#do i not bare enough of my soul to you. is that it. am i too quiet for you.
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This has been sitting in my Tumblr Drafts for a while, and I'm finally putting my thoughts in on this. Fair warning: this is going to be a long rant of a post, sorry not sorry!
I will NEVER write fanfic for financial gain! Obviously, with fanfiction, I don't own the characters/setting/Source Material, so it would not be wise to put my work behind a paywall. I do have some OC writing content, I was getting back into it earlier this year, then Peace in the Moonlight's prequel, Terror in the Shadows entered the chat and I am now high off of my Crackship StettiHo đ
ANYWAYS... even if I ever got to the point where I wanted to 'Publish' my OC writing, I would do so on AO3/Tumblr/Google Drive PDF... where no money would be exchanged. I've been told I have potential to write professionally, and while it is very validating and flattering, it is not something I'm interested in, for a number of reasons:
Anytime I decide to make money off a creative endeavor, I almost immediately lose interest in that endeavor. I love writing fanfiction and posting it up on AO3, absolutely. HOWEVER, the moment I write for money and then feel Obligated to do so, I will never write again. This is just how I am.
With money on the table, I feel pressure to perform to standards set out by the person paying me. I will set impossibly high standards for myself and feel like it isn't good enough.
Or I'll feel like I can't write the story I want to, since someone else is dictating the content (i.e. they want a certain pairing, certain characters to be featured). I also feel safe pushing my own comfort levels within my writing when I'm writing for free. (I have learned wayyyyy to much about BDSM practices, the Gestapo/SS... it's a wild ride, okay??)
Life is expensive as is/capitalism/monetizing everything = blegh! I want people to be able to access my writing without having to pay for it. I write because I enjoy it, and it's a piece of my soul I'm baring to the world. You shouldn't have to pay for that!
If you feel compelled to donate money to me/you feel l deserve to be compensated for my writing (or any other writer), may I suggest donating to AO3 instead? It's sites like that that allow me and other writers to share writing in the first place and they are completely run by volunteers! Also, my favourite currency is in the form of kudos and comments... THAT'S ALL I NEED!!!!
Even if you ever did pay me for my writing, somehow, I would just turn around and throw the money at AO3.
Oh and if you're a writer who thinks they deserve to be compensated for writing/have exclusive fics under a paywall/what have you... SO MUCH OF LIFE IS ALREADY MONETIZED... WE DON'T NEED FANFIC WRITING TO BE ONE OF THOSE THINGS!!!!
The rest of the thread is here.
tl;dr: Donât monetize AO3, kids. You wonât like what happens next.
#anna rants#fanfiction writers#keep fanfiction free#reasons why I won't accept money for my writing#besides the obvious legal implications#the best people in life are free#the best literature in life is fanfiction AND free!#Don't monetize fanfiction#we don't need that around here!#ao3#my currency is Kudos and Comments
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Gym Crush (Part 2)
Read Part 1 by @exploratorytfs.
Itâs been a year and a half since the swap, and not a day goes by that I donât think about how crazy it all was. You might be wonderingâwhy would I trade the life I had? I mean, I had it pretty damn good.
Before all this, I was hot. Not just passable, but the kind of hot that turned heads. I had worked my ass off to look the way I didâhours at the gym, eating clean, all of it. And then there was Edgar. God, Edgar. This dude was a walking Greek statue: broad shoulders, a thick chest, veins for days. I mean, it wasnât just the muscles; it was the way he carried himself. Confidence, swagger, like he knew he could get whatever he wanted. And yeah, I guess at the time, he was my boyfriend.
But even with all of thatâbeing hot, dating a hunk like EdgarâI just couldnât do it anymore.
Youâre probably thinking Iâm nuts. I mean, guys like Edgar donât come around often, especially not for guys like me. Letâs be real, most dudes who look like him wouldnât even give a trans guy like me the time of day. So, yeah, I was lucky. At least, thatâs what I kept telling myself. I shouldâve been happy, but the truth is... I wasnât.
Why? Well, Edgar. He wanted me to be this perfect, submissive, fem bottom. And look, Iâve got nothing against that. There are guys out there who rock that vibe, who own it, and good for them. Thatâs just not who I am.
I know, I knowâsaying this out loud would probably get me canceled in half the gay bars across the country. But I really am masc for masc. Always have been. Iâm not saying it to be some sort of gatekeeper or anything; itâs just... thatâs what Iâve always wanted for myself.
And itâs not just about who Iâm attracted toâitâs about me, too. My whole life, Iâve been trying to prove Iâm man enough. To the world. To other guys. Hell, even to myself.
Transitioning was the first step, obviously. But it wasnât enough. I wanted to look the part, you know? Thatâs why I inked myself up. And the gym was my second home, but even after countless hours of sweat and dedication, I could never quite bulk up. No matter how much protein I shoved down or how hard I lifted, my frame stayed twinky.
Donât get me wrongâthere were plenty of guys who loved me for it. I mean, twinks are kind of a whole thing, right? A lot of guys wouldâve killed to look like I did, but that wasnât the point. It didnât feel like me. I didnât just want to be a guy; I wanted to be a man. The kind of man Edgar was.
And Edgar... he didnât see me that way. Sure, heâd call me hot, touch me like he couldnât get enough, but then heâd taunt me. Heâd weaponize my body. Every time he called me âpussy boyâ or made some comment about how he was more of a man than I was, it chipped away at me. He mightâve thought it was playful, but to me it was cruel. And I couldnât take it anymore.
Initially, I thought if I just stuck it out, maybe things would change. Maybe heâd see me differently, respect me more. He didnât. My self-esteem tanked. I started dreading the time we spent together, and eventually, I just... stopped putting out.
And of course, thatâs when things really fell apart. Edgar doesnât do well with rejectionâbig shocker, right? So yeah, I wasnât exactly surprised when Edgar came sliding back into my DMs after. But honestly, I wasnât planning on responding. Iâd already been down that road, and Iâd told myself after the last timeâno more.
Still, when I saw what he was pitching, I couldnât help but be curious. Swapping bodies with a cis guy? At first, I rolled my eyes. Like, thats even possible. But the more I thought about it, the more curious I got.
The guy Edgar had in mind? Not exactly a stunner. When Edgar sent me his photo, I remember staring at it for way longer than I shouldâve, trying to pick out anything redeeming. The dude was... average. A little too soft in the face, a little too plain. But, to be fair, there was some potential there. Barely.
His eyes were nice, thoughâkind of soulful, in a way that made you think he might be a good guy deep down. And the kicker? He was taller than me by a good 6 Â inches. That alone had my interest. But letâs not kid ourselves; the real selling point was the fact that he had a cock.
That was the dream, wasnât it? My own cock. Iâd spent years dealing with the disappointment of not being able to fully live out the life I wanted. Transitioning had given me so much, but this? This was the missing piece. In this kidâs body, I could finally live out the fantasy that had been sitting in the back of my mind for years.
I could be the top Iâd always wanted to be. I could take guys home, pin them down, and breed them with my own cock and fill them with my own cum. No more strap-ons, no more awkward positioningâjust me, fully in charge, giving them EVERY. SINGLE. INCH.
Maybe with a little muscle here, a little polish there, I could make it something great.
So I said yes.
Iâm not gonna lieâthe first year in this body wasnât easy. Adjusting to a new frame, new habits, new... everything? Yeah, it was a grind. But if thereâs one thing Iâve always had, itâs work ethic. Between that and this bodyâs naturally high testosteroneâand okay, yeah, I mightâve dipped into some steroids here and thereâIâd say I built myself up pretty damn good.
Look at me now. I run my own training service. I mean, itâs not like Iâm the most skilled coach out there or anything. But honestly? That doesnât seem to matter much. Guys line up for my programs, and we all know why. They donât just want my adviceâthey want to look like me. Iâm walking inspiration. Living proof that the dream is achievable, or at least thatâs how they see it.
And man, the way people treat me now? Everyoneâs calling me âbroâ or âdudeâ every other sentence. Not that they didnât beforeâIâve always leaned into that vibeâbut thereâs something about hearing it now that hits different. Maybe itâs the weight of my cock swinging in my shorts as they say it. Itâs like the final piece of the puzzle clicked into place. Everything just feels... right.
And the best part? This manhood of mine? Oh, itâs gotten around.
I mean, come on. Looking like this, how could it not? Guys want me. They crave me. They crave my fleshy, thick, no kidding, natural, beer can of a cock throbbing inside of them.Theyâll do whatever it takes to get a night with me, and honestly, who could blame them?
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Chapter 1 - I Saw You In The Water
Read on A03!
Mini-Series Masterlist
Tags: Dean Winchester/Female Reader, Sam Winchester/Reader (platonic), angst, very light fluff, mutual pining, Dean's got the Mark of Cain, uh oh.
Summary/Warnings:
Author's Note: I'm trying to distract myself from life, so here. Have a miniseries!
Title from Cringe by Matt Maeson
Word Count: 3.7k
âThis looks kind of stupid,â you mutter to Sam, and he makes a small nod of agreement, neither of you looking away from the scene before you. Rowena reciting a bunch of words that donât sound real, and Dean sitting in a kiddie pool, scowling with his eyes screwed tight.
âItâs not just stupid,â Dean snaps your name, and you flush. He wasnât supposed to hear that. âItâs pointless, and I am not getting adult baptized. You know what? screw this-â
He starts to stand, but Rowena pushes on his chest and sends him back into the water on his ass.
âNo moving, or youâll make me have to start over. And none of us,â Rowena looks Dean over with a dramatic shudder. âWant that.â
âDoes it, um, does it have to be an inflatable pool, Rowena? Canât we just put him in the shower?â
Rowena scoffs, dismissing Sam with a wave of her hand. âThat is not how magic works, Samuel. Weâre already making a gamble by hoping the spell counts this as a communal bath filled by the clean of soul, and a motel shower would be far worse.â
âClean of soul-â
âThat wee little bellhop.â Rowena gives you a sweet smile, a glint in her eyes that makes your stomach turn slightly. âOnly dirty thoughts in his head were about you and your lovely breasts.â
âWhat.â Deanâs head shoots up, his scowl somehow more violent. âWhat do you mean, her breasts-â
âI mean her tits, you dimwitted boy.â Rowena gives you a disbelieving eye roll. âMen.â
âWho the fuck was looking at her tits-â
âThe bellhop, Dearie, keep up-â
âCan you just do the spell, Rowena?â You cross your arms over your chest, half folding into yourself in a play to get the conversation off of your boobs. âNow?â
Rowena rolls her eyes, but nods and goes back to all her incoherent mumbo jumbo as Dean begins to look violent.
You bump Samâs shoulder, standing slightly on your toes to whisper, âWhat if this doesnât work?â
âIt will.â Sam shakes his head, and his hair hits you slightly in the face. âRowenaâs the best in the game, and weâre only stretching a few of the ingredients. Itâll be fine.â
Neither of you believe that, but youâre also running out of options. Youâve lost all your leads on the Book of the Damned, and Dean canât keep killing people. Itâs killing him, and Sam, and you, and also the people. And this is, in a roundabout way, a solution. And Rowena says it will work, and youâre not stupid enough to trust her, but youâre also desperate enough to make a deal with her. Sheâll do a spell to make Deanâs bloodlust refocusâmake it more about things that make him happy, and less about murderâand you and Sam will stop trying to kill her for three whole months.
If it works, itâs a win for everyone. Rowena doesnât get shot, you and Sam get Dean back, and Dean can maybe, hopefully, be happy again.
Rowena draws back up from Dean and walks over to you and Sam, extending her hand. âHair.â
âWhat-â
âHair, lass. The spell needs your hair.â
âSamâs hair?â You frown. âOr my hair?â
âPreferably, both.â
You and Sam exchange a look of what the fuck, and Sam keeps his voice lowâinaudible to Deanâas he mutters, âWhy our hair?" Why not the, uh, the bellhop guy-â
âThe bellhop is of no significance to Deanâs life. You two are the people he loves most in the world, so unless you want him to remain under the Markâs corruption,â Rowena flexes her hand, her voice becoming stern. âHair.â
Sam pulls out his hair quickly, but youâre a little slower. Youâre not someone Dean loves. Youâre someone Dean cares about, but youâre not Sam. You donât belong on the spellâs weird ingredient list, you barely belong in this room. Watching Dean in such a strongly vulnerable position, making decisions about his life for him. Heâd resisted this, youâd said please, and heâd caved almost immediately, but you mostly think he just didnât want to argue. You've all been arguing a lot latelyâSam and Dean arguing about most everything, you and Sam arguing about next moves, and you and Dean arguing about you sticking around, near him, through thisâand itâs getting exhausting.
