#i dont care . you find a way to this side and dig around in there

[spiralmode]

wait im rewatching saw 2004 and as a germaphobe one of the cruelest things i had to watch adam endure was dig around in that toilet ("find anything?" "no solids!" 🤢) anyway so he had just taken out the play me tape out of a ziploc bag and that stuck with me because I was like okay that's something he could use idk for what but for something, and so then that toilet scene happens and im like yelling at my screen adam!!! no!!!!!!!!! use the ziploc bag as a glove ahhhhhhh !! but he just went right in there with only one small moment of hesitation

[littlelamy]

PLEASEE dad Rafe where the reader is like a Pilates mom trophy wife, and she and Rafe have kids and UGHHHHHHHH traditional rich family the kind Rafe would have.

⭐️i love making little moodboards for this theme so disregard if you dont like it, but i hope you enjoy! ⭐️

rafe pulls up in the blacked-out suv, the engine a low, contented hum as he steps out, shoulders squared, exuding that effortless confidence that still sends a spark through you. the sun dips lower in the sky, casting golden rays over the sprawling lawn as the kids burst out, laughing and calling back to him, backpacks slung carelessly over their shoulders. they race each other toward the house, shouting over who gets the last snack in the pantry, and rafe just shakes his head, watching with that quiet pride that’s become second nature to him.

you’re settled by the pool, lounging on one of the cushioned chairs with your favorite oversized sunglasses perched on your nose, a fresh iced latte in hand. you’re fresh from pilates, dressed in a crisp white athleisure set that rafe has already told you he loves—a little too much, given the look he’s giving you right now. you pull your sunglasses down, meeting his gaze with a smile that’s just for him.

he saunters over, hands sliding into the pockets of his perfectly tailored pants. the sun catches in his hair, bringing out the few strands of blonde that the summer hadn’t quite left behind. there’s a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth, that warm gleam in his eyes, hinting at that wild edge that he still carries, even now. and it’s there, in that look, that you see how completely wrapped up in you he still is.

“hey, stranger,” you murmur, lifting your drink in a silent toast as he drops into the chair next to you, leaning close enough that you can catch his aftershave, something dark and woodsy. you see his gaze flicker over you, taking in every detail like he’s still half-surprised by the life you both built.

“missed you today,” he says, voice low and sweet. you give a playful shrug, pretending not to notice how his hand casually finds yours, warm fingers threading between yours, the way he’s always done.

you shake your head, leaning back and giving a little sigh, mock-serious. “all i did was pilates and a trip to the club, rafe,” you tease. “how’d you survive without me?”

his laugh is quiet, but you catch that glint in his eye. “barely,” he says, thumb tracing gentle circles along the side of your hand, a gesture so natural you barely even notice it anymore. he pauses, looking out at the kids, who are now a blur in the distance, likely digging around for snacks or on their way to the game room. and it’s in that moment—just the two of you with the day slipping into evening—that you feel the absolute certainty he has in this life, in the family you’ve built.

you turn to him, watching as his gaze softens, and there’s something that pulls at your heart, this deep, endless feeling he has for you, even after all these years. you’re the perfect vision of his world, a pilates-mom trophy wife, the gleaming pool and manicured lawn the backdrop to a life that’s both beautiful and grounded, something he never knew he wanted until he had it. and yet, in his gaze, it’s so clear how much he appreciates every inch of it.

“think i’m going to make something special for dinner,” you say, though you both know it’ll be the chef taking care of most of it. but the idea of you, his wife, planning out dinner like this is exactly the sort of scene he loves—a glimpse of something tender and old-fashioned, just for the two of you.

he grins, giving you that lopsided smile. “save some time for me afterward?”

“always,” you reply, resting your head on his shoulder as the sun dips low. it’s not the first time you’ve had this moment, and it won’t be the last—but that’s exactly what makes it so perfect.

he’s quiet for a moment, eyes still tracing the outline of your face before his hand slides around to the back of your neck, pulling you in close for a slow kiss. his lips press into yours with that intensity that still makes your heart race, like he’s savoring every second, every touch.

when he pulls back, his gaze is a shade darker, playful but serious all at once. he lowers his voice. “the kids aren’t here, you know.”

your heart flutters, and you bite back a smile. “they’re just inside,” you murmur, a teasing note in your voice.

“exactly. not here.” his hand drifts down your arm, sending a shiver through you as he smirks, voice dropping lower. “and, by the way… that little package you ordered just came in.” his fingers trace along your wrist, up your arm, igniting little sparks of excitement. “saw it in the bedroom.”

you feign a casual shrug, but the look in his eyes makes it impossible to keep the smile from your face. “oh? did it now?” you ask, feigning innocence. “must have slipped my mind.”

he laughs softly, his thumb brushing across your cheek as his gaze roams over you, lingering in a way that makes you feel like the only woman in the world. “you knew exactly what you were doing,” he murmurs, voice tinged with admiration and something else—something wild. he leans in, his lips just grazing your ear as he whispers, “think you could model it for me later?”

your cheeks warm, and you feel your pulse quicken, unable to hide your grin. “if you think you can keep the kids distracted…”

his smirk widens, a promise in his gaze. “i’ll figure something out,” he says, his voice filled with that familiar mischief. he presses another kiss to your lips, lingering just long enough to leave you breathless, anticipation simmering between you as the sun sinks lower, casting long shadows over the beautiful life you’ve built together.

taglist: @namelesslosers @princessslutt @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @starkeysprincess @sixrosberg @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @kissrotten @rafecameroninterlude @sstargirln

[sk3tch404]

Yandere Donnie Darko Hcs

A/n: I finally came around to watching Donnie Darko while I was styling my hair this morning. It was so good and omgg HIS CHARACTER!!! Love it 💜 What he voices in where he rebels against authority resonates with me in the most honest and straight up sense, it's crazy.

CW: Characterizing of psychosis without research (I am in no way claiming this is how individuals who suffer some psychosis or with schizophrenic symptoms act or feel like. This is simply a work of fiction and how I see Donnie's mental state affect the scenario), Donnie is actually very tame here except for his obvious criminal record and acts of violence, and YALL HES A MENTALLY ILL TEENAGE BOY so he's a lowkey soft okay. Y'all see him with Gretchen? So caring and passionate ugh, love him sm. <33 I try to write as close to canon as possible, but sometimes that leads to really soft yans and I kind of doubt my writing. Despite that. I like to think that not all yanderes need to be possessive killing machines in order to fit into the troupe. Everyone's got their own way of dealing with obsession, and so I think I did decently with this one lol.

Proof read a few times, so sorry for wordy/run on sentences and possible wonky grammar.

I feel like Donnie is very observant and patient with his darling. He's quite analytical for a teenage boy which leads him to take time to consider the variables that weigh within your possible relationship.

Donnie is still an awkward kid, so dont be surprised when you accidentally find him staring at you for a considerable period of time in class. In school, he doesn't approach you, seeing as the setting is already suffocating enough. He'd try to catch you after school or when you two have a little bit of privacy.

He's kinda shy and clumsy at first glance--- too talkative in his speech and self-aware of his minor fuck ups. Over time, he'll be more open to what he wants with you. Donnie might not really understand how to handle love and all of its complexities, but hell try really hard to make it work.

Yeah, y'all saw how fast he dived in for that kiss in the film?... Embarrassing, but it's true that he's quite excited to show his affection for you. He'll be "so chill with it," and he is to an extent--- not too clingy at all--- but when he's around he gives you guard dog privileges. Stays at your side and defends you from any brain rotting comments made from the guys around the neighborhood. Donnie isn't much of a fighter, but he's damn well capable of planning and executing a crime if it calls for it. One count of arson, another unaccounted for, severe property damage, and murder? Don't doubt it for one second that he won't consider further acts in the future to come.

His psychosis affects him directly when it comes to you--- as it also does with most things. He already feels so shitty with how things are going in his life, Frank voicing the many thoughts he has about you day to day stresses him further. Sometimes Donnie is scared Frank will convince him to hurt you as the countdown progresses. Despite that fear, he can't keep away from you.

This distress causes Donnie to rebel more often. As he spirals down the rabbit hole Frank keeps digging for him, the anxiety that follows with what will happen to you once the world ends lingers late at night in his bed.

Donnie's main love language is quality time. He walks with you from school and chills with you pretty much wherever. He's pretty book-smart, so he'll pitch in with your projects and homework assignments. His parents don't really seem like they care what he does most of the time, so if he's given the chance, he'll crash at your place for a few before they think he's off sleepwalking or some shit.

Donnie already knows he's slipping off the rails, placebo medication or not, Frank stays to stir the pot. He's almost scared, scared to death that you'll think he's an insane lunatic and he'll scare you off. But at the same time, why be scared if it's the truth? He has evidence, the book, and his own visions. That anxiety doesn't go away when he rambles on about the six-foot-tall bunny rabbit and how that thing has led him to the method of time travel.

You're just left there dumb founded as he stares on at you with that deadpanned look. Too late to back out now. World's ending and you don't got a boyfriend. Well, you got Donnie... and Frank's there too sometimes, but either way, you're all each other's got. You don't want to be alone do you? Donnie knows he doesn't.

He trusts you more than anyone else. Yeah he's on meds, and sure he's loony, but everyone knows that already; not that they seemed to care too much anyway. He feels like he can just exist with you around. All that pent up frustration with the looming guilt of his actions festering inside can be washed out like waves on a cold shore. Of course, it's not a cure-all, but it's damn nice compared to the bone headed friends he got and the tense dinner table back at home.

He has scratch paper in his drawers that are just filled with messy sketches of you. Not sure if he'd be the type to use sketchbooks, but he is pretty organized in his own room. Donnie just finds you so easy and beautiful to draw. Art block has nothing on this boy. He hates it when his sisters barge into his room and see any unfinished piece of you lying around. They tease him so bad about it, he wishes they'd just leave him alone.

"Ooo, is this the girl you're always wasting your time with?"

"No, gimme it. It's none of your business, and get out of my room."

"Geez, fine. Not like that's the freakiest thing you got in here anyway."

Donnie wouldn't be the extreme stalking type, but if he caught a glance of you, he wouldn't be able to look away. He'd also take into account what your daily patterns are as well as your likes and dislikes. He notices your little habits like if you constantly apply too much pressure to your mechanical pencil, making your lead break. He's always have had a passive opinion on the school uniform, but you made it look good, great even. Donnie likes it even more seeing you in street wear. He takes note on your style and even thinks of taking some inspiration from it to feel closer to you.

He's sensitive in places a teenager would be in most. He's irritable and closed off much of the time, even to you if it gets bad enough. Of course, it's not your fault usually. It only makes sense to be defensive in the case of anything he may perceive as a threat, even if that means any possibility of you breaking his heart.

Donnie may be a bit shy in his advances, but what he isn't is hesitant. He's quite bold in his thoughts and feelings. While he is afraid of your judgement in particular, he doesn't mind doing many things in front of you. Your collar is crooked, so let him just fix it up real quick. Talk about something that's got him thinking? He's letting his thoughts pour out like it's happy hour. He sees no issue in doing what he wants to, so if you're feeling unsure or nervous about something, he'll be the one to do it for you. Not many questions asked unless it's got his serious attention.

Kisses are passionate and deep. (Tbh when I first watched the movie I was like, "DAMN dont eat her face- shit.") I dont know if Donnie has had previous experience or not, but he's definitely got the enthusiasm. He tries to match your rhythm if you seem to have trouble following. Not too much tongue, but best believe he's devouring your lips like it's the last 6 hours in the universe. His hands are roaming around your body, feeling the dips and curves so cautiously because Jesus, you're just rocking his fucking world. If you tell him to slow down, he will. Donnie never wants to force you to do anything you wouldn't want to.

Words of affirmation aren't really a thing for him. If he says something to you, it was probably on his mind anyway. If you say "I love you" to him, he'd be almost stunned but wouldn't have a problem reciprocating that energy. He just felt like that connection between you two was already clear enough. No need to say it so directly. Although, it's nice. He really loves and cares for you. Would take a bullet for you--- cross his heart till he dies, all that sappy shit.

