#love whirlpool anon

[selfship-confession-box]

is it considered weird that i (as a minor) self ship with characters that are most certainly adults? because i know they arent real, and theres no way im gonna leave them because theyre older than me... but it kinda feels a little weird...

-💞🌀 (if its not taken :P)

.

[werecreature-addicted]

Okay hear me out... Selkie lover..

Pulls you under water to pleasure you with rushes of water against your clit and whirlpools inside, theres seaweed tickling your skin and they give you occasional air bubbles to make sure you dont die. And there's literally nothing you can do but just accept their affection because they have no form as water. Love your page, do you have an anon list? Can i be 🪽?

I don't have an anon list currently :3

Selkie lover who tries so hard to give you their skin, so they can be yours forever. but you're just too sweet, you won't take their skin from them- how awful! you want them to be free to return to the sea whenever they please, free to walk between both worlds. You're just too giving, that's one of the reasons they love you, but they don't like being so... untethered.

If you won't take them, they'll just have to take you. It's easy, to pull you into the waves with them, you two go swimming all the time, and then you're gone, swept away in a current of water, swept far away from shore before you even have the chance to lose your breath.

They've already set up a nice alcove for you, soft beach sand to rest on, air to breathe, and of course, they'll keep you well-fed, happy even, all you have to do is be their perfect mate.

They like to drag you under the water and kiss air back into your lungs, the only way you'll survive is by putting your mouth to yours, a way to make you need them as desperately as they need you.

They also enjoy fucking you into a semi-delirious state. hard to plan any sort of escape while you're getting your soul sucked out through your clit. They love to pleasure you, but what's pleasure without a bit of pain? Seals have sharp teeth, and so does your selkie lover. They bite your thighs and neck leaving bloody trails down your skin, the salt water of the ocean stinging your wounds, but don't worry, they'll be there to kiss you better.

You're really better off just submitting, letting them be your mate and keep you as their own, wouldn't want those sharp teeth ripping out your throat.

[jyoongim]

i saw this one story of urs where it was alastor and vox sister reader, and im OBSESSEDDDD I LOVE UR STORIES!!

im obsessed with the trope of two rivals then one courts the others family member, its so good!! so, in honor of my love for this trope..

alastor rearranging the readers guts and broadcasting it for all of hell to hear, including vox. OR, even better, using vox’s own technology to broadcast it for all of hell to WATCH! i want the reader crying, glitching out and begging from overstimulation, and possibly even overheating from it. and maybe a bit of praise and degradation? pretty please? :3

your new anon, pixie 🤍🌸

Warnings: Vox!Sister!Reader x Alastor, in love with the enemy trope, Smut! Overstimulation, begging, praise/degradation, slight humiliation, taunting

Think of reader like a humanoid robot

——————————————————————————————-

Vox had always made sure that you stayed clear of Alastor.

He didnt want the Radio head anywhere near you.

You were his little sister and he would be damned if that old-timely prick got his hands on you.You felt bad for your brother, he was trying to protect you after all, but you were a big girl and could handle your own affairs.

Vox had warned you against getting close to the Radio Demon multiple times, and while at first you listened, Alastor had found you quite interesting. Being Vox’s sister was just a bonus, he liked seeing Vox growl in disapproval or take you away from the red demon’s prying eyes. 

Alastor had been making Vox’s life feel like a whirlpool with the constant close proximity he had with you and then turning around to belittle him for all of Hell to hear.

But you liked the attention the red demon gave you.

It was the first time in satan knows how long, that someone wasn’t terrified of Vox and his influence and you could just feel appreciated.

Alastor was a gentleman. He took the time to get to know you and after a while you accepted his advances.

You didnt have the heart to tell Vox.

I mean what would you tell him?

’oh yea by the way! I’ve been seeing Alastor behind your back even though I know you hate his guts’

You really wanted him to at least tolerate Alastor as your partner.

”What’s on your mind doll?” a rough low voice said, making you blink out of your headspace.

Alastor tilted his head as you smiled ”oh its nothing. Just wished that my brother didnt hate you. You’re not as bad as he says you are”

Alastor chuckled. The two of you had been seeing each other behind the Televison’s back and it gave Alastor so much joy of the thrill knowing you fancied him enough to go against your brother.

He rubbed your thighs reassuringly as he pressed a soft kiss to your pouty lips. “Oh really?” He smirked.

You shook your head, not wanting to think about it anymore. To shift the mood, you tangled your fingers in his fluffy locks, pulling him back to your mouth.

The two of you were in his radio tower for a late night rendezvous.

Vox would blow a fuse if he knew you had snuck out of headquarters to see the red demon.

You pressed your body against his, grinding your hips against the hard bump in Alastor’s pants. You smirked against his lips “aww you missed me that much?” Alastor growled lowly as he dug his claws in your soft skin.

