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revehae · 9 months ago

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party monster

pairing ↠ best friend!jennie x (f) reader (but not really)

genre .. warnings ↠ smut, thoughts of noncon, sub!jennie, oral, noncon recording, monsterfucking

summary ↠ for years you’ve crushed on jennie kim, your best friend, the queen of queens, the party monster. but it seems that you’re not exactly her type.

wc ↠ 3.3k

a/n ↠ this is my first time writing this kind of fic in 6 months so i am unfortunately quite rusty…

don’t like it, don’t read.

she looked like royalty on top of him.

you couldn’t deny it - you could never deny jennie anything. how could you? she was funny, enchanting, downright beautiful, and she was your friend of many years.

your best friend, to be exact. it was a title you were proud to claim, one you had never taken for granted. you had always been there, whether she needed to laugh or she needed to cry, and you would always be there for whatever she needed.

but apparently, she didn’t need you for this.

it was not your intention to find her this way, to be fair. in your search for an empty bathroom, chance had led you to the one connected to the bedroom your best friend and her boy toy occupied. you had only come here in need of relief, but in her own way, jennie yearned for something similar.

yet so different all at once. you knew her voice when it came to your ears, even if it was at a pitch and with a breathlessness you had never quite heard, and your curiosity had gotten the better of you. they must have been too lost in the haze of their arousal, because they never seemed to notice they’d left the bathroom door open for all the world to see.

and you did see. you saw her on top of this nameless boy, her cashmere dress in a heap on the floor, sweat gathering at her soft skin and glimmering in the moonlight like precious pearls. you saw how pleasure took her by its gnarled hand, her lips crying the cries of angels. you saw how his greedy hands were all over her, touching her, surely not knowing just how lucky he was.

you could only stand there, trembling with the intensity of an emotion you had never known this deeply. there was a hot throb in your chest as cruelly it tightened, and in the same moment you could hear this nameless boy swearing about how tightly she was wound around him.

in that moment, she had taken a form you had never seen of her before, becoming a thing so violently unknown to you, and all you could think about was how none of it was for you. it was certainly not the first time she’d whored herself out to someone that wasn’t you, but seeing it happen in front of you was different than being regaled on the tales.

those boys were faceless, something you could convince yourself never existed as you pictured only jennie’s cries of ecstasy. even now, this nameless boy wasn’t so nameless anymore as you heard it fall brokenly from her lips.

but it’s okay, you consoled yourself, turning away from the door. you could fix her.

that had been three months ago at least. you were still doing everything in your power to come up with something to salvage your broken heart with, in spite of already knowing jennie got around, but you had come short of viable options.

and like that fateful night all those months before, you were at another party, because nights in new york were when party monsters like jennie came to life. and as to expected of her, she’d strutted inside sporting this lacy dress, the same vibrant red color as her lips.

she was stunning in red.

it was something you had told her more than once. you took your role as jennie’s best friend as though you were the queen’s aide, and in a way, that wasn’t so far from the truth. she was the queen of queens, the party monster, and a woman of her caliber had to look nothing less than like art at every party she set foot on.

that red cashmere dress lived in your head. you had been the one help her decide, and yet some boy had been the one to take it off.

“hey, where’s jen?” rosé asked, poking her head around the corner.

“no idea,” lisa said, finishing what was left of her exquisite wine.

the two girls glanced toward you. of course they did; you were jennie’s best friend. apparently, you were supposed to know what she was up to at all times.

you sighed, peeling yourself off the sofa and sitting your drink on the table. “i’ll look,” you started. “but if she’s somewhere getting dicked down again, you’re going to make an enemy out of me.”

rosé blew you a kiss. “thanks, beautiful.”

“yeah, yeah,” you grumbled, giving your drink one last longful glance as you stepped out of the room.

you took a guess that rosé had come from the main hall and if she hadn’t scouted jennie there, then there was a fair chance she was in one of the upstairs rooms. getting dicked down, you thought disheartenedly, but you searched nonetheless.

you had only seen her that way once and it was something you surely never wanted to see ever again. the memory of the thunder in your chest still lingered and maybe the feeling itself hadn’t exactly faded.

what would it take for her to understand that she was yours? she may not have realized it yet, but you were everything she needed. you could please her in ways she’d never imagined, take her to heights that’d never before been.

you stilled when you heard her voice, almost walking straight past the door. it was of some kind of relief that there were no moans, and she seemed to be quietly chatting about something. with the door barely open, you slipped inside, hoping that it wouldn’t creak.

it took all of two seconds to recognize her, standing at the edge of the bed, but there were no words to describe the horror on your face when you saw the thing next to her.

deep black in color, draped in some slick, indigo substance that coated it smoothly, and towering two feet over her. teeth that could kill with one slight graze. it didn’t look of this world. and yet, jennie didn’t seem afraid; she looked exasperated.

“i thought i told you to stay home,” she hissed, glaring up at the creature. whatever the hell it was.

the alien-like creature seemed indifferent, from what you could make of its features. “hungry,” was all it said.

jennie didn’t seem impressed. “you were fed before i left.”

“hungry,” it repeated, raspier, brushing a long finger down her dress.

jennie slapped its hand away, shaking her head. “no, not here. there’s people, carnal.”

carnal said nothing, overcome by a need that went beyond the bounds of human desire, and returned its finger to her dress. for a second, you thought that it would tear it to shreds, but instead it unzipped the back quicker than she could dispute.

you could hear her whining, but carnal was intent on taking and little would come between that purpose. jennie gasped when it took her by the arm and tugged her onto the floor, silently demanding in its approach, all the while her pretty red dress was tossed into oblivion.

for whatever reason, the sight hadn’t troubled you like it did not too many moons ago. it intrigued you. part of you wanted to emerge from the cloak of the shadows to rescue her from this creature, but the other wanted to watch and see how this would unfold.

jennie’s eyes burned fiercely of ire. “i won’t do it.”

carnal glanced down at her and you swore the sight gave you shivers, but jennie didn’t move. “no?”

“no.”

you had to restrain yourself from gasping when carnal grabbed jennie by strands of hair at the back of her head. it forced her mouth onto its cock, a death grip on her tresses. her whimpers of protest were muffled, meaningless little sounds that no one would bother to hear.

it would be a lie to do otherwise, and thus you had to confess to yourself that you were bemused by the sheer size of its girthy cock. jennie could hardly fit anything an inch longer than the tip into her mouth. it stroked her limits, sped right by them.

but the part that bemused you even further was how after a minute or three, jennie didn’t seem to hate it. there was no way in hell your eyes were making up the way she sucked in every bit she could take, eagerly bobbing her head.

the muffled cries waned into muffled moans, and for no good reason. no efforts were being taken to please her in return. she was this meek little thing on her knees before an otherworldly creature with a name far too apt.

carnal did not react too strongly, but you had to assume that jennie’s potent greed did a number on it. she wasn’t going anywhere, yet the death grip on her hair only got tighter. what she couldn’t fit between her stained lips, she took in her hands and kneaded between her supple fingers.

your mind was everywhere and nowhere at the same time, stretched across a plane of thought. you were strangely immersed in the horrors in front of you, but your questions wandered. every moment that passed, you wondered if maybe you’d had a little too much to drink.

this was a dirty little secret that even you never knew your best friend had. you couldn’t even begin to fathom how this strange creature could be more than a figment of imagination, and you decided that it wasn’t. it would spare you the headache.

you could see the indent on jennie’s hollowed cheeks, hear the wet noises coming from her lips. perhaps it was stranger that you didn’t hate it. only moments ago you had been prepared to curse whatever idiot of a boy you found her with, and now you were quieter than a mouse.

jennie looked like a pebble at its feet. the beast was more massive than you cared to admit aloud, with a strength that spoke for itself, and a cock that promised total destruction and not anything less. it must’ve been part of the allure for her, because you had never seen her so eager.

and why would she be? the queen of new york city herself never had to ask for anything twice, if at all. it would be an honor for anyone to behold her bare form, but none of that power manifested here in this bedroom. she was sucking carnal off like a common whore begging for a dollar.

your memories reeled back to some instances, not many but a few, where you had noticed her visibly adjusting herself after what you could only assume had been a brief sexcapade in a closet somewhere. and for a moment you stopped to wonder if those faceless people you imagined her with had not been boys, but this damned beast.

it almost made you angrier, trying to fathom how this thing had better chances than you did at pursuing her, and all it took was a little force. had you known that, you would’ve staked your claim to her already.

greed was heavy in the air and you saw carnal seize control after allowing jennie to do as she pleased with it, fucking her mouth harder than she could manage. you couldn’t help but be aroused at the sound of her harshly choking. but she didn’t give up, taking every thrust.

quiet sounds escaped carnal’s mouth, raspy to the ears. it did not have much to say, you’d noticed, and it didn’t need to say much either. you could tell that they’d done this countless times before, because they slipped into this as though it was routine.

maybe you were making it up in your mind, but you could’ve sworn that the room had soared a thousand degrees hotter. part of it was ire on your end, but you couldn’t deny the ache in your core. to see her this way, meek and pliant, brought out an insatiable hunger within you.

by the second carnal’s thrusts were becoming more erratic, its self control seemingly unraveling hard. you were impressed that jennie hadn’t begun to choke again, in spite of the relentless pace. you were certain her jaw strained from the effort, but she still made herself a perfect little toy.

you recognized the brink of ecstasy when you saw it and carnal was at the very cusp. its groans even became a little louder, coming from the back of its throat. the only other thing you could hear was labored breathing and the wet smack of jennie’s lips.

you wouldn’t have wanted to cum that way, you would have wanted to be buried every inch deep between her legs, but after a short moment, the thrusts came to a still and carnal growled. given your angle and the darkness, it was hard to see, but you partly saw the leftover cum she couldn’t swallow drip from her chin.

jennie pushed her mouth off, wiping her lips. her naked chest was heaving for breath. when she stood, you could see the shimmer of tears in her misty eyes. she looked like a train wreck.

not a moment later, carnal tore her towards the bed and she gave a high squeak of surprise. your gaze was fixed to her every movement. on the bed, carnal hoisted her into the air as though she was featherlight and sat her over it. jennie reached for its shoulders.

but carnal, on the other hand, had reached for something else. to your surprise, it began to lubricate her comparatively smaller cunt with its own indigo slick. jennie whimpered, arching into its long, thick fingers as they ran across her folds. there was no doubt that she had become aroused simply by pleasuring this creature, and you could only imagine the ache in her core.

it must’ve been similar to yours. this incessant throbbing that yearned to be soothed; a hunger to touch or be touched.

“carnal,” jennie whined. “please, please…”

carnal didn’t seem to be listening to her borderline anguished cries of desperation, its fingers stretching her cunt open, almost like it was preparing her to take something much larger. but nothing was enough for an insatiable little minx like jennie.

“i don’t care if it hurts,” jennie added, to your shock. “i just want you to fuck me. please, carnal?”

carnal slipped its fingers out of her lubricated pussy and jennie made a noise of discontent at the emptiness, in spite of it being what she had asked for. it was too dark to be certain, but you swore that for half a second, there was a dark gleam of hunger in its heavy eyes.

the alien-like beast hoisted jennie up in a single arm and steered its cock to her entrance in the other. it was still stiff in its palms, and you got the feeling that it would take far more than one orgasm to sate a beast of its nature.

it didn’t seem to be concerned with taking its time or allowing her room to adjust to the stretch, but the look on jennie’s face told you that it was what she wanted. there was pain on her lips and pleasure in her eyes, the two being bred into something lethal.

