#even if you have no clue what the fuck is going on here. if you don't know shit about fnaf or darkest desire i will explain it for you

[yurilvr4]

nerd armin hc's! art by musapylsa on tt/twt

cw for implied public sex, lots of biting, + tongue piercing, somnophilia(nsfw)

-

the type of guy to wait when your classes are over. he would loiter in the hallways , the jocks and popular kids brushing past him as he fixes his glasses, holding science books to his chest as he fiddled with his phone - checking your schedule.

he's a creeper, a stalker. as far as you were concerned, you always saw him hangout with his two friends, eren, mikasa and some other folks, jean..sasha?...connor? wait no, connie!

you would sometimes catch him staring way too long, eyes always on you and when you finally notice, he would blink and fix his glasses, a knuckle raising to arrange it on his face.

he would "accidentally" drop something on the ground if he was ever randomly beside you, and he knows how nice of a person you are, so you pick up whatever he dropped and he just smiles inwardly, checking you out from the back with zero to no shame.

the type to literally take pictures of you secretly and masturbate the fuck out of them the moment he's home.

"o...ohh...ahnn.." his hand fists his cock aggressively, throwing his head back as he whimpers, thighs shaking as he finally comes down, cum dribbling down his fingers.

-

another thing about him is he owns porn magazines, he stashes them away under his bed and fantasizes all the girls on the pages are you.

he would full on hump the covers, his pillow just to imagine some type of body underneath his, squeezing and moaning like a dog in heat, his brain can only think of one thing and that's you.

other times when he's not ejaculating, he talks about you to his other online friends when he games.

"they're so...h-hot..like.." he says in the microphone, grinning ear to ear as he talks about you in excruciating detail.

the guys on the other side would either cheer him on or snicker at his desperation, "woah..dude, did you like, jack off to them or something??" typical. they wouldn't get it.

"s-something like that." armin bites his lip, finishing the game and logging off.

obsessive crush behavior

this man is always on his phone/laptop so for sure he's got some online stalking habits you're not aware of at all.

he analyzes all of your old posts, every story and event you've been to, and even have them memorized in case you ever talked to him.

+ he's probably the type to over intercept basic kindness as 'romantic interest', "they smiled at me! they must want me!"

-

random stuff he does

• compliments you in an awkward, creepy sort of way, "hey....y-your collarbones are pretty.." then he'd mentally face palm thinking about how miserably bad he is at flirting.

• stares at you wayyy too long for any normal person, a hand on his chin as his eyes hyper-analyze your movements, then panics when he gets caught.

• brings up painfully niche hyperfixations and info dump people about it, (comics, anime, gaming) and they would have NO clue what he would be talking about LMFAOO

• does that nervous push glasses thing, how? uses his middle finger to nudge the bridge of his glasses up. he's particularly nervous when you finally speak to him or is around him suddenly.

if you're in a relationship

he's actually ecstatic, finally having you all to himself, that means he could do whatever he wanted right?

he's willing to share and do everything with you, from sharing his clothes, to showering, sleeping in the same bed. all of it.

the type to just touch you all over. hugs and cuddles you, kisses your neck and bites the same spot he touched with his mouth.

only for you to have tons of red bruises littering your skin the next day.

• doesn't let you go until you really beg him to let you go.

"i won't even be that long... seriously." you say, waiting for a response , only for your boyfriend to glare at you albeit a little pouty.

"...f...fuck. you can't just leave me here, i want your attention too."

he nervously plays with the ends of his sleeves, drawing the cloth over his knuckles and fiddling with it.

sometimes you couldn't help but feel bad, even though there was nothing to feel bad about.

"...fine. i'll stay.. okay?" you nod defeated, reaching out for him to hug his head to your tummy.

he immediately reciprocates, pressing his face into your torso and inhaling deep.

-

sometimes in public, he would drag you to a small spot where he swears no one goes to, and just grinds his body over yours, just to get some friction.

making out with you is his favorite activity, besides fucking the shit outta you at home.

he grinds and grabs your everything, hands all over your ass, squeezing as he bites the inner corner of your neck, sucking the skin until he's satisfied with the new colour.

you feel the cool metal of his piercing lave over your hot skin and you whine for him to stick it in you already.

• WOULD make you suck him off under the seat of his desktop space WHILE gaming.

he's so nasty he doesn't even hide it, "hey?! can i get an assist? cmon!" someone online yells into the microphone , he's pretty skilled with using the keyboard with only one hand, so he easily guides your head with his fingers rooted into your scalp and helps bob your mouth just right until he feels his cock twitch, eventually cumming inside and you have to swallow it.

he tries so hard to hide his little huffs of satisfaction, wryly grinning as he sees your cum painted face under the seat.

-

has this 'habit' he's never told you about.

whenever you would sleep before him in your shared bed , he would climb over you and just go to town. removing each layer of your clothes, and leaves you vulnerable in your underwear, spreads your legs open and makes you cum in your sleep.

you involuntary shiver when you feel his tongue lave over your hole, his fingers playing over where you're most sensitive and coat his tongue in your juices.

'how are you not waking up?' a few sleeping pills dumped into your drink earlier must've did the trick. he wouldn't tell you though, or you'll probably, seriously hate him.

and that was the last thing he wanted. besides..he's got you all to himself now!

-

+ note this fanart literally revived the aot fandom idc i had to write something. link to the art! link 2

[iamthatonefangirl]

So I’m not completely sure how requests work but I NEED a fic where the reader like gets into an argument with the winter soldier about something small or big like how he never opens up to her (whatever you prefer) and then some HATE sex after (not really hate just frustrated yk)

disconnect - nsfw winter soldier

I received a few asks that inspired me to develop a story combining them. this is my interpretation of them.

pre-established relationship. if you're new here, there's a mention of a prior event.

disclaimer: fully consensual by both parties although not explicitly stated. dark/sad themes, similar to depictions of depression. read at your own discretion.

~~~

it's stupid, really.

the mud boot tracks all over the entryway when you get home. the huge disaster area the kitchen is.

is it really that difficult to not leave a mess everywhere?

you make your way to the bedroom and drop your bag somewhere on the floor, sitting on the edge of the bed to chuck off your shoes and jacket.

you sit there for a moment, head buried in your hands.

the weight of your situation gets to you more often than not. a lot of those thoughts in your head go unsaid for a number of reasons, particularly because he doesn't have the emotional capacity to care, in your opinion.

is this really the life you thought you'd end up living?

if you wanted to quit working, you could. he brings in more than plenty.

and you'd never have to worry about being sexually frustrated a day in your life.

is that really the sum total of your relationship?

you let out a sigh.

you feel stuck.

~~~

he comes into the bedroom ten minutes later, fresh out of the shower, covered in water from head to toe minus the towel wrapped around his waist.

he goes straight for the bed, lying down on the fresh sheets, soaking them.

"seriously?" you ask, looking up at him, exasperated at this point.

he tilts his head in your direction and gives you a blank stare as though he has no clue what you're talking about.

you take a deep breath and shove down your anger. he's been gone for a week, cut him some slack, you tell yourself.

"everything go okay?" you ask.

you don't want to know the gory details, and he wouldn't tell you, anyways. his face contorts, giving you a disgusted look as though you're crazy for even asking.

he proceeds to shove his hands behind his head, closing his eyes to get some rest.

another deep breath.

"are you hungry?" you offer. the mess in the kitchen tells you that he's not, but you're seriously trying here.

he lets out a low grunt, which you take to mean 'no.'

"can you stay awake for five minutes to fucking talk to me?" you say, anger rising in your chest as you struggle to keep your head straight.

"not talking to you about work," he grumbles, not even opening his eyes.

"clearly, you're not talking to me at all! fuck, I mean, when do you ever?" you yell, standing and walking over to the side of the bed next to where he's laying.

in your anger, you grab his arm and roughly yank it out from under his head, surprising him. his eyes shoot open and he glares up at you as though you've just personally offended him.

"you never fucking talk to me! I- I don't even know if you like me! it's like you just live in my apartment so you can fuck me whenever you want!" you yell at him. your emotions are getting the better of you, your insecurities and your anger twisting in your head. you're completely helpless to stop your mouth from speaking them into reality.

not a word in response. his face is completely devoid of any emotion.

"I don't even know why I expect anything different from you," you scoff. "you're a heartless motherfucker. you don't even care about me."

you feel so empty inside. all the sacrifices you've made, all the times you've cried over the fact that you can't just be normal, all because of what he does for a living, who he is.

all while having to stomach the nausea of simply knowing why you have to keep him a secret.

it's too much to deal with anymore.

he watches as you drag an empty duffel bag out of the closet and begin throwing various items of clothing inside it. it takes a few moments, but it finally clicks in his head: you're leaving. and he doesn't know when, or if, you'll be back.

he stands, grabbing your arm as carefully as he can, stopping you from continuing to pack. "no. stay," he tells you. he sounds so calm, his voice is void of its usual sternness.

he's only calm because he's panicking inside.

you take his calm demeanor to mean that he genuinely does not give a fuck.

