#it’s literally one of the two things you see when you search for a blog

[halfmoth-halfman]

Been following you for a while and I wish you wouldn’t hate Sarah J. Maas. She’s my favorite author and I don’t think I can continue following you or supporting you while you hate on her. I’ll miss your fics but they aren’t worth it.

don’t even worry about it, you do what’s best for you. i’m all for curating the content you want to see on your blog. if seeing my blog or my dislike of someone you enjoy upsets you and you need to unfollow then please do! block me if you need to! i won’t ever be upset or angry if someone decides to unfollow/block me, that’s what those options are there for!

fandom is meant to be fun, and if you aren’t having fun on my blog then it’s okay to not interact with me! it’s okay to just unfollow or block people because you don’t like one of their posts or you don’t like their vibe or they don’t like one of your favorite authors! i’ve blocked people for less before, it really doesn’t have to be that deep!

and that goes for any blogs/people you may come across on here and other social medias. create your spaces to make you feel comfortable, curate your content to what you want to see! and don’t ever feel bad for doing so! it’s your blog, do what you need to do to make it a safe space for yourself.

….but i do have to genuinely ask, what were you expecting when you followed a blog with the title “sarah j maas hate account”?

[kyouka-supremacy]

Mmmhh...

[gojorgeous]

"business or pleasure?"

pairing: gojo x fem!reader summary: the gojo clan decides it’s time to secure an heir… and you’re the lucky woman selected for the job… content: HEAVY breeding, arranged marriage, language, praise, dacryphilia, p->v, fingering, mating press, a lil’ blood (if you squint), pet names, implied multiple rounds, gojo just generally being a menace, no established relationship, reader and gojo literally just met, reader is literally there for the purpose of getting pregnant, positive pregnancy test at the end, ideas of women as baby incubators :x, consent king gojo. wc: 3.7k a/n: I HAVE RETURNED!!! Hey!!!!!! Long time no see, babes. I was looking at my account and I haven’t posted a fic in *cough* TWO YEARS. There is simply no way that’s real 😭 Anyway, I’ve returned with something slightly different: A Gojo fic. You’re welcome. Mwah. Also, please send messages I miss y'all. happy new year bbs. and remember, AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED!

It’s only your third time in Japan. The first had been to visit family friends when you were eight, the second for a girls’ trip after you graduated college. You liked it. Tokyo was bright and busy and full of shops and things to do. The countryside always offered beauty and peace. But this third time was different. No shopping, no temples, no amusement parks. You were here for business, not pleasure. 

You run a finger along the edge of a mahogany bookshelf. Your feet are killing you, a flick of your ankles tossing your heels across the room. Your nose wrinkles when you land on a particular title. The Art of War? Interesting choice… You scan the other books, and your brows rise when you find a strange combination of academics, young adult, manga, and high fantasy? A multi-genre reader, then…

You absentmindedly rub at the arch of your foot, pushing out the ache as best you can. A day so full of stress has left you weary. Your mother hadn’t stopped hovering until the moment you’d escaped into your car, a new husband on your arm. 

You sigh. You could still hear the shower running along with said husband humming loudly to a tune you didn’t recognize. At least your groom wasn’t shy. 

A glance toward the bed has your brows raising. Were those… squishmallows? One looked like a shark, the other like a… sushi? You press your lips together, avoiding a laugh he would surely hear. You make your way to the mattress, sighing when you finally get to sit. You pull the sushi into your arms, hugging the pillow to your chest, but it no longer seemed so funny anymore. You had bigger things to think about. Your legs press together in a mix of anticipation and anxiety. All the way from America you’d come to marry the Gojo heir. It had been a rushed arrangement. Apparently, the Gojo clan had finally put their foot down and decided their heir should finally get to the business of making another heir. There’d been a search far and wide for the best match and somehow, they’d settled on you. An accomplished sorcerer yourself and abilities in your blood that only strengthened those of the Gojo line, you’d been an suitable pick. It didn’t hurt that you were young, healthy, and (upon a trip to a renowned fertility clinic) proven to be very fertile. 

Your parents had been oh-so eager to accept the Gojo clan’s proposition. The Gojo heir’s power hadn’t been matched in nearly 400 years. Any and every family would jump at the opportunity to be tied to them, especially through marriage and heirs. You were surprised you’d been chosen considering all of the options there must have been. 

Satoru seemed… fine, you thought. You hadn’t had much time to talk with him privately. The first time you’d met had been on a phone call with both of your sets of parents present and the next had been at the altar. At one point in the night he’d asked a waiter to refill your wine glass and he’d been a rather good dancer. Other than that, you’d been pulled apart at all odds and ends until you’d come back here: his apartment. 

You’d expected something a little more lavish for your wedding night, especially considering the spectacle that your wedding had been. Ice sculptures, thousand dollar bouquets, and diamond encrusted wedding rings had turned to an elegantly decorated bachelor pad. A glance around revealed a space that was obviously lived in, with odd mixes of $10,000 dollar chairs and… squishmallows.

You sink onto the edge of the bed, eyes peeling over the half-moons of your nails and the heavy gems that now sit on the fourth finger of your left hand. They are a weight you feel the pressure of. A pressure to live up to expectations, to produce a much-desired product. 

A door opens down the hall and you realize the pounding of water and the lilting of a hum has ceased. Your husband is done with his shower. 

A few seconds later he reveals himself, prancing down the hallway and into his bedroom like it’s just another Tuesday and not his wedding night. A plush blue towel is slung low around his waist and from the rivulets of water running all over his body you judge that he hadn’t even taken the time to properly dry off. Not that you mind.

You’d known your new husband was beautiful but you’d never imagined he’d be so… so goddamn seductive. 

Washboard abs, toned arms, sculpted back, wet hair and icy eyes… he was the image of a god. 

“Sorry for making you wait. I really needed that.” 

Gojo prods at his temples, eyes squished shut in what looked like a moment of pain. You’d heard of this problem from the clan. He hadn’t worn his blindfold all day for the sake of the wedding. It was no wonder the effects were catching up with him. 

“No problem.” 

A small smile reveals just a few blinding teeth and you could swear your vision went out for just a moment. 

“You hungry?” 

You arch a brow. The man had eaten two full plates and practically half the cake not yet an hour ago. 

“Can’t say that I am.” 

“Hm.” 

He nods and you watch as he plucks a stray candy off his bedside table, tossing the wrapper to the floor. 

“So, uh-” You watch the butterscotch bulge in his cheek. “You really wanna do this?” 

You glance at your half-naked husband who is practically a walking temptation. You take a breath. He’s standing so casually, as if this is a normal conversation to be having and not something life-altering.

“You don’t?” you ask.

All that gets you is a shit-eating grin. 

“Never said that.” 

You can’t help the smirk that crawls across your lips. 

“Well, we might as well get it over with, no?” 

Another flash of pearly whites. 

“Get it over with, hm?” 

You miss his meaning, pulling at a loose thread on the bedspread. 

“It shouldn’t take much effort. I’m on so many fertility meds you could probably spit on me and I’d get pregnant.” 

You pick at the thread a little more, biting your lip when you realize it’s one of those strands that’s infinite. 

“That so?” 

You jolt when a speck of wetness lands on your cheek. A quick glance reveals a fuzzy blue towel far too close for comfort. A half-naked Gojo is a whole lot closer than he’d been just seconds ago. How is he so quiet? 

Blue eyes bore into yours, water dripping down white strands and onto your skin. He’s so damn tall. He has your neck craned all the way back just to meet his gaze. 

“Yes.” You swallow. “It was part of our prenup.”

Dazed. You’re absolutely dazed. 

“Well, we probably shouldn’t risk breaking a legally binding contract, hm?” 

Closer. He’s coming closer. Too close. 

You lean back, scooting yourself up the bed in a feeble attempt to get a little more space, your emotional support sushi tumbling to the floor. He follows right after you. 

Something primal thrusts through your veins at the sight of a man, sopping wet and smirking, crawling after you, some mix of teasing and pure drive hidden in his eyes. Gojo doesn’t stop, not until you’re nearly pressed against the headboard and his arms cage your waist. Close. Too close. 

You’d thought he would have dried a bit by now, but water still slicks off his skin and hair, showering you lightly. You shiver and your husband notices. His tongue darts out to lick his lips and you get a breath of the sweetness of butterscotch and mint toothpaste. 

“You say stop,” he breathes, “and we stop.”

He leans closer, so close you can smell the eucalyptus and myrrh of his shampoo, the musk of his body wash, the candied sweetness of his breath. Those piercing blue eyes flit to your lips and back up again. 

A breath, a pause. 

“Stop?” he asks. His eyes are piercing.

You shake your head. 

“Go.” 

Lips, teeth, tongue. All of it hits you at once. For a moment you’re too shocked to respond, but then his weight is leaning on you and his hand is on your waist and his mouth tastes like candy and- and then you’re kissing him back. 

A heavy hand digs into the flesh of your waist and your hands find a patch of damp white hair to tangle in. 

He tastes good- too good and when a deft hand guides you down to the mattress you start to think that this whole baby-making business might not be so bad after all. 

Teeth knock, tongues touch, and you are on the edge of what would have been a particularly throaty moan when he pulls away. 

His attention shifts elsewhere, kisses trailing down your neck and hands straying to your hips.

“Have you-” a kiss to your collarbone. “Done this before?”

You freeze.

“What?” 

Gojo raises his head a bit and the most irritating kind of smirk plays on his lips. 

“Don’t know- thought maybe this was a virgin for your super rich husband kinda thing?” 

You shove his head back down.

“Shut up.”

He chuckles and the sound vibrates against your skin. 

“Okay, sp no need to go slow then…” 

His lips continue their assault, brushing and grazing over your skin until it lifts with goosebumps. Your breaths come a little faster, a little heavier and you gasp when his hand curls beneath the hem of your skirt.

“Oh? What’s this?” His fingers brush against the garter that rests at the top of your thighs. Your cheeks heat. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Why had you agreed to wear the damn thing? You reach down, hoping to quickly rid yourself of the scrap of fabric before you can become oven more mortified. You’re just about to clamp down on it when Gojo catches your wrist. “Ah, ah. No need to be so hasty.” Your hand is easily pinned down to the mattress and, for some reason, you don’t fight it. 

Your breath catches when your skirt lifts only for Gojo to dive beneath it without a second thought. You feel his teeth grazing across the skin of your thigh. 

“Gojo-” you breathe, squirming. 

His head reappears suddenly, another one of those mischievous grins gracing his lips. “Satoru when I’m about to be inside you, baby.” 

He disappears again and you gasp and wiggle when you feel his tongue laving across the inside of your thigh. 

His teeth graze you again, but this time they clamp down on the garter and you feel it slowly sliding across your skin, down, down, past your knee and eventually to your ankle where Satoru finally yanks it past your foot with a final tug. 

You stare at him, wide eyed and lustful. That had to have been one of the hottest things you’ve ever seen. 

Satoru plucks the garter from his teeth and dangles it in front of his eyes. It’s a white, lacy little thing that matches the shade of his hair. He’s grinning again when he slides it onto his wrist like a bracelet– no, like a trophy.

“Thanks for the present.” He’s still grinning, still staring, his fingers still fiddling with the hem of your skirt. “How attached are you to this dress?” he asks. 

You blink, swallowing nervously, unable to break away from his gaze. It’s too strong, too mesmerizing. “Not… attached at all,” you manage. It’s true. Somebody else picked it out, and you’ve only been wearing it for about an hour– and it’s not like you can’t just buy a new one now with access to the Gojo bank accounts. 

His grin somehow grows even wider. “Good girl. Just what I wanted to hear.” 

There’s a splitting sound and suddenly your dress is tearing straight down the middle. It’s slow and controlled and you wonder if he’s practiced at this or if his strength is just that regulated. You find yourself hoping it’s the latter. 

The dress is ripped from your skin and you see it land somewhere across the room. You hear something shatter along with a thud, but Satoru seems anything but worried, so you ignore it. 

You’re bare in just your undergarments, a lacy white set that you’re now half proud of and half embarrassed by. 

Satoru whistles and his hands settle on your waist. “Damn, baby. Why’d you keep all this hidden for so long?” 

You scoff, your confidence surging. You reach for him, grabbing a scruff of hair at the back of his neck and pulling him close. “You’re the one taking your sweet time, Toru.” 

The sound of the nickname on your lips makes him shiver and you smirk triumphantly.

“Hmm…” is all he says as his fingers trail lower, lower, lower, until they’re dipping beneath the band of your panties. It’s somewhere between tortuous and ticklish and you squirm. “Ah, ah. Hold still for me, now.” He presses one hand to the valley between your breasts, holding you down as his other hand continues lower. When his thumb finds the wet spot on your panties and presses down your back arches and your breath escapes. 

He chuckles. “Little needy, aren’t you?” His thumb moves a little higher, grazing your clit, and you whimper. 

With one deft movement he unclasps your bra, tossing it aside. You register for just a moment that your chest is now completely bare, but soon enough his mouth is closing around your nipple and all else is forgotten. 

“S-Satoru!” you whisper. Your voice feels hoarse, even if it has no reason to be. 

His thumb continues its assault between your thighs. “So wet already, baby…” He sounds ecstatic. The grin on his lips makes you whine. “Let’s get these out of the way…” Before you know it, you hear more tearing and then cold air hits your cunt. You cry out when Satoru’s thumb returns to its ministrations, but this time there’s no cloth barrier to dull the sensation. Your hands push out and your nails curl into his bare shoulders. You need him closer.

“Satoru…” you breathe. “Kiss me…” 

That shit-eating grin returns, but he follows your command. “As my wife wishes.” 

When lips meet yours it’s hot and messy. Your nails claw down his back and you’re sure you’re leaving marks. If he minds, he certainly doesn’t show it.

His thumb continues at your clit as a finger prods at your entrance. When he slides in slowly, you gasp. He murmurs something about you being so sensitive, and proceeds to quickly find that gummy spot inside you that makes you see stars. Before you know it he’s adding a second finger and soon your hips are rocking against his thrusts, meeting his pace as you chase your high. 

“God, you’re so wet.” he whispers against your lips. True to his word, he’s been kissing you, never letting up in his attack on your mouth. “Bet you taste like fucking heaven.”

You whine, your hips stuttering against his hand. “G-Gonna… I’m–” 

He grins again, and pulls away just enough to meet your gaze. “Go ahead, baby. Cum for me.” Your eyes flutter shut, your head rolling back– “Nuh, uh. Keep those eyes open. Wanna see every second.” 

Your breaths flutter and you whimper loudly, the sound bouncing on the walls. You’re not sure why you listen, why you fight to keep your eyes open, locked on him, but you do. Maybe you’re afraid he’ll pull away and leave you wanting… or maybe you just want to please him.

You feel your muscles clenching in your stomach, hear the sloppy sounds of Satoru’s fingers thrusting in and out of you, see the gleeful anticipation in his eyes. His thumb rubs a particularly delicious circle around your clit and you feel yourself thrown over the edge. 

You can’t help but be loud. You hold his gaze the whole time, whimpering and whining his name as you gush all over his sheets. Your cunt spasms around his fingers, clenching, holding him inside, desperate to be filled. You hear him panting above you, like watching has somehow taken his breath away. 

“Good girl,” he whispers and you feel a second wave of pleasure ripple through you. 

You feel weak by the time your orgasm leaves you. Your muscles are limp and your cunt is so sensitive that you flinch when Satoru removes his fingers. He brushes a tear from the corner of your eye and you watch as he brings his sopping fingers to his mouth, sucking your juices clean. He moans, a deep throaty sound, like it’s the most delicious thing he’s ever tasted. You watch his eyes roll back in his skull, watch his throat bob as he swallows. Your lips part at the sight. 

His fingers fall from his mouth with a pop and his grin returns.

“Just like I thought,” he says. “Heaven.” 

He’s back on you in a second, licking a stripe from your collarbone to just beneath your ear. His hips slot between your own and a strong hands hook around the backs of your thighs, pressing your knees to your chest. You whimper. You don’t think you’ve ever felt so completely and utterly exposed. 

“On to the main event, yeah?” The twinkle in his eye has your heart racing even faster. His fingers catch the towel that is somehow still wrapped snugly around his waist. With one tug, it’s gone and your mouth is watering in anticipation. 

