#idk what this is but my brain made me write it

[livelaughlovesubs]

Hiii, Nini! Can I please request a Sigma x male reader fic with impact play? We've seen Sigma in fics getting absolutely decimated by the reader LMAO- I almost feel bad, so here's a twist, this is light impact play. Instead of spanks/floggers he can brace for, nope, feathers that make him jump out of his skin every time, giggling despite himself because wtf he's taken so much worse-. I think he'd absolutely lose it with the lighter/gentler stuff more so than the harder stuff purely because of how flustered he'd get XD. Ps I'm making it canon, you cannot look at him and tell me that stressed-as-hell man ain't ticklish.

Ahhhh so true!!! I imagine him as very sensitive and ticklish as well, like 🤤🤤 also since the gender wasn’t mentioned anywhere, you can interpret it however you want :]

Dom!reader x sub!sigma - reader is gn neutral

Warning: tickling/soft impact play, teasing, humiliation, slight dacryphilia (can’t write a fic without good’ol dacryphilia), using his hair as a brush???

Edit: started & finished this in the middle of the night, I’m so tired and I didn’t proof read it, also my brain is cooked idk what I did here

It’s been too quiet these days. Too boring, too mundane, too relaxing. There were many adjectives that would fit this little dilemma you were facing, called ‘dying of boredom’. You’ve been waiting around for your sweetheart to make a mistake, just so you’d have a reason to punish him. Yet how could it be that he’s so perfect in every way possible? You weren’t even exaggerating or meaning to sing his praises, heck you wanted him to be a little more human!

Otherwise you couldn’t think of a good reason to pull him out of his busy schedule, just to have him all to yourself, in such a selfish way. He wouldn’t agree, everyone knows how he puts his work above everything else. Such a horrible work ethic he has. Whatever, no one is perfect, even the manager of the sky casino will have to slip up somewhere, and you were way too eager to find it.

Sigma was just signing some documents as you watched him over his shoulder, taking sneaky peeks as if he hasn’t noticed you already. At this point he was probably wondering what you were doing. It didn’t bother you in the slightest, in fact, you knew due to you being so close, he’d get nervous and overthinking again. Something along the lines of: Did you want something from him? Why were you watching him all silently, so creepily?

And there it was— what you’ve been waiting for! “Sigma~ gosh, you clumsy thing! You wrote down the wrong date there, look.” You pointed it out a little too enthusiastically, eyes sparkling like morning sunlight, reflecting how excited you were. He glanced at you funnily, probably baffled why you were so happy about it. “Ah- yes, I see, uhh.. thanks, y/n.” Sigma furrowed his brows for a split second, then turned his attentions back to the papers. Though before he could continue writing, you snatched the pen out of his hand.

“Nope, you made a mistake sigma, and such a simple one as well. Tsk tsk tsk.” You faked a disappointment sigh, and facepalmed, putting your acting skills to use, “I’ll need to punish you, don’t you think?” So that’s what you’ve been waiting for, and probably the reason why you were so full of glee earlier. “A-are you serious..? For such a small thing?” Sigma looked taken aback, leaning his head back until he met your eyes. A slight blush was already convering his pale cheeks, such a naughty boy, he was excited as well.

“Why of course, it was a grave mistake after all. Stand up.” He was more ready to comply than you thought, not making any fuss as he stood up. “Good boy, now sit on the table.” You moved the chair away, pinning his body between your arms and gripping the edge of the furniture. Sigma glanced at you a few times, seemingly surprised with your demand. To be honest he expected you to bend him over your lap. This was fine as well, in fact, this position would prove itself to be more comfortable than what he initially predicted.

You were close, all up in his intimate space. He swore he could feel the heat radiating off your body. A slight blush covered his cheeks as he waited for your orders, already feeling the effects you had on him. It was almost terrifying how much control you had with just a few words. “Come on, you know how it goes. Strip.” After waiting for what felt like forever, you smirked as you whispered to him. “Ah- right. Sorry.” The boy replied half-minded, hands moving up to unbutton his vest.

This wouldn’t have been all that humiliating if it wasn’t for the fact that you were staring him up and down like some prey, watching his every move as he peeled off one layer after another. “Can’t you.. look in the other way?” He muttered in a meek voice, currently taking his pants off. “I’ve seen you nude plenty times darling,” you reached for his hands and helped him undress, “why are you still embarrassed?”

“You- stop teasing me..” The way his face flushed even more while he desperately tried to shake your hands off was so precious, you couldn’t stop grinning. “Ever thought it’s part of the punishment?” You asked, grabbing his thighs and spreading them apart. They were soft to the touch, and so squishy, his skin was flawless. “Ah-ahh… I’m- I’m really getting punished… over that little mistake?” He bawled his hands into fists, biting his lips to stop the trembling.

“I mean what I said.” He inhaled shakily, and breathed an equally unsure exhale. Eyes glossed over and half-lidded, body burning under your every touch. Poor boy was just preparing for the worst. You gave him a reassuring smile, then raised your hand right over his thighs. So it was going to be spanking, he thought and squeezed his eyes together. To his surprise, instead of the painful slap he expected, he was met with a teasing one. In response his body twitched involuntarily, and his eyes ripped open.

He didn’t flinch because of the pain, no there was no pain to speak of. There were only a soft, faintly red mark that gradually appeared on his inner thigh. Pretty much nothing worth mentioning, you left more marks when you grabbed his skin to spread his legs. “Erm… Y/n?” He couldn’t help but question your actions. That was a slip up, right? He’s taken so much worse, compared to all that you were basically caressing him.

Suddenly, another slap, though just as soft and gentle as the first one, making him jump out of his seat. “Wait- y/n, what are you doing?” It was such a light slap, can you even call it one? Wouldn’t tap be a more fitting description? “Punishing you. Why, do you want to be bullied instead?” You teased, followed by another slap, this time on the other thigh, and his toes curled. Why did this feel even more embarrassing than anything else? The sound was way louder and more dramatic than the actual impact.