"get off me. I'm leaving," you tell him, pulling your arm away from his grasp. that's all you can say, because that's all you know right now. you have no plans for where you're going or when you're coming back.

if you're coming back.

you shove a few more things in your bag as your eyes tear up.

what has your life come to?

~~~

the door slams behind you on your way out, shaking the whole apartment. eerie silence follows.

no sounds of pans clattering in the kitchen. no music blaring while you shower. no keyboard clicking while you work. no more of your laughing as you watch videos on your phone.

no more you.

all there is is dead silence.

he used to live in the silence. he took comfort in it; he'd be able to hear a threat coming from a mile away as long as he lived in the silence. it was his way of protection, his entire way of life.

it doesn't have that comforting effect anymore.

because now?

he's alone.

now, alone, in the silence he once reveled in, he roams the apartment in contemplation. he sees everything he didn't see before.

the mess he left everywhere, destroying the effort you put in every day to keep a tidy home.

but more importantly? he sees the disconnect. the stark contrast between your carefulness and his tendency to act as a bull in a china shop opens his eyes to reality.

he always saw you as a team.

but now?

he realizes that you're not.

you're normal. he isn't.

he never could be.

~~~

your best bet for now is to go to a friend's place, you think. you sob your eyes out as you sit in the driver's seat of your car, and you come up with a lie that's at least semi-believable.

you take a few deep breaths as you click her contact on speed-dial.

"hey, so you'll never believe my luck," you begin, trying to hide your sniffling from the microphone. "my building is infested with rats. I don't know how long it'll be until they've dealt with it. at least a week, probably. do you think I could spend a few nights at your place?"

your voice is choppy as you speak, and it's clear you've been crying, but she doesn't question it. she gives you the 'okay' to come over, and you hang up quickly before the tears start again.

that's how you end up sleeping on her couch that night, sobbing silently into your hoodie as you try to determine what the hell you're supposed to do now.

for so long, you've put up with his bullshit, kept his secret, kept your mouth shut, all for one reason: you love him.

but he's not capable of loving anyone.

~~~

for a while, the feeling of isolation doesn't bother him. all he feels is indifference.

yet as he finally cleans up after himself, the ache in his chest begins. he almost wonders if he's having a heart attack; he's never felt this before.

yes, he has.

he freezes in place, the memory coming to him. he injured you, once, purely by accident. that's when he's felt this helplessness, this emptiness, this deep-seated pain in his chest.

guilt?

he's not sure.

he kneels on the cold hard tile of the entryway, not bothering to put on longer pants or a towel to protect his knees as he wipes up the mud he tracked inside. he doesn't deserve that comfort.

he lays in bed alone that night, mind empty. sleep never finds him.

the following morning, before the sun has risen, he makes a decision.

he opens his bank account and navigates to the most recent transfer, forwarding it back to the sender with one message: deal's off. busy.

~~~

the next morning, you wake up, still feeling terribly nauseous. you look in the bathroom mirror to find your eyes are puffy and bloodshot from crying.

you never should've gotten involved with a cold-hearted killer.

every bone in your body is saying to leave. get out of New York, quit your job, leave him and this whole life behind.

instead, you make a cup of coffee and force some yogurt down your throat before going to work.

you're up early, and don't care to deal with the traffic driving further into the city, so you might as well take the train.

~~~

he has absolutely no clue where you are.

he knows none of the addresses of your friends where you might have gone, not even a single one of their names.

if you didn't have to work, he wouldn't even be sure that you were still in the state.

work.

he doesn't even know the address of your workplace. he has a vague sense of the name of the company, how hard can it be to find?

so that's where he starts.

he camps out down a side street near your office, giving him a narrow field of vision to the entrance while staying hidden. it's the end of the workday, you should be coming out soon.

normally, scouting out a target is easy. he takes a short amount of time to watch them, determine their routines, and find the best course of action to take them out in the most efficient way possible.

there's always a plan, an end goal there. here?

he has no plan. there is no end goal.

for now, he needs to know where you're staying. so he watches and waits for you to come out of the one place where he can count on being able to find you.

he's not prepared for the pang of some unfamiliar emotion that he feels when he sees you come out of the building. you look exhausted; clearly, you didn't sleep last night, same as him.

you still look perfect.

he assumes you're heading to the parking lot, and he realizes he didn't think this far ahead. he doesn't have a fucking car, how is he supposed to follow you to find out where you're going?

he would never make this kind of bullshit mistake on a job.

he's scanning the area, trying to find the most inconspicuous car he can find that he thinks he might be able to hotwire-

you walk right past the parking lot.

he begins to trail you from across the street, mind working through all the possible answers as to where you're going. for now, his focus is keeping his eyes on you at all times.

he refuses to acknowledge the way his chest hurts even more as he follows you down the street and into the train station.

he hates when you take the train, hence why you always drive. to him, the train isn't safe. there's too many variables, too many things could go wrong. today, though, it works to his advantage.

all he can do for now is get on the train car behind you and wait to see where you get off at.

~~~

you're so tired, it's probably for the best you didn't drive today, lest you wanted to accidentally total your car by falling asleep at the wheel.

you want nothing more than to go home to him.

you don't. you get off the train and walk into the first bar you see.

it's after the workday, just past 6pm on a Tuesday, so it's packed, full of both blue- and white-collar workers in need of a drink.

you sit at the bar with the rest of the men as you all contemplate your life choices. you drink way too much, consuming more alcohol than is safe for you to have in your system while walking back.

oh well.

as you walk in the darkness, your head feels heavy, your body warm from the alcohol. you're being reckless, you know you are.

you don't have it in you to care. you feel like your entire life is being ripped apart at the seams, and it's all your fault. you're aware of the reality; you shouldn't ask for more than he can give. that's not fair to him.

no. this isn't fair to you.

~~~

he hates every fucking second of this. you're acting stupid, putting yourself in danger, getting drunk in public while operating under the assumption that you're all alone on these dark streets.

is this how you feel every day? do you feel alone even when he's there?

is he nothing more than a nuisance to you, a reminder of all your fears and all your lost dreams rolled into one?

at least he knows he's there to protect you.

to him, you were his savior.

but to you, he's nothing more than a ball and chain around your ankle.

his chest grows even tighter.

once you get inside the place you're apparently staying at, he relaxes somewhat. you're inside, you're safe.

that means nothing to him. to him, you're only safe within the confines of your own home. you're only safe when you're with him.

does he make you feel unsafe?

he finds another dark alley to hole up in. he's not going anywhere, not going home, not sleeping until you've got this figured out.

~~~

days go by. he learns your friend's schedule, learns the area, learns that you're drinking every day after work.

he knows he doesn't have the right to approach you. he'd lose you for good if he did, he thinks.

except on the fourth day of you being gone, after all these sleepless nights of him sitting on the cold, hard ground, you don't go into work. he watches your friend leave, but not you.

something's wrong.

in the back of his head, he hears your voice from your fight, if he could even call it a fight, saying,

"I don't even know if you like me!"

"you don't even care about me."

the words float around his mind, amplifying the tightness in his chest by 100 times.