“oh my god,” jennie moaned, tightening her grip on carnal’s shoulders.

carnal grasped her hips, using her as though she was merely some kind of toy rather than a human capable of being wounded. it lifted her up and down its thick shaft, leaving her to do nothing but squeeze her eyes shut and hold on for dear life.

you swallowed hard. when she was being used by a beast two times her size and infinitely stronger than herself, your best friend looked less and less human. she didn’t look like something worthy of respect or dignity. had you not known any better, you would’ve thought she was just some whore.

this was something that you had never seen, something different than before; when you saw her then, she was taking her power, but seeing her now, all of it had been reaped from her body.

deep, guttural grunts escaped the back of carnal’s throat as it rutted into her savagely, at a rhythm that rendered her thoughtless. jennie’s tears stung her eyes yet she kept babbling incoherently, addicted to the agony. there were red lines on her skin from where its nails had dug into her, but from how tight she clung to it, carnal was bound to have plenty of its own.

maybe in some sick, twisted way, the pain and the fear heightened the sensations of ecstasy that it tugged her nearer to every second of every minute. there was no pleasure without pain, and the promise of both had tempted jennie far beyond the point of no return. she was a fiend, you realized, for things that were bad for her.

somewhere in the midst of your astonishment of watching your best friend getting railed by nothing less than an unworldly beast, you remembered your anger, your frustrations. a thought a struck you then, selfish in nature, but bound to work in your favor.

you pulled your phone from your rear pocket and opened the camera, getting it to focus on the two unlikely partners that were showing one another other worlds. if jennie knew you had proof of this tryst, she wouldn’t turn you down for anything. you weren’t sure why you hadn’t thought of the idea sooner.

jennie threw her head back, calling out for carnal. “harder,” she whispered.

carnal silently obliged, but it appeared more like it had lost whatever remained of its self-restraint. jennie’s sounds became louder then, higher in pitch, and you couldn’t miss the way her brows furrowed together.

your camera didn’t, either.

the sound of sex filled the room at an unfathomable intensity. there was a very obvious wet, slick squelch of their skin meeting that anyone could have heard if they walked just shy of the door. jennie’s cunt had already been drenched with arousal on its own, but the addition of carnal’s slick didn’t help.

you almost couldn’t stand it and that feeling was inexplicably amplified knowing that whatever this thing was she surrendered herself to wasn’t even human. but you were embraced by the comfort that you would be its place soon, whether she wanted it or not.

you were imagining it. if you closed your eyes and listened only to the sound of jennie’a pretty little voice, you could picture that it was you she was making all those pitiful sounds for.

“fuck, i’m so…,” jennie trailed, unable to even get the words off the tip of her tongue.

but she didn’t need to say it. carnal saw it. you saw it. hell, anybody half as curious as you were could have been right here, about to witness it. she was on the brink of climax, the cusp of ecstasy, and it was unkind.

and as much as it angered you, you couldn’t bear to tear your eyes away for a minute. you had to know what it was like, to see her truly unravel, to lose herself in the highs of pleasure and the throes of sex.

jennie brought a hand to her naked chest, pinching her own nipple. you could see moonlight shimmering on the beads of moisture that clung to her, dancing on the misty haze of lust in her eyes.

it was at that moment you saw the party monster for what she really was. the intensity at last was too much for her to handle and jennie shuddered with climax, her eyes rolling to the back of her head and her toes curling. she cried out the prettiest whimper, singing a name that wasn’t yours.

and somehow none of that mattered, because the beast she let ravage her wasn’t finished. it tossed her onto the bed and continued, fucking her like an animal, like a monster.

you had seen enough. you had what you needed. with the promise of satisfaction vying against the contempt simmering deep within you, you slipped out where you had came.

too soon to see her eyes fade pitch black.

#jennie smut #blackpink smut #gxg smut #girl group smut #jennie kim smut #revehae fics

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kerubimcrepin · 2 months ago

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LIVEBLOG: Wakfu Season 4, Episode 2 [PART 2]

Every time someone says this in this franchise, you should immediately raise 20 red flags because one of the reoccurring themes is "by thinking that you're good and that your intentions are good, so whatever you do is good, you doom yourself to doing evil" or something.

THERE IS SO MUCH TO TALK ABOUT HERE....

He's standing on his toes. For some reason, he did not want to take, idk... something to stand on.

The place is still a grabage dump. He's still the good old Jojo we know.

He has a lot more books. Also, quite conspicuously, the shelf that has them shields what used to be his wall of celebrity posters and drawings. lol.

So many plushies... on one hand, it's so cute. The facade of professionalism he had before we knew him well is long gone by now. On the other hand, when coupled with the general infantilization of him by Kerubim and Atcham, it kinda.... feels bad.

He has a new ladder for his bed that doesn't have splinters and rusty nails sticking out of it. He probably bought it himself due to there being No Hope in Kerubim Crepin.

Also, his hobby of cartography is acknowledged once more, considering the parchments that are lying everywhere.

Another thing that feels Vaguely Bad is that we've come a long way from "I'M NOT A KID ANYMORE, STOP TREATING ME LIKE THIS, STOP CALLING ME JOJO!" to "I don't give a shit anymore. Call me anything you want... feels kinda nice too... :)"

The brain poisoning is so major with Joris. No hope for him.

Anyway, it's funny that they just call Ush The Sleazebag. Implies he's a thorn in their side enough of the time for them to actually have a nickname.

God, his room is so trashy. He's just like me fr....

"Let's kill Tot with Hammers" moment #3: They forgor to animate his mouth... where did they even PUT all that money they saved by reusing art made for the movie.

I'm pretty sure that there's like, some translation mistakes here.

This is what he says in French: "Is your dealings/drama/beef with the Sibllings over?" and technically this translation is correct... but, the phrasing of the translation is misleading.

There are two brotherhoods in the series: the forgotten, and of tofu. But in French the words used for both are different: La Confrérie du Tofu, and La Fratrie des Oubliés.

So I am 80% sure what Joris is actually asking is, "Are you finished with the Brotherhood of the Forgotten? Or are you here to fight me?"

When Ush responds with "it all died down" he's kinda making a joke about Oropo, and their whole group being... yeah. fdjgskdfg. And the translation of this line is also not really conveying it.

This is why Joris continues by confirming that Ush isn't involved.

If Ush is no longer a part of a doomsday cult, then he's probably not a danger or connected to this.

He gets so heated once Yugo is mentioned... I am once again reminding you, that Joris likes Yugo a lot.

In this shot, there on the shelf, we can see the woven basket cat bed that Joris slept in as a child and which migrated to be a basket for clothes in the movie after he actually got a real bed.

The Ush grindset:

Come to Joris's house to say that the guy he's parasocially besties with is sus and that his mom hurt the 12 gods. Say you won't get involved & don't give a shit. Leave.

Yeah, yeah, Ush is a bontarian, he likes being heroic and doesn't want the world to be destroyed or something, but it was also 100% some sort of a fucky-wucky mindgame against Joris.

#ro liveblogs dofus #krosmoz #dofus #wakfu #wak4 #joris jurgen

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lumilasi · 3 months ago

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Since I've been updating one of my bleach fics more recently, I felt the once-in-a-blue-moon urge to draw something from it.....decision I VERY MUCH regretted lmao, because what I picked was SUPER difficult to draw, and I had to take some creative liberty with these designs, lessening the detail in them (Didn't even have a proper ref for Oni-Ichigo to begin with...).

Still, I managed to finish this at least. Fanart isn't really my thing anymore that much so these will be rare, even if I am writing semi-regularly.

The scene this bases on from Jack of All Hollows:

(Context, this is a memory viewed by "main" Ichigo of the story, Oni-Ichigo is a separate person)

Grimmjow eventually shifts, now just sitting on the bridge ledge properly, dangling his bare feet over the water. His companion follows his example, though chooses to keep his legs towards the bridge instead, sitting the other way around. He was still glancing at Grimmjow, and Ichigo could tell that color on his demon doppleganger’s face wasn’t just alcohol. He looked like there was something he was trying to say, but was hesitating.

Ichigo knew what it was.

Clearly, Grimmjow was aware of his companion mulling over something, as the blunet eventually snorts and turns to look at Oni Ichigo annoyed.

"What? Spill it, I can literally hear yer overthinkin’ shit again.”

"You can share memories, not read minds.”

"The gears in your brain are so rusty they make shit ton of noise, Kurosaki. Hard not to hear all that.”

The ginger demon laughs at that, his reaction seemingly confusing his companion a little, the point he now grabs Oni Ichigo’s arm and threatens to throw him into the river if he didn’t explain what was so damn funny now. His companion eventually manages to stop laughing with a wheeze, now looking back at the pouty looking blunet, who was clearly still confused about his behavior.

"Yer way too drunk huh; never knew your stubborn ass was this lightweight.”

"Yeah, guess I am.”

Watching the pair, Ichigo felt uneasy now, suddenly having a feeling this wouldn’t end well for his twin. Obviously, this Ichigo had died, but beyond that…

Suddenly, his twin leans closer, clearly catching Grimmjow off-guard. The kiss doesn’t last long, and once his twin pulls back he had gone completely red, now averting his gaze and rubbing his neck sheepishly. Grimmjow had gone completely stiff, just like he’d done that night at that other bridge.

"S-sorry. I….uh.”

He seems to struggle for a moment to decide what to say, still avoiding the blue eyes staring at him. Grimmjow still hadn’t moved an inch, as if his brain had short circuited and he was struggling to process what just happened.

"….You know. You’re not as bad as I thought when we first met. And lately, I don’t know. I just….I like hanging out with you, when you’re not trying to kill me.”

Oni Ichigo chuckles sheepishly, still avoiding his gaze. Grimmjow now turns his head away, his face still unreadable, though the shock seemed to have faded. The atmosphere around the pair had shifted from the easygoing drunkedness to something much more tense and awkward, though Ichigo wasn’t sure if he was reading it that way, or if the emotion was attached to the memory itself.

"I’ve been thinking about that a lot. And….I-I don’t think its…”

Oni Ichigo swallows down hard now, finally daring to look up at Grimmjow. Seeing that uneasy look in his eyes, oh fuck he was scared too. It had clearly taken his twin a lot to bring this up, and so far, neither could tell what Grimmjow was thinking.

"I don’t think it’s friendly affection I’m feeling.”

Silence.

#artists on tumblr #fanart #bleach #grimmichi #grimmjow jeagerjaques #ichigo kurosaki #my fic #lumi's art scribbles #bleach brave souls #bleach ichigo #bleach grimmjow #my fic au #rare sighting of fanart #I really don't do this much nowadays lol

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bunchofrandomfandomsandbands · 5 months ago

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Favorite Quotes from Supernatural

(That literally nobody asked for, but I’m bored)

Sam:

What kind of house doesn't have salt? Low sodium FREAKS.

It's not food anymore, Dean, it's Darwinism!

I lost my shoe.

(to Gabriel) So which one are you? Grumpy, Sleepy, or Douchy?

I've been tortured by the Devil himself. So you, you're just an accent in a pantsuit. What can you do to me?

Gabriel:

You can't take the trick out of the Trickster.

[Entering a Gas 'n' Sip] Ooh, smell that cancer. Delicious!

Hello, trickster

Lucifer, you are my brother and I love you. But you are a great big bag of dicks

Castiel:

Dean and I do share a more profound bond. I wasn't going to mention it.

My 'people skills' are 'rusty'.

What part of ‘I don’t know’ escapes your understanding?

It's funnier in enochian.

This isn't funny, Dean! The voice says I'm almost out of minutes!

Hey, assbutt!

I'm an angel, you ass.

You know I can hear you both, I am a celestial being.

You have a Guinea Pig? Where?

Why is 6 afraid of 7? I assume it's because 7 is a prime number and prime numbers can be intimidating.

Let's play Twister.

I'll interrogate the cat.

You know what I like about him is that he’s sarcastic, but he’s thoughtful & appreciative too.

Dean:

Cass, get out of my ass!

PUDDINNGGG!

Well that's great, because without your power, you're basically just a baby in a trench coat.

Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray to Castiel to get his feathery ass down here.

I'm sitting in a laundry-mat, reading about myself... sitting in a laundry-mat reading about myself. My head hurts.

Driver picks the music; shotgun shuts his cakehole!

I mean come on, we hunt Monsters! Normal people - they see a monster and they run, but not us; we search out things that want to kill us. You know who does that? Crazy People! We are insane!

I'm Batman.

Saving people, hunting things, the familiy business.

Fight the fairies

Keep grinding. No matter how much it hurts, no matter how hard it gets, you got to keep grinding. And that's how we're gonna win. And we're gonna win. We're gonna save Cass, we're gonna ice the Devil, and we're gonna shank the Darkness. And anyone that gets in our way, well, God help them.

Hey. You know who wears sunglasses inside? Blind people. And douchebags.