“Ah- no but, seriously, what are you doing?” Out of nowhere you slapped his chest, once again it wasn’t painful in the slightest. He tensed together, still able to feel your touch in the places you’ve touched. “Shhh, be good and endure it for me, alright?” Instead of answering him, you stroked his fluffy hair, and smiled all self confident. The look on his face screamed confusion, but he trusted you, and so he simply swallowed the lump in his throat.

You grabbed a strain of his hair, one of the longer locks, sliding your hand through them, a little amazed at how untangled his hair was. As soon as you reached the ends, you held it fairly firm in your hand, and used it like a brush to graze over his skin. First over his cheeks just to annoy him, earning yourself a glare from him, then a feather-light brush over his nipples. He really didn’t know where you were going with this, but god did it rile him up.

It tickled, and it was so foreign, he couldn’t help but subconsciously clench his thighs together. Hands trembling from clenching his fists too hard, the pounding of his own heart echoing in his ears. You made sure to not touch him anywhere except with your hands, which made him all the more sensitive. Those touches were driving him mad, and that fact itself made him all the more flustered. You were barely doing anything, how could it be that he wanted to cry amidst all these sensations?

Soft, muffled whimpers slipped from his swollen lips, he arched his back forward whenever everything became too much. “Hnng- please, ah.. stop the t-teasing…! Hmm..!!” You carefully traced a line down his belly, resting your makeshift brush around his pelvis and moving it in a circling motion. As if all this wasn’t humiliating enough, he now knew why you had him sit on the table. All so you could observe his every move, every shameful expression and listen to every shaky breath he exhaled.

“Look at you getting all excited just from a few touches, you are way more needy than you’d like to admit, aren’t you?” “HnnGh..~ p-please.. ah-!!”He whined again, feeling you finally, finally giving his neglected dick some attention. Only using one finger to lazily rub his tip a few times, before using his hair to brush over the already sticky gland. His precum slowly dribbled from his slit, down his shaft before getting smeared around by you. “So messy.” Was all you had to say.

“Y/n, y-you’re so Mnn.. mean,” he squirmed around, shaking his head as tears rolled down his crimson cheeks, “I-i wanna cum…” you tilted your head to the side, sliding the bush of hair over his inner thighs, “that’s not how you ask for things, baby.” Then you used your other hand to rub his tears away, it ended up with him crying even more. “Such a crybaby, why don’t you try asking nicely?”

He gulped, trying to cease the sobbing for a moment, bending forwards as he let his head drop. The shame was eating at him, but he really couldn’t do this anymore~ which is why he looked up at you like a lost puppy, with glistening eyes and rosy lips, shaking ever so slightly as he begged, “please.. ha-Ahhh…I-i wanna cum♥︎ please m-make me c-cum..!!♡♡♥︎”

You smiled, staying quiet for a moment to raise the intensity and anticipation, then wrapped your arms around his shivering body. “You’ve been so good for me, and good boys deserve to be rewarded.”

[emswritingsstuff]

Idk if you’d feel like writing this(I’d probably end up short if you did bc I can’t brainstorm much of what would happen but I still love the idea)

when Daryl punched Negan, instead of killing Glenn(rip man) he killed US instead, Daryl’s lover 🤭 I love him sm and he’s been through so much pain, but he needs to suffer more 🫶 fem or gn reader, idm :)

The Lineup (Daryl Dixon x Reader)

warnings/notes: pretty self-explanatory. HEAVY angst, reader death, gorey violence. also the "he needs to suffer more" is CRAZY. this has been living in my drafts since august so i'm excited (ig?) to finally post this.

WC: 1.2k

--

The air was cold, but tensions were hot. Everyone's breaths were obvious in the dark, but also brightly lit area they found themselves in. 

Knees on the ground, everyone frozen but somehow shaking. Daryl was in rougher shape than most but not wanting to admit it himself. Opting to play up the tough face he always seemed to have. More so now than usual. He could see the way you were trembling in the corner of his eyes, quivering like a tiny dog. 

There’s been moments he’s seen you terrified, but this wasn’t like any other. When a psycho with a barbed wire bat was making you pay for your wrongs, it was hard to remain calm. Nothing the man, Negan, had said had really processed in Daryl’s brain, just silent rage and fear brewing inside of him. 

The sick game Negan played fell on deaf ears. Everyone silently watched as the bat made its way around. As Daryl watched the bat cycle through the group, he felt himself tense involuntarily every time it landed near you. He didn’t care what happened to him, but if a single scratch landed on you, Negan would be a dead man. No doubt. 

Once the bat eventually landed on Abraham, a sense of relief washed over him, but only for a moment. 

But every calm feeling he had in his body soon escaped as he saw the bat swing down. 

The events before him had become a blur. A red messy blur. Not only from the blood splattered all around the ground but also from the rage Daryl was feeling. Your heavy breaths could be heard in one ear, Rosita and Sasha’s sobs in the other. With all of it accompanied by wet cracking noises as Negan’s bat kept swinging down. 

As Abraham's now mutilated body laid twitching, Daryl was attempting to think of a solution to get out of this. To get you, and everyone out. 

As the cries got louder, Negan terrorized the group more. More specifically Rosita. As he brought the bat up to her face and flung Abraham's blood on her, Daryl felt something in him snap. 

Like he was controlling himself outside of his body. All the pain he had previously felt fading away into adrenaline coursing through his veins. 

He sprung at Negan and tried to take him down. Only to be quickly pulled off him and pinned down by his men, Daryl’s own crossbow being pointed to his head by Dwight. 

“No! Oh no. That? Oh my, that…is a no-no. The whole bit, not one bit of that shit flies here,” Negan’s act paused for a minute as he spoke, only for him to lock back into it. His bat was pointed at Daryl, looking like he was ready to end him right there. Daryl caught a glimpse of you, a terrified expression with glistening cheeks. 

Daryl felt the crossbow move closer to his head, Dwight getting ready to pull the trigger. “Want me to do it? Right here.” Dwight’s tone sounded eager, which Daryl sees makes you tense up even more. 