If you reject him, let's just say Frank and Donnie will be speaking more often. It pushes him off the edge. Frank isn't in Donnie's head just to do evil shit, but it's not like his presence doesn't perpetuate Donnie's behavior further. He wouldn't go on a killing spree or anything excessively violent like that. He'd be hyper-focused on the time travel aspect of his situation and become more forceful in his methods. He'd demand answers to make sense of all of it. To cope with the fact you didn't want him like how he needed you. Why didn't you like him enough? What didn't he do? Actually, what did he do? His mind feels like its on the brink of breaking as he tries to rationalize all the negativity in his life. He's already done too much, his world feels like it's collapsing in on itself before the actual day could even come. You were a majority of that world, and now it's just broken.

Donnie is so distraught and confused about his adolescent experiences, he almost doesn't know what to do. The only thing to do from then on is to focus on the countdown. Time travel, and how to fix it all. Otherwise, not only would he be left alone, but you would be too. Donnie wouldn't want that for you, not ever. Even with all the pain and frustration stowed away inside his still beating heart, he would never wish to hurt you; one of the only people on Earth who didn't suck so much as everyone else did.

[sturnsreader]

scars

TW: self harm

!! requested by @sturns-posts !!

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“y/n?” you heard your boyfriend, matt, call from upstairs. you sighed and made your way up stairs to find matt on his laptop. you walked around the corner and smiled walking up to him.

“yes matty?” you asked cheerfully.

“are you okay?” he asked sounding concerned.

“yeah, why?” you asked confused at by the sudden worry.

“well, im just worried about you.” he sighed. you noticed that he kept looking back down to his computer screen to making glances at your arms.

“you would tell me if you weren't, right?” he asked.

you gulped wondering what he knew.

“yes, baby, please dont worry about it.” you nodded quickly before turning back to go downstairs.

he grabbed your waist and pulled you back into his arms playing with your hair.

“are you sure you’re okay?” he asked again repeating himself. you nodded into his chest before he pulled you back leading you into his room. he didn’t say a word, just sat you on his bed and opened up the screen. on the left hand side of the screen was a recent picture of you in mcdonalds that a camera man had taken, on the right hand side was the same photo just zoomed into your wrist. your scars visible for the world to see. you read the headline over and over in your head sighing.

'HAS TWITTER TROLLS PUSHED MATTHEW STURNIOLO’S GIRLFRIEND OVER THE EDGE?'

“what is this? you told me you stopped a while ago and if you felt like that you were going to tell me. did i do something wrong?” he asked pointing to your wrist on the screen with teary eyes. you couldn't speak, your whole throat had closed up.

he noticed and pulled you onto his lap staring into your stinging eyes.

“i love you so much and i want nothing but for you to be the happiest girl ever. i let anyone hurt you. whether they're old or new, i don't care because i'm here for you now and i always will be." he smiled before kissing your forehead softly. a tear escaped your eye making you smile.

“we don't have to talk about this now, whenever you're ready.” he smiled resting your head onto his chest as he wiped the tears off.

| 2 hours later |

“hey, i know you wanted to go to the cabin back in massachusetts, so were going with nick and chris tomorrow morning!” he said with a smile while tucking your hair behind your ear.

“baby, you didn’t have to”

“shh, i wanted to.” he said as he hugged you around the waist.

you waited at least 10 seconds before letting go. matt’s hugs were the most comforting thing ever. “can you help me pack, please.”

matt shook his head up and down with a big smirk while grabbing your hand and walking downstairs to the bedroom.

“oh, how long are we staying.”

“since were with nick and chris we are staying for a week and a half, but soon we can go alone.”

he was digging through the closet trying to find a bag big enough before you made him stop.

“i love you so much.”

“i love you more, my love” you could tell he meant it. “we are going down to nick and chris’s house tomorrow morning at 4 am. i know its early but i want to get there earlier, if its okay with you.” he said right after he found a perfect suitcase to fit all your stuff.

| two days later |

“hey babe i was scrolling through things to do here and there is a tattoo parlor like five minutes away from us can we PLEASE get tattoos together!” nick said excitedly.

“shut up you have been rambling about tattoos the whole time we-“ chris said as you cut him off.

“nick i would LOVE to get a tattoo with you and i know exactly what i want. follow me!” you said as you go to find matt in the store.

“im getting a tattoo with nick and i just want you to draw stars around my scars.” you say while going through your purse to find a pen.

matt looks at you in awe as he takes the marker and draws the cutest stars ever. you start to tear up. you look up at him as he concentrates on drawing them all.

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not my best work but i tried 🥲🥲

i hope you enjoyed and if you have anything you need to talk about message me! i love you guys sm🩷.

[catcze]

oh btw i know that a werewolf is a pretty obvious pick for your newest man but he does look like he'd make for a great vampire who has to actively resist the urge to feed on you because "your blood is... so sweet... and you're so... enticing... just a taste, please..."

or not! who knows ehe <3

Reblogs are greatly appreciated !!

「 CWS : 」 A little suggestive due to the intimate nature of blood drinking, but nothing sexual or even leading up to any sexual activity happens. That being said, if ur bothered by Wrio finding the reader tasting delicious + Reader enjoying being drank from a lot, maybe dont read;;; this is 2k words of non-sexual intimacy and love and trust !!

I have a confession;;;; I really really really love the vampire x human trope,,,,,, even just a teeny tiny bit more than I do the werewolf x human trope,,,, so,,,,, SO,,,,,,,,,, vamp! Wrio is setting all kinds of good signals off in my brain rn;;;;;;; i have;;;;;; many;;;;; many thoughts;;;; ON MY HANDS AND KNEES DONT LET THIS FLOP PLS 💔💔💔

You're on his lap. Wriothesley's on his chair, hands practically clawing into the armrests. You wouldn't be surprised if he'd rip it. His eyes don't know where to look— they flit around every inch of his office, avoiding your own. But they always end up glancing back at your neck no matter how much he tries to pry them away.

He gulps.

"You're hungry."

"I'm not," he immediately denies, ignoring the way his fangs ache at just being able to smell your blood so close.

You frown. "You haven't eaten in a week, Wrio."

"I have—"

"Animal blood doesn't count. That shit can only work for so long, and you know it."

He swallows, hands clenching even tighter, nails digging into leather armrests. He looks away from you, rendered silent.

You watch him as how he tries to ignore you. Delicately, you place a hand on his cheek, urging his eyes back to meet yours.

"Why don't you just ask me?" You murmur. "You know I'd say yes. You know I'd do anything for you."

His face twists. "That's the problem," Wriothesley says bitterly, teeth clenched. Even from here, from the limited view you have past the curl of his lip, you see how his sharp fangs gleam. "I— if I drink from you, I won't want anything else. Ever. I already have a hard enough time just being around you, but if i get even just a taste..." he trails off, swallowing. "You're all I'm going to crave, sweetheart."

Wriothesley expects you to pause or hesitate. Maybe even extract yourself from him. He wouldn't blame you. Ever since the first time his thoughts betrayed him and he wondered what you'd taste like on his tongue (honey and nectar and heaven and ambrosia, all in one) he's been so careful to hide how he hungers for you, lest you think he's a monster who'd hurt you for his own gain.

In an ideal world, you never would have had to see him like this— starving, thirsting. Every single cell in his body urging him to get on his knees and beg you for just a taste. He'd get the fear and the apprehension, even though it'd crack a little piece of his cold, unbeating heart.

But you just roll your eyes and unbutton the collar of your shirt. leaning down so the side of your neck is right within his sight. His mouth dries as the thump of your pulse comes ever closer, freezing him in place.

"You're not going to hurt me," you say, conviction in your voice. You inch closer.

Wriothesley feels another part of his self restraint collapse.

Against his better judgement, he's actually thinking about it now. He crumbled so fast that it might be a little pathetic, he knows. Maybe his mind is addled from the hunger, maybe he's addled by his hunger for you, but he knows that he's fraying with every millisecond that you spend so close.

"No, not— not there," He protests quietly, even though he's itching to reach out and sink his teeth into your pulse. Fuck, you smell delicious up close. He's damn near losing his mind here, the object of his love and the greatest temptation to his gluttony practically sitting on his lap, offering up something that he's craved for so long. Still, he gathers what bits and pieces of his restraint that he can and manages to gently nudge you back, just enough that he can think without being driven mad by the idea of his mouth on your neck.

The protest is already ready on your tongue, but he takes a gentle hold of your wrist instead, pressing a kiss to the tips of each finger. His thumb rubs gentle circles into the skin, and the pulse under his fingers makes the emptiness in his stomach increases tenfold.

"Here," he tells you. "It'll be easier to push me away if you need to."

You say nod, pushing your wrist closer to his mouth. "Drink up," you tell him. He pushes away his hesitation, and with one last lingering kiss, he presses his mouth to your wrist and bites.

And fuck, he was right.

Heaven and sunlight and euphoria bursts on his tongue, making his brain practically short circuit. Wriothesley concludes then and there that compared to you, anything and everything else he's ever tasted was bland in comparison. He can barely even attempt to describe it— with each drop you willingly give, his hunger is both sated and amplified. A sound escapes him, a mix between a groan and a whimper muffled into your skin.

When you hum, warm fingers carding through his hair and urging him to take more, he feels like he ascends. Acting on instinct, his arm snakes around your middle to hold you in place— to keep you close. His grip on you is firm, but he's careful not to dig his fingers too hard into your skin.

And as much as this is affecting him, it's affecting you too. Your head grows light in the best way possible, like you're experiencing a euphoric high. You scratch a bit harder at his scalp, pulling a desperate noise from his lips that makes you tremble in his hold. You'll sit here for as long as he needs to feel better, for as long as he needs you.

Quicker than you would have wanted, Wriothesley reluctantly pulls away. By then the color's only just started to come back to his face and he's panting like he's been on a brisk jog. He looks much less sickly, yes, but you observe with a frown that he's still not quite yet at tip-top shape.

Hesitantly, almost reverently, he presses a kiss to the wound on your wrist, then gives the smallest of licks. it tingles, but after a moment the sting of it fades to a dull throb, and then nothing. But before he can push you off, you're leaning down again, same position as before, with your neck in his line of view. An open invitation.

"You need to drink more," you murmur. You try to ignore the rush of blood in your face, the tingle in your core. For as much as he was scared of getting addicted to you, you fear now you're getting addicted to him, too.

"I shouldn't," Wriothesley says, barely above a whisper.

He should push you off— should let you rest. Should wrap you in his coat and get you some water and a snack after you've already let him drink so much of you.

It had been hard enough to resist earlier, but now? Your blood is pumping so hard he can practically hear it. And you taste so sweet. You had made the slightest of noises when he fed on you— he doubts you even realized it, what with the haze you were in. Just the smallest of whines when he drank from your wrist, but each breathy sigh and whisper of his name was enough to make him crave more.

A small, traitorous corner of his mind wonders if you'd be even more vocal with his teeth on your neck.

He swallows, knowing he's already fighting a losing battle. He's so, so weak for you. His one arm doesn't budge from around your waist, but his hand moves up to cup your cheek. He drags your eyes to meet his, and you can see the seriousness amidst the hunger.

"You tell me if anything hurts." Wriothesley's arm around you tightens almost imperceptibly. "Anything. Please."

You hum, happy, nuzzling closer into the cradle of his grip. "Okay. I know you'll stop if I ask." And oh the faith you have in him has heat pooling in his gut and a foreign pressure grow behind his eyes.

His voice is hoarse he says, "Yeah sweetheart. Of course I will."

He comes close and you shift your head, giving him more space to work. First thing he does isn't even bite— he buries his nose in the crook of your neck, decorating your skin with kisses and licks and nips, delighting in the small protest of 'that tickles!' that he elicits from you.

You let him shower you in affection a little bit more, but eventually your hand works into his hair, tugging. "Okay, no more stalling," you say, breathless. "C'mon, time to eat."

And he's still nervous of taking too much— can feel his stomach roil at just the thought of hurting you, but he trusts you. Trusts you as much as you trust him, too. So he takes another deep breath, presses one last tender kiss to your skin, and sinks his teeth into your neck.

A small whisper of him name escapes our throat just as a groan leaves him because fuck— you taste even better. Flavor multiplied times what feels like a hundred, making his cold cold heart do flips and tricks in his chest. The hand you bury in his hair tugs, pulls, but brings him closer instead of away. You push him further into you, begging him to take more, and he happily obliges.

Wriothesley presses kisses and licks to your neck between drinking down mouthfuls, making sure not to waste a single drop. He's pulling you against his chest so tightly— hand bunched in the back of your top that you fear he might rip the fabric, but you decide that you don't really care if he does.