Your jaw drops lower, if it’s even possible. He’s… huge. Long and pretty with veins that you know are going to rub just right. His tip is pink and leaking, ready. 

“Satoru, it won’t–” 

His lips connect to your pulse, licking and sucking when you feel him prodding at your entrance. “It’ll fit, baby.” 

He slides himself through your folds, gathering your juices and torturing you every time his tip bumps your clit. By the time he’s finally lining himself up, you’re practically begging. 

The first push is heaven. You’re both moaning when he prods past that first tight ring of muscle and you’re gasping, crying out his name and clawing at his back. He keeps pushing, filling you inch by inch until he’s pressed snugly against your cervix. You thank him aloud when he pauses, giving you a moment to adjust to his size, to the feeling of being filled to the absolute brim. He only kisses the tears from your cheeks. 

The first thrust has you seeing stars, little white spots clouding your vision. The second has your nails embedding in his skin hard enough to draw blood. He doesn’t seem to mind. If anything, it has him moving faster, grunting in your ear and whimpering your name.

“Sooo… f-ahh-ucking t-tight…” he whispers. 

A hand slides between your sweaty bodies, a thumb rubbing familiar circles against your swollen clit. You cry out, clenching down like a vice. 

“F-Fuck, princess.” 

His thrusts rock your body and the sound of skin slapping skin echoes in the air. You feel that familiar coil begin to form, to heat at your core. Your muscles tighten and your legs begin to shake. 

“Atta girl. Cum on my cock, baby.” 

You whimper at the praise, at the incessant rubbing of your clit, at the relentless pounding of your cervix. It’s all too much, too good. 

“Satoru…” you cry. Your legs burn and ache. Satoru has your knees pressed so tightly to your chest you’re afraid something might snap. It only adds to the tension beginning to unravel at your center. You feel as if you’re burning, as if you’re going to snap– and then you do. Heat unravels beneath your skin and your mouth falls open in a silent cry. Your legs tremble and your toes curl and you vaguely hear your husband whispering a mix of curses and praises in your ear. You’re still lost in the sensation when he starts groaning and you feel him flooding your insides with shallow thrusts close to your cervix, filling you with rope after rope of his hot cum. You’re still panting when you finally regain your mind. Satoru’s still on top of you, completely limp with his head buried in your neck. You curl a hand into his hair, silently holding him close. That was some of the most mind-blowing sex you’ve ever had. You smirk. Yeah, maybe this baby-making business wasn’t going to be so bad. 

You shiver when you feel Satoru licking and sucking at your skin. There’s a tenderness in the action that makes you pull him closer. He hasn’t even pulled out yet, but you can already feel him hardening inside you, ready for another round. 

“Think it stuck?” he asks. You smirk and answer with a breathy laugh. 

“Don’t know.” Silently, you think that there’s no way it didn’t. You can feel his cum dripping down your thighs and there’s just so much of it.

He lifts his head, eyes bright and sparkling even in the dim light. He grins. “Guess we’d better make sure.” 

~

With the rate at which Satoru fucks you it’s no surprise when you get two positive little pink lines a few week later. You tell Satoru by unceremoniously dropping the test in front of him while he’s drinking his morning coffee. He only grins and kisses you before he bends you over the counter, whispering something about needing to show you how appreciative he is when he slides inside you. The next morning you wake to Satoru’s lips on yours, a brand new credit card, and a new car in the driveway, fitted with all of the newest safety features (only the best for his wife and baby, he says). You sigh and smile when you see it. Yeah, this whole baby-making business definitely wasn’t so bad.

taglist (DM me to be added!): @lacheri

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[shirefantasies]

How the Fellowship Act Around Their Crush (GN!Reader)

Hello friends! Kicking off my blog with some cute headcanons for my favorite people- hope you enjoy 😄

Aragorn

✧ One of the least obvious for sure 😅 we love a strong silent type but unfortunately that means you’ll have to be reading in on his actions

✧ Checks in on you a lot, just making sure you’re feeling alright and not hiding any burdens because he wants to carry those.

✧ Teaches you all he knows about the world’s botany when he notices your curiosity, pointing out what plants are poisonous, which the elves use for healing, and which can be made into tea. Snags a few to make you said tea at the earliest convenience 😌

✧ Will be the one to drape his cloak over you if you get cold. Not the type to stop others from doing it, but boy will he be the fastest by far!

✧ Has the habit of letting his fingers linger over yours just a bit longer than necessary when he hands things off to you or presses small items into your hands.

✧ Is the best with his words. He’ll reassure you if you feel insecure that you have a strength and beauty you bring to this world that no one else does, that the time you are in does not define you as a whole, that all have roles to play here.

Legolas

✧ Least obvious part 2! Another who is more silent about things…at least at first! If you understand Elvish, you may catch him searching for advice from Aragorn on if he should speak of it or not.

✧ Almost always defers to your word/opinion whether it’s where to stop or simply how you’d like to spend the rest of the evening.

✧ Shows off just a smidge 🤏🏻 when he knows you’re looking, like no, he doesn’t have to impale three orcs with the same arrow three different ways but did you think it was cool? Then yes he did. Still his face colors with surprised, joy, and amusement when you react with awe.

✧ “Wow, beautiful,” you breathe as your eyes scan the stars, glittering constellations and distant galaxies winking above you. “Indeed,” Legolas responds softly, but if you happen to peer at him from the peripheries of your vision at just the right time you’ll see the glance he surreptitiously slides to you.

✧ Holds open every door for you, slides back every chair, serves you at every meal, like this prince is peak gentleman and nothing less!

✧ Whispers joking observations about the rest of the fellowship, especially Gimli, that he usually keeps to himself into your ear as you sit together during mealtimes. This creates a whole slew of inside jokes between you two and much confusion over what you could possibly be laughing at.

Boromir

✧ Not over-the-top, but he figures what’s the point if you never figure anything out? Definitely wants to drop hints for you 😌

✧ Places a kiss to the back of your hand when he first meets you, telling you it is truly an honor.

✧ “Here, allow me,” he’ll say as he gently takes whatever burden you bear whether it’s bundles of firewood or even your bag on a particular rough day of travel.

✧ Happily shares tales of Gondor’s splendor with you and insists he’ll take you there and show you himself someday. Asks in turn for stories of your home and all your favorite things about it. Even if he can never visit, Boromir is determined to find a way to bring a piece of your home to you someday- anything to make you feel like you’re there again.

✧ Offers you his arm when you two walk side-by-side, guiding you with a firm, warm grip that keeps you feeling secure.

✧ Always places himself between you and danger, stepping in front of you with his sword and shield in hands and even shifting you back with a hand upon your waist.

Gimli

✧ You’re going to figure it out pretty quickly. He’e comically vocal as we all know, but also incredibly smooth when he wants to be…and boy does he want to be 👀

✧ Drops a lot of hints about how dwarves are the warmest, heartiest lovers and best providing partners! “We’ve the grandest of halls and sturdiest of bodies, after all!”

✧ Literally always has your back, like he is more aware of any threats to you than you are. It’s nearly impossible to count how many times he’s slashed an orc you hadn’t even seen off your back, giving you a triumphant nod and an “Anytime, Lassie/Laddie!”

✧ Laughs at every single joke you tell so hard you can’t help but puff up in pride at your sense of humor, nudging your shoulder with his.

✧ “Oh, stay still, you’ve got something in your hair…” Proceeds to remove it in the most tender and intimate manner you’ve ever experienced.

✧ Asks you to look him in the eyes before a big fight because, in his words, if that’s the last thing he looks upon before going out it’ll all be worth it.

Frodo

✧ Has no idea what he is doing honestly. Has never felt this way before and wasn’t sure if he ever would, so his demeanor around you suddenly becomes shy, almost withdrawn.

✧ Your self-appointed nurse. Tends your wounds silently but with the most caring, gentle touch and gaze fluttering back and forth between your wound and your expression with those big blue eyes.

✧ Goes on walks every now and again when everybody’s camped. After a while of seeing you watch him off, Frodo plucks up the courage to invite you to join him on one.

✧ Embarrassed as he is at first, he is encouraged by your eager eyes when you ask what he’s reading, shyly admitting it’s some poetry he loves. Ends up reciting you the whole thing, looking into your eyes intently as he wishes to actually be confessing each of those flowery words.

✧ Grabs your hand to lead you places whenever he finds something you just have to see! Blushes about it after the fact but in the moment the excitement just takes over him and he doesn’t even think about it.

✧ Begins sharing concerns and deeper thoughts with you once he trusts you as a sort of sign of that feeling. He hopes you understand that he doesn’t disclose to just anyone.

Sam

✧ He wants to talk to you so bad, but also you’re the most gorgeous person he’s ever seen and how does he do that??? So sweet and attentive with his gaze when you do talk, so that could clue you in.

✧ He definitely gives you the biggest and best of anything he prepares, smiling softly at you as he dishes it up!

✧ Offers to tell you stories of The Shire, especially if you’ve never visited it yourself, and you can see the love for it in his eyes as much as you can hear it in his voice. Shares a few about his old Gaffer, too!

✧ Trips over his words from time to time. He’ll accidentally say the wrong thing and nervously try to laugh it off not realizing how adorable he looks when he blushes ☺️

✧ Sees a pretty flower on the road and immediately thinks of you, plucking it up and twirling it thoughtfully before extending it your way gently, naming his discovery as he does so.

✧ Would give you the shirt off his back if you wanted or needed. Offers you things from his bags a lot ranging from supplies that can ease your passage on this trip to the last of the sweets from The Shire he’d thrown in his pack pockets. Any task you don’t want to do Sam is jumping up to do for you!

Merry

✧ Medium obvious because he makes it his mission to get close to you and hype you up. If you’re oblivious or cynical it could be mistaken as him just being friendly, but it can’t come as a shock the way he’s so eager for your presence!

✧ Acts like you being amazing at things you’ve never even done is a foregone conclusion, like it could be your first time firing with a bow and he’ll be telling everyone what a natural you’ll be, urging you to go on and show them!

✧ Faintly embodies the old adage ‘if they tease you, that means they like you’. He sometimes makes up stories to see if you believe him, chuckling merrily when you do but quickly giving up the ghost again so you don’t have the wrong idea. Others he’ll just poke fun at things you say and egg all of your jokes on, too!

✧ Winks at you on the off time you two make eye contact with each other.

✧ Holds out his hand to you and gives a small bow every time he invites you to dance, asking if he may have it with a devilishly charming grin before he pulls you close.

✧ Whisks you away when he wants you to himself, taking you on a sightseeing adventure or even just foraging. Turns it into an over-the-top skit of him searching and protecting you from the threats of the forest that has you giggling!

Pippin

✧ Oh, you’ll be able to tell! He tries his best to be smooth and is super complimentary and generally wants to be around you 25/8. Even if it comes across goofy, you have to give him props for being forward with his intentions 😌

✧ Practically jumps out of his seat to be the one to help you with anything, whether it’s going fishing, gathering berries or firewood, getting some training in…you name it, he wants to be there for you if you need him!

✧ You may catch him staring at you, whether it’s in awe of your beauty or just straight-up checking you out depends on his mood, but his eyes are almost always flicking back to you in idleness.

✧ Remembers every single detail you share about yourself, like EVERY SINGLE ONE. Knows all your preferences by heart and frequently suggests playing your favorite game or offering to sing your favorite song, likely with an invitation to dance too! Pippin will chime in about your dislikes or allergies before even you can.

✧ Casually begins breaking touch barriers with small gestures like putting a hand on your shoulder during a mock apology for his cousin’s behavior or sitting with your arms brushing. If you don’t seem to mind, he’ll get bolder, slinging an arm over your shoulders during a jolly moment!

✧ Not afraid of compliments, definitely not! Unabashedly (well, mostly anyway, he hides a blush well) tells you that color looks great on you or what a pretty face you’ve got just in casual conversation.

[wilwheaton]

the scorpion doesn’t care who it stings

I posted this on my Facebook four days ago, and it seems to have taken on a life of its own for a minute.

I thought I’d repost it, here:

I can not fathom the emptiness, the insecurity, the insatiable need for attention and validation, the staggering arrogance, the malevolence and total void of human experience that is Elon Musk.

He's the richest man on the planet. You can't go anywhere or do anything without interacting with something he's part of in some way. There are literal millions of people who uncritically worship him, in spite of overwhelming evidence that he's a douchebag. Some number of them will come after me, as they come after anyone who points at their naked emperor. They'll spend entire days going after me and people like me, slavishly serving a man who does not even know they exist. They are his army of fools, uncritically serving his every whim. And it still isn't enough.

He can have any material thing he wants, and he will *never* be happy or satisfied. He has no real friends. Every single person around him is either a viper, a parasite, or both.

So what does he do? He bullies and threatens and harasses and trolls and behaves like the weak, scared, insecure child he has always been. That's a tragedy for him, but it's dangerous for us. He doesn't care what he destroys or who he hurts as he chases this existential thing he cannot ever have.

You know the saying "hurt people hurt people"? He's a hurt person who is hurting our society, making people I care about less safe. The consequences of this one man's midlife crisis are global, and that terrifies me.

In a comment, about an hour later, I added:

You know what's really interesting is the tiny number of people who are attacking and harassing me are either typical right wing idiots who all spew the same garbage from behind their wraparound sunglasses, or these weird nerds who are DESPERATE to justify how toxic and cruel and destructive Elon Musk is. Like, nerds, listen to Old Man Wheaton, please. 

Don't hitch your wagon to Elon Musk. There are countless people who are amazing and genuinely good, who do all the things we wish we could do. Stop defending this piece of shit who would push you into a volcano without even learning your name, if it would save him half a second on his way to his next shitpost on $8Chan (formerly known as Twitter).He doesn't stand up to anyone. He doesn't stand up FOR anyone. He is not your champion. He's angry and chaotic and destructive, and you have to understand that the scorpion doesn't care who it stings.

Finally, I want to add two things: 1) It’s interesting to me that a lot of the people who came to my post to be dicks used a lot of MAGA language. It reminds me of this thing my friend says about concerts: the audience looks like the band. Of course there’s substantial overlap between the angry, hateful, terrified, cowards who support Trump and the same who Stan Elon Musk, and it’s real interesting to see it in action.

2) I haven’t used Twitter for years. I quit before it was popular (lol) because it was better for my mental health. I logged in once when my book was published, and I deleted all my tweets when he announced he was buying Twitter. When he took over and immediately amplified a conspiracy theorist, I made my account private. In a perfect world, I would delete my account entirely. But I have to keep it for reasons I hope I don’t have to explain. After I posted this on Facebook, it made its way around Twitter (still is, four days later, which is ... a thing that is happening) and when people went to look at my account, they saw that it was closed. As much of a fucking manbaby Elon Musk clearly is, he didn’t do anything to my account. In fact, the only reason he even knows I exist (if he does) is through a vanity search of his name. I locked my account on my own, and so should you.

I am only on:

Tumblr

Facebook (itswilwheaton)

Instagram (itswilwheaton)

and my blog that I’ve been neglecting for too long at wilwheaton.net.

I’ve had a Reddit account since 2006, predating user-created subs! I’m u/wil there.

Okay that’s all. Thanks for listening. Please choose to be kind.

[my-mind-is-incognito]

Wanna Duet? (Hugh Jackman x Reader)

summary: you're an interviewer sitting down with 2 of the hottest celebrities, both fresh off their latest movie. during the interview, one of them feels the need to shake up the script a bit

warnings: None that I can think of, other than intense yearning for an unattainable man (tbh isn't that why we read and write these sort of things anyway?)

author's note: Um, hi. It's been a couple of years since I've contributed to this site and this particular blog, other than reblogging other people's much more notable work. But the new deadpool movie, as well as Hugh Jackman, has literally got me hostage by the ovaries and I just needed to put this random fantasy into words and put it out there into the world. Please be gentle. I haven't written anything in years and it is so weird to me now.

When you call my name

It’s like a little prayer

I’m down on my knees

I wanna take you there

In the midnight hour

I can feel your power

Just like a prayer

I wanna take you there

The lyrics to that familiar song softly tumbled from your lips as you studied the notecards in your hand while your shoulders softly rocked to the beat. You wanted to make sure the questions were etched in your brain; as a journalist tasked with interviewing celebrities, you needed to maintain your A-game when it came to these video shoots with the Hollywood elite. You couldn’t afford to stumble over your words or, even worse, have an awkward silence creep into the conversation. 