But Rowena gives you an impatient look, and you pass your hair into her hand. If it doesnât work, you can just start over and only use Samâs hair. He has a lot of it to spare, heâll be fine.
When the spell finishes, Sam and Rowena go outside to talk and you sit on the bed, watching Dean in silence. Heâd insisted on wearing his clothing in the poolâjeans, boots, flannel and allâheâs cross-legged in the water, and he still hasnât opened his eyes.
He still looks good. Thereâs an expression made of deep lines and tense frustration on his too-handsome face, and you want to touch him. You want to touch Deanwherever heâll let you. Run soothing hands over his frown, find out of his grown-out scruff is soft or prickly, kiss his full, pink lips until he smiles, and drift down his body. Over his chest, his stomach, lower and lower until youâre wrapping your mouth around him, and he knows that you care. You really, really care about Dean, and heâs not a burden, and if this doesnât work, youâre going to stay right at his side until you find something that does, because you like to think youâd look up at him under your lashes and heâd see that you love him, and throw his head back and groan, and maybe his handsâbig and rough and so carefully skilledâwould touch you-
âBe honest with me, Sweetheart.â
His low, deep voice pulls you out of your fantasy, and you blink at him with a flush that you pray he wonât notice. âWhat?â
âBe honest,â he repeats, and his eyes open right onto yours. He doesnât look to be in pain anymore, he mostly looks tired, so you nod.
âYeah, okay. What-â
âThis is dumb.â
You huff a soft, dry laugh. âItâs a little ridiculous. But it will work, Dean.â
âNo spell that I know of calls for an inflatable kiddie pool.â
âWell, youâre not a witch.â You shrug. âAnd think of it this way, we bought that forever. We bring it back to the bunker, thatâs fun.â
âBought my ass.âDean drawls your name, giving you a pointed look that makes you squeeze your legs together a little. âDonât think I didnât notice that you and Sam stole this thing.â
âIt was like, $40.â You mumble, staring at the floral patterns of the motel carpet. âI am not paying that much for some plastic.â
âEven for a spell to save my damned soul?â Deanâs teasing, but thereâs something in his voice you hate. Something that make you look up at him with a frown, unable to hide the slight desperation in your voice.
âYouâre not damned, Dean.â
He just shrugs, refusing to meet your eyes, and before you can push it Sam returns, tossing Dean the keys and announcing that itâs time to figure out what the Mark wants.
So now, in an old, dusty bar, Deanâs smiling. He hasnât really, really smiled in a few months, and itâs incredible to see.
It aches a little that heâs smiling away from you. Across the bar with his I can show you the world, sweetheart stance and expression. The one where heâs leaning the counter with one arm, and his eyes have a promise of fun while his every word is charming and drawling and teasing. You think he learned it from moviesâheâs told you he likes the charisma of old western heroes, and there is something about his whole show that says cowboyâbut thereâs a pretty strong chance itâs just Dean. Itâs how he is. Who he is. All he does is be handsome and stupid and annoying in a way that makes you want to punch him and then immediately kiss him after.
Heâs hasnât been Dean like that in a while, though. Itâs been mostly frowns that turn in on his face, and a refusal to look in the mirror that he tries to hide, but youâve still noticed. But right now, this is your Dean. The Dean who follows you into countless dreams with his pretty lips and eyes and strong hands and body, the Dean whoâs managed to haunt you while you're awake and plant an ache in your heart when heâs in pain, and the Dean who you might know a little better than you know yourself. Itâs why you ordered a cheeseburger when he went to sulk at the bar, and why youâre facing the door in the boothâDean always faces the doorâand why it hurts something deep and hopeless inside you that the grace of Deanâs smile is all focused on a pretty girl that isnât you.
âAre you sure youâre okay with this?â
Your attention turns to Samâwhoâs looking at you with a sympathy that is not welcomeâand you give him a flat glare. âWhat am I supposedto say to that.â
âUm, the truth? I think?â Sam turns in his seat to look over at Dean, and you kick him. âHey!â He yelps your name, whipping back around with an almost pout. âThat hurt-â
âDonât look at him.â You hiss, jerking your head to Dean. âHe needs this.â
âYeah, but-â
âNo but, Sam. The spell is supposed to make him crave things he likes, he likes sex, let him have sex.â
âI donâtâŚâ Sam sighs, shaking his head. âItâs weird. I read the spell-â
âOf course you read the spell-â
âShut up, I always read the spells, itâs safer. And this one,â Sam looks you over with a frown and tight-lipped, grimacing expression. âThis oneâs odd.â
âOh no,â your voice is sarcastic and cold, and it makes Sam flinch a little. âAn odd thing. If only we knew some people who knew how to handle odd things.â
âThis is why I wish you would just talk to him.â Sam mutters, giving the waitress a kind smile as she hands out the food. âYou get mean when things like this happen. And I donât think it would be as horrible as youâve decided it would be.â
You pull the cheeseburger to your own side of the table in a blatant Dean-trap. âThat is very easy for you to say, Sammy. Worst case for you, you become a child of divorce.â
He shrugs, poking at his salad with a fork. âI think thatâs the worst case for Dean. Youâd win custody.â
âFair.â You look back to the cheeseburger, small smile threatening to pull at your lips. âI do have a higher rate of income.â
âNo, you donât,â Sam frowns. âYou make exactly what he does. Nothing.â
âWrong. Iâm a better pool hustler than he is, so my return rate is higher.â
Sam laughs, shaking his head. âDonât let him hear you say that, weâll be stuck here until he beats you in a game.â He makes a mock face of disgust. âWeâll die here.â
You let yourself fully smile, even as you mutter, âkiss ass.â
Sam just shrugs, grinning himself as he takes a long drink. You really miss smiling. You really miss easy jokes, and you really miss making fun of each other without being consumed by too much grief or pain to do so.
You really miss Dean. Heâs just across the room, but you still really miss him. And you want himâyour Dean, the one thatâs a little ridiculous and overly charming and the strongest, best man youâve ever knownâback. Over here, smiling at you, teasing you, or saying something shockingly genuine that makes your heart his even more than it already has been.
You look back to him in the barâyou canât really help it, you think Dean and you always start to look for him in any crowdâand for a second you couldâve sworn he was looking at you. His smile has faded a little, and there are lines on his forehead, so if he was looking at you it wasnât because youâre something good to him. He probably just saw his food, and then saw you, and now heâs antsy. His foot is tapping on the floor, and heâs fidgeting with the cuff of his flannel, so either Rowenaâs terrible at her job, or the Mark is eating at him again.
Youâll fix it. Whatever Dean needs you to do for this, for him, youâll do it silently and without asking for anything in return. No matter how many lectures Sam gives you about being selectively observant and kind of an idiot, youâll just help Dean, and he wonât have to think twice about it. Helping Dean is what you do, itâs what youâve done. Your whole life, in some way, has become how can I help Dean. How can I do something for this person who does everything for everyone else, and maybe heâll turn his attention to me, and maybe he wonât, but no matter what Iâll have helped Dean.
Itâs not like he doesnât help you. Dean opens doors and saves your life and patches your wounds, and he never asks for anything back. But thatâs why you want to help.
And this is helping Dean. It might be killing you a little, but itâs helping Dean, so youâll still fix it, and then drown your sorrows with ice cream, strong drinks, and small moments of his joy when heâs better.
ââââââ
Dean is really, really conflicted. Itâs ripping him in half, because he knows heâs supposed to be polite to chicksâlike the one in front of him, with the sweet smile and sweeter words he doesnât deserve to hearâbut her voice sounds like nails on chalkboard. She doesnât feel right, she doesnât feel good, and the bloodlust inside him doesnât want her.
Bloodlust is the wrong word. It was the right word, but over the past few hours it didnât feel like it anymore. Deanâs not great with wordsâheâs great with guns, and cars, and sometimes drawing, but not wordsâand even he gets that bloodlust really isnât the correct word for wanting something in a way thatâs clean. Pure and raw, but not innocent. Itâs still a craving, itâs still insatiable, but it doesnât feel tainted. Itâs driving Dean to things he couldnât really hate being dependent on. It had started softer and abstract, right after the spell, with drinks and food, so heâd driven to a bar. Then it had asked for care and love, and Dean didnât have either of those things readily at his disposal, so he looked where he usually found something close to it. In a pretty girl, with a big rack and unburdened smile.
Then his attention had wandered for half a second, and now it couldnât come back. The not-bloodlustâthat wasnât a good term for it either, heâd need to come up with a better, catchier one laterâhad tugged his gaze over to Her and Sam, and suddenly everything had been sharper and a lot more specific. Dean should go back to the booth. The booth had beer, and a cheeseburger, and Her and Sam. Mostly Her, but Sam was cool too. Dean was allowed to love two people.
And thatâs where the conflict came in. Dean needed to be over there. His stomach was turning, and his skin was growing itchy and hot the longer he wasnât there. But if he went over there, not only would he not only be leaving this very sweet girl, who seemed fine, but he might be in real danger of telling Her things he was not supposed to tell her. Things Sam kept telling Dean to tell Her, and things Dean kept having to remind Sam werenât any of his business. He would not lose another good thing because he couldnât keep himself in check. He would not poison something that didnât deserve it, no matter how much the bloodlust kept telling him to. Kept telling him that She was caring and lovely, so Dean should drag her down to his level and kiss her in the grime and guts.
The not-bloodlust wanted Her too. The not-bloodlust really liked the idea of just being closer to Her, because she usually helped things. She helped everyoneâDean wasnât specialâbut the not-bloodlust seemed to think that simply breathing air that had been inside her more recently would fix a lot of things that were boiling and cracking and hissing in Deanâs body.
Thatâs what won the conflict. He wouldnât have to say things for this to be better, they just would be. So Dean gave the pretty girl an apologetic goodbyeâsheâd be fine, there were other men who were better than Dean and werenât overtly craving their best friends in the barâand almost ran back to Her and Sam.
She looks up at Dean as he scoots into the booth, her brows furrowed and mouth tugging down. âYouâre back.â
âWell done, sweetheart, I am back.â Dean grins at Her, and that only makes her frown more.
âDid you, um,â She looks over to Sam, who shrugs. âDid you strike out?â
âNah, just hungry.â It wasnât a lie. Dean had been hungry. Dean had been starving, but he felt better now. Heâd still eat the cheeseburger, but the hunger had dulled from a mind-numbing desperation and withdrawal to just a growl near his throat of cheeseburger. Cheeseburgers are good.
âWell, how are you feeling?â Samâs voice is insistent, and Dean rolls his eyes, because he knows where this is going. âDo you want to kill someone? Rowena said the spell might take a few hours to work-â
âWorkin�� now. I feel good.â Dean takes a large bite of his cheeseburger, and She and Sam exchange looks.
âGood?â
Dean nods, shooting Her a wink. âReal good,â he says Her name through his mouthfulâcrumbs falling out of his mouthâand she sighs. Her hand twitches on the table, and Dean wants to hold it. He canât hold it. Heâs not even supposed to be talking right nowâthat was the deal heâd made with himselfâso holding hands if defiantly off the table. It would probably freak her out, too, and thatâs the last thing Dean wants to do. Heâs freaked Her out enough for a whole lot of lifetimes, so she should be smiling instead.
Deanâs usually really good at making Her smile. Heâs proud of that, because She worries more than Sam and has more nightmares than Dean, but he can always make her smile.
Sheâs not smiling now. Sheâs tense, and she keeps looking between Dean and the girl at the bar.