Even with your obvious fear, Daryl found himself not caring if he lived or died. Only thing he cared about was doing his best to protect you, and the family he had grown fond of all these years. If he was to get an arrow to the head right there, he wouldn’t mind. He would die knowing he had you, and that was okay with him. 

As if saved by the bell, Negan scoffed with a slight laugh. “No, you don’t get to kill them, not until you try a little.” Negan ordered the men to put Daryl back in the lineup, much to Dwight’s disappointment. Daryl could sense you relax, content with himself that he managed to get out of that situation even if he didn’t fight his way through. He was too focused on you though, only to be brought back to reality once Negan opened his mouth. 

“And anyway, that’s not how it works…” Negan paced around after he spoke. A long silence piercing the air. All until Negan started to speak again. 

“So,” he pauses for a beat, “back to it.” As he spoke, he subtly readied his bat. Enough to where no one saw his next move coming. 

In a blur of a motion, Negan lifted his bat and swung it down. Right onto your head. 

A cracking sound caused Daryl to look over, horrified with the sight before him. Your body laid limp on the ground, unlike Abraham, the blow had knocked you down instantly. Red blood shined and sunk into the ground. It wasn’t a lot, not yet at least. 

Daryl was frozen, unmoving. He felt his stomach churn. This was his fault. If he had just stayed in line, this mess would’ve blown over. You’d be safe. 

You’d be alive. 

As the bat swung down again, Daryl felt himself jump. The wet whacking sound made him feel even more nauseous. He was attempting to think of things to make the moment go by quicker, just wanting the Hell he was stuck in to end. But it was really never going to end. 

His mind flashed back to when everything had first started, when everything was still so uncertain. Back when he had lost Merle, you’d stuck by his side. 

He was scared to let you go, even if his stubborn personality would never make him admit it. The constant pushing away and cold hearted facade he had never seemed to phase you. Never once had you given up on him, even at his weakest moments. 

Having you around always gave him hope. A sort of hope that everything could be normal, hope that he would never have to suffer alone again. 

A simple “I’ll never leave you,” you had once spoken to him rang in his head. Of course you held true to that, how could you not? Nothing he could’ve said or have done could have made you go. 

And he’d never forgotten that. 

A third whack brought him out of these thoughts. Glancing over, all he managed to see was Negan’s silhouette and the bat. Blood dripped from the wire, as well as soaked the wood. Daryl tried to convince himself that what he was seeing was some sort of hallucination. Something that he had conjured up in his head due to all the blood he had lost. 

But Negan whipped his bat in Daryl’s direction, causing the blood that coated the wire to splatter on his face. Confirming it was real, too real. 

Looking at everyone’s trembling figures, his face softened up but only for a moment, “I am sorry, I truly am. But I did say, no exceptions!” He again brought the bat down onto your mangled, driving home the fact that there was no saving you. 

Whack after whack Daryl disassociated more and more, begging and even pleaded to be freed from the Hell he brought upon himself. But once again Negan's voice brought him back to the harsh reality. 

“You all are a bunch of pussies, I’m just getting started,” he stated as he paused for a moment, quickly returning to beating your body senselessly. All Daryl could feel was the now cold blood on his face and arms. He couldn’t take it.

You were gone because of him. That was all his fault, and he had to live with that. Forever. 

And for him, that’s a fate worse than death.

[hurtspideyparker]

Heeey! Idk if someone has already asked you this but, if you could recommend three Stony fanfics which ones would you recommend? And What made you ship them? :] Also love ur writing!

IT'S MY NEW STONY MUTUAL YIPPIE ✨ HI FRIEND. Sorry for the late reply, been busy in my own way. I'm so happy to hear from you! 😸

that is a tough question...

Principles of the Thing by Annie D (scaramouche)

In Tony’s opinion, the only thing worse than having a crush on Steve is: having a crush on Steve while Steve won’t shut up about how great Tony is.

Mainly recommending this because the author's Stony fics are all amazing. They're a fantastic writer and I'm sure there's something there for everyone; I'm still making my way through them and I'm never disappointed! This fic in particular is very sweet and adorable, plus it has my favourite Stony fanfiction device—it's told from a self-deprecating Tony's perspective <3 that's how you know it's gonna be a good one 😌 I need my man to hate himself a little thankyouverymuch. I also think it's cute to have Steve be virtuous in a very sweet gentleman way, instead of the hurting-Tony way (although I like that way a lot too)

Loverboys by theappleppielifestyle

“Here’s the deal,” Tony says. “I’ll give you ten thousand dollars to pretend to date me.”

Steve stares at him, but only for a second.

“No thanks,” he says, and looks back down at his algebra worksheet.

(Or, a High School Fake Dating AU.)

I have a soft spot for high school and college AUs okay, sue me! Why I particularly like it for Stony, and what this fic does beautifully, is it uses their class disparity as a point of contention for their characters and relationship. I like young!Tony fics because we see the trauma of his family life and circumstances affecting him in real time. I love to hate Howard Stark <3 plus Stony is all about the tension of their opposing personalities, and AUs like this help highlight Tony's distant family and extreme wealth, and Steve's poverty and loving support system. This fic is also fake dating, which means ✨tension✨. Plus Tiberius Stone is a total guilty pleasure character of mine. Tony has many evil ex's in the comics, and I love to see them used for some good whump. And jealous protective Steve is absolute gold!!! Even if you don't like high school AUs this one is worth a shot because it wasn't written by a high schooler like many are, so it's mature and paced very well.

the girl with the modern face by isozyme

“Nice to meet you. I’m Steve Rogers,” Steve said, sticking his hand out and trying to wrestle the interaction back into something normal.

“I know, sweetheart,” Tony said, ignoring his hand. “Rescue told me all about you.”

“Did you make her?” Steve asked. It had been implied that Tony was a tech-man, and she said he was her boss. It would fit together.

“Yes, the armor, that was me; she’s my bodyguard,” Tony said archly. “Impressed?”

The only good thing about the future is Tony Stark's bodyguard, Rescue. She's beautiful in her red and gold armor, and Steve will never know who she is.