A knock at the door brought you out of your reverie, and Maggie, the producer, poked her head in. “They just arrived,” she informed you. “Ten minutes.”

You flashed her a thumbs up and got out of your seat to loosen your stiff muscles and fight the enormous grin spreading across your face. Today’s scheduled shoot was one you were particularly looking forward to: a simple sit down interview with two of the hottest stars, fresh off the premiere of one of the most anticipated movies of 2024. Somewhere on the premises, Hugh Jackman and Ryan Reynolds were waiting to speak to you, and your Marvel-loving heart was hammering in your chest in anticipation. The butterflies were certainly in hyperactive manic mode today. 

Maggie studied you with a laugh. “Excited, are we?”

“Aren’t you? We’re about to meet Deadpool and Wolverine!” You took a few deep breaths, channeling your professional side. But soon, the facade fell and you were grinning like a jittery idiot. ”How are they? Are they as ridiculously gorgeous in person?”

Maggie grinned. “Yes, plus super nice. Definitely making the top 10 nicest guests list. Hurry up and get out there.” She then left and shut the door behind her.

Biting back the urge to squeal, you took a few composing breaths and willed your heart to stop racing like a schoolgirl in love. Picking up your phone, you started scrolling your phone for a song. Singing was always a typical warm-up exercise for you; it helped you loosen up and provided an outlet for your nervous energy. Showtunes were usually your go-to songs, and you had a particular soundtrack stuck in your head for the past few weeks. 

“Ladies and gents, this is the moment you’ve waited for,” you sang softly, shimmying your hips to the beat of the song. “Been searching in the dark, your sweat soaking through the floor.”  Another hip wiggle on beat as you spun on your heel and held out a dramatic fist in the air. “And buried in your bones, there’s an ache that you can’t ignore, taking your breath, stealing your mind, and all that was real is left behind…

Don’t fight it’s coming for you, runnin’ at ya

It’s only this moment, don’t care what comes after

Your fever dream, can’t you see it gettin’ closer?

just surrender cuz you feel the feeling takin’ over

It’s fire, it’s freedom, it’s flooding open

It’s a preacher in the pulpit and your blind devotion

There’s something breaking at the brick of every wall it’s holding

All that you know

So tell me, do you wanna go?

Where it’s covered in all the colored lights

Where the runaways are running the night

Impossible comes tre, it’s taking over you

Oh, this is the greatest show!

We light it up, we won’t come down

And the sun can’t stop us now

Impossible comes true, it’s taking over you

Oh, this is the greatest show!”

You blew out one more calming breath and grinned with confidence before striding out the door. Time to get to work.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“So I’m sitting there, my brain melting in my skull from all these fucking hot wings, and the first sentence out of my mouth is ‘I CHEAT AT WORDLE!’”

You and Hugh burst out into laughter as Ryan recounted his and Hugh’s recent experience on Hot Ones. As expected, the interview was going without a hitch. Both men were excellent subjects, genuinely enjoying the process and providing laughs amongst the crew in between the Q+A. Their bestie banter and overall chemistry was so contagious that it brought everyone at ease. And also as expected, both men gave you the urge to subtly fan yourself with your notecards. While both had the leading man looks, Ryan had a dry wit and a delivery that was deadpan and entirely on point, never failing to get a laugh from everyone in the room. Meanwhile, Hugh had a megawatt smile and an Aussie timber in his voice that had you shivering in your chair, and his laughter was as warm and pure as sunshine itself.

“So, Hugh, you’ve mentioned how you were still doing Music Man when you were cast to return as Wolverine. Did the mental and physical preparation for this role clash with your preparations for your Music Man performances?”

Hugh chuckled. “It’s funny you mentioned that, because I had actually lost a bit of weight while doing Music Man. I mean, it’s eight shows a week and each show is a cardio workout like nothing else! So I had to start increasing my calories and, you know, pumping iron in between shows and it got to the point where I actually split my pants onstage during a show!”

You gasped while Ryan just shook his head and laughed. “Yes, the legendary Jackman ass returned, as jacked as ever!” Ryan snarked, which had Hugh guffawing. “Oh, easy there, buddy. No need to break a hip on top of that.”

You futilely hid your laughs behind your notecards, genuinely enjoying this experience. “Well, guys, this has been an absolute pleasure. As a Marvel fan myself, this movie has been long awaited and completely worth it. Any parting words you’d like to leave the audience before we sign off?”

”Actually,” Ryan suddenly interjected, shooting an offhanded smirk at Hugh, “I had a question for you.”

Well, that was unexpected. “Wait, really? For me?” you asked, confused. 

”Yeah, betcha didn’t see this coming, but yes, the tables have in fact been turned. The interviewee is now the interviewer.” Ryan crossed his legs and placed his hands on his lap, smiling mischievously. “See, I happened to be skittering around backstage, and whilst—“

”Whilst?”

”Don’t interrupt me when I’m talking, Hugh Bear. It’s very rude. Yes, whilst skittering back there, I happened to pick up on some backstage karaoke from a certain interviewer.”

Your eyes widened and you hid your gaping mouth behind your hand. “Oh God.”

“Do you deny it?”

“You heard that?!”

Ryan pointed an accusatory finger at you. “Don’t your DARE hide that angelic voice from us, ma’am!”

Hugh switched his focus between you and Ryan. “Wait, did I miss something? What’s happening?”

”Dude, get this. I heard her singing Greatest Showman in the back and she sounds amazing!” Ryan nudged Hugh before holding out a hand to you reassuringly while you continued to gape. 

“Is that right?” Hugh inquired, interest piqued.

You laughed nervously, shielding your face in your hands. In the back of your mind, you wondered if your makeup was good enough to hide the flush spreading across your face. “Oh my god, this is so embarrassing.” 

“Please don’t confuse my enthusiasm for mockery!” Ryan was quick to say, holding out a reassuring hand. “Honestly, I had chills hearing you. Your voice is gorgeous! And clearly you have excellent music tastes due to your song choices. Seriously, I loved it!” Ryan gushed. “My question is, where did you learn to sing? Like, I’m literally jealous because out of the three of us sitting here, I have no musical talent whatsoever, and my singing usually results in children crying. But yours just sounds so good!”

”I wanna hear her sing now,” Hugh remarked cheerfully. “High praise from Ryan is definitely a good voucher.”

“Oooh, that would be so great, Hugh. You could audition her, because her choreo needs a little bit of work. Kinda limited, but I’m sure your rusty hips still got enough wiggle in them to teach her something.”

Both men laughed and leaned forward, their attention on you, and you couldn’t help but cower behind your papers and burst into another fit of panicked giggles. “I have no idea what is happening right now,” you remarked shyly.

Ryan got out of his seat and stood beside you. “Audition jitters, I get them all the time. Here, I’ll coach you through it!” He cleared his throat and adopted a more professional tone, gesturing between you and Hugh. “Alright, so you are at your callback audition. The casting director—obviously, that’s me—liked your stuff and now I wanna do a little screen test with our leading man—that’ll be Hugh.” 

At this, Hugh leaned forward and shook your hand warmly. “Hey there, I’m Hugh Jackman. I’ll be doing this scene with ya.”

You shot a quick glance at Maggie, who silently urged you to play along. So you chuckled and firmly shook Hugh’s hand. “Pleasure to be working with you, sir.” He replied with a warm smile that made your stomach somersault.

Ryan clapped his hands. “Alright! We are looking for some chemistry between our two leads. Let’s see, what’s a good duet song?” He eyed you expectedly. “I won’t ask Hugh, because the man is a neverending jukebox of showtunes. Now’s your chance to put a quarter in him and pick a song.”

You fidgeted in your seat, pausing to think before replying, “Okay, if we are going to do this, I just want to get this off my chest. Hugh, I am a HUGE fan, not just of your work as Wolverine, but your musical roles as well.” In response, he patted his heart and mouthed ‘thank you’ while Ryan rolled his eyes and made the yak-yak motion with his hand.

You continued. “So, if we could, and this is something I’ve always wanted to do…could we sing ‘A Million Dreams’ from Greatest Showman together?”

His eyes lit up and he nodded. “Yeah! I’d love that!” 

You practically bounced in your seat, shaking out your hands in pure excitement while a huge grin spread across your face. “Oh my god, I can’t believe this is happening!”

Hugh got out of his chair and gestured for you to do the same, which you did quickly. “Gotta make it like a real audition,” he informed you with a wink that got you giggling.

Ryan scooted his own chair back and sat back in it, much like a director overseeing a scene. “Okay, are we all good? Pay no attention to the multiple cameras looking at you or the lights beaming down at you, mmkay? It’s most likely nothing new for you. And…action!”

Hugh made a big show of clearing his throat a few times. “Sorry, I’m not warmed up,” he said.

“No one cares, Hugh.”

“And there isn’t any music.”

“Still not caring, Hugh.”

“Thanks, Ryan.”

With the rest of the crew laughing, Hugh finally took your hand in his and, gazing into your eyes, began to sing:

Every night I lie in bed

The brightest colors fill my head

A million dreams are keeping me awake

I think of what the world could be

A vision of the one I see

A million dreams is all it’s gonna take

Oh, a million dreams for the world we’re gonna make

You were mesmerized by his singing. Listening to him on recording did absolutely no justice for him. Never in a million years (no pun intended) did you think this could be happening to you, that Hugh Jackman could be singing one of your favorite songs directly to you. You forced yourself to focus on your breathing and remember your cue. And when it came, you were more than ready to belt out:

However big, however small

Let me be part of it all

Share your dreams with me

Ryan was flashing you a thumbs up while the rest of the crew were cheering you on. Hugh was grinning ear to ear, clearly enjoying himself.

You may be right, you may be wrong

But say that you’ll bring me along

To the world you see

Hugh nodded encouragingly, joining in:

To the world I close my eyes to see

I close my eyes to see

He got down on one knee, clutching his chest dramatically as he still held your hand.

‘Cause every night I lie in bed

The brightest colors fill my head

You grinned in reply and posed cutely in response.

A million dreams are keeping me awake

A million dreams, a million dreams!

As he shot back up, he spun you around, and the two of you both dramatically sang back to back, harmonizing on the final verse.

I think of what the world could be

A vision of the one I see

A million dreams is all it’s gonna take

A million dreams for the world we’re gonna make

As you held that last note, you felt Hugh wrap his arms around your shoulders. Knowing your role, you smiled and leaned against him.

For the world we’re gonna make

The end of the song was met with thunderous applause from everyone on set, with Ryan being particularly enthusiastic in his clapping. “You got the part!” he exclaimed.

You laughed breathlessly as you and Hugh separated. You clutched your face, grounding yourself from the incredible high you were flying on, all while that silly smile on your face still shone brightly. 

Hugh clapped you on the shoulder. “Very well done!” he remarked. “I’ll be sure to keep you on call as my backup leading lady.”

“Oh my god, stop,” you beamed, still a bit breathless. “Karaoke is one thing, but I dunno about leading lady stuff.”

He smiled and gently kissed your hand. “Don’t sell yourself short,” he replied with a wink.

Maggie caught your eye from behind the camera, signaling you to wrap it up. Remembering your job, you quickly looked at the camera and said, “Uh, Deadpool and Wolverine is out in theaters now! Many thanks to Hugh and Ryan for joining us today!”

“Cut!” Maggie announced.

And thus ended probably THE most exhilarating interview of your entire career!

[astaroth1357]

Oh God, What Have We Done??: Father!Belphegor Headcanons

You know, I was going to write this for Simeon, and I still might, but Belphie lost the Dad poll and I must right an injustice when I see one.

Content: Somehow incredibly fluffy with Big Happy Family vibes; mostly meme fodder

~♡♡♡~

I refuse to believe this could have been planned. No person in their right mind is going to look at Belphie and go, "Oh yeah. That's some real good father material right there!" Belphegor wouldn't even say that to himself.

Either a condom broke, a pill was skipped, or some orphaned demon child imprinted on these two like a baby duck and followed them home. Either way, NO ONE wanted this, but it's happening.

Belphegor's reaction to realizing that he's a Dad:

Everyone else's reaction to realizing Belphegor is a Dad:

Beel's reaction to realizing that he is an Uncle:

But seriously though, Beel is the only one with any kind of unwavering faith that his twin can pull this off. Never doubts him for a second and never will.

Everybody else though....? Well. Satan is already cleaning out the local libraries of their parenting books, Asmo's searching Mommy blogs, and Lucifer keeps staring off into the middle distance like he's questioning every single life decision that has brought them to this point. Fear is rampant, despair is on high.

The biggest worry is that Belphegor is going to leave MC more or less high and dry. He's not exactly known to be a "go-getter" when times are tough and though he has his soft side, sure, no one would call it particularly "nurturing."

Diavolo and Barbs weren't even sure if they should announce the news to the realm. Of course one of the Lords of the Hell having an offspring is a pretty big deal but under these circumstances...

What if it was treated like a joke by the populous? Painting a target for ridicule on Belphie and MC's backs had to be the LAST thing anybody wanted...

Even Belphegor, in a pretty heartbreaking moment of self-reflection, tried to convince Beel to take over for him instead. Not to shirk the responsibility, but out of pure acknowledgement that he would make the better father between them...

Beel, of course, was not having this for a second. And you know what? Everyone would do well to listen to the wisdom of Beel! Because he knew instinctively something that everyone else had conveniently forgotten-

No matter the circumstances, Belphie's kid was a part of the family. And that meant that they, the MC, and even Belphie himself were never going to be doing this alone.

And that fact was proven quickly enough when every member of the family, extended or otherwise, stepped up to lend a hand.

Levi and Mammon took it on themselves to go out and buy whatever baby items they needed and seemingly came in every day with handfuls upon handfuls of bottles, baby gates, socket covers, and TOYS (literally so many toys. They bought more toys than diapers).

Lucifer and Asmo set to work on renovating a nursery/kid's room almost immediately. The eldest had the plans drafted within a week of the news while Asmo buried MC and Belphie in paint swatches and magazine catalogs for the walls and decor.

Satan roped Beel in to help him train Belphegor to be a little less lazy and more attentive to the MC and the baby. Even going so far as to curse a baby monitor to sound like fog horn to him and only him if the kid began to cry.

The angels chipped in with gifts and free offers to babysit (mostly from Simeon, but Luke is already eyeing the little one like a baby sibling and is protective as such).

Solomon uh... Well Solomon offered to cook MC whatever they wanted through the pregnancy at first, but when that got a HARD veto he switched to just giving HoL a touch of magic baby proofing. Nobody can figure out how to get under the kitchen sink anymore, but that means the baby won't either!

And, of course, despite Belphegor not liking him much, Diavolo is probably the BEST psudeo-uncle a kid could have. He's already sent Barbatos out to curate the best baby food and Lucifer is training him on how to hold infants properly so he can take turns being babysitter with Simeon.

As a father... Belphie isn't perfect. He did whine more than a few times about no longer being the "baby" everyone doted on. A couple times, he may even act just as childish as his kid...

But in the moments late at night when he's rocking them in his arms, dead tired from being awake for hours but determined to make sure they sleep first...

Or when he's walking around the House with them tucked to his chest because they'll never cry if he holds them.

How he pays attention to every little thing that interests them so he can craft each of their dreams more exciting than the last...

Or how he, more than any of the others, knows what a precious treasure it is to be with those you love since you never know when they'll be gone...

He'll do alright. With the love and support of everyone else, their child will have everything they need...

As long as they don't turn out as spoiled as he is 💀

[yeoldenews]

hello! i was wondering if you (or any blogs you think might know?) had any resources for edwardian fashion, more precisely edwardian teen fashion? i'm writing a story centering on two edwardian ghosts and would like help on their style of speech as well if you can't help on the fashion aspects. thank you!

In my opinion, if you want to be able to portray the authentic feel of a time period, there is nothing better than diving head first into primary sources.

Whenever I start any large research/writing project that’s centered on a particular year, I usually spend at least a couple of days just immersing myself in the era.

We live in an extraordinary age when it comes to primary source research (especially for the early 20th century) - there are literally millions of period newspapers/books/magazines/films/recordings floating around online.

Find out what books were popular and check them out! Read the newspaper! Listen to popular music! Watch silent movies or newsreels!