âYouâre good.â She repeats his words slowly, but it doesnât sound like she believes them. âAnd you think the spell worked.â
âDid work.â Dean swallows, and immediately takes another bite. Cheeseburgers are good, the not-bloodlust had decided, so Dean should eat more cheeseburgers. âDonât think it did, I know it did.â
âHow do you know?â Sam asks, pulling the cheeseburger across the table, away from Dean.
âHey!â Dean reaches for his plate, and Sam moves it away faster. âWhat the fuck, Sammy, do not touch my burger-â
âItâs distracting you, Dean, and this is serious. We really need to know if the spell worked-â
âIt did work. I donât want to gank anything, I just want my cheeseburger and-â He has to cut himself off, because that is exactly why he wasnât supposed to talk. âLook, man, it worked. Trust me, I feel good. No bloodlust, just, uh, not-bloodlust.â
Sam glances at the cheeseburger, then at Her, then at Dean. Dean gives him a very winning grinâall teeth and bright eyes, and give me back my burger, Iâm not going to kill anyoneâbut Samâs attention just moves back to Her. She mostly looks confused and tiredâDean still needs to make her smileâbut she nods, making a loose gesture of surrender, and Sam, finally, slides the food back to Dean.
âIf heâs really good,â Samâs pretty clearly talking to Her, but Dean listens anyways. Theyâre a team, heâs allowed to hear this stuff. âWe should get back to Kansas tonight. Itâs not smart to linger in a town after a hunt finishes-â
âI know,â She glances back to Dean, and he offers her his widest, most reassuring smile. She doesnât smile back, but her face relaxes a little, so Dean counts it as a victory. âDo you want to finish that, or-â
âGimme three-â
âChew, Dean.â
He does, holding up three fingers in a silent signal, and inhales the rest of his cheeseburger.
âHoly crap, dude.â Sam blinks between Dean and the empty plate. âThat was really fast, even for you.â
Dean shrugs, standing out of the booth. âDonât blame me, blame the not-bloodlust. Cheeseburgers or murder, Sammy, gotta be one.â
Sam rolls his eyes, starting to the door, and Dean lingers until Sheâs on her feet and they can follow Sam together.
âNot-bloodlust is a bad name,â She mutters, staring at the floor as she walks. âWhat about, uh, whatâs the opposite of blood?â
âDunno.â Dean watches Her carefully, raking his brain for a good answer. âWater? Waterlust?â
That gets him a small, huffed laugh. âThat doesnât make sense, Dean.â
âDoesnât have to. Itâs my lust.â
âIt is.â She meets Deanâs eyes, and her attention is soft, but it feels strange. Like sheâs trying to find something on Deanâs face he doesnât know how to get for her. âAnd if you really want, we can call it waterlust, but I like betterlust.â
âBetterlust?â
âStarts with B,â Her attention turns back to the floor, and Dean feels something sour twist around his heart and forearm. âFun to say. Makes sense, too, youâre lusting after better stuff.â
Dean was lusting after better stuff. It was a good nameâbetter than not-bloodlustâand he was willing to concede waterlust to Her. It was, overwhelmingly so, the least he could do.
âBetterlust it is, Sweetheart.â He tried his most charming, cocky, look at me, Iâm a cowboy and I can be yours if you offer me just a few kind words because Iâm a pathetic, worthless wet dog that barks and bites, but man am I good at sex, smile on Her, and this time, he got a real smile back.
End Note: Wow what's this something I write that's actually going to be short? We'll see!
If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3
If you want to be tagged, just ask!
Taglist
@artemys-ackles @brtodd @panicking-outside-the-disco @megara0224
#angst#x reader#reader insert#romance#canon typical violence#jensen ackles#jensen ackles characters#godmadeaterribleerror#dean winchester x you#dean winchester fanfiction#dean winchester#dean winchester x reader#supernatural#supernatural fanfiction#sam winchester#dean x reader#dean x you#dean fanfiction#Willing to Break (Supernatural)#rowena macleod#mark of cain#eventual smut#eventual fluff#eventual romance#pining#friends to lovers
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đđŁđşđ´đ´
ę° đđşđđđđđ đšđ˛đ˛ đľđ˛đ˛đđ˛đđťđ´ đ
đđť ę° đđđđđž đąđ˛đđśđš đ
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ę°â for @sugarikiz event 'Ęá´á´Ę â°đâŻđ á´É´ĘĘ âď¸.đĽ '
Once upon a time, there were two lovers who were deeply in love with each other. They had been through many ups and downs, but their love for each other had weathered every storm. One day, one of the lovers was going through a difficult time in their life. They felt lost, hopeless, and trapped in a dark abyss of despair. The other lover noticed the change in their partner and tried to offer comfort and support, but the first lover continued to sink deeper into their despair......
" Heeseung please let me be your light " In response to your words, Heeseung's eyes widened slightly, a mixture of surprise and appreciation flickering across his face. He leaned closer, his expression growing serious as he spoke. " You want to be my light ? " he repeated, his voice slightly incredulous. " You think you can bring me out of the darkness? "
" Idk... but I want to .. plz I can't see you growing weaker each day passing by " Heeseung's expression softened as he heard the urgency and determination in your voice. He saw the concern and care in your eyes, and it touched a deep part of him that had been shrouded in darkness. He reached out, his hand gently cupping your face, his thumb tracing the contour of your cheek. "You don't understand," he murmured, his voice laced with pain. " The darkness is too strong. It's consuming me."
" THERE HAS TO BE A WAY " you shouted . Heeseung closed his eyes, his hand still gently holding your face. Your insistence and willingness to help him were like a faint ray of light trying to break through the darkness that enveloped him. He took a deep breath, opening his eyes again, his gaze meeting yours with a hint of vulnerability. "Maybe you were sent to me for a reason ," he murmured. "But I don't know if even your light is bright enough to cut through my darkness."
Your determination only seemed to grow at Heeseung's words. You gently placed your hand over his, your grip tightening as you spoke. " I don't care if it's too strong or if my light isn't bright enough," you said firmly. "I'll do whatever it takes to help you fight the darkness. I'm not going to give up on you, Heeseung. I won't leave you alone in there."
Heeseung watched your determination with a mix of disbelief and awe. The fire in your eyes and the determination in your voice were unlike anything he had encountered before in his existence. He couldn't deny the strange pull he felt towards you, even though you were an angel and he was a devil. Your unwavering commitment to help him, despite the vast differences between your worlds, was both surprising and unsettling. " Please .. please there has to be a way---- " he silenced you with a finger to your lips, his eyes locking on yours with a mixture of pleading and frustration. " You don't understand," he said, his voice strained. "There's no way for an angel like you to help someone like me. You're too good, too pure. The darkness will only consume you too." You tried to speak again, but Heeseung silenced you once more. His hand came up to gently touch your cheek, his touch surprisingly tender despite the harshness of his words. "Please, just listen to me," he pleaded, his voice now tinged with desperation. "You can't save me. The darkness is too strong, and it will only bring you down with me."
" I love you " u whispered . Heeseung froze, his breath catching in his chest at your unexpected declaration. His eyes widened slightly as he stared at you, shock and confusion warring on his face. "You... what?" he responded, his voice barely above a whisper. "You love me?"
"Yes and I don't care if we are not supposed to be together .. or I am doing a sin but I want to be tainted by your love , want my soul to be consume by your darkness. My love for you goes beyond the boundaries of heaven and hell, transcending the laws that would keep us apart. I am ready to plunge into the abyss of your darkness, to let your love encompass me completely. I will embrace the whirlwind of emotions, the passion and pain that come from loving you, a devil. So Lee heeseung will you make me yours ? "
Heeseung's heart thudded in his chest as he heard your words, and for the first time in his existence, he felt a flicker of hope and warmth amidst the darkness that surrounded him. Your declaration of love, your unwavering desire to be with him, it all felt like a dream. He took a step closer to you, his gaze intense and unwavering. "Yes," he murmured, his voice filled with a mixture of passion and determination. "I will make you mine. I will claim you, body and soul. And there will be no turning back. "
đŠ¸đŠ¸đŠ¸
As you both embraced suddenly heeseung screamed in agony too much pain as his devil red eyes met with yours which ones were filled with bright light and love now cold and devoid of any emotions while you let the knife fall on the ground and his cut wings beside him . Heeseung's scream echoed through the room, his body writhing in pain as the blinding light enveloped him. His eyes, once filled with the fiery gaze of a devil, now froze in shock as they met yours, now cold and emotionless. You stood before him, a stark contrast to the previous moment of tenderness. Your knife clattered against the ground, and Heeseung's severed wings lay beside him, a gruesome reminder of the love that had just shattered into pieces. A menacing smirk adorning your face .
Heeseung's eyes widened in horror as your smirk twisted your features. The warmth and love that had been there moments ago were gone, replaced by a cold, callous expression that sent a shiver down his spine. He tried to scramble away from you, his body still wracked with pain. "Why...?" he managed to croak, his voice filled with disbelief and despair. His scream echoed through the room, his body writhing in pain as the blinding light enveloped him. His eyes, once filled with the fiery gaze of a devil, now froze in shock as they met yours, now cold and emotionless. You stood before him, a stark contrast to the previous moment of tenderness. Your knife clattered against the ground, and Heeseung's severed wings lay beside him, a gruesome reminder of the love that had just shattered into pieces.
" Why ??? Ages ago in this very same place you killed several angels out of spite and one of them was my lover . His name was Yang Jungwon . Does it now ring a bell you foul thing ?? We were supposed to get married .... he was my everything .... BUT YOU DEVIL HAD TO TAKE EVERYTHING AWAY FROM ME . YOU DESERVE TO DIE . YOU DESERVE TO BE HATED . " Heeseung's face paled as you reminded him of his past sins. The memory of the angels he had killed, including your lover Yang Jungwon, came flooding back. A mix of guilt and fear flickered in his red eyes, but he tried to maintain his composure, his voice shaky as he spoke. "You... you're the angel that was with him?" he whispered, his heart pounding in his chest. Heeseung's body trembled as he listened to your words, the hatred and anger in your voice cutting through him like a knife. He knew he deserved every bit of your wrath, every bit of your pain and heartbreak. A mixture of fear and resignation flickered in his eyes as he spoke, his voice hoarse and weak "I know... I know I deserve it..." he rasped. "But... please...".
"Oh my what have we here huh.. A devil which always gives other deals in exchange for their soul begging infront of me ?? His enemy ?? Haaha " Heeseung's throat tightened as he realized the irony of his situation. He, a devil who was known for making deals and taking souls, was now on his knees, begging you, his enemy, to spare him. His pride and arrogance had fled, leaving behind a husk of fear and despair. He looked up at you, his red eyes pleading, but he stayed silent, unable to find the words to defend himself.
"You... you won't kill me..?" Heeseung's voice was a mere whisper, filled with incredulity and disbelief. He could not comprehend why you, who had just learned of his darkest sin, had not immediately taken his life. The fear and despair in his eyes remained, but there was a hint of curiosity mixed with it. "Why not ?" he found himself asking, his voice tremulous. "Why spare the devil who took away the angel you loved?"
" Sometimes leaving a scar is much better than killing at once . Just like my past haunts me ... similarly from now on I'll haunt your memories ". Heeseung shivered at your words, a sense of unease crawling up his spine. You had spoken of a form of torment far worse than death â leaving him with memories, with reminders of the pain and suffering he had caused. He knew what it meant to be haunted, to have the ghosts of the past lingering in the shadows, forever present yet forever out of reach. And he now faced the possibility of that very fate. Before going from there you stomped on his wings and gave your angelic smile as that moment you felt your lover's justice ... your jungwon's justice , being served . Heeeseung cried out in pain as you stomped on his wings, the sharp agony shooting through him and further fueling the torment you had cast upon him. Your angelic smile, so beautiful and yet so cold, sent a chill down his spine, a cruel reminder of the price he had paid for his sins. He could almost feel the weight of Jungwon's presence, his spirit finding justice through your actions. Heeseung closed his red eyes, his mind filled with regret and grief as he whispered,
" I'm sorry.... "
Tags @okwonyo @021894s @strawberrynull @wonryllis
#enhypen imagines#heeseung x reader#'Ęá´á´Ę â°đâŻđ á´É´ĘĘ - sáĽgἲrŃkŃz âď¸.đĽ '#enhypen heeseung#enhypen au#enhypen scenarios#enhypen hyung line#enhypen x reader#enhypen headcanons#enhypen x y/n#enha scenarios#enha x y/n#enha x you#cornenhapovsđ
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đľđ¸ BEFORE YOU READ: DONATE ⢠BOYCOTT TLOU ⢠GAZAN MUTUAL AID MASTERLIST
â â đŚđ¨đ¨đ§đĽđ˘đ đ°đ˘đ§đđđŤ
song: the night â lovewave
summary: a letter addressed to abby anderson, twenty years after the two of you parted.
warnings: 18+ mdni, literally straight up angst, letter format, from readerâs pov, set in the future, not proofread.
a/n: this is entirely inspired by moonlit winter (2019). thisâll probably be boring af but i love love that goes beyond time and the physical and i love mundane yet emotional movies <3
The icy air nipped at your fingertips, the chill tracing unforgiving trails from them to the bottom of your soles.
