very moment. Idia reprimands Ortho immediately, but gently until the Prefects response comes through and Ortho confirms the tone is positive. Diasomnia lord help me it's one in the morning

Sebek: Wasn't going to do anything until Lilia mentioned...."exaggerated"...just how important Valentine's Day can be to humans. His decision to try and come up with a last minute gift only amplifies if he sees someone else give Yuu a gift, and ultimately decides with a certain degree of defeat just to buy something from Sam's shop. He decides something practical is best, but gets a little distracted around the candles. Surely in Ramshackle you would appreciate something small, aromatic and it even offers a small bit of heat! He decides to go through with it, but it's only noon, surely he can customize it a bit more before the end of the day. Lilia ends up walking into Sebek's room at around 10:30, only to see him struggling to stay awake as he wipes off paint from the lid. Based on the discarded tissues around, he hasn't been satisfied with any customizations he's tried to make. Lilia gently encourages him just to write a quick note, and he'll deliver it to the prefects doorstep for him so he can get to sleep. Sebek insists it's not perfect, but is forced to accept defeat as Lilia ushers him to bed, reassuring him that the prefect will still appreciate it.

Silver: He knows that he struggles to stay awake, so he starts on his project long before Valentine's day so that he can work on it whenever he has the wherewithall to do so. Come Valentine's day, he has the gift with him during class, and ends up sitting outside of Ramshackle, passed out next to the door waiting for you to show up so he can hand you his gift, which turns out to be a dagger. No, he didn't make it, but he wanted to research the best option for someone of your size and stature, the quality, where to purchase it reliably, to make a small write up on how to care for it properly, what it can and should be used for, and activities it's not suggested to use it for, but you technically "can". It also gives him an excuse to come see you more often to teach you how to use it- often teaching someone is a great way to learn and will add another layer to his training. Lilia: He's been around for so many Valentine's Days, he probably knew the fucking saint it was named after. That being said, he loves to make the most of life, and that doesn't stop here! Get ready for a home cooked meal, you don't have to worry about dinner tonight sweetheart, Lilia's got it covered. Or he'll pay for take out. Or both, to make up for the mess in your kitchen.

Malleus: He's been aware of the holiday for years, but has never really had a reason to celebrate it. But now there's someone who isn't scared of him. Someone who, perhaps if he asked, you would allow him to spend time with you. He ends up daydreaming about the activities the two of you could do together, from making gargoyles to learning to make ice cream together, he ends up spending the entire day like that. Though he's a bit frustrated at his loss of time, he writes out a heartfelt letter to invite you to join him in those activities at a later date. He'll either wait for you outside, or if its too late in the night, simply slide the letter under your door.

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I was gonna do Che'nya and Neige and even Rollo but its. its way too late, I'm hungry and I have a STATS class tomorrow RIP me.