Crowley:

Hello, boys.

As you may recall: patience isn't one of my virtues... well, I don't have any virtues... but if I did I'm sure patience wouldn't be one of them.

Torture? Brilliant. Can't wait to see Sam in stilettos and a leather bustier, really putting the S-A-M into S&M. Honestly, boys. What are you gonna do to me that I don't do to myself just for kicks every Friday night?

I torture all my friends. It's how I show love.

Chuck/God

You know what humanity's greatest creation has been? Music. That and nacho cheese. Even I couldn't have dreamt up that deliciousness.

Helped them?! I've saved them! I've rebuilt Castiel more times than I can remember. Look where that got me.

Lucifer

Sorry if it's a bit chilly. Most people think I burn hot. It's actually quite the opposite.

Think about it: dad made everything, which means he made me who I am. God wanted the Devil!

Upper bunk? Lower bunk, or do you wanna share?

Snapping necks and cashing checks is what I do.

You know what they say? He who hesitates, disintegrates.

GOOD MORNING, VIETNAM!

#sam winchester #gabriel #castiel #dean winchester #crowley spn #lucifer #supernatural quotes

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krystaldeath · 8 months ago

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Cult of The Lamb hc’s (part of me feels like I should wait till I play the game myself - or watch a full playthrough at least - before I “solidify” these but meh. For now at least these are how I see things):

* Kinda typical hc I feel like but Leshy is the youngest, then it’s Heket, Narinder, Kallamar, and then Shamura is the oldest.

* Idk what their ages would be chronologically wise but my personal hc’s for “biological” age are: Leshy (21), Heket (25), Narinder (27), Kallamar (32), and Shamura (40). I think Lamb is about 200 years chronologically but 28 “biologically” (I think it’s funny if they’re “older” than Narinder)

* I don’t have a name for them yet but my version of the Yellow Cat is a little bit fucked up actually. Like they seem chill and they kinda are? But they’ve got a body count. And no not the sex kind. Think of that one audio where the guy answers the body count with 30 and when it’s clarified that it’s about sex he’s like “Oh well I haven’t done that yet!” And the other persons like “WHAT DOES 30 MEAN THEN???”

* I need y’all to know I project onto The Lamb HARD. So yeah, they always wanted to be kind and sorta made it a big part of their personality. Unfortunately their world and circumstances just doesn’t allow for their kindness. They still try to be as kind as they can be, but it’s hard when you’re slowly ascending to godhood, especially into the god of death.

* Also Agender Lamb. They/Them and ONLY They/Them Lamb all the way. Demi ro & sex & pan. They’re a?ab (assigned ??? At birth; bc I can’t decide but if you MUST know I think they can shapeshift a bit now so. Maybe they forgot themself lol). Presents androgynously, leaning either way whenever they feel like it. They have a more masc voice though I think, like the ones people use in comic dubs a lot.

* Once I figure out how to draw (could stop it there I am Rusty) anthropomorphic animals it’s over for y’all (Translation: I will draw my self insert and The Lamb being kinda fucked up Besties)

* ((PLEASE ASK ME ABOUT MY SELF INSERT AND OTHER OC INSERTS I HAVE FOR THIS THE BRAIN ROT IS SO REAL))

* The cotl fandom is filled with queer people who’ve got some level of religious trauma, let me recommend a recent song I’ve been looping and imagining a cotl/narilamb animatic to: Collared by Vane Lily (look it up on YouTube to watch the fun mv first!) WARNING IT IS HIGHLY SUGGESTIVE

* I’ve been flip flopping a bit on what species she’d be but I have ideas for a follower love interest for Heket! At first I thought a bunny, then a bee, and currently feeling like a bat would be cute. Idk but I do see her as a warrior type who also likes to bake and do cutesy things too

* I think once the bishops become followers their injuries are worse but they can still “work” around them: Leshy can kinda see things if they’re up close. Heket can sorta speak but not fast and she’s got. Well not a sore throat bc. She doesn’t have one of those anymore. But something akin to that constantly. Kallamar can only hear loud things or if someone spoke into his ear directly (he only allows those in his polycule and his siblings (minus Narinder) to get that close). Shamura does get a bit lost in their own mind, and even when they’re more conscious their memory is spotty.

* Back to my Yellow Cat being a bit fucked up: They actually really liked the idea of chaos (though they hardly show it) so when they find out Leshy was the bishop of chaos instead of being scared or unnerved they’re like “*twirls hair (fur??)* ha ha ha, omg, really~?”

* *slaps the top of The Lamb, Leshy, and probably so many others don’t underestimate me* these bitches can fit so much adhd (+ autism probably) in them

* Probably (geez I use that word a lot huh?) got more hc’s, especially for other characters, but this is already pretty long so I’ll leave it here for now

#cult of the lamb #cotl headcanons #I would tag as narilamb or leshycat but I mean… I didn’t really get into either of them in this lol #my posts #cotl oc #kinda??? I mention my self insert and such #to entice you to ask about them: They’re a blonde long furred cat that has an extra set of arms that are bat arms #wanna know why? ask :3c #please

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lampmanliveblogs · 1 year ago

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Nevermind, the kids are happy, so I’m happy!

But jeez Luise Gus, you’re not even trying to be subtle about it anymore, huh?

You just know that if Gus wasn’t trying to out/support Hunter, he’d insist on going dressed as a normal human. And when people would ask him about his costume, he’d be like: ”I’m dressed as a completely regular, ordinary, normal human!” and they’d be like ”Whoa dude, that is scary.”

”Funny how things just show up in basements, right? Without you hiding or you putting them there. Life sure is full of surprises!”

And on tonight’s episode of ”Things that can be said by moms with secret nerdy hobbies, or serial killers…”

I guess those Not-Star Trek books really were Camila’s, huh? We got ourselves a closet nerd here!

I kinda get it though. I hate it when people ask me what my hobbies are or what I do on my free time. Because if I answer truthfully and say that I like to write, they’ll inevitably ask what it is I write, and then I’ll have to explain what fanfiction is, and there is just no un-awkward way to explain that to someone who doesn’t know.

Which is why my new tactic is to say ”I guess I like to write stories, like adventure stories. Oh, and I also like to bake!” and hope they focus on the baking part. The downside to that is when they respond with ”Oh, you’re good at baking? You should be on one of those baking shows on TV then!” and I’m like ”No, I didn’t say I was good at it!”

Another tactic is to mention that I have a (this) blog where I talk about cartoons. Most people seem to understand that, even if they don’t ”get it.”

Now, to be fair, they’re probably as interested in hearing me talk about my favorite cartoon as I am hearing them talk about their favorite football teams: not at all.

Speaking of explaining fanfiction though, I do remember in high school, we had this book on literature history. It had a (very) brief blurb on fanfiction with a picture of Lara Croft next to it? For some reason? I recall the teacher skipping over it so we could talk about ancient Greece or something.

I’m sorry, I started rambling there, what was I doing? Right, watching The Owl House, I’m a bit rusty, as you can tell. Let’s get on with it.

Let’s see, we’ve got a Nontendo Swap, what might be either a DVD box set or a VHS tape (ask your parents, kids) called Rage Ron, another VHS tape called… Jen or maybe Den? I think? I’m no good at reading cursive. I can also see that someone let their intrusive thoughts win and took a bite out of a DVD. Which of the kids do you think it was?

Hold up a second… does the bad guy(?) in the movie have a scar over their eye? Like Luz? I also notice Bad Guy(?) wears multi-colored clothes like Luz did at Hexside, and the tip of their staff kinda looks like an egg, like Luz’ palisman currently does. That… feels like it might be significant, especially considering the movie is called ”The Betrayening.”

And on tonight’s edition of ”If The Lampman had just waited a few more seconds…” the show explained it to me.

Villainous Lucy (GET IT?!?) betrayed their friends and now everyone is gone. Villainous Luzy says it was for ”the greater good.”

So, obviously, Luz feels like she let down her friends, betrayed them in a sense, and now everyone in the Demon Realm is lost to them.

The thing that’s interesting to me though is that Villainous Luzy says it was ”for the greater good.” That phrase… doesn’t really describe Luz, I think? I mean yeah, her motivation is to do good and help people and save the world and all that. Certainly, a greater good. But the phrase ”for the greater good” is almost exclusively brought up when someone wants to justify an evil action. You see it in villains all the time. They’re looking at ”the big picture” and find that they can justify atrocities for what is (in their mind at least) a greater end result.

To use one famous example from pop-culture, Ozymandias from Watchmen. His big masterplan would kill millions of people… to bring peace to billions, by preventing the impending nuclear war between the US and the Soviet Union.

My point is (and follow me here, I swear it makes sense), ”for the greater good” is not a phrase I would associate with Luz. But… there is a character that I would associate with that phrase. Someone who has a facial scar, a magic staff with a ball-shape, and betrayed someone close to them.

Philip.

I’m not sure where it’s all going but… Y’all remember that fanfic I wrote after Clouds on the Horizon? All that’s at stake, which you can read HERE. Well, to quote myself:

”I-I hate you,” Luz said slowly, her voice as shaky as her legs. Those words were like poison on her lips. They hurt her more than anyone else. ”We are nothing alike. And I don’t want to be anything like you. Not in any way.”

Hey, kinda random, but I just remembered back in Yesterday’s Lie, I theorized that Vee slept in the bottom bunk and Luz in the top bunk.

WELL. Actually, this doesn’t prove anything, I could still be right. Luz switched to the bottom bunk to be at level with Amity.

I do think it’s weird that Vee is lying on her back. That cannot be comfortable, right? I was even thinking of making another Vee headcanons post, where one of the new headcanons was that sleeping on their backs was uncomfortable for basilisks. I guess this smashes that to pieces.

Tag yourself, I’m Luz. I’ve slept next to walls my entire life, I’m not about to stop now. Also, we both have horrendous sleep schedules. Most of the time I’m fine, but if I get just a little off-centre then I’m out of tune for the next month.

#the owl house #liveblog #the owl house liveblog #toh s3e1 #thanks to them

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nerdyenby · 2 years ago

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Blue time :D I’m watching Joel

Pregame

I watched the first 20 minutes on Saturday without writing anything lol

TUNA ON PIZZA??!?!!!?!???! I like tuna as much as the next guy (probably more if we’re honest) but that is a solid no, tuna is meant to be eaten cold

“‘Who’s your favorite YouTuber?’ LDshadowlady of course, she’s great” They’re so cute I could perish

Joel saying he couldn’t choose between Jimmy and Grian because “they’re both my bad boys” The bad boys being the most wholesome group in the series is everything to me, actually

I’ve only just started to watch Joel more regularly but I’m glad he’s maximizing his bi wife energy :))

“I’m playing full screen now because I’m not a nerd- I’m not a noob anymore” and H is so proud

Joel is SMASHING that parkour!!!

Simultaneous quick changes but instead of outfits it’s accents

Slowly accumulating all the empires peeps :)))

The kazoo driving them all insane

“I don’t wanna play anymore” so true Scott

Bingo but Fast

How many pics have I watched that just never noticed the old lady hat???

Ok yeah this is their domain, I don’t know who else would’ve looked at that bingo card and instantly made a composter lol

The overly loud ace race music instantly flooding Joel’s (and my) veins with adrenaline

Guys I think it might be scuffed

They had such good comms and organization

Them all taking a solid fifteen seconds to figure out what order Joel and Scott’s usernames are in alphabetically

Battle Box

Y’all I think Scott watched the update video /j

The carrot mechanics get more scuffed the more people try to understand them lol

Okay so I’ve never actually watched fWhip and I thought his name was Jim for a second there but Scott was just saying “Gem” slightly more Scottish than usual

“Guys it’s okay, at the end of the day, we won bingo and that’s all that really matters” so true Scott

“Keep away from Bakyamon and Punz” “And Oli, ‘cause he smells” Joel 😂

Scott saying they aren’t even communicating well, they are, just not effortfully lol

“It’s the Empires synergy” so true

Joel best bingo player on the planet, real and true

Hole in the Wall

They’re so fixated on the veggies lol

“I love hole in the wall… sometimes… when I have good ping” conditional love smh

Joel just laughing midgame “This is so stupid” it is /pos

The way they were more intensely focused doing calls for Scott than when actually playing lol

“How did they make hole in the wall more stressful???” “ The eating” I love you Gem (I know she continued talking but that’s what I heard and it’s funnier this way)

Survival Games

Joel and Scott losing their minds over the map lol

The more perspectives I watch the more convinced I am that there is not a good spawn in this map

They’re all just vibing, they’re so calm lol

A skybase above a skybase? What is this, Limited Life??? (I’m so funny)

This sg feeling like a mashup of skybattle and tgttos is so quirky of it

Joel and fWhip running for their lives while Gem and Scott are doing a let’s play 😭

“Oh you’re a top? Wow” SCOTT!!!