The snowfall was thick this time of year and it painted the small town in hushed tones. The only thing heard in the white noonday was the laboured crunch of your boots and the heave of your breath against your thick woollen scarf.
The cold barely registered, though, as you dipped your hand into your coat pocket. The thin, glossy edge of an envelope crinkled at the contact.
How could something so small and hidden conceal a whole lifetime within it? It felt like it was burning a hole where it sat, yearning to reunite with your being, to settle there and remain a secret.
The sound of your footfalls ceased, and you let out a slow exhale. A plume of air swelled in front of your vision, softening the edges of everything.
The post office box was rimmed with ice. It stood as lonesome as you did, on this drowsy street, in a town you knew so well now, yet not nearly enough as you should have. It was hard to be a part of something when you always had one eye gazing back at the past.
This would hopefully change that. A parting gift. A farewell to somebody you had said goodbye to long ago.
You reached for the letter.
ââşââ
.
Dear Abby,
Itâs been a long time, hasnât it?
I donât know if I will send this letter, but I can imagine the look on your face if you ever do receive it. Bushy, furrowed brows and downcast eyes⌠you never looked up when you were puzzled about something. It was if you had to retreat into yourself in order to make sense of the world around you.
The woman that I see receiving this is youthful and vibrant, forever frozen in the sands of my memory. Lines have begun to etch my features, and with each year that passes by, they deepen. It must be the same for you. It has to be, right? But the image of you, aged, eludes me.
I often imagine what kind of person you are now. Did you ever marry? Have children? Do you live in a house with a garden bursting with the smells of overripe berries and fresh herbs, like the one we fantasised about owning all those years ago? These are the reveries that have teeth, that sink and gnaw at something unspoken within me.
I did know you, once, but Iâm unsure I do now. Does the soul change over time, or just the meat and bone that surrounds it?
Iâve experienced more of my life with your absence as opposed to your presence. I moved to a quiet corner of the world and made a life for myself. The summers here are mild and the winters are the never-ending and silent kind that we never saw back home. Itâs somewhere that you would despise.
Maybe thatâs why you plague my mind so often. This town is a place where I know youâd never find yourself in. Back then, I was running away from you and in a way, I still am. Like visiting an attic that one knows is haunted, I think of you.
I dream of you, too. Mundane, meaningless. Nothing happens in these dreams, but youâre there, shining. A wisp of blonde hair, the starlight of a freckled shoulder⌠the same.
I guess this sameness is what compelled me to write this. Iâve been walking through my life with my head craned back towards the past, so much so that I couldnât see where I was headed. Now Iâve stopped, in the middle of it, in this purgatory. It canât go on, Abby. At some point, I have to turn to face the future. I should have long ago.
Iâm made up of regrets, but what good will they do now? Instead of listing the should-haves, Iâll tell you the truth;
This is not the first letter Iâve written thatâs dedicated to you, but it will be the first Iâve ever had the courage to send. Let it be the last.
Iâm sorry if what we shared has also left you with scars and an endlessness of seeking. Iâm sorry that I was cowardly, and that I still am.
Thank you for the sliver of sweetness that you gave to me. Thank you for loving me like you meant it. I hope you know that I meant it, too. Everything I did, every word and every touch, was honest.
But I have lived with its death. Now I must let it rot.
Goodbye, Abby. Be braver than I am.
#is this too niche đ§#abby anderson x reader#abby anderson#abby anderson angst#abby anderson x you#tlou writing#tlou2#tlou#tlou fanfiction
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â#the sleeping beauty part is an entirely separate curse btw. tain really wanted that shit to pile up lol, #I wonder what fucked up thing you'd do to Julian magically to be the equivalent of genetic engineering, #splicing something into his soul maybe? turning him into a wildly powerful but 'dangerous' kind of sorcerer in the process?, #something about violating his innermost essence at least that's kind of the thematic significance of it, #people pointing at him after the reveal going 'THOSE ARE DARK LORD POWERS YOU FREAK' and he's like, #'*barely holding back tears of frustration and exhaustion* I just wanna be a lil healer main can you guys fucking let me live....', #maybe like... when you've cracked someone's soul open once it's considered a sanctity breached or something. anything could get in, #maybe ds9 is like... the cardassian ruin where they find garak sleeping (yeah I'm doing an sga/howl's moving castle thing in my head), #he still claims he's just a simple tailor upon being woken up and getting the castle to fly them out of danger. of course., #he also still hates the place as much as he did in the show it was considered a shitty backwater place to be stationed back in the day, #guys. I think I am cooking but unfortunately I'm perpetually burnt out I don't have enough fuel to make anything of it lmaoâ
more for the garashir fairytale grab bag AU I am never going to actually write: garak knows exactly what would break his curse from the start, he just never tells anyone for the longest time b/c he's so sure it could never happen
(it's asking forgiveness, of course. he thinks it's tain's forgiveness he needs, and tain is fucking dead and knew he would be by the time garak woke up so it seems the perfect unbreakable parting fuck-you revenge curse. and garak would expect nothing less from his father than that, so he's resigned to dwindling away painfully. enter julian bashir and his fierce force-of-nature compassion (and also secret illicit immense magical powers) with a steel chair!!! to go 'OH YEAH??? we'll see about that', as you might expect. oh. OH necromancer-ish julian calling tain's ghost up to ask him about what the hell he did and how to undo it, ala his gambit to go see him the wire? and the knowledge he gains from that is what confirms garak's suspicions as to what is Up with this handsome young healer mage because it could be known only by those long dead. cue east of the sun west of the moon part of the narrative once julian understands his game is up and runs away??
anyway getting some true love's kissing in by the end of it all is just a nice bonus it's not needed like strictly magically for either of their situations lol)
#Star Trek#Star Trek Deep Space 9#Deep Space 9#DS9#star trek au#deep space 9 au#Elim Garak#Julian Bashir#enabran tain#garashir#queue za change!
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Leo getting hit with a truth curse but instead of forcing him to admit to super sad or worrying things itâs things like âit was me who broke the remoteâ âI saw Mikey prank Donnie and helped hide it because itâs way funnier if he didnât know who it wasâ âI rip my clothes to look more like Raphâs because heâs really coolâ âmy stripes arenât even red theyâre pink!â
#rottmnt#rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles#rottmnt leo#rise leo#plot twist he COULD be admitting angsty stuff but heâs pushing the less oof truths forward instead on purpose#raph: hey leo what do you want for dinner#leo: *about to bare his soul on all his internal torment but pivots* Iâm afraid of snakes#(no but fr Leoâs stripes being technically more pink instead of red is cute ngl)#(a very reddish pink to the point that in certain lighting it looks red but at the base theyâre p pink)#(i also am very fond of the idea that Leo doesnât just have questionable taste in fashion he also just loves Raph a lot and looks up to him)#but yeah I think that something like this would be 99% Leo admitting to unimportant things or admitting to how much he values everyone#like they all KNOW Leo loves them and heâs talked them up enough for them to know but itâs different when heâs like#âI just wanna read my comics with you guys around - itâs my favorite place to beâ#or again just random bs that doesnât REALLY have a lot of weight like#âI like using my portals to prank random people around the worldâ#âIâm worried about being a bad influence on hueso jrâ#âsometimes I kinda wanna see hypnoâs plans succeedâ#âitâs been way too long since I found this out and honestly itâs embarrassing but I actually donât have a di-â#SORRY COULDNT HELP MYSELF#(<-but did u know that that pink rather than red observation actually ties into this headcanon as well if u know about red eared sliders)
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had quite the night drive earlier this evening.
#just me rambling again#web weaving#(?)#uh. one of my friends who is out of town for college was visiting and i got to see him and our friends and the only core member of that#group of people missing was my ex girlfriend who you may also know of as my wonderful wife#who has I assume been very busy with their own life things but has also barely and very sparsely had any hint of communication with any of#us within the past few months which I've been realizing very recently sort of hurts my feelings because we used to be so close and#they had been saying that they would be constantly making sure we still were in each other's lives. but then very quickly have#seemingly dropped off the face of the earth#anyways. I was driving aforementioned friend who is in town back home (family home not college obv) and when i was finally going back#towards my house afterwards my Google maps finally lead me to an area that i was more familiar with driving and i got to an#intersection and it was telling me to take a right to go home but i knew that i knew the way perfectly from that intersection to my#ex girlfriend / best friend / wifes familys house from all of the times I've gone that direction through the past years and so#i turned off my directions and i took a left towards their house#not super sure why but my brain and body just knew it was something i needed to do and so i went and drove down their street and cried#a lot the whole time and then drove myself home from their house once again following a super familiar path#and idk im still feeling very emotional about it. the fact that halloween by noah kahan was the first song to play on Spotify#after i made that left turn im sure didnt help (knowing that i miss them so much and am going to be leaving this area myself#soon enough here and there's been an open offer for a while now that they are welcome to follow and live with me once they get their degree#(and also um. halloween is next week lol)#idk i just havent felt the full force of how badly i miss having them in my life until tonight. when i was around this person i could feel#our souls singing in harmony. i genuinely cannot describe the feelings of our relationship in words i feel like only vaguely abstract art#could communicate the connection that was forged between us and the level of understanding and knowing#something not dissimilar to looking into the sun directly or trying to describe a vivid color to someone who is completely blind#something about the way the entire universe breathes in unison and everything around us are all pieces of the same stars#sigh#i miss my wife tails i miss her a lot /ref
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crushing a can against my forehead talking to this person grAH
#and not in a good funny way.#I LOVE YOU. WHAT DO YOU NEED ME TO DO TO PROVE THAT I ACTUALLY CARE ABOUT YOU. DO YOU WANT ME TO CLONE MYSELF?#MOVE TO YOUR CITY SO I'M WITHIN DRIVING DISTANCE WHENEVER YOU'RE NOT FEELING GOOD? SAY *EXACTLY* WHAT YOU NEED TO HEAR AT ANY GIVEN MOMENT?#you're making it sound like you want to meet me halfway but you keep. moving. the middle point. to be closer to you.#we're good friends when you're happy but any time you're feeling Less Than Chipper i'm suddenly not good enough?#IS it actually all my fault and i've secretly been horrible at communicating this whole time???#do i not bare enough of my soul to you. is that it. am i too quiet for you.#well guess what! i don't open the floodgates cause i'm not sure you can take it! to be quite honest!#i tell you how i feel and suddenly i'm making things about myself and being dismissive of your feelings.#but it's okay if i sit there and let all your thoughts and feelings wash over me#and you expect me to just nod my head and tell you how valid you are. every. single. time.#you're lucky i'm not sick of it.#or maybe not because APPARENTLY you have a plethora of other people and friends you can go to. to get the response you actually want.#so why do you even still talk to me about it if you believe i'm just going to respond wrong every time... that's what i'm wondering.#maybe this is too mean...
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With the language speaking poll, it varies from country (and state/county in the US)
In my area you're required 2 years of a language course
Most kids take it but do the bare minimum or just don't remember it. Usually you grow up knowing that language/being taught it young. Sometimes we learn jt in school and remember enough to keep taking to learn and remember. We usually offer use it or lose it languages, which most kids don't use it and then they lose it and then no one speaks other languages
Huh! That makes sense, actually, i feel like 2 years is not nearly enough to retain enough knowledge, and not even enough to learn a lot. I think when i started studying italian in 4th grade, we didn't even get to subjunctives by the time i was 8th grade, and subjunctives are a surprisingly common form. At least to the way I speak. And even among those who took the elective third language, i know a lot of folks who don't remember a thing about it, i'm assuming because even four years of a once-per-week class isn't enough for retention.