that's it. he's done waiting, done watching you like you're a target, done pretending like you're both not miserable. he's done pretending he doesn't care.

~~~

you don't go into work on Friday.

you've spent all week ignoring your problems, ignoring the nausea in your stomach, drinking so much alcohol that you're lucky you don't pass out in the street, alone.

it's time to make a decision.

you don't get up from the couch until mid-morning, getting up to take a shower before heading to the kitchen to make a cup of coffee.

as you finish preparing your drink, staring down into the mug, you think you hear something in the distance. but the noise is so faint, you attribute it to your lack of sleep and food. you're fine, there's nothing there.

you hear it again, louder this time, and you turn towards where you hear the noise coming from-

from behind you, a hand slips over your mouth, and an arm wraps itself around your waist. you're about to panic when you hear the figure speak,

"it's me."

you let yourself relax against him. he scared the absolute shit out of you, making you fear for your fucking life, but you don't care. he's here.

but then your anger returns with a vengeance.

you put all your weight into throwing yourself forward, out of his grasp, and he lets go.

"how dare you!" is the first thing you say, and then you turn to face him.

woah.

if you thought you looked like shit from lack of sleep, it was nothing compared to how he looked.

you pause your yelling at him for a moment to take in the fact that he looks so tired he might be ready to collapse, that he looks like he hasn't showered or eaten in days.

you push past your worry and begin again, your anger boiling over as you continue yelling.

"how do you know I'm here? have you been fucking following me?"

he forces himself to speak.

"yes."

you scoff. of course he has.

"I'm not a child! I'm a fully grown adult, James!" you yell.

"then why the hell have you been acting like you're a goddamn child?" he yells back.

you've never heard him raise his voice like this before.

"you could have gotten yourself killed. you're lucky I was there. you did everything wrong, against how I taught you to keep yourself safe!"

your entire body is vibrating with the range of emotions you feel right now. you're so pissed off at him, but you've finally gotten him to speak to you. you hate that he's been watching you like his prey all week, but it means that maybe, in his eyes, you're worth losing sleep over.

you both stand there for a minute as you delay responding. your hair is soaking through your pajama shirt, which you realize as you stand there, is one of his t-shirts. your coffee is spilled everywhere from when he startled you, the mug flipped on its side on the counter.

you try to gather your thoughts to respond. you end up coming back to the one thing that you haven't been able to forget about all week, the one thing that breaks your heart more than any of it.

"you didn't even fight for me," you say quietly. you do everything in your power to take deep breaths, blinking your eyes quickly to stop the tears in their wake. "you didn't even fight for me to stay. you just let me go."

you give him the benefit of the doubt when he doesn't respond immediately. you know he needs to gather his thoughts.

you wipe your eyes a few times, listening to the silence, just praying that you mean enough to him that he'll respond.

"I'll never make that mistake again."

you've missed him so much, even in your rage and despair, that those words are all the reassurance you need to hear from him. he steps closer to you, slowly, waiting for your permission to approach.

you take in his appearance once more. he clearly hasn't eaten or slept in days, and he looks dirty. you connect the dots in your head: he hasn't even gone home, hasn't left your side once all week.

the idea of him following you all week pissed you off only minutes before. but now?

your tears spill from your eyes as you wrap your arms around his neck, embracing him as though he's your entire world.

he's never felt as relieved as he does when you cling to him. the aching in his chest finally begins to dissipate for the first time in a week.

you may be in some random apartment, but he's finally home.

he wraps his arms around your waist and picks you up. you get the hint and wrap your legs around his hips, holding onto him as he walks you over to the couch you've spent the last few days crying on.

he lays you down and begins to peel his shirt from your body, revealing every inch of your beautiful skin to him.

he knows has to show you how sorry he is, the only way he knows how.

he adjusts your positioning so you're sitting face forward on the couch, legs dangling over the edge, and he spreads your thighs as he gets to his knees in front of you.

it about takes your breath away.

this man, who is so possessive over you, so afraid of showing even a sliver of weakness or vulnerability, so against the idea of giving up any form of power, is on his knees for you in apology.

you know this isn't easy for him. this is the biggest display of trust you think you've ever seen from him, and your fears about not meaning anything to him begin to disappear.

you're the most important thing in his life. he wishes he had the words to tell you that.

he wraps his hands around the back of your knees, bringing you closer to him, and he pushes his tongue between your legs so softly.

his mouth is wet, and warm, and he hasn't eaten in days, but he'd rather you be the only thing he tastes for the rest of his life, anyways.

a few more involuntary tears spill from your eyes as he laves his tongue over you. you feel so sensitive, the combination of lacking his touch for so long and the emotion behind his actions is making you so much more conscious of his every movement.

he buries his tongue in you over and over again like it's his only mission in life.

he feels the entire lower half of his face, having gone unshaved for the last week, is soaked, covered in you. he hopes he leaves you with a mild rug burn between your thighs so you feel him for days afterwards.

you're so perceptive to his every move, you feel it distinctly when he begins to trace shapes over your clit.

A, E, S is all you make out.

James.

he's writing his name on your skin with his tongue.

you let out a whimper when you realize it, and your gentle hold on the back of his head tightens, pulling his face closer against your cunt.

"James," you whisper as he begins to work you faster, "please."

that's all it takes for him to push you over the edge. your thighs close on either side of his head, and he can mostly hear the way you whine his name as you come for him.

you barely have a second to relax your muscles before he's crowding you on the couch, repositioning you so you're laying underneath him.

his mouth begins to attack your neck, your rules against him putting hickeys on your neck be damned. and you gladly let him, you don't care right now.

he takes no time at all to shove the fabric of his pants out of the way, wrapping your legs around his hips once more, pushing himself down into you.

"fuck," you whisper at the stretch.

he continues his assault on your neck, marking you up and down all the way to your breasts, anywhere he can reach.

he bites back a groan every time you moan so perfectly, filling his ears, repeating his name every few thrusts.

but there's still something in the back of his head he needs you to know.

he doesn't stop, doesn't quit fucking you so beautifully as he brings his mouth to your ear.

"of course I like you," he admits so quietly, and his tone makes it sound like it's the most obvious thing in the world. you're brought back to the other night when you expressed your deepest vulnerabilities to him, and now, he's making up for what he should have told you then. "and of course I care about you."

you clutch him against you as tight as humanly possible until you're both letting yourselves go, feeling the comforting warmth as he releases inside you.

his body gives out, collapsing on top of you, exhausted from the physical and emotional toll of the week.

you finally feel tired too, more so than you have all week. it's as though your body is finally poised to truly rest now that he's with you again.

you can't sleep yet.

"take me home, James," you whisper, and he doesn't hesitate.

~~~

(guys as I'm writing this I'm about to cry)

yeah so I think I spent about six hours on this total y'all

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[lemonabouttodrop]

Say what now?

Part 2 of 'How could you?'

Azriel x f!Reader

Summary: Azriel came with apologies stitched into his silence, but when his gaze met yours, the words slipped away. What he offered instead wasn’t quite what you'd hoped, but for him, it was a tether, a reason to keep you a little closer, a little longer.

Warnings: Swearing, angst, insecurity, kinda crack?, mentions of Irish forms of art, scars? (sorry y'all, still haven't exactly figured how to write warnings yet)

Note: Probably has mistakes but I'm re-using my 'first fic' card again since this is still a part 2 of my first one. thxthx.

part 1 linked here.

Azriel didn't remember how to stand. Where do his hands go? Behind his back? Too child-like.

In his pockets? Too casual.

Should they dangle? Probably not.

So he just stood there frozen with his hands flailing around unsurely and his wings fighting against twitching as he processed what just happened.

You'd spoken. Albeit uninterestedly, like you wanted nothing to do with him. He'd never heard you sound so- well, dull. He hated that he was the cause of that. It had been a week since he heard you properly. And oh, how he wished he could turn back time.

But he couldn't, so he'd just take a tiny bit of joy from what just happened.

You'd spoken .To him. To him.

He'd been in the kitchen, the place where his suffering first started, boiling tea when you'd walked in and not immediately turned around, instead you'd spoken. To him. Hell, you were even looking at him so he clearly wasn't hallucinating. He hadn't even heard what you'd said, he'd just heard your voice again and his heart had done its best to lurch out of his chest.

"Huh?", he said and immediately cringed at how dumbfounded he sounded.

"I said I'm done with the mission report. It's on your desk." You repeated blandly. The report.. about the mission after which he'd ruined it all. His face fell, once again reminded of what he'd caused.

It seems you recollect it too, for you turned around to leave

"Wait!", he says, slightly too loudly to be anything but desperate.

Shit. The plea had left his throat before he could stop himself. Now what? He hadn't thought this through at all.

You were looking at him, now facing him again, with a brow raised and arms crossed.

He was looking at you, with his hands suspended mid-air and his eyes slightly wide, like a deer caught in headlights.

"I'm- Can we.. talk?", Mother above he needed to get it together. Stop this stuttering.

"About?"

Good question. That's a really good fucking question that he does not know how to answer.

His shadows twirled mid-air as if taunting him, and he knew that if they could speak his tongue, they'd most definitely be doing just that. Infact, they'd probably be cursing him out right about now.

Though they were attached to him, they'd always taken every available opportunity to be next to you, to side with you, to take care of you. Even now, most gravitated in your direction no matter how strongly he held them back.

You must have realized this silence meant he had no goddamn clue what to say to you. He saw it in your eyes and as he anticipated your departure, you stepped forwards and sat at the island, looking at him patiently.

His heart, which happened to still have been doing the Irish jig in his chest, seemed to just about stop and skip multiple beats. Because he had no clue, no clue how you let him be anywhere around you after what he'd said.

How you hadn't yet punched him or tried to in any shape or form. He deserved that at least. What he didn't deserve was this kindness.

But he'd be foolish to refute it, and so he sat down too and he knew what to do.

He'd get you back.

His shadows seemed to nod resolutely.

A mission. A gods damned mission?!

You'd expected anything but another fucking mission.

Then again, you assume your emotional instability due to the words of an overgrown bat cannot surmount to enough reason to put the court politics on halt.

You thought back to the whole encounter just hours ago as you packed your bags for tomorrow.

When he'd called out to you like that, you'd thought he'd apologize. You would have accepted it, you would have brushed off how hurt you truly had been, you'd definitely have found a way to convince yourself that an apology was enough. That whatever he said next was enough. Instead, he'd said nothing. He'd just stood there awkwardly, and yet you hadn't wanted to leave again. Gods, could you be any more desperate? Probably not.

One last chance. You thought to yourself.

Your mind told you to uphold your dignity and get the fuck out of there while you still had the chance, keep some semblance of self-respect. But a very tiny part of it still fought back and reminded you of all the quiet, beautiful moments you'd had with Azriel. How you'd surely never get any more if you left, but if you stayed? There was a possibility. The very tiny part made good points.

So you'd sat down and watched him patiently, hoping he wouldn't make a fool of you and leave you there. But he'd taken a seat as well, too clumsily, too fast. What was wrong with him? You wondered. You'd never seen him act so... disoriented.

He still didn't say a word. Just stared. It had been a while since you'd allowed yourself to look at him, to not turn around and flee at the sight of him.

He was beautiful, always had been. You couldn't help but give him a once-over. His sharp cheekbones seemed sharper, his hands were gloved. His hands were gloved? Why-

Oh.

Realization dawned on you like a brick on your face. It was winter, you'd massage his hands and relax the tense muscles of the scarred appendages everyday in this cold season. Or else his hands would cramp up. Badly.

How absorbed had you been in your self-pity to forget such a thing?

Cringing, you promised yourself to help him as soon as possible.

You looked up at him again to find him already staring, now catching your expression. You schooled it and looked him in the eyes.

Gods, his eyes.

They were more sunken than usual. Had sleep not been good to him lately? Who were you to talk? You knew you didn't look any better. And was it really bad that it felt good to assume you were the reason for his sleepless nights, like he was for yours? Yes, yes it was.