For teenagers, school yearbooks are a particularly great source to get an idea of how young people spoke, their senses of humor, common slang, casual fashion, as well as the daily routines and general vibes of the time period. Most universities have their yearbooks digitized and available online and can be pretty easily found on google (try searching: [year] [location if desired] yearbook digital collections).

As for fashion - there are so many great fashion history tumblrs, that it’s pretty hard to go wrong if you just explore the “Edwardian” or “1900s” tag a bit. One thing to keep in mind though - most dresses that end up in museums were owned by very, very rich individuals. So, though a great place to start, scrolling through blogs full of museum pieces to learn about fashion history is roughly the equivalent of learning about modern fashion by only watching Chanel runway shows.

By the Edwardian era most young people were wearing pretty much the same thing as adults by the age of 14/15. You were, however, starting to see the very beginning of what would become the modern “juniors’ section” - usually termed “Misses’” for girls and “young men’s” or “collegiate” for boys. Here are a few examples of this can be seen in period catalogs from 1912, 1911 (starting on page 21) and 1908. 

It’s also important to keep in mind that fashion changed much, much more quickly than it does now. A woman in 1906 and a woman in 1911 would have noticeably different styles and silhouettes. I'd recommend scrolling through some fashion plates (going to shout out chic-a-gigot here who has a great collection of French fashion plates organized by decade and year) to get a basic handle on how the silhouette changed year by year.

In my past life I was fashion history specialist for high-end auctions, so I could go on in A LOT more detail about this subject, but I'm going to end it here before this gets too long.

[delulustateofmind]

Potions & Shadows (Part III)

Summary: An old neighbor of Feyre's is revealed to be not who they seemed when Feyre was a child. Leading to Feyre needing the once-village apothecaries' help. Inspired by Frieren: Beyond Journey's End.

A/n: I LITERALLY could not stop writing this part. No joke, all I could think about at the gym was writing this. I seriously love Nesta and her character in the series and have always wanted to write about her. I hope you all enjoy!

part one, part two, part three, part IV

Word count: 3.8k

Warnings: Mentions of loss, more trauma dumping, healing!

Taglist: @cherry-cin, @sassybluebird, @aehllitas-blog

The House of Wind loomed before you, an imposing structure carved into the mountain, exuding an air of ancient power and mystery. The stone walls were cold and unyielding, reminiscent of the dungeons you had once frequented, but there was a certain warmth to the wooden accents that softened the overall austere appearance. Tall ceilings stretched above you, adorned with faelights that cast a gentle, magical glow throughout the vast space.

As Azriel guided you through the grand doorway, you could feel his presence behind you, a silent but reassuring shadow. The house was immense, its scale almost overwhelming. Natural light poured in through the large, curved windows, illuminating the interior with a serene, ethereal brightness. Outside, you could hear the ever-present rustling of the wind, a constant whisper that seemed to caress the edges of your awareness without ever breaching the sanctuary within.

As you moved further into the house, you couldn't help but marvel at the blend of the natural and the mystical, the way the architecture seamlessly integrated with the mountain, creating a haven that was both formidable and welcoming.

Feyre was the first to greet you, her arms wrapping around you in a warm hug as soon as you stepped inside. "I’m sorry I haven’t had time to visit since you arrived. Things have just been so busy with preparations and such," she said, offering you a small, apologetic smile. Feyre seemed to embody the essence of the fae effortlessly, her dress shimmering like it was woven from starlight, enhancing her natural grace and beauty.

Before you could respond, you saw Nesta making her way down the hallway towards you. Unlike Feyre, Nesta was the Archeron sister you were closest to. She had often sought your company, and you had come to appreciate her fierce spirit and unyielding strength. As she approached, it was evident that fae life suited her even more profoundly than it did Feyre. Nesta had always carried a regal presence, and now it was even more pronounced.

However, as she drew nearer, you couldn't help but notice the stark changes in her appearance. Dark circles framed her eyes, and her cheeks were hollow, hinting at self-neglect or something more troubling. The once bright and lively child you remembered now had a cold fire in her eyes, a guardedness that spoke of hidden pain and secrets. She resembled a drake, fiercely protecting something deep within.

A pang of guilt struck you. If only your wards had been stronger, perhaps the tragedies that had befallen them could have been prevented. The weight of those thoughts settled heavily on your shoulders as Nesta reached you. She gave you a nod, her expression guarded, but there was a flicker of recognition and relief in her eyes at seeing a familiar face.

"You're here," Nesta said simply, her voice lacking the warmth it once held but carrying a strength that hadn't wavered.

"Yes, I suppose I am,” you replied softly, searching her face for any sign of the sister you once knew so well. "It's good to see you, Nesta."

The three of you stood there, an unspoken understanding passing between you. Feyre, with her gentle grace; Nesta, with her steely resolve; and you, caught between the memories of the past and the uncertain future. Azriel’s presence at your back was a steadying force, a reminder that you weren’t alone, that you were being watched. 

Nesta finally spoke again, lifting her chin as she peered down at you. "So you’re not fully human. Your stories were true," she whispered, her voice tinged with disbelief. As children, she and her sisters had listened to your tales, thinking them nothing more than fairy tales. Now, faced with the truth, the reality of your adventures seemed to dawn on her.

You analyzed Nesta as she stood before you, noticing how both she and Feyre towered over you. For children who had once been on the brink of starvation, their height was remarkable, a stark contrast to your own shorter stature. A slight bitterness flickered within you at the thought, but you quickly pushed it aside.

"Why would I tell you stories that weren’t true?" you replied, smiling at her. You saw the way she fought a smile, and it warmed your heart. Feyre watched the interaction with a look of mild shock, perhaps surprised by the rapport you shared with her sister. The dynamics between the sisters were complex and often strained, each one embodying a different personality.

"And Elain? Where is she?" you asked, hoping to see the gentle sister as well. Nesta's gaze hardened. "She’s different now, you could say the least." You simply nodded, understanding that there were likely painful changes and experiences that had affected Elain. You decided to leave it at that, hoping you might see her later that night.

As Feyre continued chatting with you, you both moved toward the dining room. The table was laden with various dishes, a feast that was both inviting and overwhelming. Nesta slowed her pace to walk beside you, glancing at you with softened eyes. Perhaps your presence brought a sense of normalcy to her, a reminder of simpler times before their lives had been irrevocably altered.

When you glanced behind you, Azriel was gone from sight. Perhaps he had other matters to attend to. A pang of disappointment hit you, a small ache at the absence of his steadying presence. A strange feeling that you have never felt before. 

As you reached the dining room, Feyre gestured for you to take a seat. "Please, make yourself at home," she said warmly. "We have plenty of food, and I hope you find something you like." Feyre went off to grab the others, though you could not sense the fae or scent them. You assumed you would be meeting Feyre’s mate this evening and the rest of the important members of the court. 

Nesta settled into a chair next to you, and you noticed a faint smile tugging at her lips. It was a small victory, but a victory nonetheless. Moments later, Elain made her way into the room, offering you a shy smile as a greeting. You weren’t the closest, but she would often come to you for seeds or advice on helping her plants. Elain had always been an ethereal beauty, but now she seemed like a haunted beauty, as if her mind was plagued with thoughts that nobody could understand, perhaps not even herself.

Nesta flashed Elain a worried glance before glancing at the doorway. That was when you noticed a large Illyrian male entering the room. It was as if the doorway was made specifically for him, his hulking size filling the entire archway as he made his way to take a seat across from Nesta. While Azriel was classically handsome, this Illyrian male seemed rougher but equally handsome, with a sun-kissed glow on his tan skin. You noticed Nesta stiffen in her chair, glancing away from him.

His booming voice broke the silence in the room. "You must be the new healer. I’m Cassian. It’s a pleasure to meet you." Your gaze met his. He was handsome, with the same golden eyes as Azriel, though Cassian’s had more specks of brown. As Azriel’s eyes revealed the predator behind them, so did Cassian’s. Your eyes shifted to the red siphons that matched Azriel’s blue siphons, an Illyrian tradition to control their magic.

"Pleasure to meet you as well, Cassian," you said softly, before noticing Azriel had entered behind him. Azriel dipped his head in greeting to you, a subtle yet reassuring gesture. You acknowledged him with a nod, feeling a sense of relief at his presence.

You noticed Elain’s gaze shift to Azriel, her posture stiffening and becoming more refined. There was an unmistakable tension in the air, a complex web of emotions and unspoken words binding everyone in the room. The dynamics between them were intricate, layered with history and unhealed wounds.

As Mor and another small fae entered the room, the atmosphere shifted slightly. The small fae didn’t seem completely fae, as if a darker presence lurked behind that delicate exterior. Mor greeted you with a warm smile and a hug, her bubbly nature unchanged since you last met her. 

"Good to see you again," Mor said brightly, her cheerfulness a welcome contrast to the otherwise tense atmosphere.

The small fae, whom you now had a name for was Amren, took a seat across from you. Her piercing gaze felt like it was analyzing your every move, reminiscent of a tiger ready to strike. She swirled a glass of blood in one hand, a clear indication that she was not truly fae. You caught her knowing look and the deadly smirk that played on her lips, a gesture that went unnoticed by everyone else at the table but you two.

Amren's smirk deepened slightly as she realized you understood her true nature. It was a silent acknowledgment, a mutual recognition of the other’s hidden depths. You held her gaze for a moment longer before turning your attention back to the table.

Feyre walked in with Rhysand, their hands clasped together as they entered the room. Rhysand's piercing violet gaze locked onto you, a reminder of the dangerous power he wielded. If anyone here posed a threat to your life, it was him. You sat in a room full of predators, their eyes revealing their true natures. A part of you wanted to sink into your chair, but you fought that feeling. If you had succumbed to fear every time it reared its head, you wouldn't have made it this far. Fear was fuel for growth after all. You kept your heartbeat calm even as every bone in your body urged you to leave. Perhaps this was the human part of you speaking. 

Feyre and Rhysand took their spots at the head of the table, and Rhysand gestured for everyone to begin eating. You felt a subtle pressure at the back of your mind, like claws scratching at the surface, but your shields held strong. You were aware that trust in this court had to be earned, and you wouldn’t expect anything less. You pretended not to notice the mental probing as you filled your plate, focusing on the idle chatter at the table.

The conversation flowed around you, a mix of light-hearted banter and more serious discussions. You listened attentively, trying to piece together the dynamics and relationships between the members of the Inner Circle. Feyre and Rhysand's connection was palpable, their bond a solid anchor for the group. Mates you thought, what an interesting concept. 

Nesta remained guarded, but there was a softness in her eyes when she glanced at you or Elain. Elain, still ethereal and haunted, seemed to sink into her chair as she stared at her plate. Cassian's boisterous presence added a layer of warmth to the gathering, his laughter and teasing lightening the mood. Mor’s cheerful demeanor and Amren’s enigmatic aura balanced each other out, creating an intriguing dynamic.

Azriel, though quiet, was a constant presence. His eyes frequently met yours, and a part of you hated this new emotion you felt every time you looked at him. Your heart wanted to leap from your chest at every glance, a sense of a tug, a longing to be closer. You watched his lips as he brought a glass of wine to them, the deep red liquid staining them the color of blood. You broke your stare away, as did he, with a subtle tug of his lips.

After dinner concluded, Nesta walked with you to the balcony. Feyre watched you both walk away, perhaps sensing that this was the comfort Nesta needed, someone familiar. Neither of you noticed the shadow that trailed behind you.

“Do they always look at you like that?” you murmured, leaning against the cool balcony railing as the wind rustled through your hair. Nesta joined you after shutting the door, her gaze cool and distant as she looked out over the city below, where the lights mirrored the twinkling stars above.

“Like I’m the cruel viper that I am?” Nesta snapped, her expression clearly signaling she wanted to drop the topic. But you pressed on, curious to see how she would respond.

You pursed your lips before continuing, "No, not like that. More like they’re waiting for you to strike, or maybe just trying to understand you."

Nesta let out a breathless laugh, her eyes narrowing slightly, an edge to her voice. “Understand me?” she echoed, her voice sharp. “I let my younger sister wander into the woods alone at fourteen. They see me as the villain in her story.”

You turned to face her fully, the city lights mixed with the starry night casting a soft glow on her features. “Perhaps they do, Nesta, but I think it’s because you make it so damn hard for anyone to get close. Even as a child, your words were sharp like a blade; you are strong like one too. I hate seeing you shrink under their gazes. Maybe it’s my lack of human emotion, but I don’t understand your guilt. You were a child too.”

Nesta’s eyes flashed with something raw, a mix of pain and defiance. "Maybe I was a child, but I was the oldest. I should have protected Feyre. Instead, I watched her struggle while I did nothing."

"Doing nothing can be a form of protection too," you said softly. "Sometimes, it's all we can do to survive. You can't change the past, but you can decide what to do now. Shrinking away helps no one, least of all you."

Nesta looked away, her jaw tightening. "It's not that simple."

"Of course it isn't," you agreed. "Life isn’t simple, especially an immortal one."

She was silent for a moment, the wind tugging at her hair. "And what about you? Why do you leave for years on end? Your eyes have always looked like you're lost in another world."

You sighed, leaning against the railing. "Let me give you some context. Elves don’t have human emotions—we lack the need to love, to be happy, to feel sad. I’m only half-elf, but I don’t experience emotions like my human side. So, I joined a guild to learn how to be human. That led me to buy a house in a human village, mimicking their emotions, hoping that one day I could learn to love.” Another sigh escaped your lips. “What I want you to understand, Nesta, is that being immortal is both a blessing and a curse. You have an eternity to be hard on yourself, but you also have that time to be kind to yourself as well."

You could tell that Nesta closed her walls once more. You read her too well, and she pushed you away. You were fine with that; you got your message across. It wasn’t until in a small voice she asked, “You can’t feel emotions?” her gaze shifting to you. You shook your head and with a laugh said,

“While we're out here speaking trauma, for eighty years, I locked myself away from any form of contact. Stories came about in villages nearby that a lone elf lives in the woods. It was true. For eighty years, I did not know what to do with myself. My mentor, who was human, had passed away from old age. As a child, I watched her grow wrinkles; when I turned nineteen, I stopped aging, but she continued.” You sucked in a breath before continuing,  “On her deathbed, she taught me a spell - to create a field of flowers. Her last request was on her grave; she wanted a field of wildflowers and apologized for only teaching me revenge magic. You see, she taught me how to be a weapon, how to suppress my mana, and made me into the mage I am today. When my mentor passed, the only thing I did was create a field of flowers and live by myself in the woods. I did not shed a tear or feel any sadness. Then one day, I woke up and did my usual routine, and a human found me in the woods. He said he needed a mage for a dungeon raid his party was going on, a simple request. That’s when I began to learn to be human.” You shifted your gaze to look at her.

Nesta listened intently, her expression unreadable. “So, you spent eighty years alone in the woods, without feeling anything?”

“Exactly,” you confirmed. “It was a strange existence, to say the least. But it taught me a lot about myself and the world. And it’s what eventually led me here, to this moment, standing on this balcony with you.”

Nesta nodded slowly, processing your words. “I can’t imagine what that must have been like. To live for so long without feeling anything.”

“It wasn’t easy,” you admitted. “But it made me who I am today. And I wouldn’t change it for anything.”

There was a moment of silence between you, the weight of your words hanging in the air. Then, Nesta spoke again, her voice soft.

“Thank you for sharing that with me.”

You gave her a small smile. “Thank you for listening. It’s not often I get to talk about my past. One of my biggest fears is that I would be forgotten from the world.”

She nodded, a hint of understanding in her eyes. “We all have our demons to face, I suppose.”

“Indeed,” you agreed. “And immortality is a long time to face them head-on.”

As you stood there together, the night air cool and calm around you, you felt a sense of connection with Nesta. It was a small step, but an important one. You reached over and on your tip toes, pat her on top of the head. 

“I will always carry you in my memories Nesta, even if nobody else will. Just remember that I will carry your memory.” You murmured in a soft voice. That trailing shadow slithered away into the dark abyss to report the newfound knowledge. 

“I hope you get to learn how to love, Y/n. Perhaps I will too” Nesta said as she walked away back into the House of Wind with you trailing behind. 