Well, it's sad, at least to me who is linguistically inclined. Quot linguas calles tot homines vales is something i take personally lololol but right! I guess it's the sort of inertion that happens to speakers of a lingua franca, there's no "need" to learn a foreign language, so even those who are talented for languages might never find out :/
Well, I hope thanks to globalisation, at least those who like foreign languages can find ways to learn even outside of formal schooling :>
#i think you'll notice easily that i'm a bit in love with foreign languages and really defend languages as a subject in school with my life#i once saw (a native eng speaker) call foreign language subjects joke classes and useless and i felt like maiming lmao#but i feel like i totally understand what you mean#it's one thing with english - it's a mandatory 2nd language from 1st to 12th grade in my country#which means that it's standardised and you're always learning more and more and more and thanks to media#you're bound to retain it. i even had it in preschool !#and a related digression but it also depends on the age you give students a foreign language - the older we get the harder it is to learn#a language. not impossible but just more difficult. i think a huge part of the reason why i'm fluent is because of the fact that i started#learning when i was 4 years old. the third language is an elective in most 4th-8th grade classes and kids get to choose#between italian and german usually (a friend of mine took french tho) and despite the fact that they're languages we do get exposed to#but i tell you most kids i know don't remember anything. depending on the high school you either get a mandatory 3rd language or a#mandatory 3rd and 4th. again italian and/or german. but those tortured souls in classic gymnasiums had latin and ancient greek </3#even from my hs class i don't know many folks who remember much italian. it's dependant on the kid's will to learn when there's not as much#time or focus on the class bc yknow. we took the same classes yet i'm quite comfortable majoring in a language my friends can barely#introduce themselves in. such is life. i'd love languages to be more focused on especially in these times of globalisation but well#i guess it'll just always be harder to implement a focus on anything non-english#bc it's considered one of the only useful language there's the inertion in anglo countries#and the unwillingness to bother in non-anglo countries#at least in mine where kids have like 17 other subjects i can see why they'd to the bare minimum for 3rd language#even i - linguistically inclined as i am - passed on the opportunity to take french in hs because i just had enough on my plate#asks
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Santa baby are you really there?!
*hears a voice in my backyard*
FUCK SKIN WALKER
- you make Yan skinwalker iâll do anything to get a skin walker to love me ⌠yes I am 100% mentally stable
I'm not sure if you had something horror-esque in mind, because my immediate idea was Reader accidentally getting cursed and continuing her life completely unaware with a ""dog"" everyone is freaked out by, but she finds it cute. So more like dark comedy vibes. You be the judge. :D
Disclaimer: I have changed the name to Shapeshifter as to not delve into potentially offensive takes on native folklore. Thank you for informing my European ass.
Yandere!Monster x Reader [Shapeshifter]
On your last hiking trip, you've stumbled upon a helpless, lost dog. Or rather, it stalked you down to your cabin and spent the night in front of your window. You didn't have the heart to abandon the poor soul and so you brought it home with you. Strange things have been happening ever since and no one knows how to tell you that the monstrous coyote-like creature might be to blame. You're oblivious to everything.
Content: female reader, dark comedy, monster romance, reader is cursed and proud
It wasn't your intention to return home with a new pet. Some might say it was written in the stars, this fateful encounter of yours. You had finished packing your supplies for a day-long hike, vehemently refusing to join your group of friends that would be guided around by a native. Theyâd warned you many areas of the mountainous forest were supposedly cursed or haunted, so you just scribbled the limits on your makeshift map and promised to stay on the main trails. After all, this was your chance to commune with nature. As the sun begun to set, you wondered if going by yourself was indeed a smart idea, given your lack of spatial awareness and difficulty to navigate maps. You flipped the piece of paper several times, deep in contemplation. Could it be that youâve reached the forbidden lands? You quickly surveyed the area: based on the stuffed rag dolls hanging from old branches, and the animal skulls arranged in patterns among patches of burnt grass, it was very much a possibility. Perhaps the improvised slab that said âStay awayâ in dripping crimson letters shouldâve been enough of a warning, but you assumed theyâd just been creative with trail markers.
You didnât have the time to panic. Just as you were furrowing your eyebrows in a final attempt to decipher the map (at the time upside-down), your ears picked up a faint shuffle of leaves. Further away stood a dog, its glossy eyes fixated on your form. A lost puppy? It seemed to be on the larger side, but then again some breeds grow rather fast. You lowered yourself and patted your knees, whispering diminutives in an effort to call the animal over. It remained in place, staring quietly. Alright, then. You focused on finding your way back instead. Every now and then you'd turn back and see the dog, motionlessly eyeing you at a constant distance. Oh, dear. Was it lost? Frightening affair.
Back at the cabin you told the others about your discovery, with a hint of worry in your voice. You hoped the little pup had found proper shelter. You'd expected a similar reaction coming from your friends, but one of them suggested: "What if it was some shapeshifting monster? There's many legends and stories from the area." Everyone laughed and you joined hesitantly, mildly annoyed by the lack of empathy. That night you barely slept, twisting and turning under the heavy feeling of being watched. You woke up tired and nervous, dragging your feet towards the window for some fresh air. That's when you saw the same forest creature, fully awake and tall in its glory, positioned before your room. This was no coincidence. You had been plagued by the guilt of abandoning a vulnerable quadruped and you weren't about to continue as a passive observer. You strode out without a word and lifted the large dog with a huff, carrying it back in to figure out the transport logistics.
Thus started the unexpected companionship. To you, it's a lovely tale of two lost souls finding one another. Most people seem to disagree. Can you blame them? The rescued puppy you often speak of is, in the eyes of everyone else, a monstrous beast by all definitions. It resembles a coyote more than a dog, but even this description is too gentle. The fur is always raised threateningly and the protruding clusters of fangs remind one of the anatomical anomalies displayed in museums. The eyes, oh, the worst of all perhaps, bottomless depths that pull you in until you run out of air. The creature stares with the all-knowing gaze of a human. "Don't be rude", you snap at whoever dares to point these details out. "It must be a mixed breed or something."
Their persistence is truly ridiculous. You've even had guests run out in panic, claiming the dog stood on its back legs and whispered in a language unknown. Or that its shadow would morph into a grotesque man with claws and crooked antlers. Or that they've found it hunched over your sleeping form, its spine twisted outwards with jagged peaks breaking through the wild fur. Rubbish, all of it.
Strange things have been happening, no doubt, but your adopted fur-child has no blame to carry. You've been trying to distract yourself, going on dates and occasionally bringing potential suitors over. They all vanish overnight, nonchalantly leaving an empty, ruffled bed for you to wake up to. "Am I just unlucky?" You sigh, running your fingers through the coarse fur of your dog. It lowers itself under your touch, visibly enjoying the affection. For a split second, it glances out the window. By the time you come out of your depressed slump, the birds should've finished feeding on the remains. He made sure to tear and grind everything fine enough to not leave any marks behind.
That's how curses work, after all. He didn't expect, however, that you'd be utterly unaware of it. He has to give you the credit, not many people become stalked by an ancient curse and continue their life in blissful ignorance. Even more, for them to just casually pick up the haunting entity and bring it inside their home willingly...You're, uh, certainly a special one. Hence the change of plans. He was supposed to torment you into an early grave, but he's grown rather attached to your bizarre antics. And you do provide some damn good chin scratches. He's therefore satisfied with causing anguish and destruction to anything and anyone in your immediate vicinity instead. Since you've been complaining about the resulting isolation...
You wake up with a gasp, wiping your drenched forehead and checking the sheets. The dog is curled next to you, although its head is now tilted in your direction. "O-oh. It might be the loneliness talking...but I had the strangest dream." How troubling and embarrassing. Your beloved pet had turned into a deformed, monstrous man instead, pinning you down and hungrily grazing your skin with his sharp teeth. Your fearful protests eventually turned into shameless moans, your frail body at the mercy of the mysterious beast. It unfolded so vividly that your core feels sore. You stretch a sheepish hand towards your pet and abruptly stop halfway, noticing the marks diffused into your wrist, like violet smudges of watercolor. What the hell did you do last night?
The dog buries its head under the sheets and nuzzles its snout into your soft flesh. Heh. How many more disappearing guests will be needed for you to figure out your situation? He does find your obliviousness terribly amusing, as well as your willingness to clutch onto him despite his unsightly appearance. He was feeling particularly cheeky and thought of giving you a little scare, only to be once again taken aback by your neediness. He has to wonder who exactly is trapped in this situation, because your reactions to everything he does are frighteningly tempting. Maybe tonight he'll finally let you know, just as you're about to come undone beneath his heaving body. Something like, hmmm. "By the way, love, this isn't a dream." He could even add a little "woof" to tease you more.
#yandere#yandere x reader#yandere x you#yandere x darling#yandere headcanons#yandere imagines#yandere scenarios#yandere monster#yandere monster x reader#horror#monster x reader#monster romance#yandere oc#monster smut#monster boyfriend#terato#teratophillia#monster fucker
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rivalry â blackwood and bracken arranged marriage au
pt. 1 â bracken!reader x davos blackwood
au where two marriage pacts end the rivalry between the blackwoods and the brackens (i don't care if this has been done before this is my version gbye)
as always, warnings: misogyny, davos is a fucking FREAK, smuuuuut, dirty talk, breeding kink
lmk if u want pt 2 â aeron bracken x blackwood!fem!reader ;)
my fiancĂŠ actually loosely edited this for me so if this sucks it's his fault
____
âletâs get this over with.â
you gulped. you had been dreading this moment ever since your father announced there would be a peace treaty between your family, the brackens, and the blackwoods. the ceremony, the feast, and the dancing were not your biggest concern â but your wedding night? nothing could stop your hands from shaking â and your new husband, davos blackwood, surely wouldnât step forward and aid you in your time of anxiety.
you folded your lip in between your teeth, playing with the exquisite shift that was custom made for this exact night â a night supposed to be consumed by the throws of pleasure and a hopeful future, possibly in the form of an heir. you couldnât believe the brokering of peace came in the form of a marriage pact â to someone who would never see you as anything but a bracken, his enemy.
two marriage pacts, actually â you married davos blackwood, and your brother, aeron bracken, married davos' sister. two feuding families. bound not just by one marriage pact, but two â because everyone knew that only one marriage would not have been sufficient for peace. not only was he forced to spend his life, or the rest of yours, with a bracken â but his sister? forced to marry a bracken, as well? aeron bracken? of them all?
you could see it on his face â gray with sick. it turned your stomach as well â to realize you were loathed so much.
âi canât change who i am,â you said suddenly, keeping your eyes on the floor. ânor my heritage. i understand you loathe the sight of me, for what it reminds you of â but i canât change that.â
he didnât respond. he just undressed with his back turned to you, save for his pants and under shirt. you watched the muscles in his shoulders and back ripple as he tugged off the garments, preparing for bed. you couldnât see his face as he undressed â and you werenât sure if it was good or bad. good because you could speak boldly â bad because he refused to look at you, and possibly would refuse your request.