With each drink he takes, each satisfied, muffled noise that leaves him, you feel yourself melt more and more against him until you're boneless in his hold. Despite how he drinks as if it's his last, he still has the good mind to shift you a bit higher in his lap, to make sure he's holding you comfortably. His hand rubs soothing circles into your hip, and he tries to recline back into his seat as much as he can so you can lean into him.

Your heart pounds even harder, the blood rushing to your ears, and you think he feels it with the way his hunger seems to double.

Your eyes are half-lidded, gaze hazy and growing sleepy with each progressive second. But it doesn't hurt in the slightest. You feel warm, if anything— warm and happy that you were able to help him, and make sure he's well.

He's slowing a little. His hunger finally abating and making way for something more tender and soft. You scratch his scalp lovingly and lean your head against his. A sweet, sleepy kiss pressed to his temple makes his pace falter.

Wriothesley soon separates himself from your neck, pressing a kiss and a kitten lick to your newest wound. Like the one on your wrist, it tingles for just a bit before any stinging or pain vanishes entirely.

"Hey baby," he murmurs, pulling away slightly to look at your face, but making sure his arm is still wrapped around you. To keep you steady, to remind you that he's here. He smiles a little at your happy, dazed expression, but even now you can see the lingering worry. "You with me?"

You respond with a hum, nodding as best as you can. "Yeah. 'm okay."

Wriothesley laughs a little, watching you stumble over your words. He lets you fall flat against his chest with you head hanging on his shoulder and cradles you against him. One hand goes to twine your fingers with his, desperate to hold you as much as he can, and the other snugly tucks your head under his chin. In his embrace, you feel the beat of your heart gradually slow back to a calm. It leaves you boneless and tired, the crash of it all finally hitting you and making your eyelids flutter.

"That's good." You can feel the rumble of his voice in his chest. "Did anything hurt at all, honey?"

You shake your head. Too tired to look up at him, so you squeeze his hand instead. A kiss is pressed to the apple of his throat. "Nothing. I'm just tired, 's all. I'm fine."

He holds you closer, the lump in his throat making it hard to speak. "Yeah. Yeah, that's good. Thank you, my love. Let's get you something to eat and drink, then we sleep— how does that sound?"

You just hum your agreement, limbs feeling heavier and heavier with each passing second. Wriothesley places a kiss to the crown of your head. With utmost gentleness, he cradles you in his arms as he stands, trying not to jostle you as he makes his way out of the room.

"I love you, sweetheart," he murmurs, heart growing three sizes in his chest, arms full of the most precious thing in his world.

You bury yourself further into him. "Love you more, Wrio."

[ #Taglist registration here !! ]

[minty-drop]

“Collector! Hey buddy, you ok?”

“Collector?”

Colourful stars, sparking with shine scattered across the walls. Searching, looking and digging there corners into the slits between the ivory. Worry swallowed the collector whole, nagging into his gut like a piercing blade.

“King!”

The star child shouted, turning to face the canine like creature, a titan who’s yet to fully grow, something they both had in common.

“I can’t find them. I don’t want to play this game anymore!”

He didn’t like how long this was taking, they were impatient, and did not like loosing games. But at this moment, he didn’t care if he lost.

He just wanted his ‘parent’ beside them again.

“M-maybe there back in our room? They could have switch spots”

“That’s cheating!!”

Rattling the walls like a earthquake, the force of the shout bouncing off the wall.

But he was right? Maybe they did go back?

Swiftly the child’s hand waved across, a motion to quick for the titan to catch before he as-well was thrown on top of its flat surface, the hum buzzing from the star present with the patter of feet next to him.

A game of hide n seek, a classic, a game where one would seek and the other would hide. A simple yet challenging game of who can stay hidden until the end.

And you were quite good at it.

It felt like hours ago you had watch the collectors feet drop off the bed, the counting of numbers stoping that erupted into giggles. The collector was good at hide n seek, and from what you’ve seen, was very good to the point you could only assume he had found king in under afew minutes when the star child had began to run around with an extra pair of feet right next to him.

They teamed up on you. Little sneakers…..

But at this point you didn’t really care, you were having fun with the children who you were to constantly accompany in every waking minute, sure it was tiring but it was fun. And in these moment you got to see them interact, giggling and planing there next ideas that were childish yet entertaining to hear. It was perfectly normal because after all,they were children. Maybes it’s because you were no longer a small child, the childish nature still living in you but as time passed by, you have matured by much and by the time you had met king and later met the collector through the events of the eclipse, you had began to become much like the parental figure of the group. You missed the others, and you wanted them here with you, for the collector to see what he is doing is wrong, but there was only so much you could do. The kid was young with immense power, but as time went on, you’ve come to see them as a young child you could look after and maybe then, all of you would be able to thrive.

But who am I kidding, nothing like that is easy to get.

You first heard the hum of the star like transportation, then the mumbling of the two children. The collectors feet hopped off the star along with the fluffy paws of king. From all you could see, the collector made his way to the bed you were currently under, inspecting the tossed blankets that you made previously made to look like someone was underneath the warm fabric. It was a risky move.

But his ankles were just in reach of your hands.

With a small snicker, you reached out and snatched onto the small godlike child’s ankles, causing the said child to jump up in surprise, hoping all the way over to the other side of the room like a scarred bunny.

“WHAT IS THAT WHAT IS THAT KINGGGGG”

“I DONT KNOW WHAT WAS THAT”

Curiously the collector had slowly walked back over to the bed, creeping up before lifting the whole bed up with his hand effortlessly.Laying there defenceless you could only do one thing.

“SURPRISE???”

Waving your hands like a mad man.

It took the collector a minute before he began to laugh, flying up in the air up and around before landing back down on the soft carpet.

“OHHH THAT WAS SO FUN. WE SHOULD PLAY THAT SO MANY MORE TIME! 1000 MORE TIMES!!!”

You chuckled.

“Anytime collector”

[msxrik]

Hii, I just came across your masacrik x reader post, it was AMAZINGGG! It’s so hard to find a post on him😭

anyway, I was wondering if I could request a masacrik x playful and disobedient rabbit(ish?) reader smut? Where reader constantly annoys him, only to snicker when he gets angry. So one day he puts her in her place.

Ex: she messes with his tools while he’s experimenting or knocks over important things/Stuff.

(Sorry it’s long, feel free to ignore<3)

HAII THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE REQUEST. ILL DO MY BEST

Masacrik x Bunny!reader

Cw: kinky, choking, bottom masacrik later? Bunny!reader. Blood (only a bit). Mention of a dead body, smut with no plot

Msacarik calls reader Zaika as thats a russian term for bunny

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

You knew what this man was capable of but you just didn't care did you? There was no fear in you. Just now, you sat in his Lab. He told you thousands of times that you're not allowed in there but at this point he gave up. You were sitting on a little table with all the tools watching what he was doing. He seemed.. mad. No irritated. Which is not a good sign at all. But you? You decided to use that to break him.

-What are you doing to that guy?-you asked, your hand landing on his head stroking his hair gently

-Zaika, stop distracting me. -he growled. At first when you started acting that way he wanted to scare you. But nothing worked so he just had to accept it. For now.

You on the other hand decided to mess with the already angry doctor more. Knocking off his tools from the table just as he wanted to reach for them. He just clicked his tounge loudly, grabbing you by your collar and slamming you onto the operating table as he kicked down the body off there first

-Ah.. masik...-

-Not a word from you. You are going to face your punishment now dear. -the smirk on his face made you shiver.

-Mmhm i hope it wont disappoint me..-you laughed.

That made Masacrik Snap one of his big hands landed on your neck, as the other one was ripping down the fabric of your skirt

You clawed at his hand for a moment but as he lets go he heard a big Yelp from you,

-You enjoyed that didn't you? Needy bitch. -he whispers unbuttoning his pants.

As he got rid of his clothes-and ripped yours apart- you got dragged by your hair to lay on your stomach with your face near his Dick as he was standing beside the operating table. You knew what to do already deepthroating the doctor which made him shiver and moan silently as he grasped your hair.

Mhm~ keep going, such a good girl for Daddy right..,? Oh fuck.. i might forgive you if this keeps up..~

The praise went straight to your crotch as you choked around his length.

Not long after he came down your throat and pulled out. You as the playful little bunny you are you pulled him by his lab coat and kissed him deeply with his cum still in your mouth. As you pulled away his eyes were wide open

-Zaika.. you're digging your own grave..

-Yeah.. but im the only one who can please you till you start crying doctor

Trying to hide the redness on his face He walked around the table to the side where your legs were hanging off grabbing you by them and switching your position so you were laying on your back. His hands keeping your legs open as he slides inside you

-A-ah~ what. Embarrassed..? -You giggled earning a harsh thrust from him

-awhh~ i love it when you're flustered..-you moaned out as his pace picked up.

The Man only scoffed digging his nails into your thighs drawing blood, but you were right. The lewdness of the whole situation. The way you were squeezing around him moaning like a bitch in heat he wanted to breed you so badly the thoughts got him red in the face and almost falling apart. His hands were shaking a bit. He was moaning- no whining as he was getting close

You bit your lip drawing blood from it. As it trickled down your chin you smiled at him

A-ah Masik.. d-dont- not insidee~

You teased him. You knew you had nothing to say but you wanted to get him going even more.

He furrowed his eyebrows as he grabbed you by the neck squeezing. His other hand played with your chest. The sudden lack of oxygen, the pleasure mixed with pain made you cum around him. But what would it be without you making it a big scene?

You moaned and whined his name scratching his hand.

He came right inside you making sure to stuff you good. After that he pulled away. With the intention the end this "session".

But just as he was about to turn away you sat up on the table and with all your might you grabbed him by his lab coat and slammed him onto the flat surface. He looked at you surprised as you sat on top of him hoovering against his crotch

-What its not like only you get to cum twice masik.. also i hope to see some tears from you-

You moaned the lust clouded over your vision you knew this wasn't gonna end well but the doctor seemed pretty...calm?

You unbuttoned his shirt and started kissing his chest. He covered his face. But he didn't push you away. So you kept going. Undoing his pants and rubbing yourself against his lenght. You made such a mess out of his clothes as the cum was dripping out. But the only thing you cared for was to see him overstimulated at this point

-Mnghh~ zaika~ you're going to regret thi- Haah~

He threw his head back as you slid him inside again. Picking up a harsh pace

Noo no-he sobbed- im still se-sensitive hngg!~

You laughed in his face. Seeing him like that made your whole fear of this man disappear.

-You cryiinn? You're acting like a whore,

He started gripping your waist to stop you from moving whining. Tears streaming down his face.

-S-shut up.. oh im bout to- fuuuck...,~

He moaned out as you stopped moving just as you felt him twitching inside you

Wha-why did you stoop...-He was trying to move his hips on his own but his legs were shaking too much

I dont know if you deserve it masik...

-Yes! Yes i do of course i do! I- please im begging you...

It was unusual of him pleading for anything so you granted his request and started moving again as he threw his head back and came crying out your name.

He was so easy to play with you found it amusing.

As you both calmed down you only heard your name. And looking at his face he seemed pretty mad about this whole situation.

Oh what have you done

/////////////////

Bro i would be shivering in my boots

[b1mbodoll]

i am so taerae fat cock enthusiast and i cant stop thinking about taerae stretching you around his cock when youre sleeping beside him 😵‍💫 you already said he wouldn't fit bcs hes so big so you didnt let him fuck you but youre so cute n innocent he cant help pulling your panties to the side and making it fit </3 he would quite literally split you in half fucking you so so good (๑>◡<๑) he would be so deep inside you too! all u can do is lay there and cry! but dont worry he'll press sweet sweet kisses on your face when he's finished emptying his cum in you <3 hopefully you dont get pregnant! youre not on the pill ♡♡♡♡♡

from 🎀 anonie!

also how have you been? i hope todays been treating you well! i caught covid so TT i dont know how active ill be but take care of yourself and be hydrated baby! 🫶🏽🫶🏽🫶🏽

pairings: kim taerae x f! reader

warnings: virgin killer taerae + noncon + blood + anal + gaping + creampies + spit

💌: hi sweetpea im so sorry for the late reply again T_T but thank u for this, im crying !! also i know ur feelin’ better n not sick anymore so stay safe and healthy my love !!! i miss u </3

“fuck this pussy’s so tight,” taerae whispers, trying to bully his thick length into your cunt.

it’s always a struggle working his dick into virgin holes but it’s so worth it when he succeeds, pushing through your hymen and watching the blood leak down his girthy dick. the feeling of your tight walls without a condom in the way making taerae fuck into you harshly, forcing the rest of his length inside of you.