This story changed my brain chemistry when I read it. It's just such a fantastic culmination of so many delicate and beautiful things. Internalized homophobia and identity porn are severely underrated tropes and two of my all time favourites. I find it's hard to get them right, but boy does this story get them right. Also—genderfucked Tony Stark? Yes Yes and Yes. Steve falls for a woman, who is actually a man, who is actually Tony Stark. This hurts both of their feelings immensely. I love the tight-wound Captain and seeing him come to terms with his struggles and bigotry. And the juxtaposition to a flamboyant and open Tony, yessirrrr. Also, comic Stony fics are on a whole other level. They have so much more material to work from, so their characterization and background is really well fleshed out. You don't need to read the comics to understand it, don't worry.

��

I just love talking about this stuff, I will never be short or chill about asks 😅

What made me ship Steve and Tony? Oh GAWSH. Mainly, their opposing natures. Nothing is more compelling than seeing people so close yet so different have this intense magnetism. It's like a puzzle piece, they fit so well because they complete something in each other.

Rivals/enemies creates a lot of tension, especially when they have such a respect and trust for one another even if they don't always like it, it's undeniable. The betrayal and disagreement between them is painful because only those inside your heart can wreck it so intensely. I really like angst, whump, miscommunication, the push and pull. It's so them. They aren't rivals TO friends, they are rivals AND friends. Tony is incredibly Much, Steve is rigid. Tony is controlled by his emotions, Steve is controlled by his morals. Tony is an over-thinker, Steve is all intuition.

Also, have you SEEN the way they look at eachother?!?!? The gazing omfggg. The way they lead together, have such an intense relationship, perfectly in-sync even in disagreement. Their movies? Never without insanely strong feelings for each other, arm touches and long looks, trust broken and rebuilt. TV shows? Eye rolling yet great respect, a deep admiration that will always trump any mistake or disagreement. Bickering boyfriends. Comics? They're so intense everyone just KNOWS something freaky is going on. Divorced /pos. It's always hate or love, these two can never be neutral. Their relationship is incredibly dynamic—they're so soft for each other! They hate each other's guts! They are gonna fuck about it! All three at the same time.

ty for the compliment 🫶 yes this is yap city but I am a very passionate person mk. I could talk about them for hours 💕💔

[elronds-meleth-nin]

Never Too Late - Part One: The Awakening

This is something entirely different from the things I've written before. I don't know what made me want to write this beyond hearing one of Adar's lines from S2E8. For those who stick around for this ride, thank you in advance. I know this might not be everyone's cup of tea, but here we go nonetheless! Things will begin (I hope) to make more sense in the second chapter.

Disclaimer: I know this is not how the Maiar or the Valar or any of canon works. I do not care. This writer is playing in a sandbox.

Cross-posted to AO3 here.

~*~

Adar (RoP) x Maia!Reader

[A/N: There will be smut in future chapters, so 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI!!!]

Warnings: An exploration of Adar's origins, discussions of the first Elves, Elf x Maia romance, he falls first, feelings of unworthiness, fear, Morgoth's manipulation (discussed further in later chapters), brief mentions of pain, regret.

~*~

The whisper of the wind in the trees was hypnotic to the Elf with no name. He was among the first to wake. He'd tasted the sunlight as it spilled across his lips in gentle caresses for the first time. Warmth had trickled into his limbs, and soon he'd found himself wandering happily, joyfully through a meadow full of flowers.

For a time he continued in that manner, exploring the world around him, lying in the sun on a riverbank, tasting the sweetness of berries as they hung ripe in the sunlight. Occasionally he would encounter others who looked like him. Other Elves who did not yet have names. Though they did not know it, they would earn them in time.

A small group formed together, giving each other names and forming a small community in the newly-made world. In time, he found that he enjoyed crafting words into set structures, playing with them as one of the other Elves toyed with carving wood, and as another painted pictures.

As he tinkered, he found that the name given to him was not right. It did not fit him correctly. The meaning was not how he saw himself, but he did not argue it, choosing instead to string more words together. They could know him however they wished, but that name was not how he knew himself. The land, the light, and the beauty of the world inspired him to create stories and poems. After a time, however, he found that the flow of his words had slowed in favor of simply experiencing that which he found so lovely.

So, when the thought struck him to walk along the riverbank he favored so much and listen to the birds singing in the trees, he did not hesitate to strike out. Familiar sights and scents surrounded him, wrapping him in a veil of contentment.

Then a different sound met his ears: the gentle whisper of fabric amongst the breeze. The Elf's green eyes opened curiously, and he looked around him for what could have made such a noise. His own clothing - brown leggings and an off-white tunic - were too silent to have done so.

That was when he caught a glimpse of her for the first time. She seemed to glow of her own accord, despite the brightness of the sunlight streaming down upon them. A dress that seemed to glimmer in the light adorned her, translucent and bright. But it was her eyes that drew him to her. They met his for barely a moment, but in that glance, the Elf felt as though she called to his fëa.

She gave him a small smile, and flitted back into the trees as quickly as she'd appeared. So amazed was he by the appearance of such an ethereal creature that he could do no more than follow mutely in her path.

But, he did not find her that day, nor the next. For nearly a fortnight, all he had to remember her by were the dozen-or-so poems that had poured forth from his mind the night after spotting her. He read them aloud to himself by the riverbank amongst the swaying sage blossoms as he tried to perfect them. She - whoever she was - had captivated him and deserved no less than the most perfect tribute.

The way she'd smiled at him made him long for more. To see her laugh, to watch a sunset with her, to feel the rain dampening his skin as he held her in his arms. Undoubtedly, this was something important. He'd seen other Elves feel this way about each other, but never about one who was so clearly Other. Granted, their existence was young, but without a precedent, the Elf wondered what he was to do about these feelings.