âbut as your wife... even if itâs the one you didnât wish forâŚâ you sighed, losing your thoughts and confidence. âi promise to not be a bother to you â the only thing i ask⌠isâŚâ
he turned towards you then, but not completely. it was like he gave you his attention, but was fully aware of what he withheld from you â even though you were practically baring your soul to him. you werenât in his head, you couldnât be sure⌠but his silence was enough of a signal that he most likely would not understand a womanâs anxiety in a moment like this.
here goes absolutely nothing, you thought. you mustered up whatever courage you had â albeit very little â and continued, âyou do not owe me anything â but i⌠iâŚâ
âspit it out,â he bit.
your mouth fell slightly agape with his tone. it was the way feuding men speak to each other â not a feuding husband and wife. it was like you were stripped of your femininity and your new identity as his wife, and replaced with that of a rival male â causing you to come to the realization that this feud ran so deep that not even two marriage pacts with the hope of inspiring peace would be sufficient.
he would always hate you. always.
heâs going to hate you as if youâre your brother anyway, you thought. might as well have the stones to match.
you clenched your jaw, raising your eyeline. you refused to cower to a man when it wouldnât make him hate you less â and especially not if it definitely wouldnât get you what you wanted. you were afraid, and out of options. with a sigh, you responded, âbe gentle with me the first time. just the first â that is all i ask.â
you held his gaze then â refusing to look away. he needed to know how desperate you were, to avoid that unfathomable pain as much as possible. youâd look him in the eye, the eye of the enemy of your family for the last few centuries â because otherwise the shame and dishonor was too great, and too heavy for a new wife to bear.
if you werenât so intent on not seeming weak, you should have looked â actually looked â at your husband. at how broad his shoulders appeared in comparison to his lean waist and hips. his light eyes that seem to pierce you in a way that only a dagger could; sharp, and forever on edge. how he was so handsome that you might done anything to see him smile or laugh⌠but you couldnât. wouldn't. you most likely would never get that chance â but you bet that he looked so handsome when he smiled.
but he would never smile for a bracken.
âbe gentle with you?â he asked, accusation already in his eyes. his fists were bawled at his sides as he walked towards you. âas if your craven brother would be gentle with my sister?â
âhow dare you even insinuate my brother would treat his lady wife with anything but kindness and respect!â you spat, leaning towards him with anger dripping from your pretty lips. âhe may not like this situation any more than us â but he would never harm a woman, no matter what family she came from.â
he shook his head, glancing away from you. âyou are actually naive enough to believe that?â
you narrowed your eyes at him. âif youâre stupid enough to believe that of him â then why would you want to be the very thing that you hope does not enter your sisterâs bed this very same evening? â do you wish to be as despicable as you believe him to be, my lord husband?â
âwatch your mouth, wife!â he spat through gritted teeth. âyou would do well to mind your craven tongue.â
you mouth fell agape at his words. âmy craven tongue, blackwood?â you scoffed at his words, suddenly too angry to be in the room with him. you didnât want to get this angry â you wanted this to be as peaceful as possible. âi suddenly find myself wanting to leave this room â do enjoy our wedding night by yourself husband. iâm sure youâre well acquainted with your hand ââ
you went to push by him, but he grabbed you by the elbow. he refused to let you pass, but you did not press the subject with words or jerking movements of your body. you did not know your husband â only his reputation from the mouths of kin. you did not dare push his anger â not when he could do with you as he pleased in this room, with no consequence outside these walls.
âi have been made very well aware of a brackenâs inability to perform their duty â but you will not stop me from performing mine, wife,â he grit, glaring down at you.
âi asked you to perform it honorably, husband! â if you canât, then your reputation precedes you,â you spat. âso what will it be? i put the cards in your hands â so deal.â
his nose curled into a snarl, matching the hateful expression on his face. hatred poured from his veins, while you could feel your own resolve slipping away from your face. fear was creeping back in, as boldness only got a woman so far in the bedroom of an angry man. fear, fear, fear. it leaked from every one of your pores like tears, but you fought those. you blinked several times in order to hide what you could. if he saw the fear on your face, his own expression didnât change.
âŚunless he knew the fear was always there, and he didnât care.
ââŚplease,â you whispered, anger still on your face but your voice threatening to break. âjust tonight, husband â please.â
âi would never hurt a woman,â he spat, the flames on his face beginning to subside. âonly a bracken ââ
âi didnât think you would hurt a woman,â you spoke, trying to soften your voice. âi asked â because others have described this pain as one of the worst. i was afraid, lord husband â but not of you.â
while you intentionally softened your voice, your husband did no such thing. he merely let his anger die with your words, most likely at the fact that you were the one to admit weakness. you were the one to admit vulnerability. you were the one to have to beg. you had won, but at what cost to your pride?
it didnât matter now. all that mattered was getting this done. quick, done, and over with.
âlie on your back,â was all he said, holding your gaze.
your lips parted as your eyes looked down at the floor. you turned in place, and began walking towards the bed. you laid down on, fighting the urge to twist your fingers together in anxiety. you kept your head forward, but your gaze down and to the side. out of the corner of your eye, you could see your husband walk over to the bed and climb on top of you.
he unlaced his leathers as he spoke, both of you avoiding the otherâs eyes. âavoid allowing your muscles to tense up â it will only make it worse.â
you whispered a small âokay,â barely audible.
you opened your legs, lifting up slightly at your hips for him to rest comfortably. he adjusted, before you watched him bring his hand to his mouth. you couldnât help yourself â you watched as his lips sucked his long fingers past their opening, lubricating the digits. his eyebrows knitted together with the motion, before his fingers found their way between your thighs. you fought the urge to jump or squeal when you felt his warm, wet fingers thread through your folds.
he let out a sigh of discontent before glancing up to your face.
âtrust me, alright?â he asked.
you didnât verbally respond. you simply looked at him with your lips slightly parted, eventually nodding.
that was enough for him. he climbed down the length of your body, settling himself between your legs. he raised the length of your shift up to your stomach, leaving your bare from the abdomen down. in your nervous state, you took it as a cue to slip your dress off. when he saw the cool air hit your naked breasts and harden your nipples into a peak, his own lips parted â and you felt a growing mass harden against your leg.
âyouâre beautiful, wife,â he spoke â seemingly without realizing it. you almost thanked him, before he added, â...for a bracken.â
you narrowed your eyes at him, ready to respond â when he dipped below your navel.
you sucked in a sharp breath of surprise â you couldnât help it.
his tongue licked up and down the length of your slit, and dove in between your folds. you immediately covered your mouth with your hand, all of your muscles going tense. davos had wrapped his arms under your thighs, hoisting them around his shoulders. his tongue was thick and messy against your folds, causing them to glisten in the flames of the nearby fire.
and once his tongue made contact with the pearl at the very top of your slit, you let out an exhale of ease. it was not lost on your husband â who drew a circle around the circumference of the bud. when he noticed you relaxed more, he drew another. when he noticed you fought the urge to buck your hips up to meet his mouth, he drew yet another. he knew what was happening â but he wasnât sure if you did.
when you began to fist the sheets with your one free hand, he didnât stop drawing.
he locked his head in between your thighs with them thrown over his shoulders. your cunt was dripping juices from your sweet, untouched hole â and davos found himself ashamed to admit that he lost himself in the act. for a moment, he couldnât help but forget the name of the girl above him â the one taking everything he gave her, and acting so grateful with the way she couldnât stay still.
but after that moment⌠he couldâve ripped away and plunged into you, making the act become done and over quicker. he couldâve⌠but he found himself enjoying it.
he continued to draw those circles â those small, tiny, wet circles that sent you in a haze â as he slipped a finger inside your cunt. and then two. he was greedy for your reaction. he was greedy for the way he knew, he fucking knew, that you had never experienced pleasure like this â not by you or anyone else. him, a blackwood, would be the one to make you feel so good you would forget your name and house for even the smallest moment â even the smallest moment would be a win for his pride and for his house.
a small part of him hoped youâd feel shame at the fact heâd make you succumb to the throws of pleasure... but a larger part of him wanted to make you feel so good that you allegiance to your house wavered. ...but when he began to suck on your clit, sounds filling the room â he knew it would be both.
from below, he watched you shove the side of your face into the pillow and pull at its threads. your hips began to ride against his face, coating his chin with everything you could give him. he held you down the best he could â bratty little thing you were, but it was difficult as he also wanted you to lose control. he watched as you tried to bite your lip, harder and harder and harder â before you gave up. you left out a sob into the pillow, legs still shaking, and davos kissed your clit.
when davos crawled back up to meet you, every nerve ending had pins and needles. you were warm from head to toe â no longer in need of the fire, your shift, or any blanket. you were shivering, but not from the cold â but from the comedown, a stranger to passion and lust and pleasure. all three twirled around in your womb like a fire that had never been lit; a treasure to be discovered â only by davos.
âcan i kiss you?â you asked before thinking it through.
davos had a look of being caught off guard. he wasnât expecting you to ask, and you saw it flash on his face. you suddenly grew worried â
he didnât let you finish your thought. davos leaned forward and kissed you.
he kissed you in the way you would expect a boy you love to kiss you â sweet, gentle, but with a growing passion that could only be shared in the bedroom. he held his weight with one of his strong arms, the other tucked behind the back of your knee. he pulled your knee to his hip and you wrapped both legs around his hips. you pulled him into you and felt the skin of his pelvis brush against your cunt.
âyouâre so sweet,â you spoke against his lips. with obvious sarcasm, you added, â...for a blackwood.â
he laughed then. âyouâre obedient for a bracken.â
you flicked his stomach, causing him to yelp â but you didnât let him pull away for long. with both hands, you pulled him back to meet your lips. it hadn't even crossed your mind to ask him to wipe his mouth, for you did not want to. the old gods and the new would surely curse you for such lust filled thoughts â but you didn't care. how could you care when you had found a way to bring peace between a blackwood and a bracken, even if it was temporary? how could you care when you sharing one of the most holy of relationships, being the intimacy between husband and wife? how could you care when this night was going better than you could have hoped?
you could sense him bring his own hand down to his large member, feeling his forearm brush your thigh as he fisted his length. as much as you wanted to reach out and pleasure him â you were worried for what came next. the pain. the inevitable.
davos lined up the red tip of his cock with your tight hole, barely stretched out by his fingers. he slid his cock up and down the length of your slit with the intent of collecting as much of your juices as possible. with a slight push, he entered you.
you immediately let your head fall onto the pillow as the stretch began to burn. the pain on your face was evident, and davos guided his hand to draw circles on your clit once more. your muscles loosened, welcoming the pleasure that davos brought you.
âplease,â you gasped, flicking your eyes up to him.
he stared at your face with an intense look of study. with his eyebrows knitted together, he brought one of your legs over his lower back and held you by the back of your thigh. the stretch was felt in the length of your cunt, as it stretched to fill his size.
davos was concerned for your well-being, of course, but something was beginning to curl in his lower abdomen. he wanted to take your by force â prying your legs open, holding your thighs in place, and drilling his cock into your swollen, dripping cunt. he wanted you to moan his name in his ear and pull at his hair or scratch his back â but he couldnât, not yet. not just yet. not when you were you worried before, especially now that your attitude had been lost.
he had half a mind to point that out â lest that return.
âkeep going,â you spoke.
âwhat if ââ
âiâll tell you to stop if it hurts,â you interrupted. âitâs all felt so good â i donât want it to stop.â
he quirked an eyebrow at you. âis my wife claiming to know more than her lord husband?â
you squinted your eyes at him, ready to bite back. âiâll have you know ââ
but he didnât wait for you to finish.
he leaned forward, placing both forearms on the side of your head. you could feel his lips against your earlobe, causing a quick intake of breath to overtake you. as he leaned forward to your ear, his hips leaned forward as well. his large cock was fully buried inside you now, rocking back and forth as it hit a spot so deep inside you that you didnât know how he was able to fit. it felt like it was right behind your tiny pearl, which was being nudged by your husbandâs pelvic bone. the combination was driving you crazy, only nonsense poured from your pretty lipsâŚ
âyouâll take what i give you, my pretty bracken wife,â he spat. âor should i say, blackwood, hmm? no longer craven?â
you wanted to bite back. you wanted to slap him. you wanted to push him from between you and make him finished himself off â but you couldnât. you couldnât fight your hips as they raised to meet his own, holding still as he pounded into your pretty cunt.
âa cock made you forget where your loyalties lie?â he questioned with a scoff, but never forgetting to smirk. âthatâs all you need, wife? no oneâs ever made you feel like this before?â
âyou fucking ââ
âsay it,â he spat, almost growling against your lobe. his hips were snapping against yours as your cunt milked his cock, hoping for the spend that would seal the accomplishment of the marital duty. you were almost in tears from the frustration and the pleasure â not sure how to channel it, not sure what to do with it. âsay it!â
âno one, davos,â you cried into the open air above you. âonly you, onlyâŚâ
his hands were tangled through your hair now, keeping your head upright as he sucked on your neck. little nips and bites sent shockwaves throughout your body, and your hips began to stir in the familiar way they had moments prior. davosâ weight held you perfectly still and taut, subjecting you to the pleasure his cock brought in the most perfect way.