“taerae s-stop!” your voice is strained, pain coursing through you at the intrusion. “’s too big! pull it out please!” your cries do nothing but spur him on, grinding his hips experimentally.

“don’t worry, princess. i’ll make it fit” he grunts, tangling his fingers in your hair and forcing your cheek into the bed as he fucks away your virginity, slick sounds caused by a mixture of your arousal and blood filling the room.

“hurts! it hurts,” you cry, “please stop.” despite your complaints you clench around him so tight and it’s almost like your sweet cunt doesn’t wanna part with his cock, making him grin wickedly.

“you keep sayin’ it hurts but you’re so wet, baby” he teases, pulling out until just the tip is inside of you before thrusting forward quickly, making your breath hitch. “you like the pain, don’t you?” taerae’s so fucking mean it makes you sob pitifully, almost making him ease up.

once you get used to the feeling of his cock punching your cervix you can’t help but moan at the feeling and your sounds don’t go unnoticed by him, his eyes locked on your cunt sucking him in nicely.

“‘m gonna cum!” you exclaim, squeezing your eyes shut because the pleasure is so overwhelming and you can’t stop yourself from meeting his thrusts, high pitched mewls escaping you every now and then.

one of taerae’s hands finds your waist, fingers digging into your soft skin as he chases his release, slamming his hips into yours.

“please, please, please.” you beg, pussy spasming around him when your orgasm hits, tight cunt milking him for all he’s worth, warm cum coating your walls as he empties his balls deep inside your little cunt.

“you’re sick for cumming on my cock after all that cryin’” he sneers, pulling out and using his hands to spread your hole, watching his cum drip out of you. he’s obsessed with how you shamelessy present for him, back arching as he toys with your hole, drawing a sigh of relief from you when he uses two digits to fuck his cum back inside of you.

“aw sweetheart.” coos taerae, “you didn’t think we were done, did you?” his voice is laced with faux sympathy as you try to collect yourself. your brows furrow in confusion at his words, “huh?”

he curls his fingers inside your cunt, cum leaking down his wrist. “finally get the chance t’fuck you ‘n you think ‘m stoppin’ after one round?” his laugh makes you feel dumb, as if you were supposed to know he was going to continue violating your holes.

taerae fists his length with his cum covered hand, the tip prodding at the tight rim of your ass making you jolt. “please don’t!” you shudder, “anything but that, please.” he pushes the head in, groaning deeply because you’re so tight and spits on your hole, watching the saliva trickle between your asscheeks.

“shut the fuck up and take it.” his teeth are clenched, trying not to cum instantly when he pushes in to the hilt. “such a good cumdump f’r me, can’t believe you’ve never been fucked before.” the stretch burns and all you can do is take what he gives you, nearly screaming as you cum just from having your virgin ass fucked by his fat cock.

[08melancholie]

Innocent Intimacy. — Micah Bell/Reader

a/n: let my boy be vulnerable for once!!! he literally turns into the biggest softie around people he truly loves i dont make the rules!!

words: ~1.5k | Tumblr exclusive!!!

Micah Bell loves—and prefers—being direct, but can't help feeling a deep closeness to innocent, pure touches and gestures.

Micah loves to wake up with you sleeping on top of him, your weight on his chest and abdomen, how your knees squish into his sides and your arms lazily wrap around his neck or hang off his torso. How you gently and slowly breathe into his chest or the crook of his neck, depends on where you are—and especially how he gets to kiss your head 'good morning' in return to the gestures.

Micah laughs when you hook your pinky finger onto his and tug him along with you somewhere, carefully looking at your laced hands and making sure they stay linked at the little fingers you have glued to one-another, and he knows damn well he'd let you lead him hell and back, if it meant holding your body, hands, etc.

Micah feels a comfortable array of butterflies in his stomach when you hold eye-contact with him from across the camp or campfire, during jobs or when in bed with him. He loves to look deeply into your gorgeous irises, getting lost in them when you look at him, and your ever-beautiful smile making your eyes squint in the cutest way. He feels like he's under your magic spell, when he looks into your siren eyes, deceiving and hypnotising him.

Micah always looks forward to you in his lap. Your personal, reserved seat at the fire being that familiar beige denim on his thighs. He loves sharing a drink with you, indirectly getting a taste of your lips when you pass him the bottle, lipstick marks just barely, faintly visible on it. He likes how you squeeze an arm around him, how it gets tighter when you laugh at someone's joke. He likes to slip his hand around to your waist, your hips and all over your sides, really—to feel his rough and calloused fingertips go under your shirt and to brush your soft, almost silky skin underneath them. He loves keeping his digits on the cold beer bottle you share, just to put them on your warm body, watch you jolt and scold him, just to hear that beautifully adorable laugh escape your lips. Music to his ears. Your soft thighs perched over his—a bottle between you two—your gorgeous face looking at him.

Micah absolutely adores to watch you leave his tent after spending the night—in his clothes. Sometimes, it's his shirt if you can't find yours under the pile you make the night prior; sometimes it's his neckerchief, to hide an array of hickeys he likes to leave clear on your neck; sometimes even his pants if you're too lazy to squeeze into your jeans, much more preferring the loose fit of his trousers on you. How you'd sometimes look; standing in his tent opening with nothing but his red undershirt, steaming coffee in your hand which you always drank while piping hot, whereas Micah's always had to be almost cold to be drinkable—which you knew, because you'd always walk up after he woke up with his own coffee, letting it sit outside the tent to cool under the wind before handing it to you, just to crawl back into bed with him while he finished it.

Micah likes the feeling of your soft hands on his rough skin after a long day; when you offer him a massage to relieve the tension in his muscles. He feels your added weight on his lower back when you straddle it, feels your hands gently yet affectively dig into his back, shoulders and sides, feeling your knuckles prod at his muscles while you chuckled at the array of relieved noises and groans Micah lets out, usually never getting to do these types of things, either because he'd be too busy to, or because he couldn't find it in him to care enough about it all, but your massages could really do miracles, especially on his always sore and tense body.

Micah can take care of himself, but he loves those rare moments where you agree to take a bath with him. Skin on skin, intimate yet powerfully connecting. His hands rubbing soap over your body while you wash his hair, giggling and chuckling like the biggest clowns in the East. His hands knew every crevice, curve and surface of your skin; your whole body, in fact. He knew just where you liked to be touched, where the best spots to scratch were, where you always scolded him for pinching or playfully smacking you, knowing he'd always get hit back—but it was worth it in the end, when he'd hear your giggle fill the empty saloon bathroom as you made him lean his head back to rinse his messy hair out.

Micah was no stranger to bad hair days, but he always made sure you knew he appreciated how you'd recommend him hair products while using your own to try and get his to look good on a bad hair day—'bad hair day' being almost every day. You brushed it, usually sitting behind him somewhere outside, if the weather was good—if not, then it was your tent and bed. You'd talk about anything and everything, Micah occasionally stopping to wince when you'd brush over a part that was very matted or such. He relished in every scalp massage you gave him when you'd apply different hair masks and creams that made yours look as good as always—and smell even better. He loved to smell it, it was just so you. After finishing up, you'd often do something silly like braid a few strands, two small braids on each side of his face which he took out the first few times, and now sometimes leaves in for days.

I missed Micah fluff, I've just been either writing depressing shit or smut about him recently and I really needed some good o' fluff <3

[pprodsuga]

dont rlly have a specific request but Jay . anything jay Pls . 😁

for my darling nic—jay loves you but not as much as i do

note: if this seems at all familiar, it’s because i took inspiration from a blog i previously had and reworked it. :)

***

Jay is an enigma that you can’t seem to figure out.

He’s best friends with your roommate, who is far too eager to pull you out of your bedroom on a Saturday night to meet up with your mutual friends at the local waterhole. It’s a staple bar that’s heavy on the weekend rotation despite having seen evidence of having one too many drinks to the point where you both refuse to get out of bed unless you crawl.

Jake convinces you to put on ‘real clothes’ (in the form of throwing a dress that is short enough to combat the warmer summer nights with a neckline just low enough to show enough cleavage to score free drinks from the bartender) by way of throwing it onto your lap as you stare at your TV screen from the couch.

You two are the last to arrive. Heeseung makes room for you and fetches an extra stool. Sunghoon holds your purse while Jake offers to accompany you to the bar and order a drink or two to catch up with the rest of the guys.

Jay, however, has barely given you the time of day and you’re starting to wonder if you’ve been reading things wrong.

You aren’t sure when this thing started exactly. You’ve been the quiet type who tends to have the most fun when you’re with people you know, although Jake has coaxed you out of your shell since befriending you in college, which leads you to the president day with his friend group that had adopted you as one of their own. Jay’s the same, too, quiet by nature until you get to know him. Part of you thinks it’s why you like him so much. You have to do the work in order to get to know him and dig far deeper beneath the surface to understand him.

Jay comes over semi-regularly. You were too timid to spend time in the living room while he and Jake played video games on the couch, shouting at each other while you’d sit in the kitchen and scroll through your phone until boredom hit. It felt too awkward to be in the same room as someone you barely knew, the wandering glances and polite ‘excuse me’s’ too awkward for you to handle.

It wasn’t until both you and Jake fell ill from the typical flu season that Jay stepped up to the plate and showed you another side of him you hadn’t seen before. Coming over to take care of his best friend and someone he barely knew warmed your heart, along with the homemade soup he delivered to your apartment every day until the two of you recovered.

You’re like a shy cat who’s coaxed out of your bubble every time Jay comes around.

Little by little, you stay in the living room for a longer period of time when Jay comes over. He throws a haphazard smile your way before asking about your week and other mundane questions to keep the conversation flowing. You don’t shy away and force yourself to ask him the same questions too, and find that his laugh is melodic. You wouldn’t mind hearing it more often.

You start to open the door for Jay when he knocks. He starts to text you instead of Jake when he’s arrived at your doorstep. You become relaxed around him unlike the stiff, cardboard cutout-like person you were when you first met him. Jake is beyond thrilled when he realizes that the two of you are getting along and that you’ve taken it upon yourself to join them on the couch when they’re spending time together.

You think Jay might like you back because he stays up texting you throughout all hours of the night when, really, he should be sleeping to wake up for an early day at his job. He comes over when you ask him to, leaving Jake a bit perplexed to find him already in the apartment when he comes home from the gym. Jay even dedicates some time into looking up restaurants he’d think you’d like and takes it a step further by asking you to accompany him without any of the other guys around.

It feels comfortable and safe, the way Jay started to get to know you. It feels even more rewarding when you start to understand just who he is as a person beyond his exterior. But despite all of this back and forth, you feel stuck in a will-they-won’t-they situation because Jay will pay for your meals and wait for you to enter your apartment before driving away, but hasn’t done anything beyond that.

Moreover, Jay doesn’t realize that women find him attractive, but you do.

You notice it when women perform double takes on the sidewalk and stare at him far too long for your liking. You see it when waitresses and cashiers think of anything and everything to say to him as he’s paying, reluctantly letting him go once he gives them a nod and a thanks.

Jay never picks up on these advances and it hurts you when he smiles back at them and entertains their banter for a minute or two. He leaves room for something more with just about everyone he speaks with even if he doesn’t realize it, and it kills you.

Tonight is no exception.

You’ve returned from the bar with Jake, who tells you to cover the next time you get coffee to pay him back for tonight’s drinks. You’re barely able to register that a very attractive woman has approached Jay as he returned from the bathroom when you sit down at the seat Heeseung saved for you.

She compliments his cologne and tells him how good he smells, inviting herself closer to his body and telling him this like it’s a secret she wants him and only him to know. She squeezes his bicep and bites her lip when he politely thanks her, and you notice Jay doesn’t move from her grasp.

The woman compliments his hair, his smile, and every physical feature she can visible see to coax Jay into staying with her for the night. It’s too much to witness, especially when you see her shove her phone in his hands so that he could type his phone number.