Most secret nights were spent having intense make out sessions and heavy petting.

But you wanted to go further, it was always Alastor who stopped before the two of you could go any further.

You slipped from his lap, to situate yourself between his thighs. Your hands fumbled with his belt and right when your fingers pulled at the band of his boxers, Alastor stopped you.

”I think its quite late to indulge in such activities dearest”

You pouted up at him, eyes swirling up at him “I just want to make you feel good too…don’t you want to fuck me Al?”

You nuzzled your nose against his erection, purring “I don’t know when Vox’ll let me out again” 

How he resist when you looked so cute peppering kisses to his cock?

He let out a groan and when he didnt protest any further, you pulled until his cock sprang from its confines and slapped against your lips.

You took ahold of the girthy length and stroked it a few times before wrapping your lips around the tip.

Alastor sighed as you swirled your tongue on the tip of his cock, giving it kitten licks before taking him whole.

You bobbed your head happily, sending vibrations along his length as you sucked.

A hand wrapped in your hair,pushing you further down until you gurgled around him.

Alastor’s cock twitched in your throat as he looked down at you.

Oh what a pretty thing you were…

He snatched you off him, ignoring your whine when he pulled you back into his lap. He grinned at you. You were buzzing, skin flushed. He pulled you close to his face “seems you’ve convinced me enough to indulge you my dear”

A hand made its way under your dress, toying with your panties.

”To think your brother thinks he can keep you away from me” he chuckled as a finger caressed your puffy clit. You let out a low gasp, leaning into him as he played with your pussy.

You jolted when a finger slid into your warm heat, curling along your gummy walls. You mewled in his shoulder, grinding into his hand. Alastor grinned as your sticky slick dripped onto his hand, adding a second finger, he curled them into your walls, stretching you out.

His lips pressed into your exposed shoulder, sharp teeth nipping ”you’ll be a good girl for me wont you doll?” You nodded and gasped as he slipped his fingers out of you and picked you up to lay you across his control panel.

He grinned above you as he pulled at your dress. Your full tits spilled, nipples perking as they were exposed to the cool air.

You threw your head back as he pinched and twisted the peaks, letting out a ragged moan when his hot mouth enveloped the mound, switching between the two, sucking on your nipples like a babe seeking milk

“Ooh-Ah” you sighed when he tugged a nipple with his teeth.

Alastor grinded his cock against your smoldering heat, coating him in your essence.

His lips released your tit and trailed up to litter your collarbone and neck in kisses. You blinked when his face appeared in your vision.

You gave him a soft smile and hooked your legs around his waist.

You were tingling with excitement. The buttons on his control panel dug into your back, but you were focused on the demon looming over you.

”I fear your brother will be furious if he discovered our treachery” 

He was givin you one last chance to change your mind, but at this moment all you wanted was the pleasure that he could grant you.

So you threw caution to the wind

You angled your hips so his cock catch your clit, pulling him by his collar 

“Fuck Vox”

He grinned and when he slotted his lips against yours, he thrusted into you, swallowing your groan as he stretched your cunt.

Unbeknownst to you, Alastor had turned his radio frequency on.

You were unaware that he was now broadcasting his defilement of you. 

Voxtech’s pampered princess.

”A-Ala..Oh fuck!” You moaned in his neck as he filled you.

Alastor groaned in your ear “you take me so well darlin hehe i knew you would” bottoming out til his balls rested on the curve of your ass.

Your face was buried in his neck, body tingling as your systems ran haywire.

But when he pulled his hips back and pushed again and again and again you couldn’t stop the airy gasps that left your throat.

Your cunt clenched around his cock as he buried himself in you, soft grunts rattling in his throat as he pushed your hips deeper into the control panel. You were sure you’ll have the marks afterwards from how hard he was pummeling into you but that was a matter to be concerned with later.

A hand wrapped around your locks, pulling your face from his neck to look at him. Your lip was caught between your teeth, trying to contain the depraved sounds that bubbled in your chest. Your face was flushed and your eyes were blown.

Alastor peppered your heated face with kisses, whispering perverted nothings against your skin as he rutted up into you.

”Seven hells this cunt is perfect fuck! you look so pretty doll. My pretty girl. This what you wanted isn’t it? Hmm? You wanted me to take you didnt you doll?”

High pitch whines left your throat as his pace quickened.

”A-Al p-please oh fuck oh fuck I’m gonna ah!” Your cunt gushed and squeezed as your orgasm wrecked through your system.

Alastor sneered in your face, eyes narrowed as your face contorted in pleasure “That’s right doll cum on my cock. That’s a good girl. Such a good little slut”

You let out a cry as your systems buzzed as you creamed his cock.

You slumped against his chest, panting as your body shook.