His shadows curled over his wings, as though peeking at you. Some slithered over the table in soft curves, inching over to you. They were always nice to you, you thought, smiling softly at them as a few wrapped around your wrists on the wood.

You'd wondered how long this whole game of silence would last.

And just as that thought passed your mind, he'd spoken.

And you'd just about had an aneurysm.

You looked at your stuff, mentally checking your list of essentials. It was a mission to the mountains. Nowhere near the camps, thank the Mother for that. He hadn't told you why it was a two person job and you hadn't asked. He also hadn't told you how long it would take and you hadn't asked. Turns out there's a bunch of stuff you should have asked.

Are your hands okay?

Did you go get Madja's soothing oils?

What kind of crack are you on to think that taking me, of all people, on this mission would ever end very well after what happened?

Who's hosting my funeral if I throw myself off a cliff in the duration of this business trip? Do I get insurance?

You laid down on the bed, content with your preparations. You'd done your best to not let your insecure thoughts plague you during the day but it was the night that was hard these days. Thoughts of inadequacy would rise every single breath you took. Mind would overflow with different interpretations of every interaction with him.

Heart would pace as thoughts of him took over your very being, until the world faded away and the pacing stopped. Until even the sounds of the wind dulled, until the magic in your veins fell into slumber and so did you.

Only to wake to a new day.

A new beginning? A better one?

Y'all, i got zero clue where i wanna take this. Still love that i have the ability to take this any which ways but would def def def love some suggestions. Thank you for all the likes pookies, thought no one would read my stuff but OMG are y'all sweet or what.

currently preparing for a big big big test that def decides the course of my life so i just do this when im stressed. Prolly not consistent but yuhpp. thank yewww.

and if you haven't noticed yet, i love commas,,,,,

@saradika-graphics for those gorgeous dividers. IN LOVE.

[gracie-eilish]

can you write billie and reader just cooking dinner together? like just super fluffy and wholesome - maybe, if ur comfy, billie is really proud of the reader and how she's healed her relationship with food??

comfort food

warnings: none, just fluff :)

an: i’m home alone for the night and this is just so what i imagine nights would be like

“hi lovey!” billie called out from the living room at the sound of the front door to her apartment closing. she knew it was you.

“hi bub,” you replied with less energy than usual.

you walked into her living room, already donning some sweats, dropping your overnight bag next to the couch, before dropping yourself onto billie’s lap, melting into her arms.

“long day?” she asked, kissing your hair.

“mm, not really. just kinda chaotic, lot of weird things going on.” you nuzzled your nose by her jaw, taking in her scent and feeling your heartbeat slow as you relaxed.

“wanna talk about it? i mean, how chaotic can a gift store be?” she giggled playfully.

“ugh don’t even get me started,” you sat up a bit so you could see her better. “BUT! if you would like to get me started, can we at least make food first, i’m literally withering away over here.”

billie snorted at your theatrics, but scooted you off her so you two could head to the kitchen. you headed over to her pantry, opening the door and just taking a look in at what you two were working with.

“whatcha wanna make, doll? or we could order something, whatever you want.”

“do you have pasta sauce?” you asked rather pointedly, making billie giggle at your sudden enthusiasm.

“i believe i do,”

“GREAT! i want pasta.” you cut her off, and billie nearly doubled over at your hangry tendencies.

the two of you had been dating for about a month now, and she found something new to love about you every day. today happened to be your love (and aggressive craving) of pasta.

“sit down, you, let the italian take over here.” billie lifted her hands in surrender and leaned back against the counter while you shuffled around her kitchen like you belonged there, setting up a pot of water to boil. while the water started to simmer, you grabbed everything else you would need.

“you want something else in there? i have stuff to make vegan vodka sauce or alfredo? ooh or! my mom sent me this spicy pasta recipe….. you don’t look excited about any of those, babe.” you giggled, leaning over to kiss her cheek.

“you’re adorable. thank you, but i think i just want regular pasta tonight. that spicy pasta i may ask for next time, though.”

you sent billie on pasta water duty while you slipped away to the bathroom real quick. when you returned, billie was taking the spaghetti out of the box, ready to go into the water.

“did you salt the water?!” she froze like a deer in the headlights.

“salt the water? does that like affect the taste?” you stood staring at her for a moment.

“you know what i’m gonna be so honest with you, i have zero fucking clue what it does.”

“let the italian take over!” she mocked.

“just gimme that,” you couldn’t hide your smile if you tried. pinching some salt into the water, and dropping the pasta in, all while billie snuck her arms around your waist, resting her chin on your shoulder.

you both simultaneously turned your heads when a certain duo padded into the kitchen, soft whines filling the air.

“well hello you two,” billie said in her little voice, looking at the two dogs that had been fed… not even 30 minutes ago. she kneeled down to give them both pets while you continued stirring your noodles. she stopped suddenly looking past them for a second, then turning to face you.

“can dogs eat spaghetti?” she couldn’t even get the sentence out before you both were crying with laughter.

for a while, you two just stood in comfortable silence, occasionally broken by puppy whines, while you stirred the noodles. you tapped the spoon a few times before setting it down and turning around in billie’s arms. you laid your head on her shoulder, closing your eyes. she inhaled deeply and pressed a few kisses to the top of your head.

“i like when you’re here like this,” she whispered softly, her own eyes fluttering closed.

“like what?” you mumbled into her hoodie.

“like.. like normal. like when i’m doing laundry, or you’re cleaning your bathroom when we’re at your place. orrrrrr… when we’re cooking dinner together after a long day at work.”

you lifted your head up, blushing as you bit back a smile.

“i like it too.” she leaned in, closing the gap between you, pulling you closer by your waist, your own arms wrapping around her neck softly.

a sizzling sound on the stove made you both pull away suddenly.

“shit!” you giggle whispered, turning the heat down a bit watching your pasta practically bubble over.

once you had dodged that fiacso, you looked over to see billie already prepping the sauce in two bowls; one how she likes it, and the other how you like it. you turned off the stove, and went to go grab a strainer... only to find it already in the sink ready for you to use.

"let me do that, love," billie carefully took the pot from your hand, pouring the pasta into the strainer carefully. now it was your turn to wrap your arms around her from behind. you rested your cheek between her shoulder blades while she shook out the excess water, and scooped it into your two bowls. she turned around, cupping your cheeks, squishing them a bit, before giving you a dramatic kiss.

the two of you sat down next to each other at billie's little kitchen table, your head on her shoulder while you both started eating.

"so you wanna tell me about your chaotic day now?" she nudged your side.

"OH MY GOD I FORGOT!" your mouth was full of food, but your energy and enthusiasm spiked right back up from earlier. "you remember mr. black friday?" billie scrunched her nose, nodding, remembering one of your little characters from work.

"HE FUCKING SHOWED UP TODAY!" the two of you sat and talked for the next hour, shifting positions every so often to get comfy on the kitchen chairs, chatting like two teenage girls at a sleepover.

it was fun, it was easy, it was domestic, it was warm and cozy.

billie cleared the table, smiling as she saw the bottom of your bowl scraped clean. she didn't say anything about it, but she was proud. you continued to yap away about the silly customers who overshared their lives, that one old lady who always returned things within 24 hours of purchasing them, and that one dude who never failed to show up with his dog for some reason.

without interrupting, she lured you back over to the couch, letting you drape yourself in her lap, cozying up to her under the fluffy throw blanket she had tossed over the side.

as she listened to you talk, billie couldn't help but feel like this was so much more than comfort food. this was you finding comfort in the private corners of billie's life, nuzzling your way deeper and deeper into her heart with each passing day.

[babydoll372]

Mommy!Wanda Drabble

Your breath was heavy as you cried into Wanda’s shoulder, your arms tightly around her as you grasped onto any piece of her you could reach. She shushed you softly, rubbing your back and scratching your scalp. She eased your body back and forth, creating a rocking motion one would use on a baby; because that’s what you were to her. Her sweet little baby, pure with all innocence, deserving of not the cruel world you were sobbing over but instead the peaceful one she offered.

“It’s okay, baby…Mommy’s here. Shh, it’s only me, let it all out.” You nodded into her shoulder, choking on your cries but desperately trying to release them all. Your throat was tight in contraction, your legs weak and your mind empty of all but her.

“I- I just-“

“You don’t need to explain, I know exactly what you’re feeling. Oh, you poor thing…” She kissed the side of your head, letting out a soft exhale at the smell of your shampoo. Wanda moved her hands down to your butt, picking you up so that your legs wrapped around her waist. She cooed her praise, guiding you to the bedroom and gently laying you down on the bed alongside her. You latched onto her side, but she held you back for a short moment and you looked up at her in confusion, in sadness and worry that you were crossing a line, bothering her with your clinginess. But once she removed her shirt and led your head back, you let a small smile cross your lips. She grinned in response, lifting your chin and caressing your cheek as she looked down at you.

“You want to suck on Mommy’s breasts, baby girl? Yeah? Yeah you do, oh, such a good girl you are.” You nodded your head eagerly once her first sentence came out, and you bit your lip in urge and waited for her to lead you, which she did. She knew you needed guidance on even the simplest of actions, and she’d gladly give it to you without question.