Joel almost saying that was the weirdest skybattle lmao

He’s so proud of Oli ;-;

“Blummin’ stupid Elon Musk” based

Joel talking about how nice it is that there’s not as much pressure for this MCC, about to get first individual

The joined the halftime show at the perfect time to get exactly zero context and no instrumental lol

TGTTOSAWAF

Joel’s such a hater lol

“I always follow the girlies, the girlies got me” so true Gem

The way Joel said “my wife!! 😩”

First time I’ve actually seen someone complete breakdown lol

Noxcrew proving Gem wrong instantly

“We expected more from MCC organizer but like, it’s fine Scott, it’s okay” fWhip 😂

They’re all so proud of Oli :((

“My favorite chicken <3” “I’m the best chicken!!” Scott and Gem my beloveds

Sands of Time

“Get that wooden arrow” “Wooden arrow?” “Wooden key arrow” “… Rusty” “Rusty, yeah” fWhip is going through it

“What is scuffed about this?” “Joel don’t complain, just take the blessing and run” so true Scott

Noooo you were right the first time Joel

That felt so much louder and longer than usual, I knew it was coming but the dread just made it worse lol

The way Joel evades mobs is somehow both satisfying and vaguely uncomfortable to watch

They did so good :D

Joel checking to see how Lizzie’s team did <333

FWhip pointing out the Pac-Man looking mouths on pink’s skins, I thought the same thing!!

Big Sales at Build Mart

Everyone freaking out at the Oreo logo is my favorite thing

“I’m really loving the rainbow flag representation” so true Scott

Don’t beat yourself up Gem, it happens to everyone at some point

Joel is such a good runner 😭😭😭

I knew this was their game but watching them demolish it is something else entirely

Scott is so surprised that Oli’s still in 2nd, it’s understandable but it’s so funny

“I’m in 3rd overall??? Okay, okay, that’s crazy. Catching up with my boy, catching up with Oli” Joel :)))

“No matter what, somebody from Empires is gonna bring it home” fWhip :((( /pos

“I will also say, no matter what, everyone guessed us at like 5th and we have been popping off this event” “They should’ve known were more scuffed than that” so true Gem

Skyblockle

They’re so upset lol

Gem asking “What’s skyblockle?” And Scott instantly crowning her igl is so iconic (especially knowing how it ends lol)

The close quarters resulting in accidental hot potato with diamonds 😭

This is how skyblockle was meant to be played, I’ve never watched a skyblockle where everyone was comfortable and felt like they knew what they were doing before lol

They cleared cyan so cleanly but I know that’s gonna be painful from their pov lol

FWhip saying it’s safe and instantly almost falling off the edge 😂

I have no idea what’s happening but it seems to be working out for them lol

JOEL’S INSANE!!! HOLY CRAP!!!!!

THATS AN ENTIRE MASSACRE!!!!

They’re all so proud of each other!!!

“Empires repping!!” SO TRUE SCOTT

Dodgebolt

Sam and Scott’s banter :))

Joel jokingly saying Punz is easy and Sam being actually toxic “they also have Phil so they have a few good people” sir 😭

Sam hyping everyone up :)))

JOEL’S POPPING OFF!!!

Rip Gem jinxed it /j

He might not’ve not 1v4’d but he went 3/3 when he was the last man standing which is still crazy epic of him

Joel turning to ask if anyone hasn’t got to shoot yet :(( /pos

Joel jinxing Gem right back lol

The temptation to make angst out of the urgency Sam told Scott to shoot him despite them having never(?) been on a lore server together

Oli and Joel’s trade <333

Why do I feel like Skeppy hasn’t spoken at all?? Is his mic broken or am I just not paying attention???

“Gem said it’s not women’s history month I can kill another woman” stop reading her mind Scott, those were inside thoughts

FWhip getting the winning shot :))

Sam profusely apologizing to the frog 😭

Oli and Joel enthusiastically congratulating each other :D

Joel did so good!!!! They all did!!!!!

#mcc #mcyt #mc championship #mcc scuffed #joel smallishbeans #geminitay #scott smajor #fwhip

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antimonasia · 1 year ago

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Sandor Clegane x Reader Fic (Size Difference)

This is fic is not mine, but of @hightowhxre, who's blog I cannot access anymore

"𝐼 𝑔𝓊𝑒𝓈𝓈 𝓈𝑜𝓂𝑒𝓉𝒾𝓂𝑒𝓈 𝓌𝑒 𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝑔𝑒𝓉 (𝒿𝓊𝓈𝓉 𝓌𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓌𝑒 𝓌𝒶𝓃𝓉𝑒𝒹)"

lyrics from 'Midnight Rain' by Taylor Swift

(A/N): hello there lovely,

first of all, thank you for sending this request and I hope I was able to make good of it, as I am a bit rusty in writing smutty, but this was funny; also I hope you didn't mind that I combined this with another request I received!

“i don’t care, to me you’re perfect!” w/ sandor clegane?

(also very funny story: me at sixteen reading over and over Sansa's chapters to read about Sandor 'oh I hoe this doesn't awaken something in me'

me now at twenty-four with a thing for older men with a gruffy exterior and trauma 'oh fuck, it did').

as always: any feedback is welcomed.

WARNINGS: attempted sexual assault (not Sandor), fem! reader is mute (there are still consent checks because it is as it should be but they aren't verbal), slight mention of emotional manipulation (not Sandor), slight angst (cheating but they aren't together, so more like believed unrequited love, but it is very requited the fucker is just a self-pitying idiot), oral sex (female receiving), fingering, sex (p in v), dirty talk (and a lot of curses), slight degradation - praise kink, belly bulge and size kink.

They said that outcasts have a special nose for each other.

And maybe that was how you and the Hound ended up being so close, together.

You thought, the fact that he was dubbed the Hound, was quite ridiculous in all honesty as it made little to no sense to you to call him a dog, when he bore such little resemblance with the animal in question.

To you, he looked more like a brownish bear with his large stance and his imposing height.

And the terrible grunts he released as you met him the first time after you had been charged with the harsh and hated task of delivering to him his clean clothes.

It was almost a rite of consecration to the order of the servants at the Red Keep and you were the newest entry as you had come after the birth of princess Myrcella to help queen Cersei.

‘Knock on his door and be swift to leave the clothes or he’ll eat you alive’ some older laundry girl had scared youwhile the gentle cook that had taken you under her wing had reassured you that the Hound was all bark and no bite.

He certainly barked as you were stuck a moment too long, deep in your thoughts of that man eating small servants like.

You had promptly been awake as you shoved the clothes into his chest with enough strength – and probably surprise – to have the man back away.

‘Don’t tell me they sent a newbie’ he cursed as you lowered your head promptly ‘… don’t tell me girl that you were nervous to meet the old dog? Poor little dearie weren’t they cruel to send out such an unprepared lady?’.

You were mute – since birth – but even if you had had your voice, you wouldn’t have answered his taunting and not simply because he was indeed scary, but also because he ranked much higher than you and you didn’t intend to get into trouble with the crown who had just hired you.

‘Don’t you speak, girlie?’ his tone was growing restless as if he didn’t enjoy the lack of reaction that you were having ‘… don’t tell me that my ugliness has rendered you mute?’.

It wasn’t the taunt that got you to reply but more the tint of sadness in his tone, as if he truly believed the jest, he spoke that got you to shake your head lightly, before pushing a finger to your throat and as much as he was criticized for being nothing but a dog, he understood promptly what you meant.

‘Oh’.

His face softened for a bit, and you could look a scar on the side of his face as you thought about how painful it had been to have such a huge memory of somebody’s cruelty.

His brother had the rumors been true.

‘… a little mute girl’.

The shiver that went down your spine wasn’t out of fear as you finally diverged your eyes away from his scar the moment that he finally made you aware that he didn’t appreciate such staring.

‘… at least you won’t speak to anybody of this, will you, girl?’.

At that it took everything in you not to raise an eyebrow in annoyance at him, and even in that case you didn’t succeed fully as a small smirk appeared on his face before he closed the door right in your face, his clothes in his arms and this strange sensation that warmed your chest.

When the girls back in the laundry asked you how scared you had been of the hound, you just shook your head and fell beside Ylenia, the cook, asking whether you could help with anything, as your mind seemed broken.

And the curse of the Hound seemed to continue the following day.

And the one after.

Whenever you’d be in a room together, you felt his amber eyes onto you and the moment that you’d turn to catch him in the act, he would be looking anywhere but you. although a pensive smirk was fixed onto his lips, as if this was a game between you.

A game that came to a halt the night that you thought yourself safe enough to walk through the Red Keep.

At night.

Alone.

You hadn’t been able to sleep, something about the full moon rendering you restless and if you weren’t wrong Ylenia would be in the kitchens, so you had thought to reach them and stand by her; had you been lucky, she’d have a cup of tea for you and some stale pastry from the days before.

You had noticed them following you the moment that you had taken a particularly swift turn, and you had just prayed it had been a coincidence.

But how could the gods hear you when your voice wasn’t there?

They got closer and closer.

But so did the kitchens.

Just a few steps and you’d be…

The taller guard caught onto your arm and turned you roughly enough to make you feel ditzy while the gaunter one pinned you against the wall by your other arm and the third one, a man with a stale breath of his own pushed himself between your legs.

“We were lucky, brothers” he spoke making you want to vomit as you tried to breathe through your mouth and not your nose, not to further inhale the toxic scent of his mouth “… a pretty one, ain’t she”.

“Ain’t she the mute girl?” you fought against the grip of the man that was holding you, but it held little solution to her problem as he was stronger than you “… she won’t be screaming for us”.

“Who cares about fucking screams?!”.

The first one relented his grip onto your arm the moment that the one with the smelly breath had pushed a hand onto your chest, both to grope you and make you stay seated where they wanted you.

“… I just care whether her cunt is tight enou…”.

“I thought it’d be you, fuckers”.

The voice froze you as you thought about how cruel the gods could be.

The Hound was an impressive man in just his clothes, and he had just appeared in his full armor.

Dirtied by blood that seemed like cherry wine.

“Sandor” ‘Smelly Breath’ spoke, and it caught you off guard as you don’t think that you had heard anybody call him anything but ‘the Hound’.

And yet these were probably his friends and fellow soldiers, so it made little sense for them to be formal.

“… have you come to join the party, haven’t you”.

The thought filled you with much more dread than the thought of those three men using you for their filthy needs, but the moment that Sandor moved close to them, you realized that he had just unsheathed his sword and the grip on your arms had loosened enough for you to escape it.

‘Smelly Breath’, still, remained a problem as he pushed you back against the wall.

You moaned in pain at such an action as he hissed to you to ‘cease fucking moving’.

“We could give you the first round” the taller one who had been slowly distance himself from the scene offered, as he eyed attentively the sword in his hands “… you are the oldest among us, it’s only right…”.

“It’s only right that you leave her alone” it was final, and as close as to an order than he’d have ever come to “… get a fucking whore from one of Littlefinger’s brothels”.

“What if we want this?” ‘Smelly Breath’ seemed the head of the group and the most daring, as his fingers dug into your skin, and you were sure there’d be bruises by tomorrow.

“She is a mute”.

You tried not to scream at the obvious fact that Sandor entailed with such a phrase that you were flawed because you couldn’t speak.

“You can tell that a woman enjoys herself even when she doesn’t speak”.

“I don’t think that you have ever fucked a woman properly since you first became aware of your cock, Hitan”.

Sandor’s reprimand made Hitan’s mates laugh as the man grew purplish and his grip tightened further enough to make you hiss with no sound.