Azriel greeted you with a gentle hand extended, his voice soft as he inquired, "We have a meeting tomorrow. Is it alright if I escort you back?" Though he felt a pang of guilt for eavesdropping on your conversation with Nesta, it granted him a deeper understanding of you. You, a three-hundred-year-old who had never experienced love, mirrored his own plight in a way. While Azriel knew how to love, it was a sentiment never reciprocated.

Why did he always find himself lost in such thoughts around you?

As the members of the inner circle bid you farewell, Nesta remained silent but gave you a knowing glance. Azriel then lifted you into his arms, igniting a flurry of sensations that made your heart race. You silently prayed that he wouldn't notice the warmth flooding your body under his touch, or the thunderous rhythm of your heart. Azriel was grateful for your lack of fae senses, unaware of his attraction towards you, and the yearning to draw closer to you.

With a powerful beat of his wings, he took flight with you cradled in his arms, disappearing into the night sky. His wings stretched wide, their flapping a symphony against the backdrop of darkness. His shadows danced around you, their caresses like silk, and their whispers of praise enveloped you. They dubbed you a pretty little mage, prompting a blush to grace your cheeks.

Azriel's internal conflict surged as he carried you through the night sky. His thoughts swirled with a mixture of guilt, desire, and uncertainty. He couldn't shake the feeling that he was treading on thin ice, dangerously close to crossing boundaries that should never be breached.

Every beat of his wings seemed to echo the rapid pace of his heart as he held you close, feeling the warmth of your body against his. He couldn't help but wonder why he always found himself tangled in such thoughts around you. Was it because you were unlike anyone he had ever met? Or perhaps because there was a vulnerability in you that resonated with his own?

As he glanced down at you, he couldn't help but notice the faint blush on your cheeks, a sight that sent a jolt of something indescribable through him. He had to remind himself to maintain a facade of composure, to keep his emotions in check, even as every fiber of his being longed to delve deeper into the connection he felt with you.

The whispers of his shadows only added to the turmoil within him, their words a constant reminder of the forbidden desires that threatened to consume him. But despite it all, he couldn't deny the pull he felt towards you, the magnetic attraction that seemed to defy reason and logic.

As he soared through the night with you in his arms, Azriel couldn't help but wonder what this pull to you was. Only time would tell, but one thing was certain: he couldn't shake the feeling that you were destined to change everything.

[cloudysfluffs]

If you’re accepting requests, I’d love to see any tk hcs you have for the pines family! No rush of course!

OF COURSE!!!!! havent written hcs in a while but i bet i can come up with some :3

PINES FAMILY TICKLE HCS UNDER THE CUT!!!! KINK/FETISH BLOGS DON'T TOUCH!!!!! HALF OF THEM ARE MINORS AND ALL OF THEM ARE RELATED!!!!! DONT MAKE IT WEIRD!!!!!

Dipper

definitely the biggest lee in the family i fear. he's canonically ticklish and i just KNOW no one lets him live it down. least of all his sister

his ribs are his main spot!!! BUT also since idk where else to mention this, all of the pines family also have a spot that they share!!! theyre all ticklish on their backs :3

my boyfriend picked his rib spot because he always wears that vest. he thinks itll protect him. it wont

squeaks a LOT, his laugh is very high-pitched. his family/friends like to poke him a lot because of the noises he makes

he is SO embarrassed about it but he actually does like being tickled!!!! but he will NEVER ask for it. ever. luckily mabel has very good insight and can always tell when hes in a mood

out of everyone, surprisingly, he might like sessions from stan the most!! stan isnt QUITE as good at reading him, but dipper has learned that intentionally getting on his nerves is a good way to get wrecked for it (ex: the 'stans tattoo' short? stan nearly tickled him to DEATH for that stunt)

so incredibly paranoid that someone might find out that he likes this. hes definitely the type to search 'tickle scene' on the family computer and FREAK OUT if anyone walks in

generally prefers sessions with people hes really close to/that he knows he can trust and they wont take advantage

Mabel

exact opposite of dipper. the families biggest ler!!!! and she is making it EVERYONES problem!!!!

completely shameless about finding tickling fun ("it's a game for kids!!! we're kids!!! relax!!!!")

if dipper ever starts acting paranoid or 'too-grown-up' she swoops in to the rescue to remind him that its OK to like silly, childish things!!!!

her and stan are a VERY DANGEROUS TEAM. they regularly form alliances to take down the other two twins. and they have yet to lose!!!!

kind of feared the day that dipper would 'grow out of' playing with her. but when ford came home she was a lot less worried, because him and stan never really grew out of it!!!

queen of cheer up tickles. her smile is very contagious

she will make jokes WHILE tickling you, just to be like 'wow, i must be really funny, if you're laughing so much!!' <3

she DOES have a lee side, and she's also completely shameless about that!! she just likes tickling other people more :3

Stan

have you noticed that hes like. almost never in gravity falls tk headcanon posts? unless hes specifically suggested? i have seen so many include dipper, mabel, ford, and just skip over him shjdkhsdfk. i dont understand why, hes got so much potential!!!!

anyway, second biggest ler of the family. and hes really only ranked below mabel because mabel is so SLIPPERY. she cannot be caught unless she WANTS to be. stans a little easier to take off guard

also much more shameless about it. takes literally every opportunity to tease his nephew in particular

i mentioned above that dipper tends to try to get on his nerves to get tickled for it, because stan doesnt seem to pick up on it otherwise. i should add that stan absolutely knows that hes doing that JUST to play with him. he knows dipper isnt just being annoying on purpose. and he respects it!!! because it means dipper is toughening up, and standing up to him!!! even if its for kind of a silly reason. he wont let dipper know he knows, though

hes also been interested in ticklng since he was young. him and ford BOTH were, seperately, and then they found out at the same time and were BOTH like 'YOU TOO??????? I THOUGHT I WAS THE WEIRD ONE'

hes got that boxer training, so if you try and start a fight with him and youre NOT mabel, youre gonna lose. hes REALLY good at pinning lees down

hes got like. one, single exception that he will willingly be lee for. but he will never tell you who it is. ("what are you, a cop?")

ford could, theoretically, beat him in a tk fight.....but he never does. :)

Ford

unpopular opinion i fear, but this man is a LEE!!!!!! my mind will not be changed!!!!!! biggest lee in the family, second only to dipper

"oh but he has six fingers! wouldnt that make him a great ler by default?" of course it would!!!! thats why its SO FUNNY thats he's a lee.

hes got 12 fingers in total. hes been fighting his way through the multiverse for thirty years, so hes TOUGH. muscular, with a lot of training. AND HES A LEE. he has so much potential and hes using NONE of it when it comes to this!!!!! do you guys see the vision

him and dipper bond over being the lees of the family. he has apologized for passing it down to his nephew in the past. meanwhile mabel and stan are chanting 'ALPHA TWIN! ALPHA TWIN!' in the other room

this man could fill journals JUST about the sessions he had in the multiverse

him and stan have been play-fighting since they were children, and he loses almost every single time. mostly because stan is a dirty cheater who will bring tickling into it without fail and thats all it takes for ford to crumble

the only person he was consistently winning tickle fights with, ever, was fiddleford, back when they were partners. AND EVEN THEN he still LOST, all the time!!!! and now he doesnt even stand a chance against mcgucket. much like mabel, he is simply too slippery

my favorite tickly dynamic with ford though is his one with bill. bill thinks tickling is SO entertaining!!! so back in the days of their partnership, sometimes theyd take a break from work just to have a session in the mindscape. LITERALLY fords 'dream sessions'. bill holds this over his head to this day. the chain scene, from weirdmageddon???? he has used that exact method in past sessions

HIS PALMS ARE TICKLISH. adding to the irony that his greatest asset as a ler is what makes him the best lee

[1-800-local-slut]

I so desperately need more liam smut 😫😫 literally searching the ends of the universe to find good liam content and i found your blog!

And idk if you write for Issac Lahey but if you feel up to it id love some Switch!Issac smut

Nasty Dog

Liam's never wanted something so bad, and things get a little nasty when you come over to watch a movie.

Liam Dunbar x Black! McCall! Reader

Warnings: smut, male masturbation, unprotected sex (guys please wear condoms) , Liam is a munch, Liam is pathetic over you like he literally drools at the sight of you

Note- Scott and the reader are cousins, so obviously you have a black parent. Black people can be any shade of black despite having a white parent! I'm always going to be a whore for any of Scott's friends being down bad for his sister, but I wanted to switch things up a little

Thank you for the request and I hope you like this enough to send another one <3

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Pathetic, Liam felt so pathetic. He felt his cheeks burning, not only from the shame but speed of which he was pumping his hand up and down his dick that also felt very hot.

He just met you. Not even an hour ago, it took 45 minutes and a game of Twister that he had to hide in the bathroom and attempt to make it fast. He had gotten lucky; Scott had gone to the airport to pick up your mom since you took the train in so he couldn't hear him pathetically humping his hand to the mental image he couldn't erase of you bending backwards with both feet firmly planted to put your left hand on red under Stiles's arm (who's heart sped up so fast when you jumped into his arms thrilled to see him again that Liam thought he was about to have a heart attack) and victoriously grin.

How else could you bend for Liam? It was close to the Supermoon, and lately Liam's anger was channeling into horniness. Your arrival literally could not have been at a worse time. His shirt shoved into his mouth; his abs flexed as his thumb rubbed over his sensitive tip and he bit back a loud growl.

Before the game of twister, they were all sitting around having some fruit punch and kid friendly drinks and you revealed you were a cheerleader for your school and Scott showed them this video of the two of you having an acrobatic little race across through your backyard last Summer. He was hard the minute he saw you in that swimsuit- holy shit the swimsuit.

His eyes squeezed shut as he recalled how you looked in that bikini in the video. Your tits bounced each time you came up right, your legs toned and entire body a darker brown than it is now due to the Summer Sun. His heart pounded through his chest, as he aimed into the toilet to save himself some decency. He was losing it. He was imagining you kissing him with those soft, plump lips. You, hugging him again but this time being completely naked. You, sitting on his dick and riding it like a rollercoaster. Shitshitshitshitshitshitshit-

He came with a hardly contained growl, blood rushing through his ears as he felt like a bottle of champagne was just popped in his groin. In a good way. He, because he was ridiculously horny kept aggressively fucking his hand, whimpering from the overstimulation. He couldn't stop pumping himself until he went limp and felt the world start to revert to normal.

And after a very shameful washing of his hands, he checked his watch and saw he kept it to a very inconspicuous two minutes. His legs felt like jelly, and he willed his heart to slow down and rinsed cold water over his face praying the redness of his cheeks would fade fast enough. His legs felt like warm jelly, he bets you feel like warm jelly inside, and with shakey hands opened the door as he made his way back downstairs. It was probably his turn.

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Since becoming a werewolf, Liam had gained some animalistic tendencies. He found himself wanting to chase down squirrels who were unlucky enough to cross his path, scratched the back of his ears like his life depended on it, and the game of catch was far more thrilling now. Oh, and drooling. Whenever he gets excited now. According to Scott, this wasn't applicable to all werewolves because Scott has never had that problem.

But right now, Liam found himself excited at the fact that you two were locked in an intense make out session. Like a virgin Liam basically forgot how sex works for a second. You'd been here three weeks and each day was impossible for Liam.

And apparently, he'd done a number on you as well.

You whined on top of him, as you two parted for air and Liam wished you had just let him suffocate under the weight of your smooches. You pulled your shirt off and revealed your chest, and Liam didn't even try to stop himself. He tenderly placed both hands on the sides your boobs, running his thumbs over your covered nipples. His eyes went wide as he admired the delicate lacing on your bra, and he was starting to think that when you came over this was your plan all along. You let out a sensual moan, neck rolling and your body shuddered you let your eyes gently flutter shut.

Liam felt his mouth watering at the sight of you, you just looked so perfect. Part of him wanted to leave your bra on you. The color perfectly matching your skin and the dim lights of Liam's bedroom made you look like an angel, the TV on behind you two illuminating you with an angelic glow behind you. He felt shakey, his insides trembling.

What does he do next? It was like he'd never seen a girl before, the way he forgot what to do. Did he unhook your bra? Slide off your bottoms and then your underwear? Shit was he thinking too long?

Pressing a kiss to the top of one of your boobs, he felt how hot your skin was underneath his touch as he felt his legs twitch and his dick jump in his sweatpants. Speaking of; you slowly snaked your hand down his chest, and down his stomach. Fingers trailing over his happy trail before you slipped you hand into his boxers before you gently wrapped your hand around his cock.

His heart started jumping and he was so happy you couldn't hear the way his pace was picking up. He pressed kisses across your chest, sucking bruises into your chest passionately and with shakey hands he unlatched your bra. It was a cute sigh of relief as you felt your chest freed, eyes looking down at him with a look that Liam couldn't place but his suspicion was starting to feel right. You certainly had planned this.

He shook underneath you, as you planted kisses on his face and the two of you became an untangled mess of heavy breathing and rough kisses. Your nipples pressed against his chest, and he leaned backwards, hitting the headboard and the next time you two pulled apart it was his turn again. He pulled his shirt up and you helped him the rest of the way by basically ripping his shirt off him.

If he wanted to make out all night, he would continue his pattern of kissing you, but he'd be stupid to just make out with the topless girl sitting on top of him. Slowly, he started to prepare to do what he had too.

Liam enjoyed very much the strength of being a werewolf. It was helpful when it came to lifting you off of him and placing you down on the side of the bed. God, you were so perfect. Your pupils massive as you observed him with curiosity, while he got up and came around to the side, bending down to capture your lips in a kiss. Slowly, he worked his way down your body, and you were never slow on the uptake.

He slid down the biker shorts you wore that made your ass look like a pillow. He went down, his eyes pleased to see the matching underwear you wore. Totally planned it. Running his tongue over the lining of your underwear, he felt a surge of confidence and power when you shuddered, hands running through his hair like it was a life line.

His lips found your inner thighs, leaving hickeys and bite marks all over the inside of your thighs as he licked you once more. Then he planted a kiss against your cunt, feeling how wet you were through the thin fabric. Your shaking legs would've been great if he couldn't feel the fear radiating off your body. Popping his head up to look at you he tilted his head up and you let out a soft sigh of relief.

"Is something wrong?"

"No!"

It was cute how desperate you were to continue. You were horny, you were. But something else seemed wrong. He laid his head on one of your soft thighs and looked up at you with pleading eyes. He couldn't in good consciousness go on with how he could sense you feeling.

"No one's ever...eaten me out."

And Liam's brain was rewired immediately. How? From the moment he met you, he wanted you to sit on his face and crush his skull open with your legs. He had to keep the perversions at bay for long enough not to scare you away.

"It's okay." He assured you running his thumbs over the flesh of your legs.

Pressing a kiss to your hip, while he slowly slid your underwear down your legs and tossed them somewhere behind him.

"I'll take care of you. Promise."

With that boyish charm that girls found it basically impossible to resist. You nodded and gave you this smile that made your heart flutter. Slowly he pushed your legs open, eyes never leaving yours and then looked down at you.

You were perfect down there. Wet and shiny, it was calling to him like a cool spring in the middle of the desert. He ran his tongue over your opening, and you let out a soft 'oh' with your head rolled back and you gripped his hair tightly. From there he couldn't just stop.

He started slowly, basically making out with your pussy in a way that had you moaning out soft cries. Perfect, just perfect. His strong arms lifted your legs, placing them over his shoulders, while he sucked on your clit and your legs began to shake around him.

Liam was a dog, in more ways than one. His hips rolling into the mattress like it was you. You were letting out moans that spurred him on while he flicked his tongue over your clit and your back arched for him. He couldn't help but slide his tongue inside of you, and you jumped at the intrusion. How did anyone resist the urge to do this to you? To have you, basically the most perfect woman he's ever seen, unraveling under their tongue.

To have you gasping and sweating as he flicked his tongue over your clit with legs squeezing tighter by the moment. He wanted to taste you cumming on his face and he would do so or die trying. He pulled your entire hips into his face. You began grinding your hips, one hand pulling his hair and the other gripping his bed sheets.

Hips jumping while he slurped on you. The noises and sounds coming from the two of you were filthy, he couldn't live without hearing those noises again. He gave one particular thrust into the bed that had him on the verge of cumming in his pants. Your hips started jumping, voice getting louder and louder, and you began aggressively riding his head.