Midway through the revision of one the poems he'd written for her, he paused his reading and scratched out a line in favor of a correction. He was so lost in his work that he did not register the sound of approaching footsteps until someone knelt in the grass beside him. The Elf looked up and–

Paralyzed by the warmth in her gaze, he was amazed to find the very woman he'd been writing about was less than a hand's breadth from him. The wind swirled around them, blowing a few strands of his dark hair into his face. Before he could fix it, however, she reached up and brushed it carefully behind one of his pointed ears. Her touch lingered for a beat longer than it should have, and the Elf felt his heart beating wildly in his chest.

Her skin was softer even than that of his own people! He could write for years about the simple sensation of being so close to her.

"Such beautifully-crafted words." Her praise was more nourishing than even the most filling meal.

"For you, my lady," he admitted in barely a whisper. "All for you. No greater beauty have I seen in all my days as a part of this world."

His voice was so quiet that he was afraid the breeze might spirit it away before it reached her ears, but she heard him. Of course she heard him. A warm smile stretched her lips, and a silvery laugh spilled from her throat.

"Oh? And what have I done, kind wordsmith, to earn such a gift?"

'Existing' was the simple answer, but he could not say that aloud. It was too honest, too forward. She would surely be offended by such a low creature's desires. He shook his head quietly.

"Wonders deserve to be praised, híril vuin," he murmured dropping his gaze to his paper.

"Then, should you not be writing about yourself?" He question drew an incredulous laugh from him, but she was entirely serious. "The light of the Valar lives within your people."

He shook his head.

"You are light itself," he asserted. "I could hope for no greater a muse than you."

They spoke for many hours that day and for many days after. Those days added up, and the pair continued to meet beside the river or amongst the trees, speaking of everything and nothing, wandering where they wished.

He did not mention having seen her to the others, but he did overhear a few of them, one night. They were speaking around a fire, taking turns speaking about the Valar and the Maiar. He paid no mind until one of them mentioned something familiar.

"One of the Maiar hides within the woods near the river," the blond Elf said. "She has been glimpsed, but none of spoken to her. I witnessed her eyes glowing from deep in the trees, but before I could approach, she disappeared."

"Why would one of the Maiar hide in the forest, much less take a physical form?" One of the others with brown hair asked.

"Who can tell? It is not our place to know the minds of the Valar or the Maiar," the blond said decisively, and at that, the group began dispersing for the night. Only the blond Elf and remained when the Elf with no name approached him.

"What does she look like, the Maia in the forest?" He asked, knowing in the racing of his pulse that it was her to whom he'd spoken and about her whom he'd been writing. It was as obvious as the leaves on the trees and the sun in the sky.

"None can see any details beneath her glow, but that is not unusual. Those who have caught sight of the Maiar say that they only show themselves to those whom they wish. They can hide their visages, only taking physical forms when they choose to do so."

When he retired to bed that night, he clung desperately to the secret of their conversations together. She had chosen to reveal herself to him and only him. Even if he did not know why, he was honored, and he hoped he could one day prove himself worthy of her trust.

As the days became months, then years, there was a particular bend in the river where he would meet his lady. Wandering for hours, sometimes days, he became as close with her two people could without delving openly into the realm of romance, though, he did harbor those feelings for her. His heart raced whenever she was near, and he knew that should he ever have a family, he would want it to be with her.

But, he was not worthy. He never would be. No matter how much he may want a daughter with his hair and her eyes, or a son who favored his mother's light, an Elf could never be worthy of one a Maia's love.

As he returned one night, musing over his situation and feeling his heart twist itself into knots over the futility of his love, he found the others in an uproar.

"What has happened?" He called as he neared the group of terrified Elves.

"Three of our number rode out earlier. They were meant to return at sundown, but it is near midnight and there is no sign of them," one of the painters said, twisting the sleeve of his robe compulsively.

"They could simply be late." One of the others said trying to calm the group, but the painter wasn't swayed.

"No, they are lost! Taken! There was something dark at work this morn. Two of the three who left expressed misgivings about the Valar ere they left." With their numbers added, that made seven so far who had disappeared. "'Tis the darkness! The shadows seek to blot out the light, even that within our hearts."

That was the beginning of his trouble. Hearing his kin speak of such darkness ignited within him a curiosity. He wished to understand why those who left chose to do so. Why would they willingly put themselves at risk when they had everything they needed here? The Valar provided for them in abundance. Why should they seek the bleak nothingness of the shadow?

So, in his attempts to understand, he began to study that which he should not. The shadow no longer seemed as dangerous to him, but a welcome respite from the perfection of the light.

In his zeal, he began visiting the river bend less frequently, but his lady appeared no less glad to see him when he did make the trip to see her. On the last of such occasions - which he had no way of knowing was the last - the sun was gentle, the river babbled away happily, and the trees shivered beneath a soft breeze. Everything was sweet and lovely...perfect.

Even the way she looked at him was particularly tender. He read her his latest composition, but he found midway through that his words, as excellently chosen as they always were, did not adequately express how he felt about her. Eventually, her fingers laid atop his arm, and his breath caught in his throat.

"Darling wordsmith, what troubles you?" She asked, and he felt exposed before her. Guilt wound its way through his heart for having explored what he ought not. Would she recoil from him? Cast him from her sight forever? Instead of a confession, however, a question slipped from his tongue without his permission.

"It has been said that one of the Maiar wanders this wood. Are you she?" He asked, and she did not hesitate to smile up at him.

"I am, but you have known that for quite some time." Brushing a few strands of his dark hair behind his ear as the wind shifted, she lifted an eyebrow. "Now, what truly troubles you?"

Swallowing nervously, he caught her wrist lightly in his grasp, laying a reverent kiss upon her skin. He had never been so bold before. He had never dared touch her or express his adoration so openly.

She did not object or move away.

"I trust you have heard about the Elves who have disappeared?" She nodded her head even as her expression became solemn. "I have been considering a course of action for some time, and...I intend to seek them out."

The Elf with no name looked for the woodland Maia's reaction only to find tears gathering in her eyes and spilling slowly down her cheeks - sparkling, diamond droplets seemingly glowing of their own volition. The sight lit a spark of alarm within his breast, constricting his lungs and urging him forward until he'd gathered her in his embrace.