You’ve barely touched your drink when you tell your friends you need some air.

You’re grateful no one follows you outside, although you’re sure Jake might’ve taken a peek to see where you are to ensure that you’re in a place he can see at all times. The weather has cooled down significantly and you’re starting to regret not bringing a light jacket.

The door beside you opens. You don’t have to look to see that Jay followed you outside.

“Hey, are you okay?”

You nod once, looking ahead of you. “Yeah, I’m fine. I just needed some air.”

“You look a little cold.”

You hate that you can hear the concern laced in his words.

“I’m fine. Thanks, though.”

Jay shakes his head and removed his jacket, offering it to you.”

“Here, take mine. I don’t want you to get sick.”

You shake your head.

“I’m fine. It’s not even that cold anyway.”

You feel his stare at your bare arms, which are no doubt littered in goosebumps. Still, your stubborn nature refuses to give in.

Jay sighs. “Please, Y/N? If not, I think you should come inside. The guys are wondering where you are.” I’m wondering where you went.

You take the jacket from his hand and drape it over your shoulders. Jay would’ve preferred if you put your arms through and wore it properly, but he supposed he can’t be too picky when you’re being like this.

When you don’t say anything, Jay takes it upon himself to move beside you and learn on the wall you’re occupying.

“Are you okay? You’ve been out here for quite some time.”

“I’m okay. It was getting hot inside.”

Jake bites his cheek but doesn’t say anything, even if he knows you’re lying.

“Yeah, it can get pretty warm in there. Loud, too.”

You barely nod. Jay looks at the floor before looking back ahead of him.

“Did you get the air you needed?”

Hesitantly, you shake your head. “No.”

“Well, can I do anything to help?”

His question makes you whip your head in his direction and you feel as though you must look silly with the way your eyes are glazed over and how your lips start to tremble. Jay’s eyes widen in shock at how you’re looking at him. He wants to hold your hand and comfort you until your eyes aren’t watering anymore.

“I think we should stop doing whatever this is.” He watches as your finger gestures between the two of you.

“W-What?”

“We’ve had our fun, don’t you think? It’s probably time for us to stop pretending that this will go anywhere.”

Jay panics. “Why are you saying this?”

You huff out a humorless laugh. “I just watched you type your phone number for a girl before coming out here, Jay. Any hope that you and I could be anything other than ‘just friends’ went down the drain. Women are always throwing themselves at you and you entertain them when we’re together. I like you so much to the point where I can’t sleep at night because I always want to talk to you, but then you go ahead and put your phone number into some random woman’s cell. It hurts my feelings, Jay.”

He shakes his head rapidly, his palms sweating despite the cold air. Jay pushes himself off the wall to face you with an expression of sheer panic.

“No, no, you’ve got it all wrong. Please just listen. I didn’t give her my number and the whole time I was wishing I could muster up the courage to tell her to fuck off.” He laughs to himself. “That’s such a shit-sounding excuse but I’m terrible when it comes to rejection and telling people no. I move on autopilot and I don’t know how to do anything except for being polite and hoping they take the hint. It feels like I’m letting people down if I don’t at least acknowledge them.

“The truth is, I like you a lot. Too much, probably. I think about you all the time and I force myself not to text you my every thought because I’m afraid that I’ll scare you away. I don’t want that woman that came up to me, or anybody who isn’t you. I just want you and I’m sorry that it seems like I don’t.”

Your face warms up at his confession and it feels like your heart is stuck in your throat. Jay’s affection rekindles something within you and it’s almost as if you’ve forgotten why you were upset in the first place.

“You’re not going to say anything?” he croaks.

You throw caution into the wind and kiss him.

He feels your palms pressed against his chest as you lurch your body forward in an attempt to be as close to him as possible. Your lips move in tandem with his and Jay brings his hand to hold the back of your neck in a gentle grasp while his other rests upon your waist to keep you in front of him like he’s scared you’ll disappear if he doesn’t.

When you pull away, you look at him and Jay presses a kiss to your forehead as he puts his hand in your own. He leads you back into the bar and secures his jacket on your shoulders without letting you go.

When the two of you are back inside of the bar and standing in front of your friends with a knowing glint in their eyes, Jay doesn’t hesitate to kiss you in front of them either.

***

taglist: @enha-stars @karinasbaby @baevsxii @lillotus17 @syzavxy @mrmld @nikilvrfvr @luvyev @notevenheretbh1 @wvnkoi @seungiesgf @kgneptun @judeduartewannabe @iheartjayke @wonsbubble @ilyjxdz @foggysfrog @oddracha @haechansbbg @tobiosbbyghorl @ryunjin0 @sharksandminhos @jungwoneez @alex-is-sleeping @minjaexvz @woninluv @engeneeee-168 @friendlyuser57 @moony-mari @trdhgg @sleepyhoon @sunghoonsgfreal @i02hoonz @riksaes @021894s @zeeloveshee @jwnghyuns @vhuteryh @cloudiesblog @awsome209 @fleurixzs @xiaoderrrr @marshwatz @aeripark0703 @bambangan @papichulomacy @heartheejake @thatsroug @coffeeprincejaehyun @Riraives @princessarmy14807 @olivehues-blog @emma2black .

sorry to all tumblr wouldn't tag!

[icallhimjoey]

Im not sure if this is a concept you’d like or maybe it may feel similar to other things you’ve written, but I had a thought…

What if Joe goes to a secret tiny cocktail bar to see his regular guy who makes the best dirty martini’s and helps him switch off. However one day his favourite bar tender has left and in his place is you, completely new and unknowing about the special methods to joe’s martini’s. There’s something about you that he has the patience for so he offers a little lesson while you’re quiet and that then starts a weekly visit from joe rating the martini progression until an eventual private lesson at his house is introduced…

it took me a while to get started on this, to figure out how i was going to DO THIS because i dont know SHIT about mixology, but i think.... i think i've come up with something to make it work, so, here we go Wordcount: 2.8K

---

Mistaken, Not Stirred

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

Joe was... just, somewhere else. Mentally he’d clocked out for a second. He banked on just his muscle memory to carry his legs from the tube stop over to the black matte door, all on automatic pilot.

This was what it was usually like. What it had eventually become.

Same tunnels, same stairs, same escalator, same ticket gates, same pavement, same corners– he walked the same path every couple of days and had done for too long now, he thought.

His second home. Wasn’t his fault it was so nice. That he liked the place so much.

He turned his head to check for traffic where he had to cross the street but after crossing, he couldn’t even remember if he’d seen cars coming his way. The only way he knew there hadn’t been any traffic to knock him off the road, is because he made it to the other side of the street unscathed.  

The cold wind was fucking brutal tonight. Biting. Hurt his face and made him dig his hands deeper into his pockets.

Time for a drink. One that warmed him up from the inside out. Good thing he was on his way to get one. Well... some. 

A couple good ones and then perhaps whatever else he’d get slid over that he didn’t order at Hush-Hush. His favourite spot. 

Called just a singular Hush, and sometimes even The Hush by people that frequented the place. Joe was one of those. Pretentious, sure, but he liked being a regular too much to care what other people had to say about it.

From the outside, it was just a black door, nothing else. No signs. No windows. No outdoor seating – nothing. 

You had to know someone, who knew someone, who knew someone to know of the place. Or, and like most people did, Joe knew, use Google. Or even Yelp. The bar was easy to find if you knew where to look.  

Hush-Hush was a speakeasy done the way Joe loved speakeasies to be done.

Old-timey and dimly lit. Low music, sort of jazzy, sometimes live on the low stage in the corner where a piano resided on the side. People sat in armchairs and brown leather sofas. And cocktails were served by people who knew what they were doing. 

Joe knew Martin, the manager, well enough by now.  

Martin knew what he liked. Knew what sort of drink he wanted just by the look of him sometimes.

Joe hoped tonight would be one of those nights.

He walked up, jogged the last few steps up to the unassuming door and rang the doorbell. It took a few seconds for the little latch on the door to slide open, and two eyes appeared. Joe got recognized immediately and the latch closed just as quick as it opened before he was granted access inside.  

Down the stairs. 

Around the corner. 

Past the toilets.

Down the dark hallway. 

Into the bar.  

Joe walked straight over to his spot, to his seat, where he always sat. A barstool on the short end of the bar, where he had the best view of the whole place, close to Martin’s workstation, who’d make time for a chat whenever he could.  

Sometimes Joe would bring a friend, and they’d find a table with high-backed armchairs to sink into. But that was only sometimes. He liked going by himself more. He liked his spot by the bar more. Was easier to get his drinks there. 

And Martin made the best drinks. 

Gave Joe half his shit for free. Drinks he was considering to put on the menu. He’d make Joe try them out and then wouldn’t charge him a penny. “Try this,” he’d say, and he’d wait for Joe to give an extensive review.  

It was always amazing. 

Joe always loved everything he got given, and always left a fat tip to compensate.

Would sometimes say, “Little too sweet for me,” but he’d still finish the drink. Would always get onto the verge of being too drunk to make his way home. Martin somehow knew exactly when to give him a glass of sparkling water, and Joe would know; I’ve had enough.

But he always stayed ‘til close if he could. Liked it most when it was just him and maybe one or two other people in there still, when there’d be enough time to properly chat with Martin or other bar staff.  

Sometimes Chloé would ask him how his evening was going, but he mostly spoke with Martin.  

Joe wouldn’t say they were actual friends. 

But he’d definitely say he knew Martin, that they were friendly, in a “Yea, I know the manager.” sort of way. 

Joe liked this friendship that was contained by the location and the job at hand. There were two very clear roles here: barman and barguest. Drink-maker and drink-drinker.  This was just casual small talk, never invasive, always topics he didn’t mind talking about at all. If he didn’t mention his work, Martin wouldn’t either.  

Joe found his spot, sat down and nodded at Martin who was already holding up a classic martini glass.  

See?

Knew what he needed.

Maybe not needed, but definitely what he wanted.

Someone who nearly dropped the glass through slippery fingers and seemed flustered and unsure about what her hands were doing.

About what your hands were doing.  

“Dirty martini,” Martin instructed and hovered close, kept eyes on you, was ready to instruct and help if you did it wrong. 

And… you immediately did it wrong, obviously. 

You were learning still, and this was your second night actually allowed to make drinks. To be behind the bar and mix cocktails. To do them the way they were actually meant to be, and not do them the way you did them at home, where you just did whatever tasted nice enough.  

You were new to this, so of course, you were full of mistakes. 

Yesterday had been a disaster, and you had heard one barstaff tell another, “I’ve not seen it this bad in a while,” and you’d cried the second you’d stepped into your dark, cold flat afterwards.

Contemplated quitting.

Just calling and telling them that, actually, no, this was not the job for you, thanks.

But Martin was patient, and he was the manager, so that was all that mattered.

He just handed you what you needed when you reached for the wrong thing and told you with a little nod and a raise of his eyebrows for you to fill the glass. 

Except you didn’t use a measuring utensil, were about to do a free pour and, no. That wasn’t what you were meant to be doing. Martin stopped you with a hand held over the glass, then pointed at a jigger.

“Sorry,” 

“Always measure – free pouring wastes liquor and makes a drink taste different every time. Keep the control and use a jigger.”  

You had seen Martin free pour all the time.

But okay.

You were told to use a jigger.

So, you used a jigger. Nearly got the wrong side of it though. Martin was able to flip it over just in time. But you used the jigger just like you had been instructed to and only spilt a little vermouth. Nothing crazy, you thought, but you could feel the annoyance practically radiate from this other girl, Chloé, as she wiped her station clean.  

And you felt the burn of judgmental eyes on you from several directions now, because the handsome guest at the bar who you presumed the drink was for was now also watching your fumbling fingers.  

“Oh, sorry,”  

“Sorry! I didn’t see…”  

“Where’s the– sorry, I don’t… what’s next?” 

You were still learning. 

Martin showed you were to find the olives and let you finish the drink. You looked over at Martin for confirmation; was this good enough to serve? Could you just place this on the bar in front of this guy who’d been hesitantly watching you make this drink for him? Had seen you nearly mess up, what, like, eight times?  

Yes. 

Martin gave you a nod. 

You served the drink, smiled and said, “One dirty martini. Shaken, not stirred.” in an attempt to be funny. To get this guy to smile at you.

Except you hadn’t shaken anything, had you?  