“Say ‘ahh’,” Your quiet voice came out, repeating her words as your mouth hung open. You were brought to her chest, your lips wrapping around her plump nipples as your eyes fell shut. You hummed, your hand hesitantly coming up to rest upon her breast, the slight squeeze causing a drop of milk to begin supplying your mouth. You smiled around her, taking in every ounce given with pleasure. You were too into the moment that you didn’t see Wanda’s hand in her pants, her fingers caressing her clit and her head thrown back.

“Mm, you’re such a good fucking girl- that’s it, drink all of Mommy’s milk, mhm!” She observed you carefully, your blown-out face causing her to admire. She circled her clit carefully before adding the finger to her tight hole, shuddering at the feeling. A tiny bit of milk dribbled around your lip, some of it leaking out and trailing down your chin. She whimpered louder, nodding quickly. She used her thumb to collect it, pulling your face back for only a moment to allow you to suck on her digit.

“Yeah, you like how my milk tastes? You’re Mommy’s baby, aren’t you, huh? Just my innocent little girl, no clue in the fucking world.” She pulled back, instantly pushing your mouth to return. There was a little bit of force, she was desperate to have you drink her milk again. Your leg habitually fell on top of her knees, your hazy state deepening as you moaned quietly around her. You looked up at her through hooded eyes, the shyness evident in your gaze, and she only cooed softly. Her free hand unoccupied with bringing forth her release fell to your stomach, caressing the skin softly.

“This sweet tummy is so full, practically bulging…” She hummed, eyes rolling to the back of her head as you glanced up at her curiously when feeling her thrusting hips. She came with a sweet moan, and your droopy eyes were able to stay open to watch the vein in her neck bulge. She eased her fingers out of her hole carefully, quickly adjusting your body so that you were now entirely on top of her. You released her nipple with a pop, wordlessly asking if you could go to the next, and her quick nod was all the permission you needed. You whimpered around her when you felt her wet fingers rubbing your clit enthusiastically, as if she was not willing to take her time.

“Mommy-“

“Shh, just keep sucking, Princess, Mommy just wants to play for a little bit, okay?” You squeezed your eyes shut in slight pain as she stretched out your tight entrance, quickly returning your mouth to where it belonged.

“That’s my girl, always listens so well. You deserve a little treat, don’t you?”

[ldydeath]

Feels Like I'll Die Without You 6 | Kwon Ji-yong (G-Dragon)

Summary: You finally admit your feelings to yourself and take matters into your own hands to get the future you want. Consequences be damned. Word Count: 2k Warnings: 18+ MDNI. Unprotected p in v, fluff Author’s Note: Y’all we’re finally here - a decision has been made. We’re nearing the end of these two crazy kids’ journey. I hope this part was worth all the pain. The rest of the series can be found here.

Leaving LA had left a sour taste in your mouth. You couldn’t go another month without talking to Jiyong. This wasn’t what you wanted anymore. You were always going to have feelings for him, you just needed to stop being so scared before you lost him forever. 

Arriving at your tour destination you’d called up your management team and explained what was going on. That you were pregnant and as much as you wanted to tour there was too much going on in your personal life to continue on with this tour and stay healthy. You’d gone to instagram as soon as you’d been given the ok to announce the cancellation of your tour due to personal reasons.

You might be ruining your career, but you needed to fix your personal life before you ruined everything. You knew Jiyong was heading back home before his next tour stop and you were planning on meeting him there. 

Consequences be damned. If you didn’t do this now, you might never. Limiting the comments on your tour announcement, you turned your phone off and settled in for the long flight to South Korea. 

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

Jiyong frowned as his thumb hovered over your instagram post. He couldn’t help but feel like he was somewhat responsible for your tour announcement. That, or something had happened to the baby in the few hours you’d been apart. Closing the app, he swiped on your name and let out a frustrated groan as it went straight to voicemail. You were never fully offline. 

“You ok?” He turned to Sam, the girl he’d been seeing and nodded his head. 

“Yeah, just can’t get a hold of someone.” He shrugged, sliding his phone into his pocket. 

“I’m sure they’ll call you when they can.” She smiled, turning her attention back to the move the two of them had been watching. 

“Yeah.” He sighed, pulling his phone back out to read the post again. Looking for clues. Where the fuck were you? 

Have you heard from y/n?  He fired the text of before he could take it back, a reply from Youngbae came within seconds.

No? I thought you were over her.

She’s pregnant. 

He scratched his head, moving away from Sam. This wasn’t a conversation he was willing to have with her - maybe ever. She was a good distraction, but she wasn’t you. 

Fuck. Yours? 

Yes.

When did you…? You know what, it doesn’t matter. You got a mess on your hands, Ji. You better figure out what you want and let that poor girl go if it’s y/n. 

She doesn’t want me, it doesn’t matter what I want. 

When did you last see her?

When I was in LA. I told her about Sam. 

…and she canceled her world tour, something she’s been dreaming about for years. Yeah, my guy. She wants you. 

A knock at the door nearly made Jiyong drop his phone. Before he could even comprehend what was happening, Sam had moved to answer the door. Jiyong stopped in his tracks when he saw you. Your eyes wide as you took in the sight of Sam. 

“Oh, I’m sorry. I must have the wrong apartment.” You hadn’t spotted Jiyong standing in the hallway. 

“Holy shit. You’re…I didn’t know you and Jiyong were friends!” Sam squealed. “I’m a huge fan.” Jiyong moved slowly. Your eyes catching his. 

“We’re not. Just the wrong apartment, sorry.” You turned and left.

You knew he’d been seeing someone but he had said it wasn’t serious. So why was she answering the door to his apartment? Seemed more serious than he’d let out. 

“That was weird.” Sam frowned, shutting the door and turning to face Jiyong. 

“I have to go, don’t be here when I get back.” 

He didn’t bother to look back as he raced out of the apartment, calling your name as he slammed the front door behind him. He’d made his choice, it was always going to be you. But you were already gone, he hadn’t been quick enough. With a defeated sigh he headed back inside his now empty apartment. He tried your phone again but it was still going straight to voicemail. 

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

A few hours later Jiyong heard the faint sound of knocking from his balcony. He’d been chain smoking since you left, a habit he was trying to quit now that he was going to be a dad. Putting out his cigarette he made his way to the front door. Eyes widening when he saw you. 

“Didn’t think you’d come back.” He stepped aside, letting you in. 

“Slight overreaction on my part.” You shrugged as you made your way inside. “Forgot my phone was off and saw you called. A lot.” 

“That wasn’t all at once.” His hands raising in the air in self defense. “When I saw you canceled your tour I was worried. When you didn’t answer, I worried more.” 

You moved to sit down, letting out a sigh. The events of the past few days catching up to you. Jiyong noticed your mood shift, he always did and rushed to your side.

“I’m ok.” You smiled up at him, not pushing him away for once. “I’m sorry I worried you. I just needed to see you.” 

Jiyong nodded, moving to sit down next to you. “Okay, but why?” 

“Because I lied.” You bit your lip. “I do know how I feel about you. I felt it when I saw you that night we ran into each other and I’ve not been able to get you out of my head. I’m so in love with you, Jiyong. I feel like maybe I have been my entire life. I was just scared to admit it. But I can’t do this. I can’t see you once a month and pretend like everything is fine. Or watch you fall in love with someone else. I’m so tired. Tired of being scared, tired of not being with you. Tired of fighting this. I’m sorry for everything I’ve -“

Jiyong’s lips cut you off before you could finish your sentence. The tension of the day fading away as he kissed you slowly. Your lips moved against his, your body moving to face him fully as he deepened the kiss. Your arms snaked around his neck as his wrapped around you, pulling you to him until you were straddling his lap. 

Jiyong poured all the love he felt for you into the kiss, taking his time with you. This was always how it was supposed to be, not some rushed act of desperation in a bathroom. He had twelve years of lost time to make up for, now that he had you he wasn’t letting you go. 

He moved, his hands holding onto your thighs as he stood up, bringing you with him. Your legs wrapped around him tightly as he carried you to the bedroom. He sat you down carefully on the bed, before kneeling down in front of you. He helped you out of your shoes, and then your pants before finally lifting your top off you slowly. 

He crawled onto the bed, hovering over you before his lips were back on yours. Your hands moved to undo his fly, pushing his pants down. You weren’t going to be the only one undressed. Your hands roamed his body, sliding under his shirt and pulling it up. He broke the kiss to discard it. His lips latching onto your neck, leaving a trail of open mouthed kisses down your body. 

He stopped at your stomach, the slightest bump showing and he grinned as he kissed you gently before moving back up, kissing all the way back to your lips as he positioned himself between your thighs. His eyes locked on yours as he sunk into you slowly. 

He took his time, letting your body adjust to him being inside of you and your back arched, your hands moving to his back, pushing him in further. Jiyong rolled his hips against yours, his dick twitching inside of you and you moaned, your back arching as he began moving slowly. 

Jiyong leaned in, kissing you slowly, his tongue slipping inside your mouth as you let out a moan. Your tongues danced together as your body matched his movements. Your legs moving up to wrap around him, helping guide his movements. 

“I love you.” He whispered against your lips before burning his head in your neck, his movements getting faster. 

Your hand moved to cradle the back of his head as yours fell back against the mattress, your hips rolling against his, causing him to groan against your neck. He bit down on your skin gently, making sure he didn’t leave a mark before he lifted his head back up. His eyes locking on yours as your moans got louder. He slipped his hand between the two of you, his thumb rubbing slow circles on your clit,  bringing you closer to the edge. 