With a bit of adjustment, she sat in his lap with her face buried in the crook of his neck and her arms around him. He held her close, but he could not find the right words to say to her. Ultimately, he murmured to her his apologies and felt one of her hands glide onto the back of his neck. Her lips brushed against the shell of his ear, and she spoke barely above a breath.

"Should you need me, you need only call my name." She told it to him, and he could not help clutching her tighter at the sound of that word encapsulating all that she was. Eventually, she pulled back just far enough to press her forehead softly against his own. "I will always come when you call. All I ask is that you do not surrender your own light. You will need it ere long."

Her nose touched his briefly as he swore to her that he would do as she said, and grief coiled in his heart when he felt how damp her skin was. He had not meant to make her weep. Reaching carefully up, he cupped her face in his warm palms and whispered quiet comforts. She deserved more than this - every happiness in the world, in fact - but he would still give her all that he was able.

Not for the first time, he wondered what it would be like to be bound to her as her husband. An Elf could never be worthy of a Maia, but he imagined what it would be like to be entangled with her like this every day. Her tears or her laughter, soft sighs or pleasure-filled breaths - anything she chose to give him would be a gift beyond measure, just as this moment was.

She allowed him to comfort her, to hold her. He savored the contact, even if he did regret bringing her unwelcome news. They stayed there on the riverbank until long past midnight. The moonlight, gentle and cleansing, caressed their faces as they lay down in each other's arms. Quietly, he caressed her face, tracing the bridge of her nose, the curve of her lips, the softness of her smile.

When they eventually parted, it was only after she'd placed her hand over his heart, whispering words in a language which he did not understand. Her fingers had begun to glow, and that light bled slowly into his chest, floating seemingly beneath his skin until her touch retreated. He did not know what she'd done, but the determined glint in her eyes made him wonder if it was some form of protection.

With great reluctance, he returned to his home. Before the next morning dawned, however, a call trickled into his ears, rousing him from his rest. It was time. All that he ever desired awaited him. He need only seek it. Low, guttural, and tugging at his very being, the voice - if it could be called a voice - dug a tendril of shadow into his mind.

He and five others rode away before daybreak.

The journey was a blur, and when he came back to himself, he found that all six of them were in a cave. Their horses were gone.

The Elf with no name looked around him but could perceive only darkness. Only shadows writhing and dancing before him. He'd been tricked. This was not the liberation he'd been led to believe the others had sought, nor was this something from which he could save them.

"Who are you? What do you want from us?" He called into the oblivion surrounding him, and a sinister laugh curled from its depths scratching fear from deep within the Elf's heart. The other five shuddered as well, but smiles broke across their faces. Was he alone in his regret?

"I am Morgoth." The voice seemed to echo and twine through the darkness, through the air, and bury itself deep within his heart. The Elf with no name dropped to his knees along with his kin.

He assumed that the voice in the darkness, the being who called himself Morgoth, would kill them. Mournfully, he recalled the face of his lady, his muse, his joy. How disappointed she would be with his actions! When she visited the river next, she would not find him there. No longer would he be able to write and recite poetry for her. Gone were the days wandering through the forest with her, seeking its privacy for their conversations.

He had not been worthy of her - his current position proved that - but he still lamented the thought that his death would sadden her. Her gentle spirit would not allow the death of a friend - low creature though he may be - to pass without notice. He had seen her weep before and it nearly shattered him to pieces even as he comforted her. He would not be there to do so this time.

The darkness rumbled again, and this time, pain streaked up his legs, making him crumble to the ground as he cried out.

"Six you are, and seven have come before you. Those who survive will be rewarded, but live or die, you are mine, now."

What had he done?

~*~

Taglist:

@asksizworld @bigblissandlove1 @gandalfthepimp @horta-in-charge @zoya-olenko

[xxplastic-cubexx]

cant stop thinkin bout charles and erik readin together on the couch but instead of reading with him charles is listening to eriks thoughts while he reads. Live mind commentary ……..

[danidoesathing]

hey remember that one horror fic i mentioned i was doing like a month or two ago. yeah finished it

[ganondoodle]

i often really do feel like an .. unwanted part of the fandom, i dont draw beautiful landscapes, i have unpopular but strong opinions im constantly annoying about and rarely change, dont like/dont draw the pretty young popular twinks and hot gurls to fanboi over nor do i turn characters into one, the opposite moreso, draw only one ship no ones heard of really, got little energy to interact with the few people that are nice to me and send me asks so it probably looks like im ignoring everyone and unfortunately but still rarely get so stressed i get overwhelmed and emotional about pehaps seemingly minor things and spiral almost into a breakdown feeling super embarrassed about it afterwards but the damage is already done and i look like a freak or agressive weirdo

[sukugo]

sukuna and gojo use binding vows for sex, taking things like orgasm denials or touch deprivation steps further, where the other is contractually bound to not be able to do certain things, like touch themselves or touch the other etc etc 

one such instance being a vow where gojo has a vibrator up his ass, but he can't touch himself or remove it, until sukuna specifically, pulls it out.  

he keeps the vibe in throughout the day, with sukuna controlling it remotely, even as they both go throughout their separate days.  

gojo goes to have his usual breakfast, and meets yuuji at the dining room, they greet and sit next to each other. yuuji is, as always, energetic and excited to see him 

they make conversation, until gojo gives a jolt and starts twitching and huffing. sukuna has turned the vibrator up all the way. yuuji worries and panics and asks him what's wrong. gojo gives a breathy laugh and reassures him. he motions low and tells yuuji about the vibrator inside him, through sudden jolts and soft whimpers.  

satoru complains about it, and yuuji advices to remove it or go and take care of himself.  

except gojo states that he can’t and yuuji puzzles.  

"it's... a pact—mmh!" 