But Sandor saw the discomfort written on your face.

“Get to your fucking beds” he ordered, although you doubted that he was above any of them, although he was an impressive knight for sure “… tomorrow will fuck you up, even more if you are as shit as I remember at handling wine”.

“Don’t spoil our fun, Sandor” the man whose hands had been onto her arm spoke, although he didn’t dare to look at the bigger man in the eyes “… just because your fucking cock doesn’t get hard for pretty girls, it doesn’t mean ours don’t and it has been too long”.

“Then you’ll fucking lose that cock, tonight” and just like that his sword pointed right to the man’s little friend.

It was enough to have him back away which was as far as he’d have come with an admission of having given up.

Hitan also didn’t seem so happy to continue as he swiftly released her from his grip with one last shove against the wall and a muttered ‘fucking bitch and cockblock’.

The third one just ran after his companions.

It would have been almost comical, hadn’t you still been reeling from what had just happened.

You didn’t detach from the wall till, you felt a gentle but strong hand onto your arm and although the touch was attentive, you still answered in defense, bringing the arm to yourself, and slumping against the wall as if to become one with it.

“I won’t hurt you, girl”.

his voice was gruff, but it sounded sincere, and you strangely trusted him after he had wrestled you away from those three men, if they could be called that.

“… although I would rather be interested into knowing what the fuck you were thinking about wandering the Keep alone, at this cunt of an hour”.

You moved gently a hand in the direction of the kitchens and then mimed the act of drinking tea.

“Fucking hells” Sandor commented as he offered his hand to you – this time he made sure to hold it in front of you, so you’d see him – and gently but strongly brought you back to your feet “… you aren’t only a mute, but also a fucking idiot”.

You sent him a glare that got him at least to lower his head as he let out a laugh.

Your hands stayed joined as he escorted you back to your room.

‘Don’t fucking care if I need to lock you up, you are staying fucking inside, alright?’ it should have sounded like a threat but it wasn’t and you pushed down your heels, almost like a child at the denial of your nightly drink, but there was little resistance that you could offer to a man twice your size and with violence written all across his body ‘… fuckers would have ripped right through you’.

You grimaced at such an image and did lock yourself back into the communal room you shared with the other girls that worked with you, none the wiser to your absence as they all slept soundly through the exhaustion.

Unlike you.

It wasn’t anymore the restlessness that you had felt before mixed with the almost assault that you had just risked, but there was something that burned and hurt in the hands that Sandor had hold, so strangely delicately that it had no reason to pulse with pain.

Unless it was signaling the fact that it longed for its own match, Sandor’s own hand.

You thought that it’d have been an awful night, but then three knocks – quite in succession and not strong enough to wake up anybody but the lightest of sleepers – came and as you rushed to see whether anybody was summoning you, a small tray with a cup in it, still steaming and smelling of herbs that brought you good dreams.

Sandor was smiling in each of them.

Since that night, your relationship with Sandor had grown into a more explicit one, with him accepting only you for his tasks that required a servant and with your eyes boldly settling onto him every time you could, never getting enough of him.

The other girls that worked with you thought you stupid and a dreamer, but you knew what truly went on as Sandor sat beside you on slow days when you were summoned to his room.

It was always a small piece of parchment and a thick piece of charcoal to talk with him apart from gestures.

‘You can’t speak but you can write?’ he had first laughed as you had explained to him that had he given you a piece of paper and something to write with, you’d have been able to communicate better than through charades ‘… gods, you are fucking weird’.

The septa at the orphanage had taken pity with you and while the others chatted through the small moments of happiness, you stayed behind to learn the shape of letters; when you had told that to Sandor, he had had this strange expression on his face, sadness mixed with the violence that characterized him.

‘Lonely childhood’ he had commented as he slapped his thighs ‘… we have that in common, weirdo’.

If he was the Hound, soon people had taken to call you puppy.

And his bitch, but more secretly for Sandor had once broken the hand – and all the fingers – of a drunken man that had shot it on your face while you were serving the knights at a feast.

And it wasn’t always violence that came with Sandor, but also a wicked sense of humor and a smart intelligence that brought him to be the sole one that understood you immediately.

Maybe it was the fact that you were both outcasts that you knew each other so well.

Or maybe it was the fact that you were fated.

That night you had decided to confront this hypothesis.

You had to admit that you had been slightly drunk; queen Cersei had received a commission of wine, she didn’t particularly enjoy and sent it to the kitchens as ‘it might not be up to her tastes, but it wasn’t to be wasted’.

‘She might have poisoned it’ Ylenia had joked, making all the younger girls spit it back, as she took a swing of it ‘… oh gods, don’t be so uptight! At least if we die, we with good wine in our belly, which is much more than dying starving and exhausted!’.

To you it had just seemed like second nature to give some to Sandor, to run to his chambers with heated cheeks and a dumb smile to make him taste that precious nectar, although he probably tasted it daily as he might not be fully a knight, but he was above you.

Still, what little of good you owned, it went to Sandor.

And maybe you were indeed his puppy following him and you didn’t mind it when his eyes were onto you all too proud and swift while his cheeks flustered red.

And your own grew redder the moment that you came close to Sandor’s room, hearing exaggerated female moans but also clearly male grunts that belonged to the same man that you had been hounding desperately in those months, believing that you were special to him.

That his lack of cruelty for you meant that he held something for you.

Instead, here he was with a common whore.

The wine in the chalice you had brought to him, spilled onto your dress in your haste to go back and be consoled by Ylenia, who was kind but stern as she reminded you that:

‘Dogs were animals after all’.

That’s how you finished your dilly-dallying with a man that you by now knew that you’d never have, as you blushed thinking about how foolish you had been; from then on, your gaze never met Sandor and you switched with the other girls your turns, offering them money and your food for that task.

In a few weeks, he had gotten the hint and he left you alone.

It took much less resistance than you thought and you tried not to have it hurt as much as it felt, as you focused into your work and there was so much work with the queen’s new child’s arrival, enough that you misplaced the sole precious possession that you owned: a brass bracelet that the septa that had taught you how to read had left you after her death.

It was a little thing of no beauty but of comfort to you, and the day that you came back from a long shift, it was nowhere to be seen and while you questioned aggressively everyone about where it had gone, nobody gave you an answer, insisting that nobody would have stolen it for the little value that it had.

First you lost Sandor – not that he had ever been yours – and now the bracelet that had been your sole possession.

Gods, if you felt lost at the Keep.

Thankfully still the bracelet was just a simple object, hence it could be returned, and it was returned to you by one of the delivery boys, Jason, who brought it to you with a happy smile and received many thanks.

In all truth, he had been kind with you and asked for nothing but a walk for his gesture, one that wasn’t uncomfortable or felt particularly awful, but neither had the spark that the ones you had been on with Sandor, trailing after him as he moved faster.

Still, Jason was nice, good to you and a perfect gentleman.

All the girls in her dormitory swooned over him and he had brought you what little preciousness you held dear to her heart.

He kissed you in a hallway, a bit forceful: his hands searched beneath you dress as you felt again back to that night with the smelly breath and probing hands.

But it was Jason, he was perfect and sweet and…

‘What the fucking are you fucking doing, boy?’.

You kept your eyes closed as you thought this was a dream, as Sandor had taken onto avoiding you as you did with him, so it made no sense for him to be there.

‘… it’s a fucking hallway not a brothel’.

You tried not to be insulted by the implication as you opened your eyes to send Sandor a glare, more out habit than anything else, and realized he was there, handsome in his cloak and armor.

Even his ugly scar was a detail that you missed.

‘I and the lady were just too eager’ and although you had wanted to kiss Jason, you didn’t like his tone.

And neither did Sandor.

“The fucking lady is coming with me” and just like that he crossed over to Jason and took your hand, again, as he had done that night and again you felt that relief at being joined together “… scram off, you cunt”.

Jason looked like he wanted to fight, but what little could he do with a mountain of muscles?

Hence, he – indeed – scram off and Sandor turned to you and while you had expected him to avoid you quickly, his gaze was settled onto you heavy and angry.

“I don’t want you around that fucking idiot, anymore, alright?”.

You didn’t have your usual piece of parchment so, you couldn’t tell him that he wasn’t your father, your husband, or your master so you simply flipped him off and moved to get in the direction of where Jason had gone.

But Sandor stopped you, again.

“He isn’t fucking good for you, girlie” he spat again, as she levelled him another stare “… fucking glare all you fucking want, but hadn’t he thought your tits were pretty, he’d have sold your fucking bracelet to the first person he saw”.

Your eyes went wide open as you realized that Sandor knew something you didn’t.

And that he hadn’t meant to tell it to you, as he his eyes found the floor, almost ashamed.

You promptly tugged onto his sleeve, as if to tell him not to leave you like this.

And as much as he didn’t hold you in his heart like you did in your own, he gave you the truth.

At least you could count on him for that.

“Heard it as we rounded up a small band of thief” he commented swiftly and gruffly as he released your hand “… said he fucking stole it from one of the servant girls… the cute mute one with the…”.

He scratched his head, and you couldn’t believe that for a man that enjoyed his own whore, he couldn’t report what vulgar thing Jason had said about you.

“… he said that had he given it back to you, he might have seen…” again that loss for words, that reticence as if you hadn’t learned early on your life all the terrible shit men could spat and you mouthed the word, he was missing him, as a light dust of red appeared on his cheeks “… yes…”.

And it did hurt – not as much as Sandor’s betrayal – but it did hurt.

“Let me accompany you in your rooms” Sandor spoke almost pleadingly “… fucker might corner you again and I’d be rather happy to deck him across the face…”.

You promptly shook your head, feeling as vulnerable as fucking ever and not wishing for the company of the man that had broken you first, but as you lowered your eyes and put your face in between your shoulders, it was a rough hand that brought your chin up.

“What have I done, little girl?” he spoke as if he knew that there was something.

As if he felt it.

“You are all chatty and fucking smiley for weeks with me and then fuck off with a bastard who doesn’t deserve you”hadn’t you know against it; you’d have said that he was begging for you “... what did this old dog to make you so pissed?”.

You shook your head, turning it away from him, even though his tight grip.

“Don’t tell me that you fucking finally realized that you deserve better than me”.

It was meant to be a joke, but it held some strange lingering sadness that got you to look up at him, almost pained by what he didn’t let be said in his eyes.

And slowly you shook your head as if to get the point across.

“Well, you should fucking have” he spoke, and you hated the patronizing way in which he always seemed to know what was better for you, while he ruined himself for fucking nothing “… c’mon, let me fucking accompany you to your rooms”.

And before he knew it, you fucking took off and this time he wasn’t fast enough to grab onto you, although he did chase after you and you felt almost girlish in running fast as he ran after you weighted in his full armor, as if you were an hare running away from an hunter.

What a silly spectacle you might have made for those that might come in the empty hallway.

You were having enough fun till you were shoved onto the wall, although this time much more gently than when it had happened with the three soldiers that had cornered you late at night and you felt the deep thrill that you hadn’t felt when Jason had been kissing you so passionately, right as Sandor’s hand went to your sides to hold you in place, while his hips dug your back further into the uncomfortable brick patterns on the walls.

“What’s your fucking problem?” he spoke slurred as if he had been drinking although his breath didn’t smell in any way like ale “… you are more trouble than what you are fucking worth it”.

Was that way then he preferred whores to you?

They were easy: you paid them, you screwed them and then they were out.

“Screw you” you mouthed back at him, as you tried to – again – escape his grip.

“I don’t know what the fuck is going on with you, little shitstain” he spoke as his eyes were inevitably glued onto you, or better a specific part, your lips “… and the worst is that I don’t fucking know what to do with myself when it comes to you”.

And before you knew it, his lips had crashed onto you, with a savagery that got you thinking that Sandor wasn’t holding back.

And that you enjoyed it.

Your hands moved away and tangled loosely around his neck, while you didn’t know what it was, but you jumped up exactly the moment that Sandor’s hands moved onto your thighs, perfectly hosting you up as two circus exhibitioners who had tried this move over and over.

If you had thought that you were uncomfortable against the wall before, you had been painfully wrong, as now your breath was stolen not only by his lips but by the way his chest pressed against yours, thick metals against the soft cotton of your serving dress, not enough thick to protect you from the sensation burning into your stomach.