“Oh, I mean, stirred, not… I didn’t shake that. Sorry, did you want it shaken? I also didn’t–” you turned around to face Martin. “I didn’t shake or stir this, does it need– did I do it wrong?”  

You saw how the two men looked at each other and smiled. Chuckled, almost. 

“No, no. This is perfect,” the guest sat at the bar kindly said and took a sip.  

You could tell by his face that it definitely wasn’t perfect. He then also immediately tried to carefully swirl the glass around a bit – to stir the drink. Or even to attempt to shake it a little.  

“Next time,” Martin started when you turned back around, and then he tumbled into all the things you had done wrong. It made you feel the burn of failure deep inside your chest.  

You could take the criticism, you told yourself. 

You could. Promise.

It just made you feel very small, and insanely embarrassed, and so fucking dumb. If you got too much about it, made you want to cry.  

But you were trying. That counted for something.

The guy at the bar did say the drink was perfect. That had to count for something, even if he so very clearly had been lying.

And, listen. Martin was just trying to teach you. To avoid you making future mistakes. It was no big deal.

All new beginnings were difficult, and you could deal with this. 

You really could. 

And so you did.

You ignored the prickle of tears behind your eyes every time you heard Chloé huff impatient and frustrated sighs.

You ignored the growing frustration you felt constrict your throat every time Martin went “Wait, wait, wait... hang on, remember what I said last time?”

It was only your second day. Everything was fine.

No matter how annoyed the other bar staff seemed to grow, you held onto your straight face. No matter how many times Martin seemed to have to go over the same things again and again. And again. Straight face.

“Yes. All right. Thanks. How much of this again? Ah. Okay. Will do, next time. Sorry.”

It didn’t help that the bar was dark, that the only real light source seemed to come from Christmas lights that were strung up for ambience.

You fought through the minutes, the hours, the entire evening that slowly dripped into the night, until it got close to closing and people started closing out their tabs. You were better at this. Actually good at this. Knew how to work the cash register, knowledge done up at a previous job, and smiled politely as people tapped their cards or phones against the PIN pad before wishing them a lovely rest of their night.

This was easier work.

Just the machine telling you what people owed the place and then making sure they paid for what they’d consumed.

Martin saw you go around and didn’t interfere, which gave you a little boost of confidence. Made you feel like he hadn’t made an insane mistake by hiring you a couple days ago, even though throughout the night you were sure he must have had that exact thought several times.

Doing this little task meant there were no wrong glasses to grab. No wrong ice cubes to put into glasses the wrong way. Not have the guy at the bar try to hide a smirk as Chloé said something to him, voice low enough for you to just miss it, but the roll of her eyes said enough.

Bitch.

No.

She was probably nice.

You were just fucking up a lot.

You would probably act the same way if the roles were reversed.

Maybe not so openly, though.

But, that was definitely some sort of sneer about you that she made towards a guest, and mentally, you went, “Where’s your Christmas spirit, Chloé?”. But outwardly, you'd pretended you hadn't seen or heard. Smiled your sweetest politest smile when you made eye-contact with him.

Good-looking bastard.

When he was the last guest in there still, you worked out how much money this guy still needed to pay and printed the bill for him. Slid it over just after he finished his chat with Martin, who disappeared onto the floor with a wet dishcloth to do the tables. A task he would have given you had you not already been busy doing something else.

“That will be 104,93 for you, sir.”

For a moment Joe just... looked at it. Was halfway through putting his coat on and froze, one arm stuck in a sleeve, eyes on the little white piece of paper and the number down at the bottom of it.

104,93 quid?

What... what were you doing?

You didn’t falter, however. You knew you got this right – you’d managed to keep count on this guy. Hadn’t found his tab in the system, so you’d created one for him, and then... had just, seen what he’d had.

Not that you’d been staring all night. But, you’d kind of been staring all night.

Men didn’t get to be this charming and then expect not to be looked at, you know?

He was also right there.

And you’d seen him watch you too.

Having someone watch you fuck up added another layer of nerves to everything, so, of course you’d seen him watch. Had felt him watch.

You set the PIN pad to the correct amount and held it out to him.

“Here you go.”

And listen. It wasn’t as if Joe had a leg to stand on here.

That was the correct amount.

He had consumed all of those drinks.

But, this... shit. This wasn’t how it usually went.

Usually, Martin wouldn’t charge him for half the shit he’d drink. And then Joe could tip and feel good about himself.

You were charging him like he wasn’t a regular. Like he had asked for all the drinks that Martin had made for him without him asking. Like he hadn’t helped Martin out by giving his honest opinion on every single one of them. Like he wasn’t Joe Quinn.

And then you smiled?

All innocent and sweet? Like you hadn’t practically cost the place money tonight, instead of making it some?

Joe got his phone, tapped it to the pad in your hands and tried to come to terms with how this made him feel on the inside.

Again, he had no leg to stand on.

He couldn’t really go, “Oh no, I don’t... I never pay for what I drink in here.”

So he paid.

Shook his head a little as you passed him the PIN receipt and told him to have a lovely rest of his night. Couldn’t help but smile at how silly this felt.

Just before Joe left the bar and made his way back upstairs into the cold, he stopped right in front of the hallway that would lead him there and found Martin close enough to say goodbye to.

“See you later, mate,”

“Yea, see you in a few,”

Joe looked back at you behind the bar, where you were trying to spin liquor bottles so all their labels faced out, nearly making one slip from its spot. You caught it just in time.

“And hey,” Joe added, nodding his head towards you for Martin to see. “Good luck with that one.”

Martin smiled, remained professional and just shrugged.

Joe was less tactic about it, what with the alcohol in his blood and him being the last guest in now anyway, and added,

“She’s lucky she’s cute.”

You pretended you didn’t catch that.

Pretended there were lots of people in still, and that the music was still going, and that where he was stood was way too far for him to be in earshot.

But you’d heard that.

And you would have cried if you disagreed.

But all you’d really heard him say was that he thought you were cute.

The handsome man who had sat the bar all night, who Martin just said he would see in a few days, had just called you cute after he’d watched you make mistake after mistake. After you’d served him mediocre drink after mediocre drink.

Cute.

Dirty martini.

Fun. You had a goal now.

You were going to learn how to do the perfect dirty martini, and you only had a few days.

“You just watch,” you mumbled to yourself as you covered the little dish of lemon slices with clingfilm that didn’t stick to the sides just before Chloé took it from your hands and redid it. Properly, this time.

Sigh.

No.

Dirty martini first.

Clingfilm after.

“You. Just. Watch.”

---

The Taglisted

@adoreyouusugar, @alana4610, @ali-in-w0nderland, @alwayslindie, @babybluebex, @barfightzanddiscolightz, @bettyfrommars, @cancankiki, @capricornrisingsstuff, @chaoticgood-munson, @chrissymjstan, @choke-me-eddie, @demonsanddemogorgons, @did-it-work, @dirtyeddietini, @dylanmunson, @eddies-puppet, @electricmunson, @emma77645, @emmamooney, @everythinghasafacee, @figmentofquinn, @frootvelvet, @ghost-proofbaby, @ghostinthebackofyourhead, @harringtonfan4, @haylaansmi, @jasminearondottir, @jewellethief, @joesquinns, @kellyxo1, @kennedy-brooke, @lovelyblueness, @manda-panda-monium, @miserybeans, @nadixq, @notverywise, @pepperstories, @phyllosilicate-s, @roosterisdaddy36, @sherrylyn628, @sidthedollface2, @thebellenouvelle, @thewondernanazombie, @tlclick73, @werepartnersnow, @winterwakesthewolf, @witchwolflea, @yelyahcardella, @yunirgo

taglist currently full, sorry

[gamblersdoll]

PUT MY NAME ON IT, NOW IT DESIGNER 3

cw: tension, maybe yelling, sexual tension again because hes a perv at times.

you had a love hate relationship with nostalgia.

currently speaking, youve been on the phone with kinji for the last… five hours? used to be times that amount. he always loved hearing you apparently.

“when can i come see you?” he asked on the other line, hearing him tap the back of his phone in anticipation.

“im not too sure kin, you know hes always over here.” you said , phone right next to your ear while you lay. you had been drifting soon, maybe kinji picking up hints on that.

“is he there right now, mama?” he whispered, or was he just getting closer to the phone?

you felt a pull at your heart, and a small heat in your thighs. you suddenly becoming wide awake and breathed heavy. “uh uh.”

“oh good, so i can stop by and see you then.” he said, in that oh soft voice.

“no– he can just randomly pop up.” you said, hoping that he wouldnt care though and came by anyway.

“oh babydoll, you think id care about that? nah. i just wanna see you.” he said, on his end, he truly did want to see you. but you sound so good right now, to the point his boxers were tight.

“mmhh.. fine. but im mad since you made me miss my nap dummy.” you said, having a pout that he couldnt see.

“pretty girls dont pout ma, quit it.”

you immediately lost that pout.

three knocks is all it took for you to come to the door and open it, being greeted with the no other.

“hey mama.” he said, lazy grin plastered on his face while he looked down at you. “give my hug girl.”

you did hug him, feeling the heat in his body and that overflowed you. “jesus fuck your burning up. had a good bet or something?” you asked, pulling away.

“that was yesterday, you know im always burnin when i see you.” he said, closing the door with his heel and kicking his jordans off.

“thank you.”

both bodies plop on the couch, giving arm length space and looking away. kinji always paid you attention. he scoot next to you and wrapped a arm around your body, his hand landing on the fat of your hip. he grips it, leaning into you. “why you nervous?”

“im not nervous!” you shouted, scrunching your eyebrows together. you never learn do you?

“fuck you hollerin at?” he said, his hand finding a way to your jaw and making you look at him. you would remember how this goes.

until stupid ass sinji ruined the moment by knocking on the door, you having to get up and open it for him, and now, currently, you had to be snuggled up under his arm while kinji was on the other side of the room.

“so uhh.. how long have you known each other?” sinji asked, trying to pry information out from both of you. this was something he did always when he felt he should know, which technically he should know, but wasnt his business.

“two years.” kinji answered for you, eyes focused on the tv. he was tapping his foot, trying to warm up. soon as sinji showed up, he became cold. he hated the cold but if you were cold, it wasnt too bad he guess.

“i was asking my girlfriend, not you.” sinji said, attitude laced and holding you tight. causing kinji to snap his gaze towards you both. you looked uncomfortable, because sinji didnt do this unless he felt “possessive.” he sucked his teeth, bouncing his knee more in trying to not go off.

“two years, sinji.” you said, feeling uncomfortable and tapping your foot.

“didn’t know you go for.. those kinds of people.” he digged, looking at kinji and then back at you.

“whats kinds of people, sinji?” hakari spoke up, turning his whole head to him.

“im not talking to you–“

“nah nah nah, what kinds of people?” hakari said, slowly standing up and then causing sinji to stand up too.

“gamblers, since ya know, you always need money from the people who dont have the money.” sinji snided.

“sinji!” you shouted, getting in the middle.

you couldnt even tell hakari why he decided to start something when hakari towered over him. you looked at hakari , silently asking him to not destroy shit, since of his fighting style.

he sighed through his nose, calming himself and then chuckling. “you talking big boy shit when i can make a bet that i could have her right back here, and i could help her.. needs in every way possible.”

“she isnt like you, she knows where home is! ain that right baby?” he said, like some lost puppy.

“sure.” you said, rolling your eyes. you walked to the kitchen , opening the fridge and and popping a water bottle out.

“good, now you should leave.” sinji said, pointing at the door. “theres the door. try to lock it on your way out.”

“hes able to stay. you should be the one leaving since you disturbed the peace.” you said, causing hakari to chuckle and point at the door.

“theres the door, boy.” he said, having a lazy grin on his face. sly fucker.

sinji maybe muttered a few words and walked out the door, although slamming it. hakari then watched you walk over to the couch, your hip being softly pressed against it.

“youre not off the hook either, hakari!” you said, raising your voice. “that was pointless!”

“who you shoutin at?” he said, raising an eyebrow and looking down at you. he got closer–

“you! because you couldve fought and—“

you never learned, did you? you must like being fucked up. because you were suddenly bent over the couch arm, your ass cheeks pressed firm against his groin. he had his hand on the back of your neck, and he ever so often bumped his groin against your ass.