"a pact???" yuuji's voice rises in volume, but he visibly calms, shoulders dropping into a fond sigh. "sensei, you really are..." that's all he can manage to say. reprimand is useless. gojo likes it, yuuji is well aware, he is enjoying every second of this, even as he complains.  

gojo gives a few odd jolts, undoubtedly an odd pattern of intensity from the vibe, yuuji can guess. sudden irregular ups and downs that are not taken well by the man.  

satoru clicks his tongue. "what is that guy doing?" he actually looks irritated for a moment—a look yuuji doesn’t get to see often—until it’s broken with a sigh and his pleased, calm demeanor returns, mimicking the soft waves of pleasure across his thighs. 

still, yuuji can see his hands crumpled at his sides, undoubtedly wishing to use them.  

that's when satoru perks flares up all of a sudden.  

"actually, yuuji,” he turns to look at him, grinning. “you can help me" he opens his legs and lifts the edges of his kimono, his dick peeking out the fabric. yuuji gulps at the sight. satoru motions to it, giving yuuji a wordless look. yuuji hesitates for a moment, but complies, taking his hand to the cock, and starts stroking. 

satoru crumbles under the touch, immediately breathing out his nose and muffling moans. he leans into yuuji, wrapping an arm around his shoulders, fingers clasped in yuuji's kimono, nuzzling into his hair and whining in his ear.  

satoru's sounds fluctuate in pitch and volume, making it known when his vibe's gotten stronger. yuuji keeps his pace and satoru spills in his hand. he twitches and sighs, soft breaths against yuuji's flushed ear. 

yuuji stares at the cum in his hand.  

"you can wipe it on me,” satoru tells him with a breath that's calmed much too fast. “my clothes are already soiled anyways". and yuuji feels bad for it, but he obeys nonetheless.  

satoru takes a hand to yuuji's chin and turns his face to him and gives him a kiss. short and sweet.  

"as a reward." he smiles at yuuji. the boy surprises but takes it happily, cheeks warm and eyes softened, albeit a bit timidly. a tinge of disappointment colors the edges of his face. 

"you want more?" satoru brings his face to yuuji's again. the vibrations have reached a slight plateau, so his voice is steadier.  

yuuji’s face widens a bit, but he nervously chuckles, pulling back from gojo's face. "no, it's alright," he lies. "i don't want sukuna to kill me" 

but satoru’s already pulling into him, breathing into his lips. "i won't let him <3"

"that's...actually reassuring......" yuuji’s eyes flutter shut as satoru's lips meet his again.  

and with that, they're kissing and slowly the vibrations and gojo’s twitching start again. satoru moves atop yuuji's lap to straddle him, and while they kiss, yuuji takes his hand between them and jerks him off again. satoru moans and gasps into his mouth, each jolt mirroring the pulses against his prostate.  

they separate for gojo to bury his face in yuuji's shoulders, arms hugging his neck. he humps into yuuji's hand until he comes against him again. 

he pants and huffs atop the boy, catching his breath. yuuji's gentle arms hold him, fingers rubbing slow circles at his back.  

satoru's breathing calms against yuuji’s neck. 

"yuuji, u're such a good boy."  

yuuji's heart and dick swell. 

[triglycercule]

dust and horror angel and demon themes,,,, they could totally parallel each other...... :3

dust=angel of death described in the delta rune prophecy (self declared) (i DEFINITELY elaborated on this one waayyyy before but anyways dust with a fucked up savior complex SAVE ME SAVE ME.... death is a blessing ass guy. life is torment and he will be the one to liberate monsters from their bodies and with the strength they provide to him be able to take down evil evil creation of pure misery that is the human ✨✨✨ dont worry his evil cackles are to HIDE HIS PAIN of saving everyone....... trust)

horror=demon that dragged everyone in horrortale into hell (as perceived by everyone else) (i think it would be a cool hc if everyone outside of snowdin viewed horror as literally a demon. maybe undyne preaches that. anyone outside of snowdin might be WAYYY worse because they starve for longer and literally take part in cannibalism so they might not have the same sort of mild sanity that snowdin residents do,,,, besides he DID kinda bring them all eternal suffering. kinda. nobody but undyne knows what happened at the core so she could totally just paint the story to blame horror fully)

ANYWAYS i like the possible dynamics this could have :333

dust to horror (please let me kill you PLEASE let me kill you i can end it all so peacefully wouldn't it be nice??? i promise ill make it quick just for you),,, horror to dust (i want you to live and suffer with what youve done i want you to watch all of your choices hit you one day and i'll be there and laugh at you. i'll keep you alive just to keep you suffering ok?)

OR dust to horror (you dont deserve to die you dont deserve to even be hurt by me. not because youre the exception but youre the Exception i absolutely loathe you so youll never get the sweet release of death :3) and horror to dust (just let me die already i dont wanna be here. youre supposed to be a savior right??? an angel?? then why don't you save me already when i need it more than anyone else)

[johnslittlespoon]

ok 1. these are my tough and sweet drafting docs, i have never been this insane about outlines in my life this is what getting on adhd meds does to a man. someone sedate me (i have also Never drafted out a fic until i started writing for this fandom jfc) (also sry i forgot to mute spotify b4 making the vid and i cbf to reexport)

and 2. i think i've mapped out the whole storyline for TAS gahhh my heart already hurts. i'm pretty set on an ending and it's gonna rip my heart out to write (in the best way) but leaves space for a long epilogue (or possibly even a second fic lol we'll see if my interest holds, i either fixate for a few weeks on an idea or i'm locked in for a year). as of now the fic will be set from july 2005 to june 2006 + the epilogue aughghgh but i gen have sm more i could write if i were to do a time skip and write a second fic, i just have so many other aus i wanna write if i can prove to myself i can commit to chaptered fics like this so :')

all the major events are plotted, most gaps in between are filled with the scenes i've been brainstorming in my docs, but i'm sure i'll come up with plenty more as i go knowing how i operate rip lol. esp going thru asks, i still have so many to get back to regarding tas i'm sorryyy!! honestly sometimes i read them and have to go straight to my doc to plot and then i forget to respond to the actual ask lol y'all are cooking <3

this fic is gonna be sooo long, def longer than yadiym. i'm thinking minimum 12 chapters if i end up sticking to this stupid long wordcount per chapter but the story/plot keeps expanding as i write so i'm probably gonna eat my words and idm as long as i can keep myself fixated/inspired lol :')

also don't mind me i'm just yapping to myself atp bc it helps me to post my progress somewhere other than in my notes app so i can refer back easier and also bc it makes me hold myself accountable if i speak it into the universe lmaoo i'm peer pressuring myself xoxo