âbet you canât stand that youâre buried in a bracken right now,â you bit, almost succumbing to tears. ââ canât stand that only my womb will give you an heir ââ
he yanked on your hair then, extending your neck so you were at his mercy. a strangled gasp left your mouth as you clung to him, which surprised you. you once asked for gentleness, kindness, sweetness⌠but if you had known how good this would feel⌠you wouldnât have even bothered. you wouldâve pushed and pulled him all night â subjecting him to the same insults that he hurled towards you if it meant he would fuck you this good.
âand iâll coat your womb in everything i have, wife,â he growled, pushing his hand between your bodies to rub circles on your clit. âeverything i have â until youâre full of blackwood seed. until there's blackwood in your veins. a full blackwood honorable enough to give me a blackwood heir.â
âiâll never be ââ
you couldnât finish your sentence. the combination between his large cock taking you and his skilled fingers working you⌠it was all too much. you couldnât handle the pleasure and the bittersweetness of his attitude, as you were already so close to your peak and losing to him. you could feel the heat rise to your cheeks, as well as spreading throughout your womb⌠ready for himâŚ
âdavos, please â â you cried. âiâm so close. please donât stopâŚâ
âtell me youâre a blackwood,â he spat. âsay it â or iâll stop.â
âyou wouldnât ââ
âi would dare, lady blackwood,â he spat, interrupting you. ânow tell me who you belong to â or iâll leave you unsatisfied with this pretty cunt dripping.â
he immediately began to slow down his hips, and you felt his fingers begin to slow as well. you tried to fight the incessant need to have him continue, but it proved difficult. soon, frustration replaced pleasure. anger replaced lust. need replaced pride.
âiâm yours, lord blackwood â !â you cried, pulling his hips back into yours. âplease ââ
he didnât let you finish. immediately, his lips were on yours. he tangled your tongue with his until you could feel it down your throat. his tongue, his fingers, and his cock â they filled you whole, leaving you wanting for nothing. he held you to still so tight that all you could do was whatever he wanted. his own hips were thrusting against yours â chasing his own pleasure while you unraveled like pretty thread.
âthis tight, perfect cuntâŚâ he growled. âso many little blackwood heirs will bless this womb⌠seven hellsâŚâ
he kissed you once more, and you felt something break inside you. your head threw itself back against the pillow as every muscle in your body tightened and stood still. a sob left your mouth, incoherent â but when davos heard it, heard it crying for him and only for him, he broke as well. the heat and passion between two sworn enemies threw you both into climax that neither of you had ever experienced before. you pulled at his hair, while he bit down on your shoulder. and there was your bond â sealed in pain, pleasure, and blood.
when your peak had cooled, you found yourself clinging to your new husband as he still laid on top of you. he was breathing heavily, having expended much energy and couldnât bring himself to leave your warm embrace. you began to scratch his back, hoping to relax him and get him to stay on top of youâŚ
âthat feels good,â he grunted from his spot in your neck. âare you sure i was once to hate you, wife? i find myself unable to remember why our families hate each other at this moment.â
you giggled. âwe might not be able to help them⌠but i donât see why it must carry into our union.â
âoh, wifeâŚâ he spoke, kissing your neck once more. âif our fights always lead to that â i believe our union will be forever blessed.â
____
lmk what you guys think!! who's ready for pt 2 w aeron?? - L xo
#house of the dragon#hotd#davos fic#davos smut#davos blackwood#davos x reader#davos imagine#davox x oc#davos x bracken reader#benjicot blackwood#house blackwood#house bracken#aeron bracken#aeron smut#aeron fic#aeron imagine
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So about this Demon priest, I'm intrigued... go on. I can imagine as he's in the middle of a sermon, reader walks in, as reader just felt led to enter the church. As soon as Demon priest sees reader... he stumbles over the carefully and well prepare recitations. Sight focused on the back pew that reader silently sat on, not even noticing the uncharacteristic falter of the priest, nor realizing his eyes trained on them. He's been enraptured.
This is amazing, I am all for making this canon to Demon Priest. Heâs so stinkin cute.
When you first walk into the church, Demon Priest swears heâs finally been graced with the presence of an angel once more. Your beauty ethereal, your presence divine in nature.
Hope blossoms within his chest that he has finally completed his repentance. That he will finally be welcomed back into those pearly gates. With heavens light shining back at him in your eyes how can he think otherwise?
He meets you after the service and realization dawns on him that you were not a messenger sent from above to take him to rejoin his fellow brethren. No, he realized instead that you were something far greater.
As part of his repentance, Demon Priest feels the pain of remaining inside a holy sanctuary. His feet burn with every step he takes, his hands while holding all blessed liturgical objects, and his face with the use of Holy water. With his demon healing they heal, only for them to come once more. Yet they each leave their own scars.
But as soon as your hand slips into his in greeting, Demon Priest feels as though a balm has been washed over his soul. The pain leaving him instantly with your touch. You certainly werenât there to bring him home but perhaps you were something better than he couldâve ever imagined.
You were a gift.
Sent down from above and placed on his path. A testament to his strength and devotion. And he would be so utterly devoted. To you.
At every turn he seeked your approving gaze. At every chance he could risk he seeked your soothing touch. You had so utterly consumed him, turning his world upside down until it all came back to you.
It wasnât long before he could no longer resist the idea of what it would be like to feel more of you. To grasp your supple flesh in his palms. Take your hardened nipples between his razor sharp teeth. Taste the sweet nectar of your essence on his tongue. He wanted all of you. To consume you as you had him.
Now as his hands run all over your body, leaving a lustful heat in his path, he finally has. The stain glass windows of his office shine down on you, illuminating your beauty as you ride his cock.
Your body bouncing so prettily along his hardened length, his eyes watch you with a feral hunger. Claws digging into your hips as he fucks up into you, not being able to help himself from taking you as roughly as heâs been wanting to. Your cries of pleasure being the most lovely sound heâs ever heard.
âYes! Itâs s-so good. Feels so good. I canât believe weâre doing this,â you exclaim, baring your neck for him. His cock twitches within your wet heat, the curves of your body driving him closer to delirium.
He molds himself over your form, not being able to get close enough to the ecstasy of your skin. His lips latching on and sucking heartily at each of your breasts, leaving you panting as you try and match his every thrust.
âTell me, my beloved, how can I be expected to deny you? That which I most crave. My greatest temptationâŚâ he growls and you feel the vibration move through your body and shoot straight to your soaked core.
His claws sink into your plush hips, using his hold to slam you down on his needy cock. A hoarse cry is ripped from your lips. Hands finding purchase and bringing a soothing relief to his shoulders as he drives himself into you.
âLet me worship you,â he whispers with an intensity that sends chills up your spine. Yet you canât focus on its meaning as your pleasure bursts through you, clenching down as you cum hard on his cock.
Demon priest grunts, his fierce eyes never leaving your expression so deeply filled with ecstasy. The sight of your pleasure enough to send him right over the edge with you, stuffing you full of his length as he shoots his cum deep into your womb.
And itâs in that moment he knows. He has found salvation in you.
#demon priest#monster lust#monster romance#monster fucker#monster guy#monster#monster boy#monster fuqqer#monster smut#monster fudger#monster fluff#monster fic#monster oc#monster lover#demon oc#demon man#demon smut#monster bf#monster boyfriend#yandere monster x reader#yandere demon x reader#monster x y/n#monster x you#monster x reader#monster x female#monster x human#monster x girl#human x monster#reader x monster#demon x reader
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Day 12: Time Travel
âSooooo Phantom, do ya have any siblings?â Kid Flash asked as he tried to make small talk with the newest recruit to the team.
A few days ago, Young Justice was called to a meeting by Batman where he introduced their new team mate, Phantom. Phantom was a tough looking dude, he was jacked and towered over them all, even Conner!
Batman didnât give them much information about the guy but apparently John Constentine was the one who suggested him for the team since he needed âcommunity service hoursâ.
The dude was currently drinking some soda next to the computer as Red Robin searched for any new info on their latest mission. He turned his attention away from the can, and stared at Wally, his red eyes piercing into his soul.
âWhy?âÂ
âWell we are all about to go on a mission together and none of us really know you so I think itâd be best if we all got to know you better,â that was half true. Mostly Wally was just being nosey, but the dude really did make everyone nervous since he was this really tough dude with blood red eyes and apparently was here because John Constentine said he needed community service hours???? Constentine typically say some wild shit, but what the fuck do you mean by community service? Wally knows you canât use those for school, heâs tried, and what else gave you community service? Juvie and prison!!
Phantom stared at him hard for a few seconds, his eyes searing into the back of Wallyâs skull before saying, âOkay fineâ.
The answer surprised everyone in the room, I mean the guy had barely even spoken the last few days and had rejected every question about his personal life.
âDepending on how you see it, I have 2 to 4 siblingsâ
âIs your father a serial adopter too?â Tim joked.
âYes and noâ
âHuh?âÂ
âItâs pretty complicated,â Phantom shrugged, seemingly deciding to end the conversation there and taking another swig of his drink.
However, Tim, out of annoyances of every attempt to get to know this jerk being thwarted and a bit of confidence his family was more complicated, decided to challenge Phantomâs statement.
âEhh, it probably isnât as complicated as my family, we got about 50 more siblings adopted each month, all with lots much traumaâ
At this, Phantom narrowed his eyes at Tim.
âI see what your doing, your trying to get me to talk tell you guy more about my family by acting like yours are more insaneâ
âAm I?â Tim asked, trying to hide the shivers going down his spine from the way Phantom was staring at him.
Phantom to a huge swig of his soda, emptying it and throwing it into the garbage, before fully turning to Tim. Â
âYouâre lucky I am always good for competitions, now sit down this is going to take a bitâ
Tim gladly obliged and soon everyone sat around Phantom as if it were storytime in kindergarten.
âOkay, so at first I only had an older sister and my parentsâ Phantom began, âbut then they died because of a mistake I made and I had to move in with my evil godfatherâ
Megan raised her hand and asked, âIsnât a godfather someone who is very close to the family? Why would your parents choose an evil person?â
ââCause my dad was oblivious to this and though they were good friends even though the dudes tried to kill him multiple timesâ
âI see,â Megan lowered her hand, no less confused.
âThere I went mad with grief and had him remove my humanity and tried to kill all of humanityâ
âI think that was a bit of an overreaction,â Wally joked.
âYou tried to kill all of humanity? Why werenât we told of this when it happened?â Kaldur'ahm asked.
âThat was in a different timeline, I was a big enough problem that they gods tried to kill the younger version of me to stop me, so to avoid dying, my younger version decide to try to defeat me and the only reason he did was cause I was underestimating him,â Phantom emphasized the last part because he had to stress he didnât not lose to a 15 year old boy because he was weaker than him.
âWhat happened next?,â Artemis asked, completely inraptured in the story.
âI was then imprisoned for sometime before escaping, causing problems and then realizing that causing younger mean the same pain I experienced won't bring my loved ones back,â Phantom continued to explain, âso I am now going to therapy, doing community service, and got the majority of my powers taken awayâ.
âIs your therapist open to seeing new patients?â Konner asked.
âNo, but this timelines version of my sister is and she has a lot of experience so I can give you her number insteadâ
âSure, thatâll workâ
âOkay,â Phantom said before writing her number down and handing it to Konner, âThe thing is I canât go back to living with my real parents because they donât know that I am Phantom so I have to go back to living this timelines version of my godfatherâ
âYou gotta be kidding meâ Tim groans.
âExactly what I said!!â Phantom put his arm up defensively, âFortunately, this version is a little better, he is no longer tiring to kill my dad and has stopped chasing after my mom, he did clone the other of me and now there is a genderbent version of him but my godfather treats her like a princess and will not stop spoiling her, which I am also guilty ofâ
Phantoms continues to explain more and in the back of Tim's mind he remembers he was supposed to be doing something but honestly this conversation was too good to care.