“he’s spoiled you rotten.” he said, snickering and having his free hand on your under cheek. “think i gotta remind you hm? because that bet is still going.” you felt heat in your thighs, squirming a bit. “jus gunna let you know now you gettin fucked up. when was the last time you got dick?”

“uh… maybe a year?” you said, why were you all shy and shit? you were also talking big girl shit. you squirmed more, only feeling his half hard-on.

“yeah, let me show you where that cervix is.”

next chapter is full of smut and fluff. it will most likely be heavy.

[msbunnat]

sorry if it was asked before, but is your webcomic about ganymede and zeus will explore their relationship differently from the usual “kidnapped/raped/died” like will it show something more complex with ganymede fallin’ for Zeus but zeus being zeus and a god it will mean his ruin?

Hi! Its ok, I like people making questions (this the point of all my pre-comic art kkkk).

So, on my take I will use mostly what all myths have in common: the kidnapping and Ganimedes become immortal. Yes, those re the ONLY two things. After digging this myth so much, all versions have differents things to say (like, its not always Zeus the kidnapper; when its him, not all versions say Ganimedes was a lover to him; not all vesions even agree with his age and what he was doing before the kidnapping; the aquarius thing too is way debatable... in resume its a short myth with a lot of takes since ancient Greece and I'm doing my take -

*Plato was so bias to this myth as a love story that had spread like it is I guess. AND MY BIGEST OPP OVIDIO BASTARD GUY THAT DISTORTED SO MUCH THE MYTHS TO MAKE ALL HELENIC GODS LOOK WAY WORSE, THAT EVERYTHING AFTER HIM IS ALSO WAY WORSE!!! (Sorry, any oportunit I will talk how this guy ruined a lot their reputations). So like, there is no original to use as a solid base.

That said, It will be a complex relationship yes. But I will not tell if there is love or lust or anything, the fun is to discover it yourself, interpret and make questions (be decive by my characther bwahahahahah). Again, its deep, but is not so serious, I'm exploring and having fun. -w-

(BIG) Side note:

I cant find any sorce that says Ganimedes actually died, where do people take it? I have interpretations as the myth is about his real death (my interpretations goes on that direction), but on the myth itself, he never died. If you know the sourse, please tell me!

And about Zeus, after looking into him, and a lot of gods, I thing a lot of people dont care much what Zeus really means and is, think he is a pure mostrous ugly cartoonish villain thing that only think about sex... (dont get me wrong, I'm not denying or excusing his cheating and grapists things! I belive he was all this, but not the way people are used to think I guess - to me he grapes by decive, not by force and that is something intresting to explore). But there is so much more, he was a god really focused on justice and peace, he try to protect everyone in some cases and act in a way to make terms with what everyone wants... At the same time he is prideful of who he is and loves to joke around (really, he is a prankister too, in both good and bad ways). I have also find some people interpreting him being abused by Metis on some myths...

Its so sad people dont give a second look on him, when he have to many sides (and to all bad he have done, there is others gods that made the same or way worse, but they dont get this treatment).

I blame Hercules by disney! kkkkk Cause people got intrested in greek mythology and found out he was a complex being and hated that, and there is more 'nice' and 'romantic' myths about Hades kkkkkkkkkk

Welp, I'm still studying, but its getting kinda boring because Zeus have way to many myths and conections, makes me want to watch quick videos about him, but almost all dont tell the sorce ;-;

[rockermybuddie]

In another life

Tommy x Evan “Buck”

Tw:suicidal thoughts, suicidal actions

Summary: With Gerrad captain of the 118 its been living hell for Buck and his team. While Hen and Chim have worked under Gerrad before, Eddies having sergeants like Gerrad in the army, they are used to how he leads/treats his workers. Buck on the other hand is having a hard time adjusting to this change.

When he has had enough and no change is happening in who is captain at the 118 Buck figures its time to take matter into his own hands.

———————

As they stand in one line as Gerrad makes is way down it saying how everyone is a disgrace, Buck can feel his temper rising.

He takes in slow deep breaths as his fists are clinched at his side, finger nails digging into his palms.

Gerrad steps in front of him, he can smell the scent of old spice and sweat. As Gerrad speaks Buck can feel bits of spit on his face, it takes everything in him to keep from lifting his fist to his face.

Gerrad gave orders to run around the building and clean everything twice intill they received a call.

Buck unclenched his fists and saw small droplets of blood on his palms. He quickly wipes his hands on his pants hoping no one would notice.

“Hand Buck.” Hen says pursing her lips holding her hand out. Buck rolls his eyes letting out a heavy sigh as he puts his hand palm up in hers.

“You need to stop digging your nails into your hand. It was just healing from last week Buck.” Hen says in her calm but stern tone. Chim handed her the antiseptic wipes.

“When is Bobby coming back?” Buck asks ignoring the little stings from the wipe on his hand. Hen, Chim, and Eddie all look at each other and Buck can tell hes missing out on something.

“Hes not Buck.” Eddie tells him, a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “How do you know?” Buck asks him. Before they could answer the bell rang.

Off to the trucks everyone went quickly putting on their turnout gear.

When they arrived at scene the old perfume factory was in flames. “Do they still use this place?!” Eddie calls out. “Yes, so this place has very flammable chemicals.” Chimney answers.

The team gets their orders from Gerrad and they head in to search for the last three unaccounted employees.

Chimney and Hen found one on their side while Buck and Eddie are still searching for the other two on theirs.

The fire was getting bigger and they were running out of time. “Lets split up!” Buck yells. Eddie wants to disagree but he knows it’s probably the best and fastest way to find the last two people.

The two split and look for the last two people.

“I got them Buck! Lets head out!” Eddie says on the radio. He grabs the last two people and leads them to the exit. Busy focusing on getting the people to safety he didn’t realize Buck never responded or is behind him.

“Buckley, respond.” Gerrad says on the radio. That got Eddies attention he looked up from giving the people oxygen and water, looking around for Buck.

“Diaz! Wheres Buckley?!” Gerrad asks him. “He was behind me sir. I dont know. We split up to look.” He answers. Gerrad rolls his eyes.

“Buckley respond! Thats an order! We have the last two survivors.” Gerrad says again on the radio.

Buck found himself in a room filled with barrels of the solution they use for perfume. The room is basically a ticking time bomb thats going to go off any minute.

He found himself stuck in a daze, he heard Gerrad talking on the radio but he didnt care enough to respond. Maybe just maybe if he……

Explosion.

The room ignited into a big flame ball and sent Buck flying backwards into the wall. He hit the floor and was knocked out cold.

“Buck!” Eddie yells grabbing his helmet running back inside. “Diaz do not go in that building!” Gerrad yells, but Eddie doesn’t listen. His best friend just got blown up.

Eddie finds Buck lying on the floor not moving.

“Buck!” Eddie rolls Buck over his back. He checks his pulse, its there but its thready. “Come on Buck open your eyes.”

Eddie grunts as he picks Buck up over his shoulders as he carries him out.

“His pulse is there, thready but its there.” He says out of breath when he places Buck on the streacher.

Chimney and Hen look over Buck before loading him into the ambulance.

———-

At the hospital they all waited in the waiting room anxiously waiting for the doctor to come in and tell them Bucks status.

“Eddie!” Tommy voice says when he sees him sitting in a hospital chair. “What happened?!” He asks looking around at everyone.

“We don’t exactly know. He….. he was behind me.” Eddie says unsure of himself now. Because they had separated so he wasnt behind him?

Tommy can tell Eddie is taking this pretty hard so he looks over at Hen hoping she can tell him.

Gerrad just sat in his chair head thrown back with a cup of coffee in his hand. Tommy did his best to ignore him.

“He was in the room when the explosion happened. We are waiting for the doctor to tell us more.” Hen says.

Tommy took a seat next to Eddie as they all waited.

Finally the doctor walked into the room, Tommy and Eddie both stood up so fast they bumped into each other.

“Evan Buckley?” She asks them. “Yes, how is he? Can i see him?” Tommy asks.

“Hes okay, he does have a concussion and he has lost a bit of hearing but it will come back. We are treating him for smoke inhalation. He does have a broken rib from the explosion and bruising. But he will make a full recovery.” She tells them.

“Can i see him?” Tommy asks again. “Follow me.” She says. Tommy follows the doctor, he looks behind and sees that Eddie stayed behind.

“Eddie.” Tommy says waving a hand for him to follow. He knows how close Eddie and Evan are so it would be unfair to not let them see each other.

——-

Buck laid in the hospital bed, his head was pounding. He looked over a saw Eddie asleep in a chair and Tommys head laid at his side.

He lifted his hand and placed it on Tommys head feeling his soft hair between his fingers.

“You’re awake.” Tommy says with a smile standing at Evans bedside. He runs a hand over his head pushing his curls back as he places a kiss on Evans forehead.

“Hey Buck.” Eddie says on the other side. “What?” Buck asks, in a dry voice. “I said hey Buck.” Eddie repeats a little louder remembering the doctor said he lost some hearing.

After knowing Buck was okay Eddie left the room so Tommy and Buck could be alone.

“You scared me.” Tommy says gently as he rubs Evans forehead with his thumb. “Sorry.” Evan says.

“What happened? Why didnt you leave?” Tommy asks. Evan looks away from Tommy and gulps, not wanting to answer this question no matter who was asking it.

“Evan, tell me.” Tommy lifts Evans chin making him look at him. “Was this intentional Evan?” Tommy asks, voice shaking when Evan didnt answer him again.

When Evan broke away his eye contact again Tommy knew the answer.

A tear fell from his eye as he gently laid the top half of his body over Evan resting his head between Evans neck and shoulder.

“Why Evan?” He asks. “Tell me baby, please.” His lips quivered against Evans skin.

Evan tells Tommy what was going through his head at the perfume factory.

“Theres other ways to report a captain baby. Trying to take your life isnt one of them.” Tommy says trying to control his voice. “I know Gerrad can be a hard ass. Trust me.”

“Evan…” Tommy says softly. He realizes he has to report this to the fire commissioner, since Evan tried taking his life on a call.

“I know, you have to report it. Guess i’ll be at home for the next few months.” Evan says disappointed. “I’ll be right there with you.” Tommy tells him, his voice a little more steady.

———-

A/n: there is a Buddie sequel to this story. I will publish it in a few days after this one :)

[iamthecomet]

hi

do you have any ideas on predatory usage of quintessence

like murder ghoul aether cuz im still thinking about "pump them full of so much quintessence they dont know their name"

-🧪

I have so. SO many thoughts on predatory use of quintessence. And on murder ghoul Aether specifically. Someday, I would like to write full fics for each of my murder ghouls and their preferred methods (Swiss in particular is also quite fucked up). But for now, enjoy some thoughts about murderous, creepy, Aether.

Aether likes them calm. Dopey. Happy. Finds the blood tastes better when they're content. But, if he's honest, he doesn't really care about the meal. It's his least favorite part. Nourishing in a way that feels necessary but not pleasurable. Sometimes he'll even invite Dew in to actually finish them off once he's had his fill of their psychic torment. It's the lead-up he likes the best. The chase, the capture, the play. He likes smiling softly at an unsuspecting sibling. Likes furrowing his brow and asking for help with something. He finds that's the easiest way to get them. Asking for help. Humans are driven by the need to be helpful, the need to be useful. They toddle after him excitedly every time. He tries to pick humans that are over-eager. Excitable. The ones that babble at him as he leads them away from safety. He likes the way they talk. The waver in their voices. Nerves. Excitement at being noticed by a band ghoul. Sometimes he digs in right then, lets his powers drift into their mind and watches the fantasy unfold. Devours all of their hopes, their wants. The way they play out their future from this chance moment forward. They think about Aether noticing them, knowing them, loving them. Platonically or otherwise. They craft new worlds for themselves in the short walk to the basement door. And then, like clockwork, they stop. Hesitant. Aether tastes the bite of their fear as they look at the heavy oak door that they've been told never to breach. Those fantasies of a life blessed by a Ghoul's favor crumble. Apprehension eats them away like flame does to paper. They worry about Sister. About incurring wrath. About being kicked out. Thrown out into the woods to find their way home. About being pulled from the church--the only place they've ever found meaning. Aether looks at them, pulls his probing magic back. He reaches for them, claps one big hand over their boney shoulder and feeds them their first taste of his magic. They stumble a little. Dazed. Always thrown off. Hit with a wave of vertigo that Aether doesn't bother to explain. He looks at them like he's worried for them, asks them if they're alright. "Yeah," they say, "was just dizzy for a second. Must be nerves...I'm--we're not supposed to go down there." Aether shrugs, presses his quintessence in further, wraps it around their brain stem. Calms their racing heart. Feeds them back their thoughts of usefulness, of friendship, of a future with Aether by their side. "You're helping me, so I'm sure it's fine." And then, he leads them into the dark. No one who follows Aether into the basement ever comes back. He keeps them for a while, hours, days, sometimes weeks depending on what he can get from them. He feeds off of their emotions, of playing with them. Finds the psychic nourishment far more valuable than the blood and viscera. He digs into their memories. Watches their trauma play out like a movie. He keeps them drugged up on his magic, sedated. He used to restrain them early on, until he realized he didn't have to. Keeping them high on his magic was enough, drifting, delirious. Implanted memories making them think they're living the life they wanted. Their fantasies played out in brutal detail while Aether digs his fangs into their neck and tastes their pain, their pleasure, bursting bright on his tongue. When they've served their use, when their memories, and their trauma, and their desires start to taste....stale. He finishes them off, or has Dew do it. He cleans up. He starts again.