“I’m so close.” You panted. 

“Come for me.” He encouraged his movements getting faster. 

You came undone, his name falling from your lips. With one finally thrust, he rolled his hips against yours, coming inside you. The only sound in the room was the soft sounds of your moans as he stayed inside of you, as you rode out your orgasms. Your hands holding onto him tightly before you fell back against the mattress. Your body relaxing against him. 

Jiyong pulled out of you slowly, kissed your lips softly and got out of the bed to retrieve two robes. Helping you into one before sliding into his. 

“So, we’re doing this then?” He glanced down at you a smirk on his lips. 

“Yeah, I don’t want to waste anymore time. I think we’ve done enough of that.”

He pulled you to him, his lips brushing the top of your head. There was still so much to figure out. Like where you’d live. You’d never taken that step the first time you’d been together but now there was a baby involved.

“Oh.” You sat up, looking around in the bed for your bag. “I have something for you.” 

You ran out of the room, Jiyong falling back against the headboard as he watched you. You came back a few minutes later, the ultrasound picture in hand.

“You should have a picture of her too.” You handed it to him. “And this.” You pulled out a flash drive giving it to him. 

He looked at it with a raised brow before turning his head back to you. 

“It’s a video. I thought you might want to use her heartbeat for something sometime.” You shrugged. 

Jiyong grinned, leaning into kiss you. Pulling away he set the photo on his nightstand, now he’d have both of his girls with him all the time. 

“It’s perfect. You're perfect. She’s perfect. Thank you.” 

“I think we should announce it, Ji.” You pulled your phone out. 

“What, us? Don’t take a picture of me, I’m indecent!” You snorted, rolling your eyes. 

“Bathrobe in Japan showed more skin than you are right now.” You beamed at him. “But no, look.” You pulled up the draft you had saved on your instagram. 

He took the phone from you, looking it over and nodded his approval. You tagged him in it and hit post. It took only seconds for the comments and likes to start coming in. Jiyong reached for his phone to accept the tag request so that the post would show on both of your pages, front and center. 

There would’ve been a time he’d want to keep something like this private, but he was tired of hiding. This was all he’d ever wanted, a life with you, a child, and he was finally getting it all. He stared at the coming soon post, a smile on his face as he pulled you back to him. You had plenty of time to figure out the rest of your lives, tonight was about reconnecting with you, the love of his life. 

If you’d told him the night he ran into you again this was how it was going to end, he wouldn’t have believed you.  He didn’t know how he’d managed to get so lucky, but he thanked whatever lucky stars were looking out for him. His lips brushed against yours again. He planned to show you how much he loved you all night long. 

tag list: @wcnderlnds @infinetlyforgotten @berfgrimm @aizshallnotbefound @loveesiren @gdinthehouseee @tulentiy @petersasteria @ttturnitup @flymetothexmoon @alosss-blog @sooyasya @dprvivi @mirahyun @breakmeoff @1950schick @sherrayyyyy @bettelaboure @allthoughtsmindfull

[ilidaeandquill]

Thinking about the different Gateways in Cult of the Lamb.

Gateways. Plural. Not enough people acknowledge the fact that we enter multiple gateways.

This Gateway is pretty obvious. For simplicity purposes, I’ll call it “The Gateway.” It’s the Gateway where Narinder, Baal, and Amy were imprisoned - but that’s all we know about it.

We know it has multiple points of entry. No clue why, though, or what the significance of these entrances is. It’s also implied that the Lamb goes to the Gateway any time they die, so what makes these entrances so significant during the final fight and Narinder’s imprisonment?

And this. I don’t want to call it “Hell” since our surviving, mortal followers can come with us: I’ll call it “The Hellscape.”

We only come here once, during the final boss fight. Can the Lamb access it again? How? What purpose does this realm serve? And hey back to Narinder dragging mortals into the Hellscape - how could he do that? Can the Lamb do that? Can they do the opposite? Could they, theoretically, try to enter the afterlife and visit other Lambs? What would the consequences of an adventure like that be?

And then this. The Goat’s Gateway. The Goat in general. So little is known about you, and that both infuriates and infatuates me.

The Goat is from another universe. Is this the Gateway from whence you came? Then I’ll call this “The Parallel Gateway,” if only to simplify things for myself.

Why does it look so similar, yet so different, to the other Gateway? In place of chains, there's some sort of tentacle demon (what's with the significance of tentacles anyway in CotL???). Who is that? Why are they here? What's the ichor-like substance all around the statue and in the puddle? Is it ichor? The resurrection curse? Something else entirely? Did I fuck up the lore in my fic?

Why could the Lamb only come here after defeating TOWW and becoming the God of Death? Could Narinder have made it here? Did he? Did any of the Bishops?

And back to the one character we know came from this place: The Goat. I wonder how they reacted to this new world. I wonder if they even knew they traveled between worlds.

(Ah you know what. Fuck it. I need to write a little warm-up today anyway. I've scheduled the next two hours to be writing time so I'll just warm up here.)

Errant as it is, I can't bring myself to hate it. To even think of its evil.

Every other part of this world is evil; if the Parallel Gateway truly stems from such malice, nothing will change. Is it going to scare you with stories of slaughter and sin? That exists beyond the Parallel, beyond the Gateways, beyond anything only belonging to gods.

There is nothing about this vast world that can scare you now. You've seen it all. Instinct turns into habit, turns into mantras, turns into routine. The handle of the axe fits your hands so well. Years ago, their own crown morphed into a sword, and all they did was grin.

Errant as it is, this truth means nothing to you. So, you came from a parallel universe. What difference does it make? You're here now, and the Lamb in front of you, palm outstretched to clasp your own. Eons of mystery dwell under your feet, deep like ichor.

A part of you could care less. You take the outstretched hand and follow it through pristine fields.

The Lamb guides you through their own Gateways. With the hand that is not holding yours, they point to chains, climbing from heaven to heaven. Your own Gateway held beasts instead of bindings. You share this news with the Lamb; they let out a startled bleat.

A crevice waited in its fields, shattered like glass. The Lamb smiles sadly when they look at it. "He was powerful," they start, "my benefactor. So powerful they trapped him here for eons. And, still, it was not enough."

Not enough - you try not to laugh. Infinity was not enough? Errant as it is, you let the Lamb ramble, for they are your greatest ally.

The Lamb stands from the crevice, hellfire warm on their cheeks. "If you want, we can return now."

That word catches your mind. "Return?" For you had a home, once, beyond this realm. You have your own Gateway. Ichor still tugs on your cashmere.

The Lamb takes no note of such ichor. Their home is yours, now. You are theirs, now.

You find your way back to the mortal realm, together.

[spacequokka]

Page 12

Prompt: “I’m sleep deprived and I have a crush on you so I don’t know how to act normal around you right now.”

When you opened the door, it took everything in you not to flinch. “Oh geez, Chris. You look like hell.” To be fair, he was usually more lively, less zombie-like. Even the dark bags under his eyes had bags on them.

“Darling, please just let me in unless you’d rather drag me in or have your neighbors think you’ve committed a murder.” His voice was much deeper than normal with a rasp that, coupled with the pet name he’d never used before, derailed your whole train of thought for a second. You silently stepped aside and gestured for him to walk through. “Thank you.”

He toed off his shoes as you locked the door. “Did you want some coffee or something? Or did you come here to crash?”

“I should sleep, but if I do I’ll be up all night again. Can’t think of anything to do—but you—to stay awake.” His sigh was a borderline moan as he flopped down on the couch across the cushions, effectively taking up all the seats. Wait, what did he— “I’ll take coffee.”

“I, uh, yeah. Coming right up.” You went to the kitchen, more than ready to let it go and ignore the desire spiking between your thighs. “So what’s the reason this time? Another pet project?”

“I wish.” He groaned and covered his face with his arm. “No, I was helping a friend put the finishing touches on his mixtape. It’s his first solo so he’s pressed to make it perfect.”

You couldn’t help the giggle. “You were the same way when you did your first one. If I recall, you couldn’t chill the fuck out until the day it dropped. Like one of those Bridezillas.” The coffee maker clicked signaling the end of the cycle and you poured some in two cups. “He likely learned from watching you.”

“Oh God. I can’t even defend that. I’m that exhausted.”

You added his preferred amount of cream and sugar to his cup then brought it over. As soon as you set the cup down on the coffee table, he grabbed your hand and pulled you down on the couch easily positioning you along his side against the back cushions. Once your head was comfortably situated on his chest where he could brush his lips on your forehead, he sighed again with a much happier tone. Admittedly, you were bewildered. You weren’t even aware you two were chummy enough for cuddles.

Unable to process how different he was acting from his usual friendly but distant demeanor, you broke the silence. “Chris, what’s going on? Why are you acting so…weird?”

He made a little noise. “What’s considered normal?” He shrugged and pulled you closer. “I’m hella sleep deprived right now, and I have a crush on you so I honestly have no clue how I usually act around you. But I like this. This is nice.”

“I—” It took forever for your brain to reboot, and by the time it did, he was fast asleep.