âAnyways that's how I technically have 2 to 4 siblings, Jazz and Elle are permanently my sisters and I love them so much, and even though the other Jazz is technically the same as this Jazz, I still think of her as someone else, someone I miss dearly. Also if I considered this Jazz my sister, I guess Iâd have to considered the other me as my brotherâ
âDamn bitch your family is crazyâ Wally said, happy he finally managed to get through Phantomâs tough skin.
As they finished up their storytime, the Zeta-tubes activated and Red Tornado and an upset looking Batman walked to the group.
âYou all were supposed to leave thirty minutes agoâ
#dannymay2024#danny fenton#dannymay#dannymay 2024#dan phantom#dark danny#danny phantom#jazz fenton#danni phantom#vlad plasmius#vlad master#dpxdc#dc x dp#young justice#dc#red robin#konner kent#miss martian#kid flash#aqualad#zatanna#tigress#day 12#time travel#day 12: time travel
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cc xÂˇË ŕźâ¡ ÍÍÍÍę°âł thinking about...reader trying to break up with yandere gojo Â
minors / ageless blogs / blank blogs - do not interact.
ËË°â˘*â⡠tags: yandere; dub con; lovesick gojo & heâs obsessive/toxic about it; heâs mean but yummy, okay?; size kink (ish?); gojo showing off his strength; sex without protection
notes: I had this written as an idea right after I wrote my hcâs for the jjk men in their yandere version. twylm readers, please forgive me for not posting the next chapter. I am working on it but I am really struggling - I had the worst burn out after the last chapter, and have been having a hard time trying to get back into the story >.<Â
wc: 1,228
gojo plays with the hem of your skirt - the flat expression on his face telling you that heâs listening but appears unbothered by your statement. you can see the annoyance in his eyes, the irritation that you would say something so ridiculous in the middle of a make out session.Â
his hands find the back of your thighs and with one swift motion he pulls you over his long legs so youâre hovering above his lap. the imbalance forces you to clutch onto his shirt with frustration, and he mindlessly reaches to undo his belt before tugging your underwear aside with his long, slender digits.Â
âtoru, are you listening to me?â you whisper in a small voice.Â
âyou want to take a break?â he repeats calmly, but those last two words are laced with disgust, barely slipping through his clenched teeth, and he lowers you down just enough for him to press the tip of his swollen cock against your slit.Â
âI need to slow things down...â you breathe, lashes fluttering at the sensation from the contact.Â
your thighs naturally start to tense up when he holds you there, and the pads of his fingers dig roughly into your hip to keep you in place. you hiss against the harsh touch, gazing down to find your lover pouting at you like a disappointed child.
any stranger would consider this an adorable expression with the way his big eyes widen while his brows upturn sorrowfully.Â
to you, however, it was an entirely different message.Â
âare you unhappy?â he asks, his words weighed down by hurt.Â
a warm sensation travels up your calves as you try to maintain the pose and you shake your head no while squeezing him gently with reassurance. satoru flickers his attention back to the point of contact. your pelvis feels tight from holding this awkward position, and the ache to have him inside you naturally makes the space between your legs pulse with need.Â
satoru gojo has given you everything and more. there is no reason for you to be unhappy.Â
he made sure of that.Â
âokay,â he confirms with a sigh, one palm moving to grope the curve of your ass while the other stabilizes your leg as he draws you down his length. âdo you not love me?âÂ
a hard lump forms in your throat.Â
youâre careful never to actually say those words to him.Â
satoruâs devotion consumes your entire your soul - you canât help but feel like you would be making a deal with a devil if you decided to admit your true feelings.Â
you managed to keep his peace of mind this far by reassuring him with deep, promising kisses and strong acknowledgements of his feelings.Â
technically you arenât lying, but the reality is that youâre afraid to love him...and of what your love does to him.
giving him another silent reply, you nod your head as your fear creeps up the back of your spine. the only relief you find is the stretch between your legs, and your lips part into a circle as satoru gives himself to you inch by glorious inch.
your skirt flaps over you both, concealing him buried inside you. he arches forward to kiss your jaw, his large hands finding your breasts and he massages them over your fitted tank.Â
he delicately trails his fingers down your waist to latch onto your hips once more. âthen why...â he murmurs into your neck, âdo you want to take a break?âÂ
your hand finds the back of his head, a moan leaving your parted lips when you feel him lick a stripe up the column before lightly nipping at your earlobe.Â
âitâs just...â you gasp, feeling flowers of heat bloom in all the places heâs touching you, âI just feel like we are getting ahead of o-ourselves..ah...âÂ
he rocks your hips back and forth, moving at such a languid pace that you canât help but clench your thighs around his own. your fingers curl around the snowy threads of his white hair, tugging at it gently before pulling his face away so you can meet his eyes.Â
he looks smug - but he always does because he knows that youâre just addicted to him as he is to you.Â
âisnât that what we want?â he questions, the corner of his mouth twitching into a lazy smile as he takes off your top and unfastens your bra, âweâre already so perfect...âÂ
âsatoru,â you whine, âthatâs not the point-âÂ
this time he ruts his pelvis upward, interrupting your thoughts as he hits you at the right spot that makes your eyes disappear into the back of your head. he leans against the chair, maintaining full eye contact with you as he casually lifts you up before dropping you back down on his cock. âjust want to make you mâpretty wife, is all...fuck you like this every single night...âÂ
you bite your bottom lip, frustrated with how wet heâs making you with his words. your body subconsciously succumbs to his demands and you slowly start bouncing up and down over his length.Â
âthatâs right, angel,â satoru grunts with approval, his hungry hands grab your ass roughly, and you squeak when you feel a slight sting from behind as the sound of his palm slapping against your skin echoes around the room. âsee? Iâm making you feel sâfucking good, your pussyâs so wet fâme...just for me...âÂ
when his mouth finds yours, you know youâve lost the battle. his scalding kisses leave your lips swollen but you still search for him out of desperation to feel the fire. heâs reminding you how hard it would be to let go of him, reiterating that there is no man in this world who could ever love you as much he does. you feel silly for bringing this up, questioning your own trepidations about him and wondering if this is simply you sabotaging what you already have.Â
you are in a daze from the way he fucks you but he isnât slowing down his movements and you feel like he might actually split you in two. he would never speak to you with angry words, but you can feel it in his movements.
âgonna c-cum, gonna cum, gonna cum...âÂ
it comes out of you like a warning, but it only makes satoru go deeper and before you know it your vision is white. your body feels everything all at once, and the coil thatâs been tightening around your lower belly loosens from the intense orgasm. the pleasure is euphoric, sinfully so, and it drains you of all the energy youâve preserved. your body goes limp in satoruâs arms, and he keeps them wrapped securely around your waist as he pumps his cum inside you.
he holds you in this embrace, allowing the seconds to pass. his breath fans your collar bone while he tries to catch himself. your eyes feel heavy when you blink them open, and you cup his face in your hands as you seek to cool yourself down with his azure eyes.
âIâm never going to let you go,â he confesses with a sweet kiss to the inside of your palm, before placing another on your cheek while he tightens his grip, âso stop trying to push me away.âÂ
#gojo x reader#gojo satoru x reader#satoru gojo x you#satoru gojo x reader#yandere gojo#yandere gojo x reader#gojo satoru smut#gojo smut#jujutsu kaisen smut#jjk smut
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Creator Spotlight: @camberdraws
Hello! My name is Camber (any pronouns), and Iâm a mixed media illustrator located in the southwestern United States. I love drawing everything, but I have a special interest in depicting strange creatures and environments, often accompanied by abstract imagery and mark-making. Professionally, Iâve worked creating concept art and 2D assets for museum exhibits, but currently, I am engaged full-time as a software developer and make standalone illustrations in my free time. Iâve been posting art on Tumblr since I was a teenager, and the site has been very welcoming towards my work to this very day!
Check out Camberâs interview below!
Did you originally have a background in art? If not, how did you start?
Iâve had an interest in drawing since I was barely sentient, but at thirteen years old I decided to become âseriousâ about art. I was all about reading tutorials and doing a ton of studies. I would tote my heavy instructional art books to school every single day (my poor back!) Despite all this, I decided to forgo art school in favor of a bachelorâs degree in Computer Science at my local college. Alongside my major, I received a minor in Art Studio with a specialization in fine art, which totally changed my views on creating artwork and drastically changed my style.
How has your style developed over the years?
As mentioned previously, my style did a 180 after I studied under some very skilled fine art professors! As a kid, my drawings were very realism-heavy and inspired by video game concept art. I mostly worked digitally, too. During college, I was thrown for a loop when we were instructed to do strange things like, for example, make a bunch of marks on paper using pastel, WITHOUT looking, and then turn said marks into a finished piece of art! I quickly and deeply fell in love with abstract work, and especially appreciated images that are not easily parsed by the viewer. Since then, Iâve made it my goal to combine abstract mark-making with more representational subject matter.
What is one habit you find yourself doing a lot as an artist?
Hmmm, one habit I really enjoy as an artist is strictly tracking the amount of time I spend drawing! I currently work a full-time job wholly unrelated to art, so I have to be careful with my time if I want to spend enough hours drawing each week. I created a spreadsheet that allows you to enter the amount of minutes youâve drawn each day and calculate how much drawing time you still need to reach your weekly goal (I aim for 20 hours a week.) Having such a clear, numbers-based objective keeps me motivated to work like nothing else!
Over the years as an artist, what were your biggest inspirations behind your creativity?
I know this is a common inspiration, but Hayao Miyazakiâs work has been rewiring my neurons since I was a child. Seemingly all of my artistic interests can be summed up by the movie Princess Mononoke: it has strange/abstract creature designs, a strong focus on nature and environmental storytelling, and a mix of dark and hopeful themes. Additionally, Iâve been deeply inspired by video game series such as Zelda, Okami, Pikmin, and Dark Souls. But arguably, none of these have influenced me more than Pokemon! Iâve been drawing Pokemon since I could barely hold a pencil, and I havenât stopped since! I believe my love of designing creatures originated with my endless deluge of Pokemon fanart during my childhood.
What is a medium that you have always been intrigued by but would never use yourself?
Iâve always been fascinated by 3D mediums and am so tempted to try them out! Whether thatâs 3D models created digitally or sculptures made from clay, I profoundly admire artists who have this skill. Oftentimes, it feels like I donât have time to delve into a totally different artistic paradigm. However, I feel very strongly that learning new skills can enrich your current work. I should take that advice and someday give 3D mediums a shot!
What is a recent creative project that you are proud of?
I am in the process of creating an art book (a dream of mine!) and have been executing smaller drawings of concepts I find interesting from both a visual and storytelling standpoint. A recent drawing for said book is that of a snail made of ink with an ink bottle as a shell, and it went absolutely viral! Iâve never had an experience like this as an artist before and it has been spectacular! I was able to open a shop using my newly acquired art printer and sell many prints of my snail. Creating something original, directly stemming from my interests, and having that resonate with so many people has been unreal. I couldnât ask for more as an artist!
What advice would you give to younger you about making art thatâs personal or truthful to your own experiences?
I would tell my younger self to chill out and experiment more! I was so caught up in the idea that I needed to have a realistic style to be considered âgood.â I also believed that technical skill was the only measure of how worthy my art was. Thatâs not to say technical skill doesnât matter, but I now firmly believe the creativity and voice of your ideas far outweigh the skill of execution in terms of importance. Technical skills should elevate ideas, not the other way around. Once I began to revel in strange ideas and stories for my work, depicted oftentimes in odd styles or mediums, I truly found my voice as an artist.
Who on Tumblr inspires you and why?
My peers here on Tumblr inspire me more than anything! Sharing my work with contemporaries and giving each other support brings me joy like no other, and keeps me motivated to continue creating. I wouldnât be where I am today without them! @beetlestench, @theogm-art, @trustyalt, @ratwednesday, @phantom-nisnow, @svltart, @mintsdraws, @mothhh-hh, @jupiterweathers, @thesewispsofsmoke, @picoffee, @fetchiko, @kaisei-ink, and @pine-niidles just to name only a few!
Thanks for stopping by, Camber! If you havenât seen their Meet the Artist piece, check it out here. For more of Camberâs work, follow their Tumblr, @camberdraws!
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