And still, when he retracted you tried to bring him onto you again, hissing and whining with what little expression you had left as you kept your eyes closed not wanting to wake up if this was a dream.

“Now you fucking understand what will happen if you fucking toy with me?” he spoke, breathless and it filled you with pride that you had reduced him to such a state “… I am not like fucking Jason or what the fucking… I won’t slip my fucking hand between your gowns and mess around lazily like a fucker. I’d fucking fuck you against this wall, if given the chance”.

And at that you opened your eyes, looking at Sandor with a gaze that clearly said:

‘Then, why don’t you?’.

He staggered back, almost forgetting that you came with him, surprised by the fact that your chests didn’t detach, that you didn’t fall to the ground horridly, and instead came onto him like something attached to him.

“You don’t fucking want what I can give to you, little one”.

You wished desperately for your usual piece of parchment, but when you had come after Jason, you hadn’t had it, and yet you couldn’t waste the occasion. Not when Sandor looked so conflicted.

So, you simply did what he had done to you before, pressing your lips against his with insecurity as you hadn’t kissed many and there was something different from the playful kisses you had exchanged with your friends to the one you pressed onto his lips, as it was this that would have brought the final decision.

That would have told him that you fucking wanted whatever he’d give you.

Whether it’d be his lips, his hard cock that rubbed against your stomach or his heart.

You didn’t have a specific preference, not when you wanted him as yours.

Just for one night.

You were addicted onto the promise of what he brought to you with his rugged lips and strong hands.

He detached clumsily and when he dropped you, you were sure that you had lost it, till his hands tangled with you own much more shyly than when he had kissed you so eagerly and you knew that somehow you had him.

For your own.

“I am fucking hard and it is all your fault” never any words had sound any sweeter “… fucking Seven Hells! I was about to take you against a wall…”.

And he turned to you with a smirk that sent something dark shivering down your back.

“… and you’d have let me”.

You had at least the decency to feel heat on your cheeks as he brought you along by the hand – warm and calloused – into his rooms, ascertaining himself that nobody was there before he pushed you inside and while you expected – and wanted – his hands onto you again, you were practically shoved onto the chair at the small table where he usually consumed his meals.

Papers and pen were immediately sufficed to you and while you had thought to avoid this, Sandor looked at you with enough anger to make you smirk.

“You explain yourself, alright?”.

And you had promptly written back:

‘Then are you going to fuck me?’.

It was strange to see such a huge man blush at your wording.

“You wouldn’t have all this fucking boldness if you could speak, little shit” he shot back, as he brought back the paper to you “… and maybe. You know… you kind of left me offended… thought the dog was too fucking old for you and had to chase after some of the younger fucking bitches, all yapping to you?”.

You shouldn’t have felt his jealousy that hard, but you did as a special kind of throbbing started right in between your thighs.

‘You were the first one to replace me’ and you did have a bit of shame for yourself as you added ‘… I heard you with the whore’.

And Sandor at first looked surprised and confused and then realization settled onto him, as one his hand gently threaded into your hair.

“Don’t tell me you were jealousy, pretty?” he taunted you like an idiot “… oh gods, my little silly girl…”.

‘Fuck you, Sandor’.

“It’s the opposite, sweetheart” he made you again flustered, as he lowered himself till they were face-to-face “… don’t you fucking understand that I have needs? Needs that I can’t push onto pretty little girls like you, because you’ll break”.

‘I won’t break’ you wrote back, straightening your back and raising your head but most importantly making sure to look at him as to let him know that you weren’t scared of him.

Not now, not ever.

And he looked taken aback, unable to hide the way his eyes widened before he shook his head lightly.

“We shall see” and like that he gently raised you up by the chair, holding out a hand to you “… although don’t think that you get any bonuses just because you are you”.

And your gaze seemed to almost say ‘I’d never ask for such a thing’ as your back found the bed and his lips your own.

He was strangely gentle for a man that just threatened to break you, and never like in that moment you regretted not having your voice, as you’d have moaned his name over and over every time his lips left your own, as you were worried, he’d change his mind each time he left you.

So, you only chased after him, till his hands again held you down by your sides and he had this wicked expression on his face that got you to feel the rush of adrenaline all through you.

“You were so fucking silly” he spoke as he looked at you, while your bag duck into the soft plushness of the mattress “… to be jealous of me, when we aren’t nothing for each other”.

Again, you wished to have a voice to tell him that he was mean for denying something that was very much between you, so you just levelled him a stare that said it and hoped he’d get the message.

“You are so smart” he continued as his hands gently raised through your sides to your ribcage and onto the sleeves of your dress “… too smart to fucking chase after an old dog like me”.

And just like that your dress was ripped apart and you silently screeched at the show of strength while Sandor went to lap onto all the naked skin that was revealed onto him, at first kissing it and then biting where it was the softest as you brought your hands onto your back, digging your nails in the metal of your armor.

He wasn’t as cruel as he had promised, but he was relentless.

He made sure to mark you and there was something inherently arousing in the knowledge that he could have made you take everything from him.

And you’d have gladly accepted it.

“A pity you can’t speak, although that cunt of Hitan was right” and all too soon his hands slipped into the rip of your dress to your smallclothes, lightly ghosting over your clothed mound and finding it drenched “… you can tell when you are doing a good job with a woman, even if she doesn’t scream”.

You had expected him to rip away the rest of your dress, move aside your small clothes and dive inside of you.

You had hoped, but instead his hand had gently retreated, and he had moved onto kissing you again tenderly, brushing away the hair from your face to see wholly your face, while his own was hidden beneath his locks, and you had an inkling that he enjoyed it this way.

After all, you were mostly undressed in front of him, while he was still in his armor.

The coldness of the armor felt almost like a relief on your heated skin.

“You shouldn’t fucking lust after an old dog like me” he breathed out on your lips “… but I don’t want that cunt of Jason to have you… I don’t fucking want anybody to have you but me, and I am a fucking monster for that”.

It was as close to a declaration as it came and you moved up to gently kiss Sandor, in hopes he’d hear that you didn’t think he was a monster, as you wished the same; you wanted to have him, not nameless whores for a night. You wanted him for ever.

But right now, it wasn’t a question of time.

And you’d have avoided the talk.

“Still, if this isn’t something that you want, you better fucking say it” and realizing the mistake of his words, he added “… beat onto my chest one time to tell me to continue and a second and I’ll have you sent back to your rooms, no fucking expectation”.

He waited for the second beat on his chest after your first, and when he realized it wouldn’t have come, he looked at you like you were somehow crazy and a miracle at the same time and then he raised up to kiss you, desperately and urgently.

“The beats on my chest are valid also now” he spoke as he seemed not to get enough of your lips, while you giggled against him “… one is for ‘continue fucking me, Clegane’, two is for me to stop, alright?”.

You giggled at him and nodded as you gently moved his hand onto his armor, wanting him to take it off, but he didn’t seem to listen to you as his hand dipped down into the gash on your dress and this time he didn’t simply caress you; he pushed aside the garments and swiped your own wetness for his own, making you huff and throw back your head against the pillows.

But nothing could have prepared you for when he brought your wetness to his lips and he sucked, looking at you hungrily and darkly.

“You are fucking sweet also down there” he commented, before his mouth latched onto one of your exposed nipples, and his hand went down to your garments, and onto your Venus’ mount “… fucking dogs like me are used to bones, not to fucking little girls who taste better than Arbor”.

You felt yourself grew heated in embarrassment at his bold words, and yet there wasn’t much left when his hands started to gently draw out patterns onto a part of you that you didn’t know existed but brought the most intense pleasure you had ever experience.

And Sandor, that fucker, knew it.

“… just a few rubs to your pretty pearl and you are already acting like a fucking whore” he spoke gently to your ear, although the words were cruel and they made you cry out silently “… maybe I should have been fucking you instead of those whores, you taste so wickedly and tremble so prettily”.

You cried out at the praise and your legs tightened around him, trying to keep him there and you almost choked out in pure fear as his hand moved away, brushing against your folds, before gently dipping inside.

“Can you stay without me for a few fucking minutes?” his voice was dark and not a request “… I want to fucking see whether you are as pretty down there as you are here”.

You hid your face into the crook of his shoulder and nodded, hearing Sandor smirk as he left behind a kiss on your cheek, a promise to come back, as he went lower down your body.

And you felt him, each kiss, each nip, as the tip of his finger separated her folds, and here you were exposed to him.

“Fuck” he spoke out in admiration “… the prettiest I have ever seen”.

Then something dark came onto him, as he dipped closer to where you ached the most and you closed your eyes, unable to hold such an image in your eyes.

“… and you were about to squander it with a boy that wouldn’t have gotten you to come” he spoke almost as if it was a reprimand “… fucking fucker. You don’t fucking need a boy, you need a man and although I am not the man for you, I’ll teach you fucking better”.

And just like that his tongue was covering all of yourself and you were crying out, squirming away at the sensation of him onto you, inside you and desperately against you.

“Just a lick and you are bashful?” he taunted you “… just you wait till I fuck you open on my finger, little girl”.

But he did wait before doing what he intended, and you realized that he meant to ask for your consent to have you utterly debauched and you didn’t know whether he did out of concern, or it was a power move onto you, but you still knocked against his chest one single time.

And yet, he didn’t spread you open but went to taste you as he fully removed your dress and now you were naked in front of him, a position that should have made you feel ashamed; but how could you when Sandor made you feel like a goddess at whose altar he was praying?

After all, wasn’t he on his knees, between your legs?

Although what he was doing was anything but holy.

You were surprised when you first felt his finger dip inside you and only then Sandor raised his face from his attentive work to have you loosened on his tongue to take in your expression as he seemed to check for any signs of discomfort, while he pushed inside his thick index, making you choke out softly and close your eyes.

It wasn’t uncomfortable, although it was a weird sensation you hadn’t felt before.

You felt full.

“… don’t tell me that you haven’t put your own fingers inside of yourself, little one” he cooed to you “… well, it wouldn’t matter, as they are fucking little compared to my own”.

And if those were his fingers, you couldn’t think about his cock.

His finger inside you stretched you to the point of discomfort, although his tongue kept on working circles through you, relaxing you enough that the tension of your walls moved into a more comfortable bliss as he started moving his finger in and out of you, lightly crooking it at times as if he was searching for something.

“… fucking hell, where the fuck is it?” he spoke to himself, and you pouted at him, digging your heels into his bag as a way to get him back to you, and pushing out your lips for a kiss “… I should have fucking foreseen that you were one of the fucking needy ones”.

But he did kiss you and added another finger.

Two fingers shouldn’t have been so different from one, but the stretch intensified and then fuck… he found what he was looking for.

“Does it feel good, little girl?” he taunted you, as he gently released the hold onto hat soft spot that got you seeing the stars “… don’t fucking tell me. You are drenching my hand and the sheet probably”.

He bullied that spot with an urgency that brought you to fucking screech with what little sound you had in your body, as your nails dug into what little skin you could feel through the armor.

“You are doing so well, girl” he spoke, almost cooing and although he meant to be teasing it just made you feel a whole lot better “… so pretty for me and my fucking fingers”.

And his tongue as he dipped down again, and it almost felt too much: the conjunction of his fingers and tongue brought you to feel your stomach tighten and then release slowly, oh so slowly as pleasure overcame you wholly and here you were desperately rutting against his bear as you pled with all your body for him to continue.

And to let you go.

Thankfully Sandor might be menacing but he was a giving lover and held you down as you shook a second time, wetting his beard with your juices this time and he laughed at that much to your embarrassment when he came up to kiss you.

“So shy for just a few times?” he teased her as he gently ghosted his lips over her own “… fucking virgins are always the easiest, aren’t they”.

You pounded lightly his back at that, although your legs inevitably brought him forward into you.

“Don’t tell me that you aren’t a fucking virgin” he teased again, although it had an hint of possessiveness, the slightest “… you certainly do fucking blush like one”.

Instead of further goading his teasing, you tugged against his armor, obviously asking him to take it off, but Sandor resisted you although he did move the lower part to help himself out of his breeches.