[laneynoir]

I'm here with a writing idea - reuniting after a battle, reader x your favorite LOTR character(s), you choose which ones 🥰 the more the merrier 😍💛

Word count: 2271

A little polyamory for your dash?

Thorin/Bilbo/reader.

Also some very pointed Dwalin/Ori, but if you skip from ~ to ~ you can ignore it I guess.

"You utter arse"

Bilbo's head jerks up from it's spot on the bed, once determining that it is not him to whom you speak he relaxes, but only just. "He cannot hear us, I dont think. He spoke to me on the ice, but..." His voice trails off miserably, and your scowl lessens slightly.

He turns back to Thorin as you settle at his side, oblivious to the discomfort of dirt and gravel digging into your knees. "Will he?"

The Hobbit's matted curls bob slightly as he shakes his head. "We don't know. Thranduil did what he could, but he was pierced through the chest and," the breaking in his voice shatters you, and you grip his hand in support. "And he lost so much blood that we can't yet be sure either way."

A sob breaks from his throat, a desperate sound, as unnatural from him as an evergreen in the dessert. You pull him into an embrace, which he relaxes into for a brief moment before jerking back with an expression of horror.

You frown in confusion, "Bilbo? What's-"

"You. Are. Injured." He growls out, holding a bloodied hand and sleeve up.

"It truly isn't that-"

Once again, Bilbo interupts in a way that would have shocked Bungo Baggins with its lack of manners. "No. No, I cant loose you, I wont let you die on the floor while I still wait to know weather he too will die. I do not know how much more I can loose y/n, just think for a momment what this would do to me."

Your mouth falls open, before shame fills you. "You are right of course, I realize that. But I could not think of my own injury when Thorin lies as if dead."

Bilbo stands with a nod. "Right, you will stay right where you are, no moving, in going to find Oin." After you confirm with a grunt, he races from the tent, soft footsteps quickly fading.

When he is out of sight, you return your attention to Thorin, who lays just as still as death, face pale from blood loss. You push yourself up to sit on the edge of the bed, careful as to not disturb him. It takes a while to fully take stock of the inflections, the most obvious being the badgage wrapped around his chest, white fabric bleeding crimson. 

The next is a large gash on his exposed thigh, closly followed by an undisclosed hurt on the foot. In addition, his skin is littered in cuts, bruises, and what looks suspiciously like broken ribs.

At this moment, you hear the tent flap smacked open, giving you the opportunity to ask, "What on earth happened to his foot?" Still gripping Thorin's hand you turn expectantly to the new faces at the entrance. Bilbo scoffs from beside Dwalin,

"The fool got himself stabbed." You try to figure how that could have been possable, and so are distracted enough for Oin to grab you away from Thorin's side and onto a bed of your own. As you protest, Bilbo tuts. "Oh no you don't, the bed isn't going to hurt you, and" He draws a shuddering breath.

"And you need not cause Master Baggins further worry by being foolish. I pulled you from beneath two dead trolls not twenty minutes ago, I think you can handle a bit of prodding from our healer."  Dwalin speaks with a smirk, which only increases as the residant Hobbit's face goes compleatly neutral.

You eyes blow wide and you send desperate glance to Ori, who (the traitor) simply shrugs.

Oin, shockingly, comes to your defense. "Because either of you can talk? I had to restrain you, Bilbo. And son of Fundin, dont think that I haven't seen you favouring one foot and trying to hide the wound on your stomach."

Ori glares at Dwalin before shoving him onto a bed of his own, the latter shooting a glare more heated than a forge at Oin. Bilbo just shrugs. "I only got knocked out for a bit, it wasnt important."

"You're concussed. No hold still, he's fine for now." You grumble at the half deaf dwarf, but it quickly becomes a hiss of pain as he pulls fabric from a half dried gash on your shoulder. "Hmm, that may hurt."

Your 'no shit' face is flashed before you return your attention to Bilbo, who is glancing between you and Thorin. "Bilbo?" He jerks his head. "Would you sit with him?"

He smiles gratefully before once again settling next to Thorin, taking the dwarve' s hand in his own. You smile bengiantly at the picture, before flinching violently when a burning substance is pressed to your skin. Oin sighs. Then barks: "Hold on, Ori!"

Ori, in the proses of pulling Dwalin's shirt off, looks up, seems to take an unsaid command, and darts from the tent. You stare at Dwalin in the bed oposit yours, and the two of you hold an awkward silence, both half dressed. Without warning you both start laughing at the absurdity of the situation.

Ori stumbles back through the entrance with a canteen in hand and a rope tangled around his ankle. As the healer pours you a cup of the sweet smelling brew, Dwalin inquires as to the state of Ori's boot.

Ori dismisses it with a shrug. "I tripped and it got tangled, a man standing a ways away laughed at how a rope could best a dwarf, so I snapped the rope and kept it." He blushes at the warriors aproving laugh. "It wasn't a very good rope beforhand really."

You take a sip of the drink, far to sweet for anything the grumpy dwarf could make, and wince. "Poppy?"

Oin grunts, "And some elvish concoction. Smells off to me, but it does the job." You nod, and nod, and find you head bobbing up and down.

"Wa's go'in on?" Your voice slurrs, tounge numb, and your eyes drop shut. You only have time to complain that this was working far to quickly for a poppyflower brew, when you fall into a deep sleep.

~

"Did you just drug y/n?"

Ori can't help but giggle at Bilbo's offended tone, for yes, you have fallen unconscious, your last words hardly intelligible. Dwalin makes a clicking sound beneath his hand, somthing the scribe has come to recognize to be, from Dwalin, the equivalent of a screech of pain from another.

Feeling rather like Dori, he apologises and lightens his touch. The larger dwarf snatches his wrist and meets his confusion with a smouldering smirk.

"You dont have to be so cautious, little one."

Ori fidgets with the rag, refusing to meet the others gaze. "I wouldn't wish to hurt you," And he must have offended Mahal somehow, because really no one should look this attractive whilst wounded and half dressed in torn cloth.

"Oh," Says Dwalin, "But what if i should like you, and only you, to hurt me? Remind me I live?" Ori gapes and lets loose a small 'pardon?' "What do i call you, Have you noticed?"

The scribe frowns, thinking. "Usually 'scribe' or 'little one', which is slightly offensive, I am not quite that small."

Tattoos rippling mesmerizingly as he moves, Dwalin cups Ori's face. "I thought you'd apreciate the word game, my scribe. Little one."

Comprehension dawns visibly on the younger's face. He squeaks. "I'm your one? I mean to say... I."

"My one, my scribe, my heart, my treasure."

Ori's face goes strangly calm, and he tugs on a braid in his hair. "Bilbo is grinning at us, Oin is laughing at us, Dori is going to kill us, and I have admired you for far to long." He abruptly locks his gaze with the blue eyes in front of him. "I am going to kiss you, and if you have any- umf"

Bilbo cheers from his spot on the floor and Oin cackles while stabbing your poor body with a needle. "About damn time."

~

Bilbo is slumped over in the chair, exhausted and worried. A month and a half has passed and still Thorin does not wake. To be fair, he had stirred during the journy back into the mountain, mumbling nonsense when he'd been nearly dropped damn Iron Hill dwarves but he'd not done more than such.

Bilbo is stuck feeling guilty for having to feed his love what is essentially baby food, mashed to the point of luquification and forced down his throat.

He doesn't mean to, he never does lately, but he falls asleep, folded nearly in half with his head on the mattress.

"You should not rest in such a position, it will do bothing for your back."

The deep voice rouses him from slumber "So Y/n has been saying for over a month-" his brain catches up with the situation belatedly. "Wait, Thorin your awake. Your awake!"

He is awarded with a rumbling laugh, cut off by a flinch and hand to the chest. "Where is our y/n?"

Bilbo streatches a bit while gesturing to the bed behind himself. "We had to drug them again, refuses to stop working, and it's not helping the infection." At Thorin's outraged question Bilbo sighs. "Slashed during the battle, the blade had the same poisen as the arrow Kili was shit with. If Tauriel hadn't been on hand..."  He allows his voice to trail off, knowing Thorin will understand.

"The elf has been rewarded?"

Bilbo looks offended. "I took care of it myself, with assistance from Balin and Daín of course." Thorin raises a questioning eyebrow and Bilbo winces. "Now you are not allowed to throw a fit, no matter how much you disagree."

"For saving my one, nothing is to much."

Bilbo cocks his head, looking far to cute for someone who claims to be middle aged. "I've been wondering about that,how can you have two ones? Only, it seems a bit backward to me."

Thorin smiles, and Bilbo near melts. Far to long has passed that the majestic face has been set as stone. "'Tis a problem of translation, a Dwarrow's one is who compleates them, when together they are whole. The Legend is that when our Lord Mahal forges our souls, he makes them imperfect, and split so that the shards are mixed with our family, and eventual love's. Some dwarves souls are only scattered a little, and they will never love as deeply as another. My soul was forged hard enough that my heart rests in two others." He gratefully accepts the water that is offered.

"You are sure that your One can be found in another race?" Both jerk around to see you sitting on your bed, fully awake. Thorin grimaces at the pain to movement causes. "Oh dont look so surprised, the dosage wasn't as large as usual."

Thorin traces Bilbo's ear, sending a shudder through the hobbit and enticing you to smirk. "Yes. I have never been more sure of anything in my life. But my dear Hobbit is avoiding the question, what did you pay the elf?"

You pull yourself from the bed (not whining in pain, thank you.), and slump into the second chair while Bilbo is answering. "Well, belive it or not, her King banished her in the midst of battle, then unbanished her after she nearly died of heartbreak, and ah..."

Thorin looks utterly confused, a sight you wish you had Ori to lut on paper.

"He told her to do as she would, as Thranduil knows heartbreak all to well. And uhm, she really is devoted to Kili. And she keeps him in line most of the time."

Understanding begins to appear on the Dwarf King's face. "Bilbo, what did you do?"

"The council agreed with me that we should let her stay in the mountain." Thorin is silent, so Bilbo clarifies. "To live."

Not a majestic bead quivers, he's gone compleatly still. Slightly concerned, you pipe up. "I agreed that this was a good choice, both on a personal level and a diplomatic one. Letting an elf into the mountain shows that we are not holding grudges so sevearly that we are distrustful. Thorin? Hello?"

His head has bowed, and when his sight raises, he has that unfairly beautiful smile on again, eyes glittering. He chuckles while his head shakes back and forth. "I suppose I cannot deny my nefew the same love that I treasure so. Nor can I deny my heart anything they wish."

Bilbo grins, and of course kisses the deprived dwarf. "I am glad you say so. Though let us not go over bord, Gloin has told me of the worth in my Mithril."

Thorin shrugs -wincing horribly at the movement, and yes we all saw it- "you are worth every single link three times over, never doubt it." This is of course true, and you grasp Bilbo's hand to support the proclamation, Thorin notices that you use only your left arm, despite the right one being closer. "And what is this I've heard about an infection?"

"I'll be happy to tell you, my love, when you explain how in Morgoth you managed to kick a blade so hard it pierced you boot and through your foot."

Bilbo laughs, at last seeming at home.