[boyfriendyke]

there r a lot of things about the myth of psyche and eros that makes me a little insane but one of them has always been the tasks from aphrodite and the unfairness of it. they're not intended to be possible. they're so obviously not meant to be possible, and psyche isn't fucking hercules, you know, she's not a demigod or whatever, she's mortal and these aren't mortal tasks!! it's why psyche has to be helped with each one, fucking by like ants and river gods and shit. and so like. idk. i know ppl see psyche and eros as like a story about love and shit which obviously it is but as a kid psyche and eros always felt like a story about being able to accept help

[withthewindinherfootsteps]

pov you’ve just reread the yi city arc… except that clearly wasn’t ENOUGH because of course your analysis brain had to take over and search for parallels, so you have to go and reread and save the most depressing WWX scenes right after…

i’m fine :))

[skunkes]

unsure how to word this but there is something about having ocs with unsavory events happening in their past where it's like. talking about it, even when asked, seems almost gratuitous and inappropriate. and i'd much rather describe it through the oc themself and/or draw Them saying it. which is like. fitting for the subject matter? like of course its weird to talk about somebody else's business...!

and falls back into humanizing em/exploratory writing and development where u consider the impact of words said/words unsaid/HOW those words are said etc etc

[mintleafkitty72]

Okay, random thoughts about ROTTMNT regarding a "what if" scenario:

I saw this post and it got me thinking about what if the last back up plan of all back up plans for the bad future timeline in the Rise movie was supposed to be Both F!Leo AND Casey Jr. going back to the past to stop the Krang?

(Really really (that's two reallys) long talk about my thoughts on this under the cut)

Like, they both go back and it roughly follows the same timeline as the movie but so much would still be different just because f!Leo is there too with CJ. Which would be nice for CJ specifically because then he wouldn't be alone after the events of the movie and f!Leo and CJ would have someone that could talk to from the bad future, but I just can't stop thinking about how everyone would react and how differently conversations would go during the events of the movie specifically. There is just so much that could happen and it could go more into depth on how CJ feels about the events and how f!Leo would react as well. And every time Mikey tries using his mystic mojo, f!Leo and CJ's hearts break just a little and that also happens every time any one of them does something that their future selves would do in the bad future. (I wish we got more into CJ's character and how he was feeling during/after the events of the movie and I'm so glad that there are so many writers and artists who have dove into his character, thank you guys)

Just imagine f!Leo seeing his younger self come back from the initial attack on the Foot where he's panicking and Raph isn't back yet and f!Leo just gets a flash back to when he lost his Raph. And then past Leo would still go after CJ (and possibly f!Leo too) about how they knew this would happen and then both Splinter and f!Leo try to talk to p!Leo (or maybe it could go a different way, there's just so many possibilities). And then from that point on, f!Leo sees what p!Leo is doing and deciding as the leader and f!Leo is simultaneously irritated that his past self is being reckless and not listening to anyone's input but also realizing that he is a 16 year old kid and that he was too when the invasion first began in the bad future. (I personally don't think f!Leo would hate his past self if he ever went back in time and that he wouldn't act hostile towards his past self, there'd just be a lot of feelings that he never got to really acknowledge during the apocalypse and a lot of realizations and thoughts occurring that he also wouldn't be able to properly address until after the invasion is stopped. Plus, both Leos I feel like have a lot of self hatred but I don't think f!Leo would take out his hatred on his past self).

Then when the bros are going to the turtle tank, f!Leo either stays with Splinter and April while the bros and CJ go to where Raph is or f!Leo goes with the bros and CJ. If he goes to help find Raph, they'll all still get separated in the subway system but it would still be p!Leo and CJ and the PB&J duo + f!Leo and after that, the final fight would happen. How? Idk lmao, but it would still lead to p!Leo alone to fight Krang Prime and his self sacrifice. And it makes me wonder how f!Leo would react to his past self's decisions, knowing what he was getting himself into? Knowing he would have done the same? Understanding how CJ felt every time he made a similar decision in the bad timeline and barely made it out alive? Knowing exactly how p!Leo feels but also knowing exactly how everyone else feels when losing someone close? The dread of knowing that they're gone but not wanting to accept it? Thinking about how he is going to be the last of their family to die from the bad timeline but the first in this one? Then once a few minutes pass, Raph uses his comm to reach them.

And he tells them to get to Staten Island asap, his voice urgent and filled with worry, but not grief. Questions are asked and eventually Raph says that p!Leo is alive, awake (barely), but severely injured and needs medical attention like now. Then one of the four (either Splinter, April, CJ, or f!Leo) ask Raph how p!Leo isn't in the Prison Dimension anymore and he answers by stating Mikey made a portal with his mystic mojo and CJ and f!Leo's hearts stop. Because they think that Mikey died making that portal just like their bad timeline Mikey did.

So, the four of them head to Staten Island as fast as they can and CJ and f!Leo are confused but relieved to see that Mikey is okay and not dead (but they take note of the markings on Mikey's hands, Donnie's right hand, and Raph's left hand). Then, they see Leo's extremely broken body, they make their way home, and they ALL start their healing processes. How all of that may occur can go in many different ways and I'm down for any of them.

I'm sure others in the Rise fandom have also thought of f!Leo going with CJ to the past to "find the key and stop the Krang" but I just had that thought occur and I had to just talk about what that could entail and all my thoughts about it. Because there are a lot of works where f!Leo goes back in time but I don't think I've seen one where he goes back in time with CJ in order to stop the Krang and is there for the events of the movie. If any of you do know of something like that, would you mind sharing it? I'd love to see it.

[kazumasougi]

im gonna be real for a second. if fantasy can only be enjoyable to you when removed from any and all real world implications then is it even good

[ow1et]

you ever feel like you're writing your own oc incorrectly??