“A virgin and one that hasn’t ever seen a cock” he spat out as your eyes were so focused onto his own member, all red and veiny and deliciously big to the point that it low key scared you.

And aroused you.

Your hands moved to where he held it, and it wasn’t only pretty but also strangely silky in the touch, as it lightly twitched in your smaller hand, making Sandor curse out much to your satisfaction.

“… gods and fucking Seven Hells, don’t do that to a man” he protested, but he didn’t comment on the way you loosely started pumping him, up and down and again and again, as your instinct guided you, taking in any small expression on Sandor’s face “… oh gods, fucking… don’t make me come in your fucking hand like a shitstain on his first ride with a woman”.

You smirked at him, happy to have regained some power over him as you did detach from him but not before having lightly tightened your hold on his cock, just the softest pressure to have him hiss through his teeth, while you adjusted further on bed to allow him to sit as well.

It was only when he crowded onto you, standing on top of you with each arm by the sides of your face that you realized that it was going to happen.

That for all his talk, he was going to take you.

He was going to make you, his.

And yet, he seemed to wait, as his eyes moved onto you, his face still partially covered by his hair falling on his face to hide his scarred face and you desperately wanted to hold them back and tell him that you didn’t care, that he was perfect, scarred face, rough hands, and soft words just for you, as he waited for you to give him the one beat.

And you did so as you spread your legs for him, a bit bashful to offer yourself to him like a feast but any of his restraint broke at that and soon you felt that same smooth tip that had been in your hands moments before right against your pearl, rubbing in teasing circles.

“Just two times you have come, and you are already fucking drenching my cock” he gently bullied your hole with the type, bringing it upward and downward into you “… a man isn’t going to last long, you should know that”.

And like that he first breached you and you had to admit that the pain that you thought would have come, didn’t.

It was just a strange sensation of an intrusion not painful but not pleasurable as you opened your eyes to find a smirk on Sandor’s face as he pushed down to kiss you and pushed himself further into you.

There it started to hurt.

He was so big, and you were so fucking small.

And yet, the pain wasn’t unbearable, as he pushed himself into you to the point that you wondered just how far he could reach into you, just how far he could claim into your body as he fully sheathed into you with a grunt, his face falling onto the crook of your neck, and although he was the bigger one, you felt the control that came when your hands gently started threading through his hair.

“You are tight” no bold words to have you flustered “… indeed a fucking virgin and you are allowing me to take you. A fuckin dog, oh gods, fucking…”.

His hips dig into you and the first thrust left you breathless and immediately Sandor checked for you, almost as if he was worried for what he had done but you just smiled at him as you whined at the sensation of his cock dragging against your walls as they molded around him.

You felt yourself clench and then relax, and then do it again as his thrusts became more present, and although they were slow, you felt his strength into you.

“So good” he breathed into your neck, littering it with a few soft kisses, as he seemed lost in the pleasure and you took that exact moment to look at what your joining looked like, curious to know whether it was as good as it felt, and you were surprised by one fact.

The way your stomach bulged every time he thrusted back inside you.

Fuck, it should have been grossing you out inevitably and instead you were fascinated by the way he let his claim into you; how he bullied your body to find his way home into you.

To slip himself inside of you further and further.

Whatever pain you had left was now behind as his hips started thrusting faster and faster and you couldn’t complain, not when the hand on your pearl started to match said rhythm and soon you were overstimulated by both the sensations: the primal one of his pushes into you and the soft pleasure of his stroking.

“I am so fucking close” he seemed almost to beg you for something “… I am going to fucking come like a virgin. I’ll fucking spill into you and that cunt of Jason won’t ever try to sneak his dirty hands inside your skirts”.

Before you knew it, you were now onto your stomach as Sandor had exited you to push himself as you laid with your face down, stomach to the mattress and your ass up like a bitch in heat; you would have complained, hadn’t the angle felt much better and his hand had much more freedom, while your nipples brushed against the coarse material of his bedding bringing even more stimulation.

You were done by this the moment that you felt him press himself wholly against you, his seed spilling into you with enough force that you felt it tickle down yourself, as he didn’t make a move to detach himself from you.

Oh no, not at all, as he instead pushed you further against his weight onto the mattress, and it felt all too much as the pressure proved to be grounding while you went through the aftershocks of your own orgasm.

The moment he realized that he was crashing you – not that you minded – he pushed to the side, effectively separating himself from you and the sensation was as awful as the coldness that hit you and for a moment you thought that it’d end up like this.

After all, Sandor had made it clearly: he wasn’t interested in you past that.

And yet, a few moments after his arms came around you.

“Sleep, then we can fetch a fucking septon” and at your confusion he added “… you need one for a fucking wedding, don’t you?”.

6 notes · View notes

themetalvirus · 2 years ago

Text

prime spoilers

its so funny that shadow kept screaming SONIC JUST FUCKING LISTEN TO ME FOR A SECOND into sonic's face and he just KEPT. IGNORING HIM. DUDE LISTEN TO SHADOW HES A FUCKING GHOST STUCK IN THE VOID YOU SHOULD PROBABLY HELP HIM. JESUS CHRIST. i'd punch sonic too after that

i love rusty rose. i love her. i LOVE her. i hope she gets her free will back, she is clearly capable of good (and was turned good in that one episode). get all of the programming OUT of her and just let her make her own decisions, i don't even care if she returns to eggman anyway because it's all she's known for so long, i just need to see her with free will. please. someone help this poor girl

speaking of people who need help, nine :( NINE. nine. NINE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! hes SO!!!! he needs to experience the magic of friendship and shoot his first friendship rainbow beam so bad. hes so lonely and USED to being lonely that he chose a barren wasteland to call home. that's no way to live, man.

also captain knuckles had a reeeeally concerning turn in that last episode, his Gemstone Guarding Instincts kicked in and he went a little nuts. i want more of that tbh. more nutso knuckles

i was expecting a lot more from prime but this is very very clearly not the end, it's clearly not even the whole of season 1 and is being split up into different release chunks for netflix (like glitch techs is 1 season but was released in two seperate chunks as "seasons 1 and 2"). i personally hoped to see more worlds, but i'm also glad what we DID see was fleshed out. i was expecting a more episodic format in terms of visiting the worlds so i'm happy we get to spend actual time in each of them and get to know the characters and their problems

i'm wondering if sonic erased his original friends out of existence when he shattered the paradox prism (like how green hill doesnt exist anymore) or if they also landed in different worlds. or the void. or something else entirely

speaking of green hill, isn't it super weird that they just... decided all of sonic's world is green hill. i guess it's for budgetary reasons? and to control the scope? but it's super fucking weird right, like, i'm not the only one that thinks that's weird? there are. other places in sonic's world. sonic doesn't live ANYWHERE he just ends up in green hill a lot. maybe it's also for a point of comparison, like how the loop-de-loop is always in the same place? just to have more solid landmarks to see what's different. i just wish they did that with like. multiple areas of the world. instead of multiple landmarks of Just Green Hill

anyway waiting for the next part of this show to drop is gonna be torture. i have some Gripes and Grumbles (WHERE IS BLAZE IN THE PIRATE DIMENSION? WHERE IS SHE!) but nothing is ever perfect and also i love having stuff to gripe and grumble about. rusty rose is my new best friend btw. (also the knuxouge enjoyers are eating well, congratulations to those who that applies to)

theres gonna be so much fanfic about these goddamn places i can tell. especially the fucked up eggman won world. theres so much potential there. i'm hoping (like another person said) that rusty rose's backstory is that she got kidnapped, sonic wasn't there, and she got turned into a fucked up robot thing. because wouldn't that be fucked up. that would fuck this version of sonic up too, he'd feel so upset and guilty that he couldn't help her (and then be determined to help her NOW even if shes evil). i wish they spent more time on rusty and the pirate amy recognizing each other and being freaked out tho. thats also a lot of potential

i also want to see sonic find another version of himself. i don't think that'll happen? because like, he doesn't exist in any of these worlds because he's the god of these gajillion universes. but also i want him to find a fucked up version of himself and go dear god that could have been me. itd be neat i think

in any case i am kissing these writers on the mouth for rusty rose and nine. i am a sonic fan who craves being spoonfed more funny little guys so i can point and go HEY I KNOW THAT GUY but i'm also just really glad that big is part of the crew. hes so good :)

i have more thoughts but also i am eepy and i dont feel like typing anymore. sonic prime flawed and for babies but also good. i'm glad we finally got a proper action cartoon this time, it's wicked cool. i love rusty rose did i mention that yet. i love rusty rose

#exoticbutterstxt #sonic prime spoilers

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knockyasocksoff2022 · 1 year ago

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“Don’t make me get violent.”

(A/N: This came to me so suddenly while I was listening to Violent by carolesdaughter for the first time. It’s kind of rushed and probably out of character and I may edit later but her you all go. Also I intended to make the violence more graphic but I wanted to keep it detahced and I’m not that good at wrting graphic violence yet.)

under the cut due to length (733 words)

Summary: Chuuya’s journey into savagery after Dazai leaves the Mafia. (Kind of an AU I guess)

Chuuya’s Perspective

Everything is going to be different now. They’ll give me some new partner. I’ll get my pick, but I already know none of them will compare, no matter how good they are. None of them will be him. He’s gone, leaving problems in his wake like usual. And I don’t even have the energy to hate him anymore.

Alarms are going off, blazing red but I can’t make myself move. They’ll come and get me if I’m really needed. I just sip my wine and watch the sunset. Red, orange and yellow like the flames that consumed my car as he walked out on me. I guess it’s good because I would’ve gone after him, and he knew it. Not now though, now I can’t imagine even bothering to leave my office for him, I know I would though. I’d still do anything for him, if I thought it would make him come back and I hate it, but I don’t.

Everything moves in slow motion as the door shudders and falls in. 10 men sloppily thrown together black tactical gear. They wear patches with letter E’s spray painted on them. A wannabe terrorist group, I don’t care. I couldn’t bring myself to listen in the last meeting. It doesn’t matter who they were, because they’re here now, and they’re going to die. (It’s bound to end this way, it always does, canvas stained in some shade of red.)

I get up slowly, giving them a chance to run, “Don’t make me get violent.” It comes out as a sigh.

They start shooting. Round after round until the floor is made of spent shell casing. It does nothing as my instincts kick in. For me it happens in slow motion, I watch numbly, as another version of myself charges the naive boys. They’re down before they can fight back.

I watch as I don’t stop.

One of them moves slightly and I kick him back down and keep kicking him, until we’re both stained red and there isn’t a single bone in his body left to break.

I’m not done, they disturbed my only peace and now they’re going to die, every last one of them. It isn’t rage that fills me, just an empty hole, growing larger, leaving nothing, looking to be filled. And these deaths have to be personal, because he left me and these boys “terrorists” are still here, causing me trouble. I want him to be causing me trouble. (But now I’m alone and it’s too peaceful, too quiet, too still, too empty.) I take the nearest and twist his limbs in funny directions until I hear the snaps, and then I keep twisting. Chunks of flesh fall to the ground with wet squelches, splashing the room in red. Spilt wine.

I just want to finish my wine. When they no longer resemble humans I come back to myself. Staring at the wreckage around me. The room is tinted red but I know the mangled lumps won’t disturb me again.

My hands are painted red and sticky and leave smeared fingerprints on the bottle. My reflection is savage against the darkening sky. But I can’t make myself care.

A groan of satisfaction leaves my lips as I sip my wine. I taste the red alcohol, strangely metallic, corrupted by the rusty scent of the room, but it’s not bad. It’s refreshing. And for the first time since he left I can see colour again.

I sit back down, leaning back in my chair, my bloodied feet over the bloodied desk. A fine day in a fine city. I don’t need him, if I can have this, this I can live with. If the way to feel something again is violence then so be it.

And even when they come in to clean it up the shock and horror on their faces, it will all be worth it. I know it will. Are you happy with what you’ve done, Dazai Osamu? I am.

#nakahara chuuya #Port Mafia #My writing #knockyasocksoff2022's writing #bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs #bsd

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abyssalbusiness · 1 month ago

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DAY 1

—in which the detective finds his lead.