You came with a loud cry of his name. He gave your thighs a squeeze while you locked your legs around his head while using him to ride out your orgasm. What a great way to suffocate.

Your eyes were shut until you came back down to Earth while you unlocked your legs and flopped backwards onto the bed. Fighting the urge to give himself a pat on the back, Liam licked his lips savoring the taste of you on his lips. He was throbbing in his pants, like his dick was about to explode.

Never, in all the years of his life, has Liam wanted something so badly. He cupped your sweaty face and pressed a passionate kiss to your lips. His hands over your head while you grabbed his wrist and melted into his touch.

Slowly, he slipped out of his sweatpants and out of his boxers. He was leaking from his tip and he mentally started trying to remember something- anything- to keep him from ending the show early. You looked him in the eyes, like you were saying 'hurry up please'. Liam wasn't one to disappoint .

Making space in between your legs, he kept his gaze locked with yours. All at once he went inside of you and it was better than he had imagined. Better than the past three weeks he spent stalking your Instagram while scrolling through your summer pictures and ignoring the growing possession he felt when he saw you posing with a male friend while he spat on his hand and jerked off until he saw stars. For a few rounds, when he was finding porn stars who looked like you or sounded like you. Until one night he was shooting blanks and passed out for about ten seconds covered in his own mess. The shame he felt when he woke up didn't even matter because it all led up to this.

You were warm and tight, and already soaking him in your juices. You both let out a disgusting moan as he tried to get his bearings. He slowly started moving, setting a passionate pace as he let himself roll his hips into you with no self-restraint. Liam's drooling issue almost shot him in the foot there, and he ducked his face in between your boobs as he let out a low groan. He felt you let go of his wrist, and pulling his face up from your chest.

You held eye contact with him, your eyes revealing just how badly you'd been wanting this. How badly you wanted to feel him twitching against you while he tried to keep himself from giving you a creampie. You kissed him, tongues roaming eachothers mouths and while picked up the pace. Your boobs jumped, underneath him while his abs pressed against the smooth skin of your stomach. He hit a spot, that had you break apart to let out a high-pitched moan.

Righttt there. That's where he needed to be. You stared into his eyes, biting one of your lips on instinct while trembling. He pushed himself up, to end this little body roll thing he had been doing into you. Your arms came up to wrap around his neck, as if you couldn't stand to not be touching him and Liam felt his heart warm a little at how clingy you were to him.

He set a rougher pace, he needed to see your boobs moving up and down. He needed to see you unravel, to hear you plead for more. You began letting out high pitched moans, and your legs wrapped around his hips. He was hypnotized. The way you sounded, looked, felt, smelt, you were driving him crazy and didn't even know it. He slammed into you like it was his last day on Earth.

He kept going, the way you were basically begging him too with your eyes shut. You looked amazing. He couldn't help but to reach down and hold you softly by the neck and leaning down. Truthfully, he was about to explode, and he had to still his hips for a second. And he wanted another kiss. Eventually, he resumed his strong thrusts and pressed his thumb to your clit.

He was amazed when he looked down, looking at the way cream of liquid you left around the base of his cock. He began moving his thumb and for a moment you stopped breathing. It was like all the air got sucked out of your lungs as your voice climbed in volume. He was so thankful his mother and step-dad were out for the night because then he'd have to have a very uncomfortable conversation.

The headboard slammed into the wall. Liam was on a mission; he was hell bent. He needed to cum with you. And he was just about to get what he wanted. You let out small whimpers, whispering between gasps and moans that you were about to cum. He couldn't even force himself to stop for a second to delay his own orgasm, he felt it rushing through him like water. You gripped the hand he was holding your face with and jumped off the mattress as you squeezed him tightly while gushing around his base.

He came so hard his entire body tensed up. He did mean to pull-out, but his impulse control wasn't always the strongest. As he slowed his hips down, you two slowed your breathing. It was like he just ran a marathon and got a runners high. Perfect. That was perfect, you were perfect.

Slowly he pulled out of you, watching a stream of his cum leaking out of you. Damn, he was already ready for round two.

[xitsensunmoon]

Biting the Hand That Feeds au FAQ (Vampires + donor au)

Any general content warnings for bhtf au?

Yes. A normal amount of fnaf warnings, a normal amount of vampire warnings. For someone who doesn't know I elaborate... For vampire stuff, the most obvious ones are blood, hypnosis, bites, and animalistic behaviour. Less obvious - slightly suggestive themes. For fnaf - fnaf's usual violence, dark themes, a drop of gore and murders. The lore is uh. Very dark. I will try to decrease the amount of all of the cruelty but man. People who know, know how hard it will be. But I will tag everything properly so don't worry.

Is there a fic for your au?

No. And currently, I'm not even planning on writing one.

How do I find the story?

For now, we have two comics that are directly connected and one that doesn't have a specific place in the story but is about canonical lore.

[ 1 ] - [ 2 ] - [ x ]

In future, we will have more and I probably absolutely will forget to update this post so I recommend checking the tags. Here's the tag list

Tip: don't click the tag. Tumblr hides half of the results. Type it in the blog's search instead :)

Are the comics the only canonical thing about au?

No! I answer asks and draw a lot of doodles with bhtf au all the time and 90% of them are canon. You can, yet again, find everything in the tag list linked in the previous question.

Can I draw/write fan stuff for your au?

Yes, please!! I'm always happy to see fanart and fan writings and literally everything that you do! Just tag me when you post and use a fanart or fanwriting tag for au specifically so I don't miss it!

Can you include my characters in your story?

No, unfortunately, I cannot. The story is already written and I don't have any "space" for background characters either. Maybe it will change but currently, things are like this.

I asked a question with an interaction with my characters and I never got an answer, why?

I don't accept such requests. I'm not ready to spend my time drawing other people's characters for free(if I personally don't want to, of course)

Is there any limit to how many questions I can ask?

No, not at all! You can ask all you want just please make sure your question wasn't answered before. There is a big possibility I will just simply delete it if it was answered beforehand many times. Check the ask tag for it.

What about limitations? Any boundaries?

Please no questions about tickling🧍‍♀️ I got so many of those it already makes me uncomfortable. And for some reason, a lot of people send asks that include violence towards my characters and while I don't really feel uncomfortable with this I just idk what to answer and why are you even doing this lmao

What questions I should avoid?

Well, not really avoid but I will mention it anyway.

The things I have planned to draw right now:

- Sun and Moon and y/n's first meeting

- The creation of Sun&Moon

- Why S&M are sensitive to light and darkness

- How they hunt

So no need to ask me about these. I will show it, I promise.

What about sexual themes?

I understand that I post a lot of suggestive stuff and it may appear I allow such a thing but no.

You can create content with it tho, I don't mind for the most part. Just be ready that I may not reblog it, as my Tumblr is a SFW place. It's always 50/50.

Romantic themes?

I do draw some kisses and cuddles when I feel like it and you of course can send ideas for cute interactions but in the story we're very far away from it lol.

My question gets ignored even though I followed everything that you mentioned here. Why?

Answered in main FAQ.

Can I share the ideas for your au with you?

YES!!! Yes, yes and yes! I'm very open to that, like yes! The only thing that I definitely want to mention - you should expect that I actually can take your ideas and use them. Some people are protective of their ideas so if you're like this you probably should not share them with me :)

The information that you're using for your au is wrong.

Happens sometimes yeah. I know nothing about any medical stuff for y/n so I usually improvise. After all it's an au about robotic vampires man, this information is absolutely wrong. But! You're free to drop feedback/constructive criticism in my inbox!

Will be updated later

[mythicmanuscripts]

Omg a new writing blog for the fandoms I'm currently obsessed with who writes sub!characters content??? Already in love with your blog! I really like your work, especially the sub!Jace stuff and the daemyra poly hcs

(spoilers for 2x07 if you haven't seen it)

Could write some poly hc for Baela and Jace with a lowborn reader who became a dragonrider for team black because of Rhaenyra and Mysaria's plan? Maybe one who claimed Vermithor since the personnality of riders he seems to like would make for a fun dom!reader.

I feel like there would be a fun dynamic between reader and Jace since he isn't too thrilled about the new dragonriders, so quite different from the other things you wrote for him where he was into reader from the get go.

Also this fandom needs more Baela x reader content (I love her so much)

Thank you anon!! That's so nice to hear and yes you are very right we do need more Baela content!! This is such a cool concept! I'm gonna be tagging this with poly!Jace/baela so that if I write more about this, there's an easy way to search for it.

I'm gonna do headcannons about the relationship and how it started and while there definitely will be sub!Jace undertones and also implied sexual content, there's nothing explicit so no need to venture out past the cut this time! Though, if anyone wants NSFW headcannons for this or has some of their own, please let me know I'd love to hear it!!

-- so firstly, I think this works best of Jace and Baela were already married and also if Jace and Baela weren't properly in love yet?

-- sure they definitely like each other and are more than happy that their parents chose to wed them together, their dynamic is still closer to friends than husband and wife.

-- When you're able to get a dragon and join team black, Jace is not exactly thrilled. At first you really don't understand why he seems to detest you so much, but you just arrived and you know you have a lot to prove so you don't query it right away.

-- Baela, on the other hand, absolutely loves you from the get go. She takes one look at you and immediately knows that at the very least the two of you will become great friends.

-- And she's absolutely right of course.

-- you find yourself spending more time with Baela than with anyone else. You two train together, ride dragons together, sit with each other at meal times, etc.

-- of course at first this only serves to make Jace even more unhappy about you, because now it's like you've taken his wife on top of everything else.

-- Baela is the one who tries to get Jace to come around to the idea of you having a dragon and to be kinder towards you. Jace brushes her off, but she's determined and she won't give that easily.

-- Beala knew both you and Jace very well, and so she knew with 100% certainty that if Jace could get off the soapbox for one minute, he'd realise how great you are and you'd become fast friends.

-- While Baela is trying to get to stop being so stubborn, she's also confiding in you about her marriage. She likes Jace, and she could definitely see herself enjoying being with him, but she just feels so bland about it. She's not excited to spend the night with him, which isnt ideal since she's supposed to be making heirs.

-- You offer her advice and listen to her venting. More than once she has to stand up and leave before she stops being able to resist the temptation of kissing you, because you just seem to get her at a level that no one else does, and she wants you so bad, just as much as she wants Jace.

-- something big has to happen for Jace to finally wake up, and my immediate thought is that you save Baela? Baela is out on a scouting mission when Aemond manages to ambush her and if you hasn't shown up when you did, it's almost guaranteed that Baela and her dragon would have been no more.

-- Baela tells Jace this, and damnit as much as he doesn't like you, he has to go personally thank you because you did literally save his wife's life.

-- Jace is equal parts annoyed and relieved that when he spoke to you, you took his thanks graciously and then actually started a conversation that made him realise you're not so bad after all.

-- it becomes the three of you for a while after that.

-- I think you'd end up kissing Baela first, by that point you knew you had feelings for both of them, but there was no way you were going to pass up the opportunity when Baela initiates

-- you don't even have to go through trying to workout how to Jace because he actually walks in on it.

-- You're so certain you've just ruined Baela's marriage, but then Jace smiles and says, "Do I have to go... or can I stay? Because I want to stay, please?"

[writefightandflightclub]

Ride or Die (Santiago “Pope” Garcia x fem!reader): Chapter Nine (of 11 - COMPLETED SERIES)

Series summary: Together, you and Santiago have been “soldiers” then “friends” then “lovers”; but will you ever figure out what comes next, especially when Santiago can’t (or won’t) stop running? 

Genre: a LOT of angst, (some) smut, best friends to… lovers?

Warnings: see collated series warnings, here. Please note this series is 18+. Minors or ageless blogs interacting will be blocked.

Series info: this is a COMPLETED SERIES. All chapters are written and queued. Posting schedule is here (includes series master list). 

Author’s note: Shorter chapter this week (be warned, next week's will be the heftiest yet), but I hope you like this next instalment! It's really gearing us up for the FINAL TWO! As always, I would be super grateful for any comments / reblogs / asks you may wish to send my way. If you've read this far, THANK YOU! ILY :-*

Word count: 3.8k for this part. 

Tag list info: will reblog separately tagging those on taglist. You can request to be added to taglist if you are 18+. Send me an ask, please, so I can keep track :)

Today is a new day. It’s a new day and you’re done crying. You’re done holding on to anger and resentments. 

Besides, you feel as though you gave Santiago everything you had last night, and - at least for now - there is nothing else left to give. 

So, instead of wallowing, you plod downstairs to where Frankie is stationed in the kitchen, offering up your favourite pastries, coffee, and even pulpy, freshly squeezed orange juice. You pull up to the breakfast bar, hopping up on a stool to survey your extravagant pity platter. 

It’s true then. “He’s gone.” 

Frankie nods solemnly, leaning into the other side of the island like he’s a sympathetic bartender in some old Western flick. He claps his palm to your shoulder in a supportive gesture. “I’m sorry, chiquita.”

You shrug. 

His face twists. That’s not all there is. “Don’t shoot the messenger, but…”

“What, Frankie?” 

“He had to bounce but he didn’t want to wake you. Said you looked far too peaceful sleeping for him to come along and fuck that up.”

Your brow notches, absorbing all of that with a contrived neutrality. “How did he… seem?”

Frankie’s eyebrows raise lightly as he ponders, thinking back over prior events. “Calm, actually. Happy, even.” 

“Hmm.” You smile softly to yourself. Makes a change from lately to hear that. You get it though. After last night, you can’t feel anything else either. Even if he technically didn’t say goodbye in words, you get it. You aren’t mad. Chances are one or both of you would have fucked it up this morning. This way at least, it leaves the night you spent together untarnished. Makes it feel like holding on to a good dream, before the realities of the day can set in and make things fraught. 

Frankie’s face crumples with concern as you gaze wistfully into the middle-distance. “You gonna be alright?” 

You pump your eyebrows. Search yourself for feelings. “You know what? Yeah. I am. I’m okay.” 

Frankie’s eyes glint playfully then. “Oh. So you won’t need alllll o’ these yummy pastries?” 

You laugh as he eyes the pain au chocolat pointedly. “Get stuck in, Morales,” you invite fondly, and he obliges, scraping up a stool and wiggling on his ass until he’s comfy. 

“Hey. So,” he says through mouthfuls. “Did you two figure anything out?” 

You groan at the sheer complexity of Frankie’s simple question. Did you? Or are you still going around in circles? “We know we love each other. The rest? Uh. I still don’t know.” 

“He’ll get there.” 

You puff air out from between your teeth. 

“You don’t think so?” Frankie interprets. 

You wrap your arms around your middle. “It’s not that. It’s… I don’t think it was all on him.” You don’t have any blame or accusations left. No grudges to hold on to - your hands are open. You’ve both made mistakes. Manufactured this distance, in your own ways - sometimes literally, sometimes not. You were both just trying to figure all this out as best as you could. 

Frankie’s brows notch and rise with a silent question. How so? What do you mean? 

The thoughts form as you speak them. Clumsy yet intrepid. “I guess... It just feels like we were… Both waiting for the other person to get somewhere, you know? But this whole time, we should’ve been heading there together. Otherwise, how the fuck were we supposed to know where to end up?” You slide a palm over your face. “Christ. Does that make any fucking sense?”

Frankie ponders. “I think so. Like trying to meet on the highway without a time or a place or directions?” 

You reach out and clasp his hand. “You get me, buddy.” 

Frankie blinks, tangling himself up further in your metaphor, but valiantly trying to muddle through. “And so… do you…?” He scratches his chaotic mop of hair. “Do you have a map now? A meeting point? I mean… What happens next? On the highway?” Your mouth lilts into a gentle smile at Frankie’s earnest question. He notes and feeds your amusement, going off the deep-end with this metaphor now. “Are you driving in shifts, chiquita? Grabbing cheez-its for the road?”

You laugh, the musical sound mingling with Frankie’s throaty chuckle. “What happens next?” You repeat the question out loud, carefully, posing it to yourself. Hasn’t that always been the question? However, the very sentiment which used to scare you now feels a lot more like potential. Like possibility. 

Still, you feel -for the moment- like leaving that question hanging. You leave a pregnant pause. You let it breathe. 

For now; you let it go. You let him go. 