[jibitzlesscrocs]

hiii how are you?? i have a request for a smut Matt. i was thinking maybe his girlfriend is modeling for something and she asked Matt to keep her company during the shooting or while she was trying on the outfit for measurements whatever, and the stylist asked her to go to the catwalk and started walking cuz he wants to see better how she moves, and maybe she has big tits wearing a tight top, everything moves and bounces and Matt gets a little horny (also maybe jealous because she has lots of attention from other hot male models) and they ended up having jealous sex somewhere. You totally don’t have to do this if it’s not your vibes, i love your writing❤️❤️

hi love ! i’m doing good what about u ?? this one’s for u !!

matt sturniolo x reader

warning : smut , p n v, blowjob

jealousy in the dressing room

in which, matt shows his model girlfriend she’s only his

The warehouse-style studio was colder than expected, all concrete floors and giant white backdrops, the soft buzz of lighting rigs above and the flutter of fabric as models walked in and out. Matt leaned back against the wall, arms crossed, trying to look chill even though his jaw had been clenched since they walked in.

His girlfriend, You— were standing in front of a full-length mirror in a barely-there outfit: tight, cropped white top that hugged your chest like it was painted on and a silky low-waisted skirt that swayed with every step. your stylist flitted around you like an excited bee, adjusting a strap here, tugging the skirt lower there.

Then came the call:

“Can you walk for me? Just from there to the end of the platform, yeah?”

Matt’s eyes snapped up from his phone as you stepped up onto the makeshift runway.

And walked.

God help him.

your hips moved like music, graceful but natural, and your chest bounced just enough that Matt’s throat dried up. The top was so tight he could see the exact curve of your breasts, every shift of your weight making them jiggle slightly, teasingly.

He looked around—and that’s when the jealousy really hit.

Every damn model in the room was watching you. Some subtly. Others not so much.

Tall, chiseled guys with perfect hair and cocky smirks. One of them muttered something to another, and they both chuckled.

Matt’s jaw twitched.

You turned on her heel and walked back toward the mirror, oblivious to the mini crowd you had unintentionally pulled. You looked beautiful—confident, effortless—but when your eyes found Matt’s across the room, your smile faltered. you could see it in his face.

He was pissed.

The stylist started adjusting the top again, but Matt pushed off the wall and strode over.

“Can I borrow her for a sec?” he asked, not really waiting for a response before gently taking your wrist.

He led you behind a curtain partition where racks of clothes were half-hiding a small makeup station. Alone. Quiet. His hand didn’t let go of yours.

“What’s going on with you?” you asked, your voice soft but laced with curiosity.

Matt stepped in close, one hand resting on the small of your back, the other tracing up your waist to where the top hugged your breasts.

“This top should be illegal,” he murmured, his eyes dark. “You have any idea what you look like out there?”

A blush bloomed on your cheeks. “Is that a complaint?”

“No. That’s the problem,” he muttered, pressing his lips to your jaw. “You looked too good. Everyone noticed.”

“You jealous?” you teased.

He growled low in his throat. “You have no idea.”

“God…Your tits…” he mutters between kisses, his hand squeezing your waist, dragging up over your ribs to cup your breasts , pinching your nipples, making you whimper. “Watching you walk out there like that, with your tits bouncing… and those guys looking at you? Fuck. You have no clue what that did to me.”

You bite your lip and look up at him with a slow smile. “So what are you gonna do about it?”

His eyes darken. “Get on your knees.”

Your heart skips, pulse thrumming wild in your chest—but you sink down without hesitation. The concrete floor is cold against your knees, but your body’s on fire. You unbuckle his belt with eager fingers, the sound of it slipping through the loops sharp and loud in the hush of the hidden space.

Matt’s already half-hard—jealousy clearly does things to him—and you wrap your lips around his tip, slow at first, teasing. He hisses through his teeth as your tongue swirls, hands tangling in your hair.

“Fuck, just like that,” he growls. “So fuckin’ pretty with your mouth full.”

You moan around him, bobbing your head deeper, letting spit drip messily down your chin. You take him all the way, throat tightening as he hits the back, and tears prick at your eyes, but you don’t stop—you want it sloppy, want him to lose it.

You use both hands to stroke what your mouth can’t reach, making obscene, wet noises as you suck him harder, faster. His hips twitch, thighs flexing, his grip tightening in your hair.

“You’re mine,” he grits out, looking down at you. “None of those fuckers out there get this. Only me. You hear me?”

You moan in response, pulling off with a gasp and wiping your spit-covered lips with the back of your hand. “Only you, Matt.”

He hauls you up, spins you around, and bends you over the dressing table without a word. Your skirt’s already pushed up. He yanks your panties down in one sharp tug and presses the head of his cock right against your dripping entrance.

“Been thinking about this since you walked out there,” he mutters against your neck, teeth grazing your skin. “You showing off, looking like that? You knew what you were doing.”

You whimper, nodding. “Wanted your attention.”

“You got it.”

He thrusts into you hard, and your breath catches on a gasp—he fills you so deep, stretching you wide, no time to adjust. His hips slap against your ass as he sets a brutal rhythm, one hand gripping your waist, the other tangled in your hair to pull your head back.

The mirror in front of you shows the whole thing—your flushed, open-mouthed reflection getting fucked into the table, his dark eyes locked on your face.

Your breasts bounce with every thrust, still hugged by the tiny top, your hands scrambling to brace against the slick surface.

“You feel that?” he grunts, slamming into you harder. “That’s what happens when you make me jealous. Can’t fucking help myself.”

“Matt—” you cry out, voice broken and shaky, eyes fluttering closed.

“Keep your eyes open. Look at how pretty you are getting ruined.”

You do. You watch yourself come apart—his cock dragging against that spot inside you over and over until your legs shake, until your vision goes white. You cum with a shudder and a moan, body going limp beneath him, but he doesn’t stop.

“Can’t stop,” he groans, hips still slamming into you. “So tight. So fuckin’ wet for me.”

He follows a second later, holding deep inside you, groaning low in your ear as he fills you. For a moment, all you can hear is the ragged sound of your breathing and the faint rustle of dresses swaying nearby.

Matt leans forward, presses a soft kiss to your shoulder, still buried inside you.

“You’re mine,” he says again, quieter this time. “No one else gets you like this.”

And you smile, lips swollen and body trembling, because he’s right.

Only him.

taglist : @courta13 , @sunkissedsturniolos , @ivysturnss , @imsoborediwannadie , @emeraldsturns , @beabadoobeelvur , @moth-feeet , @lezleeferguson-120 , @theowensturniolo , @leahfaith , @nickysturnss , @mattspillowprincess

MAI’S STORE

there’s like so many things going on here i didn’t know what to make the title AHAH

[wildstar25]

MiqoMarch Day 6 - Secret

The jealousy that began to bubble up, though likely pointless to hide from her of all people, Arsay desperately tried to keep a secret from her dear friend Krile.

[xxplastic-cubexx]

Had to explain to a friend today that No Really I Swear Magneto And Professor X Are Friends And Like Each Other Thats Canon And Real

[lighthouseas]

girls when 1 occurrence brings back 1928282828383839 middle school memories of being excluded and bullied

[mylove-thresher]

new mechanical pencils so fayahhhhh

[rottenbrainstuff]

So it gets closer and closer to my city’s big comic expo, and they are announcing more and more guests, and…

I’ve been thinking about the guests they bring in these days, vs the earlier days of the show before they were bought out by Fan Expo.

In the early days, it was very much the nerd convention. There was a big focus on sci fi and fantasy, and then as the show got bigger, whatever pop culture stuff was big at the time: Walking Dead, Supernatural, Marvel shows, whatever. I’m looking at the guest roster for this year so far, and thinking about the one last year, and these days it’s all just….. generic 90s nostalgia. Old actors from random old movies and tv shows that would appeal to a normie audience approximately my age. Fantasy and sci fi? I mean there’s a couple Dr Who actors who will be there I guess?

And it’s not because oh well, bringing in more generic mainstream guests will bring in a larger mainstream crowd! Because that’s not what’s happening here. When I went last year, after not attending since before COVID, I was actually shocked at the decrease in attendance from what I was used to seeing, and the artist alley is literally half the size it used to be when I used to have a table.

Like. The convention itself is nerd shit. Normies don’t think it’s fun to pay admission to go and stand in long lineups and then shell out even more money for expensive autographs and photoshoots. Bringing generic guests won’t bring in a large generic audience. They simply will not be interested.

I dunno man. I miss the days when our convention was a smaller show run by people who were really passionate, and we got Star Trek cast reunions and all the lotr hobbits and John Rhys Davies giving a fascinating 40 minute lecture about astronomy instead of being forced to answer the same stupid boring fan questions about “what was it like to do x thing”.

But hey. If you are a fan of random 90s tv shows, you will enjoy our 2025 lineup!

[yeonban]

ᵗʰᵉ 𝑫𝑼𝑺𝑻𝒀 𝑻𝑶𝒀𝑩𝑶𝑿.

@cinderlynx asked: what do you want most in the world ? / tobias !

Silence engulfs the room once the question rolls off Ash's tongue and Tobias glances over in equal inquisitive nature, as if to pry: what's brought this on? A teasing response would normally follow, but for once there is none; the typical jokes being replaced with a thoughtful hum. He knows very well what he wants, the issue is merely explaining it adequately enough to drill it through the dozen barriers Ash's subconscious has planted into his psyche. Turning his gaze away from the blonde and setting it on the nearest wall as if gazing somewhere far away— somewhere no longer reachable yet still acting as a vengeful ghost hovering over Tobias' present nonetheless, the brunette contemplates how to go about this.