The darkness strangled him, wrapping about his body like an unfathomable serpent, ever moving and ever tightening into every gap where sunlight should reach. Shallow breathing against his neck as he stood frozen, petrified into stone, not with fear but with apathy. He's been here before, he’s felt the jaws of the beast wrap around the back of his head until it enveloped him more than once. As the beast's jaw unhinged once again, a sound he hasn't heard in years snaked its way through the invisible vocal chords.

"Dmitri! How many times do I have to do this before you come to your senses?" The malformed creature hissed, chunks of vantablack slipping from its jowls as it sunk its teeth into every last drop of consciousness Dmitri had left. His sibling's voice clung to him as his eyes fluttered open.

"Wake the fuck up! What's taking you so long?" The familiar low voice of his younger sibling shouted over the banging coming from the other side of the house. Dmitri's chest heaved as he woke, drenched in sweat, the beads dripping down the back of his neck. It would almost be sensual if it wasn't so disgusting.

"Be patient, I'll be there in a moment." He called back, his voice booming as he slowly tore himself from the groove in the bed where he had laid, where the rusty springs clawed their way out of their plush grave and into his back. Slouching, he wandered across the wooden floorboards, kicking empty beer bottles out of the carefully curated path he’s made himself over the years. Like Moses, he must part the sea (of wrappers and empty cans) to save the day, finally making it out of his room, into the actually rather clean rest of the cabin, and to the front door. The door bent with the force at which it slammed into the wall as it opened, rocking on its hinges and leaving a divot in the wooden log exterior. Standing on the other side was a rather lanky man, pale complexion speckled like a vanilla poppy seed muffin which contrasted with his subtle mascara and lipstick, as well as streaky white hair, not unlike Dmitri’s own greyed bedhead. His glasses make his eyes look like a beetle’s, and his spindly arms don’t help the appearance, covered up by excessively expensive monochrome grey pinstripe fabric which contrasts his solid black antlers as well.

"You scared me half to death, I thought you finally went and died on me."

"I wish I had." He scoffed, not in the mood to deal with this walking liability. But then again, when is he?

"And here I was thinking you cared about me in the slightest. If you had checked your voicemails, you would have known. I left you not one, but… Many! Many many messages pleading for a response to little ol’ me. What if I was in danger and calling you for help, I could have been kidnapped, dying! You disappear for months, stop answering my calls, yet seem shocked when I turn up at your doorstep? What else am I supposed to do, it’s not like I can call you a welfare check again. Honestly I have no clue how you survive, drinking yourself into a stupor, which- Don’t you dare deny, I see that look. You’re not ten anymore, no one’s going to look after you when you throw your little fits and go into the shadows for another m–"

“Are you done?”

“No! No, not yet. I’m here for an actual reason. A stupid reason, a braggadocious one, but a reason nonetheless. I’m being promoted.” His eyes shifted as he looked upwards, attempting to meet Dmitri’s eyes, which wasn’t exactly easy when the man was the size of a god damned Alaskan moose, having to lean down to even get his head through the doorframe.

“Congratulations Sam. What are you now? Head janitor?" Dmitri went to shut the door as he spoke in his usual monotone, voice dripping with exhaustion. The swing of the door was blocked by one of Sam's sharp toed dress-shoes.

"Ow." He hissed, peeking back into the room again slowly as he continued, "Ha-ha. Very funny. Maybe you should have gone into comedy instead of rehab? No, Financial Advisor for the Atticus Nihil. I thought you in particular would love this news."

Dmitri paused, his train of thought derailed as he shoved the door open again, placing his hand on the top of the doorframe and lowering his head slightly to see the anxious blank stare of his buggy little sibling better. Sam Varantini, someone who he had seen do coke off of a port-a-potty toilet seat, working for one of the richest, most successful men in the world? One of the most famous models and saints? Saints, which normally aren’t allowed anywhere near either of them? It was hard to process, seemingly a bigger shock to him than the chance this might allow him to open up the cold case on the old CEO, Simeon Nihil.

"Nihil? Nihil, like N-S, right? You're kidding." He took a step back, letting out a soft laugh as he paced, rough fingers tangling through his slicked back hair. "When do you start? How long do you think it’ll take to weasel me into an interview with this guy?"

“I can ask him if he’s willing at all, from what I've heard he's not exactly one for chitter chatter though, so don’t get your hopes up. I start later today, I would have just called to tell you the news but, hm, I wonder why I couldn't do that?" He squinted, crossing his arms like a disappointed parent as he looked to his older brother, adjusting his tie. "Until then, sort yourself out. You look disgusting, I'll buy you a new suit if you really need one."

“A saint as always, Sam. Saint as always.” Dmitri’s usual blank look cracks into an amused smirk, putting up his foot to kick Sam square in the back as he turns to walk away, stumbling and slipping from the porch and into the muddy grass of the dense forest Dmitri hides himself away in.

He shuts the door quickly, muffling the shouted curses as he steps back into his shabby little living room, only lit by the warm light of the sun peeking through the strips of torn up blackout curtain and stapled wood. The television hisses as he reaches deep into the tattered loveseat, finally fishing out his dead, outdated flip phone. Probably a good idea for that to be functional if he’s waiting on calls again. As it finally booted back up, he quickly cleared out the voicemails-He already knew what it would be full of, and began clumsily typing a number into the keypad, tucking the device in the crook of his neck as he kneels by the carved dresser he keeps his box television on, digging through dusty shoe boxes as the ringtone shifts into a raspy female voice.

“Hey, this is Titania Novikov, I’m uh, not in. Or something, so, just leave your message and I’ll probably get back to you eventually. Alright, cool. Bye! Beep.” Followed by a mechanical droning tone. Taking a slow, deep breath, Dmitri opens his mouth to speak, eyes shifting. He shuts the phone, and goes back to rummaging.

The bullet-train is empty, cold metal stretching as far as the eye can see until it delicately arches over the horizon line. An occasional odd human, dressed in scruffy clothing, chatting about their day to day lives sit dotted throughout. Fluorescents flicker, lighting up the rather obnoxiously patterned cloth seat covers, no doubt there to hide the years of muck excreted upon them by careless or clumsy individuals. Sam preferred to bring her own fold-out stool, slotting it between the seat and the window as a polite refusal to host the next super-virus (despite the mud that smeared across her suit front, no doubt full of active and hungry bacteria). She was a tad too long legged of a man for it to look comfortable, the tips of his snakeskin shoe peaking out into the aisle as she awkwardly crossed one leg over the other, but she carried herself with such arrogant, world endingly flippant douchebaggery that even if anyone were to care, no one would dare say a word. On her lap, her briefcase is currently being repurposed as a desk, papers strewn across it as she attempts to get all of her ducks in a row before meeting such a celebrity as THE Atticus Nihil. To say he was her celebrity crush might be a bit of an overstatement, but she certainly could appreciate someone who knows the art of a swindle as much as he does.

Riding the train from the capital of Norvir, where Dmitri chooses to stay, isolated in the middle of the sea, all the way to Stranya is a long, long trip. As much as Sam loves vast endless seas of bubbling water, she feels a wave of relief as it shifts to craggy ice, the tips of skyscrapers finally peeking their heads over the hazy white line of fog in the distance. Norvir is much more… Well, not exactly rural, more like a frigid, desolate wasteland. It’s known for three things; lush forests, giant bears, and Sins. Technically, legally speaking, Sam is supposed to be contained there with the rest of her 'siblings', but the only one who really listened to that ruling was Dmitri, the oldest of the group. Stranya however, now that was a place a man like him could enjoy. Highrise penthouse apartment just above the cloudline, sad little trees smothered in snow, luxury cars, one giant megacity. The nightlife was the best part too, the way the sky stayed a soft purple even in the dead of night due to the light pollution, neon signs, scantily clad women stumbling out of bars, the sweet sweet smell of vomit in just about every bathroom past 11pm, it was his own personal Paradisus Vice. There was something refreshing about embracing the primal need for more which she so often had to repress. Not in the great city of Stranya.

As the train screeched to a halt, passengers all gathered their luggage and children, shuffling into the frigid concrete jungle. Sam took her sweet time, folding in the sides of her stool and slipping it back into her leather briefcase. Her to-do list was short for today, sure, but her stomach was twisted in knots. Pick up her car, change out of that mud covered jacket and attempt to find a way to cover those stains on her pant legs, drive her car, go meet her new boss for her first day, all without being late. Usually she’d be fine, she tries to care as little as possible about most things, but this was an insane offer that realistically she should not have ever been given in the first place, so fucking this up could be a career (or life) ending mistake.

It was a particularly cold day, the hair in Sam’s sharp nose freezing with each breath in and defrosting with each breath out. Thankfully, her car was parked close, an all black Lamborghini with shiny, well kept rims. Warming her hands over the vents, she enjoys the well kept roads, dodging and weaving past cars on her way to the largest of the glass towers which sit patiently in the middle of it all, waiting just for her. The N-S Co. building is surrounded by an odd maze of parked cars, one solid loop going through towards the main entrance. Her left foot taps against the plush matt as she checks her watch, whipping her car around the bend and to the large mirrored archway, reminiscent of the beak of a bird with two large frosted glass doors where the throat should be. With dramatic flair, she fixes her short messy hair, leaving the door open as he tosses her keys to a man who she can only assume is the Valet.

The interior of the office space felt almost liminal, absent of the usual bustle and chatter of a usual lobby, replaced with elevator music which was a tad bit too soft, and the buzz of the sterile white fluorescent lamps which line the white walls. An overarching motif of reflection was clear in the romanesque columns and carved wings which well wiped mirrors sit between, Sam taking a moment to make sure he had gotten the dirt from his dress shirt (having left the jacket behind) and making sure his hair perfectly swooped around his short antler-esque horns. The receptionist was a lanky, skeletal, androgynous figure, angular juniper green hair contrasting with their sharp red lipstick, pale eyes glazed as they stared at their computer, absentmindedly clicking nothing to keep themselves from nodding off.

“Excuse me, I’m here for my initial meeting with Mr. Nihil? Last name Varantini, financial advisor.” Sam speaks softly, voice still seeming to echo back to him.

The receptionist puts a finger up, as though telling him to wait just a moment, swiping up a set of keys with their long nails and holding them out.

“Top floor, the elevator is through the office space on the left.” They gave a forced customer service smile, immediately snapping back to blank as Sam took them, the small outdated phone ringing loudly as they quickly snatched it up, their voice echoing as Sam turned to leave the room. “Hello, this is Lux from N-S co. How can I help you today?”

Each sharp click of his heel is loud and reverberating, bouncing from cubicle to cubicle. Each peek through the lines is reminiscent of looking through a doorway in a house of mirrors, perfectly aligned and repetitive. Each aisle’s inner cubicle has a little engraving with braille underneath, 001-200, 201-400, 401-600, so on and so forth. Underneath the first set is a piece of printer paper, taped on, the words “ELEVATOR IS STRAIGHT AHEAD” plastered on in 72 point Ariel font, very helpful, or else Sam may have assumed it was down aisle 801-1000. Each of Sam’s steps were exponential, like a polyrhythm, uneven and quickening in rate as he eye’d his wrist, the arms of his watch getting dangerously close to late. 15 minutes passed, aisle 801-1000. Another 12, 1801-2000, and after a total of 30 minutes, his walk finally came to an end, lungs heaving as the elevator before him gave a hesitant, quiet ding, opening up like a comforting hug after that sprint.

Another mirrored room, thin gold plated railings spiraling around him, blocking his endless view of the back of his head, now soaked in a thin layer of sweat which trickled into his collar. The buttons on the panel were crammed together, but at the very bottom, separated from the rest, was a little star. Floor 220 A, another little paper besides it, no words, just a simple arrow. The button has a crisp click, not often used, clearly. With another check to his watch, Sam lets out a slow, shaky sigh. At this point, it’s not his fault he’ll be late by a good 15 minutes when this building seems directly built to crush his spirit. The one positive was that the elevator was quick, his knees buckling underneath him as it lurched upwards, the ding of passing each floor sounding like one consistent tone, lifting a good foot off the floor when it screeched to a halt, landing flat on his ass as he took a moment to reorient himself. Soaked in sweat, nauseous as all hell, and with his glasses half on his face, he skittered up to the door, giving a hesitant knock.

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