“Where are the other guys at, anyway?” 

Frankie rides your tangent with ease. “Packing shit up.” 

“We should help them.” 

“Yeah, we should,” Frankie grins mischievously, and yet neither of you make any effort whatsoever to mobilise. 

Instead, Frankie pours you a cup of coffee from the pot. 

“You wanna call off the hike today?” he asks hopefully, Frankie increasingly a creature of comfort. 

“No. Hell no. I need to move.” You lock your fingers and stretch your arms above your head, a satisfying stretch extending down your spine. 

Frankie’s eyes sparkle across at you. “Just not in aid of helping the Millers pack their trunk, huh?” 

“Exactly! What did I tell you, bud. You get me.” 

You do though. You need to move. You need to move forward. No more standing in place. No more moving in circles, always repeating. 

Still, when you think about it. When you think to what is ahead, to what is next, your stomach drops. You feel overcome by a sudden anxiety which you can’t place at first. Like having misplaced something dear to you. Like having done something wrong but not being able to recall exactly what. Then, all of a sudden, you understand it entirely. 

“Listen. Tell me about this job, Frankie.” 

He immediately tenses up. “What job?” 

You take a bite of your pastry. “The one with Lorea’s cash house.”

Frankie simply groans. He always knows more than he lets on, this one. About everything. Everyone. 

“Is it true? That you and the boys are in?” 

You can plainly see his reticence to respond. But you know for a fact that he’s about to cave. 

5, 4, 3, 2, 1. 

“They need a pilot,” Frankie states, looking up at you with guilty, puppy dog eyes. 

“Fuck me. He dragged you back in too, huh? You know… Sometimes I wonder if any of us are good for each other.” Your tone grows mildly irate, your heart quickening, but you recognise it for what it is. It’s simply anger veiling worry. You love these boys. 

“Come on, don’t say that,” Frankie bargains. “We’ve dragged each other out of hell.”

“And back again.”

Frankie takes a deep breath. His tongue pokes around the meat of his cheek. “He says it’s simple recon. In and out. No mess.” 

You jut your chin up. Stare at him levelly, unblinking. You know that Frankie will give it to you straight. Know that he can’t help himself. “And you buy that?” 

5, 4, 3, 2, 1. 

“Not for a fucking second.” 

You scoff, shaking your head. Not when it comes from Santiago, no. After all, you’ve fallen for Santiago’s bullshit plenty of times yourself. It’s the fact that Frankie would wander in with his eyes wide open to it that really gets you. It’s something else. 

Still, before you can chastise him for being so stupid, Frankie glumly offers up some explanation. “Look. I need the job. I… I got my license revoked.” 

Your heart drops - and your face with it. Your hands clamp over your mouth. “Frankie,” you say softly, with empathy. “Fuck.”

He hunches in on himself despondently, his hands disappearing up his sleeves, his fists clenching and his gaze cast downward. “I fucked up, man. Cassie has a baby on the way and I fucked up.” His eyes swim with a deep shame. 

“Coke?” you venture, tentatively.  

5, 4, 3, 2, 1. 

Slowly, he nods. 

“Frankie.” Your hand swipes over your face, and your eyes fill with concern for him. His palm waves in the air, however, quickly dismissing any sympathies you may care to bestow. 

“I’m back on track. Getting there. I am.” His eyes are nothing but determined. Sincere. “But I need this gig. No matter how fucking hare-brained a scheme that pendejo is cooking.” 

“Think of the baby, dude.”

“That’s exactly what I’m doing,” Frankie says forcefully, in a harsh tone he rarely uses, and you know in no uncertain terms that the conversation is done. That he’s made his mind up, and that he won’t hear you out any further on the matter. 

You swallow. Regroup. You chew on some platitudes, but none of them feel quite right. 

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” Frankie says after a stretched, tense moment. “I didn’t mean to snap at you.” 

“It’s okay,” you jostle his shoulder, and it shakes a little of the tension from him and the room. “I get it. And shit. I’m sorry for putting all of my bullshit on you this weekend. I wish you’d said something, Cat.” 

He shrugs. Speaks with finality. “There’s not much to say. It’s done. I just need to make it right. And I will.”

���I believe it. But you do know that I’m… If you need… Anything, Frankie.” 

He looks up at you then, the warmth back in his eyes as your voice cracks, searching for the words. But, he already knows everything you could ever say. You’ve said it before, a hundred times. He knows you love him. Knows you’re proud of him. Knows you’d do anything for him. Knows you want the best for him. He knows it already. 

In turn, you are sure that he already knows everything you could possibly call him out on. That he’s already thought about it. Weighed it up. Thought about the risks. About the possibility that he’s acting out of desperation. The possibility that he’d probably be better off staying the hell away from Pope’s schemes. 

He scrapes his stool back and comes to you, bundling you into a tight, warm, big brother hug. You tug in a deep breath, and you let it go. You’re done trying to control everything around you. It never really got you anywhere. 

Still, there’s an undeniably uncomfortable knot in your chest as you think about them all gearing up. Strapping on their tac vests. Shoving clotting pads into their med packs. It makes you feel physically ill. And so, you can’t help yourself. “Do me a favour, Frankie? Don’t take Tom?” You muffle the words into his shirt, half hoping they will get lost there. That maybe he didn’t even hear you. But, you know when he braces his hands on your shoulders to get a good look at you, that your game is up. 

“Why not?” 

You see it then, in his eyes. That Tom is not a risk Frankie has considered. His presence not something he has weighed up. 

You deliver your words as plainly and transparently as possible. “He’s too hungry, Cat.” 

Frankie simply locks eyes with you, as though trying to weed out your motives. Shrewdly trying to assess your conclusions. Is this just your petty vendetta talking? Is this intelligence? Is this coming from your gut? 

“Please. Just trust me.”

“I do,” he nods eventually, but you should know better than to feel any relief. And next, there it is. “I do but it’s not my call.” 

Well. You’ve said your piece. You guess that’s all you’ve got. Absent-mindedly, you tug on Frankie’s lapels. “You’d better come back to me, Cat,” you plead plaintively. “And by God, you’d better bring those other fuckers back with you to boot.” 

With a wistful affection, Frankie tugs you to him again and you stand there in silence for a few more moments, the sounds of the other guys evident in the background. In time, you and Frankie release each other and gravitate towards them, tucking yourselves under the porch to survey their efforts packing up the trucks. 

“We should probably help,” you repeat again, and, to your side, your hear Frankie’s murmur of agreement. However, when you glance to him you see his long, lean frame stretched out up against the wooden porch post. He looks like a man with nowhere else to be in a hurry.  

“Fuck,” he curses at nothing in particular, surveying the animated bodies of his buddies before him with both awe and trepidation. “How did we get here? Years of service and none of us have anything to show for it.” 

That’s a Santiago sales pitch, through and through, you reckon. You recognise his propaganda. Funny, since he used to swallow the flag for breakfast. Is that how he got to him then? Convinced Frankie he could finally make bank? Take what he deserved? Ah. Or give his family what they deserved? Frankie is all about family. 

A sad smile twitches your mouth. “Well. That’s not entirely true, is it? Not nothing.” You think of what you’ve gained from all of this. “I got a gaggle of weird ass brothers. A suitcase full of trauma. A fucked back. And! An array of unhealthy coping mechanisms.”

Despite the darkness of your statement, Frankie’s eyes crinkle. What else is left to do but laugh, anyway? “Maybe Will should put that in his speech.”

You belly chuckle at that, moving to lean up against the opposite post. “Yeah. Scare those poor recruits off before they can end up like us, huh?” 

Frankie looks wistful again. “It hasn’t been all bad.” 

No. It hasn’t. He’s not wrong about that. 

You ponder on it. If you could go back and change your path - would you? But, despite everything, your squad would be far too much to lose. “Sure. The weird thing is, as shitty as it’s been at times? I wouldn’t change it for the world.” 

There is a beat, and Frankie reaches out across the space between you and wordlessly clasps your hand. 

“Listen. You gonna be okay, Frankie?” He looks down at his worn sneakers, contemplatively, as though he really doesn’t know the answer yet. You give his hand a squeeze, trying to let him know that’s okay. “We’ll talk more, okay?” 

He nods - a subtle, concessionary thing, like maybe he could really do with that. 

“I get why you didn’t tell me. But I’m sorry. That I didn’t do a better job of asking.” 

“It’s not on you,” he says generously. A little too generously, in your estimation. You’ve been rather wrapped up in your own shit. A little too self-involved. “I know I can talk to you. I just… I, uh. Didn’t want to ruin the weekend.” The irony of that statement causes a throaty chuckle to bounce in Frankie’s neck, and your palm slides over your face in regret even as you laugh in reciprocity. 

“Christ. I did a great job of that all by myself.”

“Well,” Frankie says good-naturedly, shifting to bump your hip with his. Wrapping his crooked arm over your shoulder. “You had some help.” 

It is your turn now to look wistful, as you contemplate the storm that is Santiago, and all the rubble he left behind. “He’s really gone again.” Frankie simply squeezes you a little tighter. “Hey. Anything else I should know, by the way?” you needle. “You’re not holding out on me?”  

Frankie sucks air through his teeth. “Tom and Molly. She finally served him papers.” 

You fold forward, hinging to collapse your upper half onto the porch rail. “Fuck. Shit. I really need to start being nicer to that shithead.” Still, from behind, Frankie’s familiar chuckle buoys you, even as you inwardly berate yourself for getting wrapped up in your own business. “We’re all messes, huh, Frankie? Do you think we can fix it?” 

“Yeah. Yeah. I do.” 

“Truly?” 

“Truly.” 

You toss him a soft, grateful smile, which extends as Will makes his way over to your position, greeting you “Hey, slackers!”. You and Frankie share a conspiratorial glance. 

“All set for the hike, Captain?” 

“No thanks to you.” 

“I had an alternate mission. Ranks of pastries to deplete.”

Will feigns tiredness, but his baby blues sparkle even as he rolls them. 

“Anyway. Didn’t need you. All set to head out as soon as you slackers get your act together. You wantin’ to do the usual route, hon?” 

You brace your arms against the porch rail. Dig your fingers into the wood. “No,” you say, the words a little tight in your chest, but they feel good. “Not today. There’s somewhere else. Somewhere I always wanted to go.” 

Somewhere new. 

“Fine by me,” Frankie offers. “Just let me grab more pastries.” 

***

You relish the hike, when it comes. You relish walking a path that is -to you- entirely untrodden. That he can’t touch. You walked the old, familiar trails for too long, and the only place it ever got you was right back where you started. 

The bullshit ends here. You’ve decided. 

And so, you turn your attention away from your sun, and to the wider constellation of stars around you. To yourself. 

You even do your best to make peace with Tom. To put old grudges to bed. 

You relish the hike. Enjoy the undulating landscape. You don’t know for sure what’s next, or where you’re going, but the difference is that for once, that feels okay. Full of potential. 

You walk until your legs burn, and when you get to the summit you take a moment to drink in the crisp, clifftop air. To look out across the ocean. To see it from a distance and to know that this time, it cannot break you over and over and over. 

Still, when you’re at the top, as if by providence, Santiago texts you. 

“Hey. Sorry I had to take off early. I wanna say… Thank you.” 

“For what?”

“For the best night of my life.” 

“Ah. Fuck it,” you whisper to yourself, and you press the button to call him. You immediately call him. He immediately picks up. “Hi.”

”Hi. What’s up? They just announced my gate.”

”That’s okay, I’ll be quick. I, uh. I just needed to tell you too. Thank you.”

“For what?” 

“For a proper goodbye.” 

“Look, I’m sorry that I-”

“-I’m not mad, Santi. I think… I think we said everything we have to say, right? I think it was…”

”…Perfect?”

”Yeah. Yeah, pretty perfect.” 

“Listen. It’s selfish, but. With everything coming up. The Lorea job and… I needed it, you know? Needed that image of you sleeping.” 

There’s an ache in your chest and it’s bittersweet. 

He cares for you in every way he knows how, doesn’t he? In every way he can. He’s not perfect, but hey, neither are you. You’re both a little bit broken, but that doesn’t mean you can’t heal. And most of all, it doesn’t mean you don’t deserve love while you’re doing it. 

One day, he’ll turn up at your door, and he’ll be welcome. Whenever that is. Whenever it happens. But until then, you can’t just wait for him. 

Until then, you’ll love him; from a distance. 

No longer can you leave him in anger. No longer can he break you. 

“I love you.”

“I love you too.” 

Maybe one day, that will even be enough. 

“Would you promise me something?”

“Sure.”

“Come back and visit soon, huh?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I promise.”  

You conclude the call, and you stretch your arms above your head. A pleasant tingle snakes down your back as it cracks. You haven’t felt so relaxed in a long time. You don’t think you’ve ever felt such peace. 

The path that you are walking is yours, and you implicitly trust where it’s taking you. 

***

You are grateful to slip into the passenger side of Frankie’s car, beginning the drive back to the city and signalling the end of your stay at the beach house. Still, there is something bittersweet there too as you leave behind the site of so many memories from over the years - and now, the site of your most perfect night with Santiago. 

It reminds you of all you’ve been through. The ups and the downs and plenty of things which went sideways. You are starting to realise though, that perhaps the landscape of love is undulating. That sometimes the terrain is tough. It shouldn’t have been quite so tough though - so steep and unforgiving; and so, you hope for gentler, easier paths ahead. 

It is bittersweet then, as you leave this place behind. 

As you look forward, having said goodbye. As you wrestle with your past, future, and present. 

Frankie swings the car out and onto the highway, the Millers up ahead and Tom behind, your vehicles forming a convoy through the dark, the glow of headlights illuminating the route ahead. 

You sit in silence, eyes and thoughts unfocussed, in abstraction, as you watch vague shapes and colours slipping by the window, your own face occasionally reflected right back at you. You look older than you used to. More tired. But you don’t dislike that. 

After a while, Frankie’s robust voice slices through the dark, his eyes on the road and hands threading the wheel. “I don’t know if this will make things better or worse but… Do you want to hear it?” 

You swivel your head towards him, fractured, liquid panels of light slipping over the planes of his face as your surroundings pass by in a haze. “Hear what?” 

“Pope’s heartbreak playlist?” 

Your hands dig into your thighs where they rest. “Do I?”

“Well?” Frankie asks, his finger poised over the button, and evidently not willing to make that decision for you. 

“Yeah. Fuck it.”

You brace a little, in all honesty. A tightness takes hold of your chest as you wonder if the first track to befall your ears might be angry. Resentful. Full of blame or sadness that you can’t hope to wrestle with and come out on top. But, as the first notes of the track sound out, you are surprised to find a full, unfettered laugh rises from out of your throat. The tears swell in your eyes next, for it is nothing if not bittersweet. 

“That dickhead. I can’t believe…” 

You can’t believe it. The fact he has chosen a song which reflects your life together? Which reveals a happy memory? 

He loves you, doesn’t he? He has for a long time. And you can’t help but hope that maybe one day, that will even be enough. For tonight though, it will definitely do. You’ll take it. You’ll treasure it. 

“Whiskey in the Jar,” Frankie scoffs as he catches on to the song, even if his fingers are drumming against the lip of the wheel involuntarily. “I mean. What the shit’s that all about? He’s a weird kid, I swear.” 

“Frankie,” you laugh brightly, turning once again to look wistfully out of the window, as the view of the beach house and the ocean recedes into the distance. You catch another glimpse of yourself in the pane, and this time you look younger, you think. More alive. “Did I ever tell you about that night in Philadelphia?”

[somewhere-in-wales]

What if, in this moment, Aziraphale & Crowley found themselves unexpectedly transported to our world?

And then met these two idiots?

And they all had to work together to get Aziraphale & Crowley back?

I wrote a fic about it (When Worlds Collide). Here are some nice things people wrote underneath its chapters:

"I can't tell you how much I'm in love with this fic. Like I want to marry it, right now! The amounts of times I literally shrieked with laughter reading this. I had to stop to wipe my eyes, I am dying"

"In love w this actually. the SHENANIGANS!!!! this was a joy to read"

"this fic is eating me alive. an immediate cult classic. if i had your permission and any ability to execute this at all, i would bind this fic in leather and carry it with me all my days like a spiritual nomad with their dearest tome. You Are Taking Me There."