Anyone with half an intact brain would be able to discern Tobias' avid distaste for boredom after spending a few minutes' worth of time near the mafioso, yet no soul bar his own is aware of why this revulsion has taken root, much less at what point in time it has first sprung into existence. He supposes that's a contextual clue he must fill in for Ash here, lest his friend underestimates the significance of his actual answer. ❛ Have you ever been locked in a dark, empty room for years, with nothing to do and no idea when you'll be let out? ❜ Tobias' tone is gentle, no different from the usual despite the unsettling query being uttered, and he spares little time for whatever puzzlement might next ensue. It's a rhetorical question anyway, and he expects no retort to it. ❛ I have. ❜ An equally calm affirmation, one that is entirely devoid of a normal person's negative emotions which are oft synchronous with it, and his nonchalance almost gives off the impression that he is speaking of someone else's life, someone completely unrelated, than of his own experiences.

The story isn't deemed important enough to even be continued after it finishes playing its introductory role, representing merely one out of the many similar memories from Tobias' recollection— no different to him than someone else's remembrance of their playground days. Whereas other children would play with one another on the swings or dig into the sand, Tobias' version of childhood games lies in the knives he managed to sneak into the room during the instances he was allowed out, and in the goreish practices he was allowed out for in the first place. Whether digging in the sand or in someone's guts, it made no difference to him at the time, and it certainly doesn't mean anything to him these days either. There is a clinical apathy towards the details of his own past that essentially rivals the indifference Tobias feels about everybody else's suffering, and it's this void of emptiness that further exacerbates his already irksome boredom.

If there is nothing to care about, his very life included, then what can hope to touch him enough as to warrant a lasting reaction? To bring forth an emotion he isn't accustomed to (happiness, excitement, glee) is a formidable feat in and of itself, rare as it might be without requiring his direct intervention, but to maintain that state of amusement... that has nearly been proven impossible several times over the years, if not for Tobias' resolute obstinacy continuing to date. He'll either have his way, or he'll die trying; that is what the teen is dead set on. ❛ I can do what I want now, but it turns out the boredom I've felt back then is every ounce as stubborn as I am. No matter what I do, where I go or who I meet up with, as soon as the novelty wears off, I become bored again. This really pisses me off, so what I want is to get rid of this pesky boredom for good. But that's still a pretty vague answer, isn't it? I'm not sure if it's even one hundred percent possible either. ❜ To annihilate it fully... he doubts this sort of goal is truly achievable. Boredom has become such a core trait of his, a haunting latching, that Tobias figures it shall always be present somewhere inside of him (at the back of his mind if not at the forefront of his soul, merely waiting for the opportune moment to once again rear its ravenous head).

It's a war fought on the losing side, and the years spent jumping from one interest to another have only managed to stall his inconvenient yet eventual defeat. This loss, loathe as he is to admit it, is something Tobias is keenly aware of. However, should he twist the meaning of "getting rid of his boredom for good" into simply chucking it out of the way by means of attaining perpetual amusement... then, even with it still glued to his being, wouldn't he at least ensure that this never-ending struggle shall transform into a permanent stalemate (a much more agreeable thing) than have it one day end in his promised defeat? This idea has rarely been debated until recently, splendid conceptually yet impossible in practice, but startlingly enough this once unworkable option has begun to slowly take shape as of late, displaying its feasibility with none other than the teen currently sitting next to him.

With Ash, it should be possible for his boredom to become a thing of the past, he knows this to be true (he hopes it to be true; because if it isn't achievable with Ash, then it most certainly will never be with anyone). ❛ Right now I feel pretty close to achieving it, though. With you around I'm always having fun, I look forward to hanging out together every day, and I even feel excited about being alive for once— plus, unlike the other people I've met, you don't even have to try to keep me entertained. It comes naturally to you, doesn't it? ❜ Which, though it may not seem particularly important on the surface, guarantees that even without Tobias' consistent efforts (which oh, what a vast part of his days goes into the scheming required to secure him at least some semblance of fun around the boring people who always surround him), he would never have to concern himself with the possibility of his boredom returning ever again. A weight lifted off his shoulders, if he's to describe this sort of sentiment as he's often heard other people express it.

With that, Tobias turns to face his friend once more, eyes seeking Ash's while the rest of his body remains unmoving in its newly shifted position. Initiating touch while dropping what is almost certainly classified as an informational bomb on the blonde isn't bound to do well; even less so when Ash is probably still experiencing some sort of emotion or another after hearing a sad (is it?) tidbit about his childhood (which Tobias figures he is likely to be; because his emotive friend tends to feel something about everything, whether he's conscious of these sentiments or subconsciously inhibiting them)— therefore, it's best to take it one step at a time, with words coming first, then actions following later once his proclamations have been properly ingested and understood. He's sure plenty of people have previously told the blonde something of a similar ilk after all, most with less than ideal intents, so what matters most for Tobias' declaration is to expunge Ash's apprehension about what his words might mean before it even has a chance to form. Careful with the phrasing. Overexplain everything so he won't overthink your words into what he might be used to hearing. ❛ So, to be more specific for Your Highness' sake, what I want most in the world is you, Ash. ❜ Except the mafioso doesn't stop there; leaving no room for misunderstandings by immediately carrying on with the extrapolated meaning behind his wish. Although Tobias is plenty similar to the men in Ash's nightmares on other fronts, this aspect is not one they share any similarities in. Where, pray tell, is the fun in controlling someone, when it's their unshackled self that makes them worthwhile? If Ash were to bend to his will, or to anyone's for that matter, Tobias is rather certain his interest in the other would dwindle, if not plummet entirely.

In the brunette's eyes, Ash is worth everything because he is Ash rather than because he is the personification of someone's physical or material desires, as is clearly the case for the majority of the people Tobias has met around Ash thus far— and he hasn't even been around this city for that long. ❛ If you're with me, and continue to focus your attention on me like you've been doing... I couldn't care less about anything else. I don't want you to do anything out of the ordinary— just be as you are, keep giving me your undivided attention, and don't leave me. Keep to these few little requests of mine, and I'll turn the whole world upside down to guarantee your happiness. ❜ It's not the first time he's promised the gang leader one thing or another, the majority of which might sound absurdly impractical in any sane person's mind, but this is as good a moment as any to let the gang leader know what a vast promise this truly is, and that Tobias intends to uphold it nevertheless, crazy as its contents might seem. Fleetingly, Tobias also wonders if staring at Ash from this angle, from their equal positions on the couch, may become a stressor with this sort of answer suddenly sprung on him. There is no reason for the blonde to fear him (he's made sure of that all this time, for fuck's sake) but little does a voice of reason matter in alleviating one's worries if the experience of repeated abuse insists on likening the mafioso to all of those who declared they want Ash before he did. He'd rather that not happen here, not if he can avoid it.

He ponders on the thought for a brief second, before rising from the couch— not to hover assertively over the blonde as he imagines many might in his stead, but to kneel down in front of Ash's side of the couch while looking up at the other teen in a clear display of amicable submission; relaxing his muscles as to appear truly as harmless as can be. Now even if Ash's instincts are on alert, the knowledge that from their current positions Ash has the evident advantage in every sense should help ease all of the teen's tension enough to hopefully place his trust in the safety the brunette has worked so hard to become associated with. With that potential complication out of the way, Tobias' speech picks up from where it left off, and the older teen intentionally phrases his subsequent inquiry as a request rather than as a demand; as something which Ash has control over rather than as something imposed upon him. ❛ I know you're a real popular guy and all, but pick me over everyone else vying for your interest, okay? I promise you won't regret it. ❜ And if this will make Ash agree to his terms more readily— why the hell not, sure; he can beg and try to look pitiable. ❛ Please. ❜

[graciousdragon]

I FUCKING DID SOMETHING FOR ONCE LET'S GO!!!

ok so i was listening to this song like a week ago and i saw this animation clear as day in my mind and i knew i had to try and storyboard it out while i was thinking of it. i wanna do the full song at some point because it is So Very Them-coded but i do not have the time rn and will not for a while (i barely had the time to make this) so for now i just made sure i got the really complicated part out of the way. figured i'd post it because. why not lol

anyway. this is for my Darkest Desire AU story!! it's called Glitching Fates!! i am so normal about it and i have been for years now. it is. so far removed from the source material but i do not care it is very special to me :]

as a sort of summary for what's going on here, the night guard and Will used to be really good friends but they both ended up getting busy with their own lives so they couldn't interact as much, and then the whole Glitchtrap possession thing happens which reunites them but also drives a wedge between them since Will is blindly following Glitchtrap while the night guard is trying to find a way to stop Glitchtrap.

i am so not fucking normal about these characters you all have no idea. oh my god. they have permanent residence in my mind rn. i need people to ask me about them or else I Will Become Violent (/j)

hope y'all liked this, or at least i hope y'all found my passive-agressive notes to myself funny lol. under the cut i typed up all the handwritten ones in case y'all want to read them but can't make out my handwriting

a fuckin uh.. pillar or somethin idk

ooh cool scene transition

how do i convey that he's walking onto a train

dismissive wave

hair is longer to indicate passage of time

pretend this shot doesn't look like total dogshit ok?

hey how did my anatomy manage to get That Much Fucking Worse this far in

there is Something wrong here. i just cannot tell What

that is. so much better what the fuck

ok that's all thank you for looking at my post :]