"JFJDJDJDJFJFKDUSHCMCKCD I NEED TO GO TO BED BUT THIS FIC IS SO GOOD"

"Oh, Chapter 4 is my favorite so far. And that's saying a lot, because every time I read a new one I think 'there's no way this can be topped...it's too good, too funny, too fresh a take on these characters"

You can find it on AO3 here When World's Collide, there's an exert below, and if you're feeling generous enough to do a little signal boost re-blog, I will love you forever.

"Terribly sorry, but I wonder if I might help settle this business about whether we are who we say we are?"

Michael and David exchange glances.

"I doubt it" says Michael, reaching around the door frame for his water bottle whilst stepping out of the bathroom to take a swig. Aziraphale sweeps his hand in an arc as Michael puts the bottle to his lips, glugging. He immediately coughs and spits red wine forcefully across the room.

“Holy shit!” Exclaims David, jumping backwards to avoid being splashed.

"What the Hell was that for?" Michael splutters angrily, wiping his mouth, eyes moving between Aziraphale and Crowley

"Did you swap that out when I was filming?" he asks, irritably, looking around at the mess. "You've completely ruined the costume."

"I do hate to see it ruined," Aziraphale worries, glancing at Crowley who mock pouts. "No harm done to the furnishings at least" he says, as the stains miraculously disappear. He turns to Crowley again, appealing.

"Yes, fine" responds the Demon, getting up dramatically. He eyes Michael, who's still agitated, and feels like someone is looking into his soul. The gaze of an actual Demon, not just his acting partner, is enough to stifle any remaining irritation. With his eyes fixed on Michael, Crowley lifts his hand to click his fingers, and removes the stains from the actor's costume completely. Michael looks wordlessly at where the stain was, and raises his gaze appealingly to David.

"It's not... they can't... this is ...." he tails off, walking over to the table and sitting down.

Crowley sweeps his eyes over David's features "he's Aziraphale?" he asks, a depth of skepticism to his tone, "this guy?"

"Yes", says David "he's lovely really" Aziraphale side-eyes David before flitting his gaze to Crowley.

"And you're me?" Crowley asks slowly, with equal depth.

"Y...yes" says David with rather less confidence. Even underneath the dark glasses, he can tell the Demon is searching his eyes. "I might just take the contacts out" he says, to no one in particular, and ducks back into the bathroom.

"They'll need our costumes back. Where are you two going to sleep tonight?" Michael asks.

"Oh I don't sleep" Aziraphale shakes his head as though he's been offered an unappealing appetiser.

"I do"

"We'll get you a hotel room" says Michael. Aziraphale and Crowley exchange glances and Michael resists the urge to settle their discomfort by saying they'll get two. This situation is ridiculous, but he'll be damned if he isn't going to have a little fun with it.

"Thank you" Aziraphale offers, politely.

The door to the bathroom opens and David comes out, eyes back to normal. Crowley looks him over, flicking his eyes to Aziraphale, gauging the Angel's reaction. Aziraphale stares at David's face, breathing slowly, mind retracing memories long gone, but never forgotten.

"We better go then" Crowley huffs.

"Not dressed like that" David gestures to Aziraphale, who looks down at his clothes fondly, smoothing down his jacket.

"I have standards, you know?" He says.

"He's not wrong" Crowley agrees.

Michael, who had been watching Aziraphale's reactions thoughtfully, taking mental notes, speaks up "if we go in pairs and break up leaving, it's possible that no one will notice two David and Michael's leaving."

David looks uncertain.

"Unless you have a better idea?" Michael asks, "One, single, better idea?" Crowley and Aziraphale both flick their heads to look at Michael in recognition.

"No, let's do that" David relents. "I'm going to change." He steps back into the bathroom.

"Me too" says Michael, heading for the door "I'll be back in 5 minutes."

A few minutes later, Michael returns in the outfit he arrived in that day, to the general disdain of Aziraphale.

"Do you still think we should come to an arrangement?" Asks Crowley, smiling at this turn of events.

"I can't wear that" Aziraphale gestures to Michael's clothes, completely failing to hide his disgust at the suggestion he should wear such an outfit.

"What's wrong with this?" Michael asks. He's wearing jeans and a shirt, nothing worthy of such disdain. His question is ignored.

"You have to, Angel" Crowley teases, just as the bathroom door opens and David enters in a bright purple jumper. Crowley looks at him, then back at Aziraphale, a panicked expression briefly flicks across his features. The Angel raises his eyebrows and puts his hands on his hips in a look that communicates 'your move'.

"Oh Hell no, that's not happening" the Demon states. Clicking his fingers, he changes Michael and Aziraphale into sharp suits, David and himself into slightly-less-tight-than-usual black jeans and a slim black shirt. "Take it or leave it" he says, glancing briefly at Aziraphale, who's eyes soften, and lips form a slight smile in thanks whilst he smooths down the well-fitting suit.

"Yes, much better" The Angel sighs.

"For you, maybe, I'd never turn up to work in this" Michael fiddles uncomfortably with the collar.

"You should dear, you look ...nice" Aziraphale says, moving over to Michael to smooth his collar. Michael frowns at the Angel, noting the back-handed compliment.

"The hotel's not far," says David. "I'll call for a car. I'll take Aziraphale." Aziraphale and Crowley exchange glances in silent resignation. "We should wait at least 10 minutes before you call for yours" he raises his eyebrows, a quick glance at Crowley. He reckons he has the easier job.

"So, I'll be pretending to be..." Aziraphale gestures to Michael.

"Michael" Michael looks unconvinced by this.

"Yes, I know, I just wondered if there's anything I should know about you?"

"Probably best if you just don't talk" Michael glances between Aziraphale and Crowley. But Aziraphale looks very uncomfortable at this suggestion.

"He's an actor" David tries to offer something that will help.

"Yes" Aziraphale responds in a tone that shows his patience is wearing thin.

"He lives in Wales" David tries again.

"Oh," Aziraphale smiles, a look of relief forming on his features "Oh lovely, I do love the Welsh Coast" he beams, looking at each of the other trailer occupants. "Yes, yes I think I can handle this" he nods, confidently, adjusting his cuffs.

David smiles back, broadly.

Michael and Crowley are less confident, their eyes meet with a knowing expression of concern.

Continued here

[yourgentlegirlfriend]

Plaga!Leon only has one thing on his mind... infecting you but he doesnt know how to... just knows that it can be transferred by liquids... just doesnt know which one one so... he tries every liquid a human body can produce... (TW. spit,piss,cum etc.) -this might be the most depraved shit ive ever sent as an anon in tumblr can u give me an anon tag/emoji bc i need to remember to come back to this bc how i got here is a complete mystery to me

WARNING!! This may not be for everyone! This post includes rough themes and is consensual between both ends! Please do not continue to reading if you are uncomfortable with roughness, slapping, spitting, and crying. Thank you <3

Disclaimer! This is an 18+ blog! Please do not interact if you are underaged <3

slightly implied afab reader x Plaga Leon

Warnings (Again): Slight manipulation and tricking, choking, roughness, slapping, hair grabbing and arm pulling, spitting, pushing, Leon hurts reader on purpose, crying, lots of crying. SMUT, it’s filthy. Throat fucking, Harsh use of nicknames, bitch, slut, etc. Reader loved it but probably will never admit to Leon.

word count: 2,603

“Come on let me lift you over..”

Poor Leon. Your heart ached seeing your partner lose his energy, and control to his body. You continue to trust him but were so scared how the virus was going to affect him and how long it would take. You stepped up onto his shoulder, his hands holding at your feet as he pushed you up. It was so dark in the room you had climbed into, you reached to your holster to pull your flashlight out so the darkness wouldn’t literally consume you. You clicked the flashlight on just for it to not work, you cursed softly under your breath as you banged it against your hand. Pinching at the bridge of your nose remembering that when you and Leon fell from the mine carts earlier it broke. Your heart almost jumped out of your throat at the sound of Leon screaming, and he’s a grown man, and he always can and has taken care of himself, panic began to rise in you as your hands searched around the room for the lock on the door.

“(Y/N) please!”

Leon yelled with a loud cry of pain, making tears build in your eyes as you threw your entire body weight against the door, the lock breaking causing it to swing open. Leon’s cries had stopped, causing tears to fall from your eyes as you looked around the dimly lit room Leon had just lifted you from.

“Leon?..”

You sniffled as you went to pull your knife from your pocket. They had to have kidnapped him, it would be really hard to kidnap a man Leon’s size but with the things you’ve seen here nothing is necessarily impossible, you went to run out the door the two of you came from before a strong hand grabbed the back of your hair by the fist, holding onto you tightly causing a loud whimper to leave your lips as you were pulled back. Your eyes shifted to the side seeing Leon’s arm, the black smokey veins invading his once soft skin. He was strong, much stronger than you could ever be. He pulled you back flush against his chest, twisting at your hair causing a yelp to leave your lips are you went to swing your fist back into him. He was so scarily quiet, the only noise in the room was your heavy breathing, and small grunts of pain, your shoes tapping against the wood.

Leon’s hand grabbed at your fist, twisting your arm back to rest against the small of your back before he rushed forward, basically throwing you into the wall with him pressed so deeply behind you, his breath trickling down your neck, down your spine.

“I always tell you, trust your intuition, your gut. And to run if you feel like something is wrong.. and look at you, you came running out here after me like the dumb little bitch you are.”

A scream of pain left your lips once more as Leon twisted at your arm more, a tear rolling down your cheek as you moved your face which was now pressed against the wall as you tried to look back at your partner.

“Leon please, I know the real you is in there fight back.. please don’t kill me..”

Your voice cracked as you pleaded with the man holding you against the wall. But all you heard in return was a laugh from Leon, his grip on you getting loose as he groaned, he was coming back, right?? You pushed back against him, getting free from his grip.

You should’ve known it was to good to be true, his hand grabbing at your jaw, slamming you back into the wall. Your vision was swaying for a few seconds before you finally saw him. His eyes blood shot, and his face covered in the dark veins. Your hand weakly reached up, the backs of your fingers caressing at his cheek.

A groan left his lips once again as his head dropped into your shoulder, his hand slipping down to your throat as he stepped in closer to you. He let out a few ragged breaths before he met your stare once again.

“I bet you’ve dreamed of this.”

He choked out, a scream leaving his lips as his hands dropped from your neck to both your forearms. He was trying so hard to fight it, you know Leon didn’t want to hurt you but this wasn’t him. Leon’s head shook, his long hair dripping over his face as he looked up at you with a smirk.

“Dream of me hurting you, huh?”

Leon spat through gritted teeth, his gloved hand coming up and smacking you across the face. The noise echoing the room as you just stared at him, another tear trickling from your eye as he gripped at your throat once more, his other hand coming down on your already red cheek once more.

“Yes, yes…”

You cried, hoping it would make him stop. But it just made a satisfying whimper leave his lips as he leaned his head back, his eyes squeezing shut.

“Open your fucking mouth.”

Leon demanded as he pulled at your jaw, your lips parting as you looked up at him, your eyes so puffy and your right cheek bright red. Leon let out a raspy moan as the fingers that held your jaw pushed into your mouth before he pulled them out and leaned forward. You gasped as he spit in your mouth, tapping at your face as he pushed your jaw shut.

“Swallow it, then fucking thank me for blessing you..”

Leon spoke before he pushed you down to your knees, staring down at you, his pupils were so dilated. Your hands touched at his calves, trying to maybe ground him again as you looked up at him, shuddering as you swallowed the warm spit that trickled down your throat.

“Thank you, Leon.”

You whispered, your voice shaking as you gripped at his pants. Though you really fucking hated to admit it, your thighs pushed together from the aching in your core.

“You’re scared of me..”

Leon whispered, but this sounded like real Leon, you looked up in desperation hoping that you tugging at him worked but were just met with cloudy eyes once again. Leon smirked at you, nodding. It clicked in your head, it was taking over him and he’s attempting to spread it. Leon reached down, brushing the hair from your face as you blinked up at him.

Leons hands moved from your face to his groin, pushing at his belt. His fingers were so shaky as he tugged at the belt. Your hands reached up, brushing over his shaking hands as you unbuckled the belt for him. A satisfied moan leaving his lips. Your fingers quickly worked at unbuttoning his pants. Leon’s eyes rolled as he pushed your hands away.

“You’re to slow. You should be eager to be receive such an amazing gift, why aren’t you more fucking grateful?”

He was basically yelling, your eyes squeezing shut as you nodded. Leon groaned as he shoved his boxers down, his hand wrapping around his length before his other hand reached down smacking at your cheek again.

“Did I say close your eyes? Look at me.”

Leon demanded as he stroked himself. You just sat there, you knees aching from the hardwood floor but who gives a fuck. You were basically drooling at the way Leon’s arm flexed as he got himself off, and the way the lump in his throat bobbed trying to hold back his moans. You didn’t fight him anymore because you wanted this, the sexual tension between you and Leon has been to much for years. The way you’ve caught him looking at you, his eyes are and were always on you.

Your eyes were hooded, so full of lust. Leon’s gaze finally met yours again, he mumbled something under his breath before he yelled out again, grabbing at the wall above you. His hand forming into a fist against the wood before he stood once again, shaking his head, his forehead slightly slick from sweat as his index and pointer finger tapped your lips.

“Open.”

His voice was much deeper, groggy, like he sounds when he just wakes up and calls you almost every morning to talk about anything. Your mouth opened, making a wide smile spread across his face as he leaned forward, his cock pushing past your lips.

You didn’t even have time to blink before his pelvis hit your nose, your eyes filling with tears as you looked up at him. He was so fucking beautiful, a deep moan from his chest leaving his lips as his hips jolted against your mouth. Your hand reached up tapping at his arm, causing an annoyed grunt to leave his lips as he looked down at you. He laughed at you as he pulled himself half way out your mouth before pushing himself back into your throat. Another hearty moan leaving his lips.

You gave up trying to let him know it was to much, tears trickling down your face as he fucked your throat, but it felt so fucking good. Your hand reaching down to press against your panties, your thighs squeezing against your hand as Leons sped slowed.

“I love watching you take my cock, look at you. Such a good fucking bitch. You want it in your veins, huh?”

Leon spoke down to you, his teeth flashing you a quick smile as he watched his cock push past your lips once more. Leon gripped at your hair, his face twisting as hot strings of cum shot down your throat, your eyes squeezing shut at the feeling of his warmth painting your throat. You coughed around him as he pulled his cock from your mouth. You gasped for breath as you coughed once again, his hand grabbing at your neck before he lifted you up.

“What did I tell you? You should’ve swallowed that before I lifted you from the ground..”

Leon growled in your ear as you nodded, swallowing his sweet taste. You knew you’d crave it again, the way it went so smoothly down your throat.

His hands held at your cheeks wiping your tears away, his thumb running over your puffy lips.

“Don’t cry, be glad out of all people I picked you..”

Leon whispered before letting you go, pushing you into the wall as he pulled his pants back up, struggling yet again to tighten his belt. And he barely did it before he let out a yell of pain. Your face scrunched in fear hoping he wasn’t going to die in front of you. He stumbled away from you grabbing at the chair in the middle of the room, before he fell to his knees, his hand grabbing at his chest.

You immediately ran to him, your hand touching at his upper back. You noticed the pattern of his breathing calmed, his head turning.

“Y/N?”

He mumbled before grabbing at the chair to stand. You held at his arm to help him and he allowed you too. His gaze turned to you, the veins on his body still prominent but his eyes softer. Your hands reached up to push the hair from his eyes as you sighed in relief nodding at him.

Leon stared at you with wonder, letting you wipe the sweat away from his face before his hands reached up, his fingers tracing over the red splotching on your cheeks before a smirk appeared on his face, even with the thick veins covering his face you saw the deep red spread across his cheeks.

“I thought I was dreaming..”

Leon couldn’t help but laugh as he looked over at the wall the two of you were at. You smacked his arm, rolling your eyes as you grabbed the knife he threw from your hand. He was aware? He knew what he was doing?

Leon cleared his throat as he waited for you to turn to him. He could tell you were slightly annoyed as you turned back to him.

“If it helps, the only reason I stopped fighting back was because the only thing keeping me sane was the view of my cock in your mouth..”

Leon mumbled, watching your cheeks glow red before you pushed passed him.

“Shut the fuck up, Let’s go.”