”oh sweetheart I’m not done with you”

Vox was fuming.

How dare that insufferable loser take over his systems!

He was trying to gain control over the frequencies when he froze at the sound of your voice.

No

”Alastor oh fuck!” Your voice ranged out on the monitors.

No No No No NO!

FUCK NO!

Vox watched in horror as his baby sister cried out in ecstasy.

”Sir the channels are blocked how would you like me-”

”GET THE FUCK OUT!” He roared.

Vox sat in his chair and plugged various cables into his import.

He would be damned if anyone else saw you in such a disgraceful state. He checked every monitor in the city and shut the system down. He limited it to only Voxtech headquarters.

”that’s a good little slut”

Vox growled as the systems glitched and became distorted.

”P-please please please! Al no more” tears streamed down your face as blue sparks flew from your systems.

Your legs trembled as the red demon pounded into you.

Your body jolted against his control panel as your claws ripped through the metal.

”You can take a little more can’t you doll?” Alastor asked as he worked you through another orgasm.

Your body was covered in sweat and your systems were working overtime to prevent you from overheating.

Alastor’s cock twitched as your core heated up. It was like being surrounded by molten goo. Your cum was dripping down your legs and coating his length.

You cried out as his cock get that sweet spot inside you, the sound of your cunt squelching and his skin hitting yours radiated through the room.

”I wonder how far I can push your systems dear. Youve got such a pretty pussy, wonder how much of my cum you can take”

Every word had you clenching around him.

”Allllllll” you whined as your system started to glitch, a warning ding ringing in your head.

”You like me ruining you don’t you doll? What would your dear brother say if he saw you taking the cock of the radio demon? I can’t wait to see the look on his face when I send you back to him filled with my cum, oooh yes would you like that pretty doll? To go back home stuffed with my cum hmmm?”

”too m-uch oh fuck fuck fuck Al! Ah! Please please I t-think I’m-I’m gonna OH!” Your body seized as you glitched out, sparks flying and the lights on the control panel flickered as Alastor tore your orgasm from you. A cry ripped for your lips as your eyes dimmed, systems shutting down as you milked his cock, pulling his own orgasm from him.

Alastor came with a growl as he painted your heated walls white, humming in satisfaction when your body went limp and a soft beeping came from you.

With a squish, he pulled his cock out of you and watched as his cum dripped out of you. 

He watched as you slid from the panel and into a heap on the floor. Your body convulsed and twitched as your eyes glowed on and off, a soft static coming from you. He hummed and grinned as Vox appeared across your eyes.

”Hello old pal enjoy the show? Hope you don’t mind the little dear coming home late she’s a bite worst for wares.” 

Bright sparks flew from you as Vox tried to boot your systems back up.

”YOU FUCKING PRICK! I SWEAR I WILL KILL YOU!” Vox growled.

Alastor chuckled, before pulling your limp body to him. He angled your head so Vox could see him clearly and rested his head on your ass. He grinned when electricity ran through you, a protective measure no doubt, he leaned down to your used cunt and placed a soft kiss to your cunt, sucking it into his mouth. 

Vox smashed his control panel and cursed when your systems sent a report of the mess you were.

“Hehe until next time old friend” Alastor crackled as he took over your systems, blocking Vox from having any access.

[almostempty]

Maladaptive Coping Mechanisms 

Part 2

Pairing: Javier Peñal x f!reader

Summary: Looking for an escape from a horrible day, you take a sexy stranger home from the bar. 

Warnings: smut, pwp, dom reader/sub jav undertones, switch reader/ switch javi undertones, oral sex, piv sex, AU unprotected sex has no risks bc it's fictional, pwp but some feelings involved, pet names, dick & pussy pronouns,

Notes: still practicing, would love feedback, constructive criticism, or delusional inspiration <3

thanks to @miss-oranje-disco-dancer for your thoughts on part 1, i hope this part lives up to the first, and to @gothcsz for encouragement, and the kind anon who asked for part 2

WC: 5.3K

AO3: here

Part 1: here

Masterlist: Here

It hurts gasping to catch your breath. Lungs filled with water. Eyes shut so tight a dull headache starts behind them. Every second feels like an hour. In your empty room, alone in your bed. Drowning. Sweat cooling and drying on your skin as the airconditioner hums. A sticky, wet pool of come between your legs. Damp, sweaty sheets. Great, add them to the laundry pile and everything else from your life you’d like to toss out the window. And over what? A man you said ten words to before your smile and fingers digging into his bicep begged him to fuck you? 

When you open your eyes, you can still see his staring back at you deep, warm brown. A new mirage to haunt your mundane existence. You can still hear his baritone voice scratching your ears. You blink and blink, but it doesn’t fade. Javier is standing before you. No shirt on, jeans unbuttoned. Sweat on his golden chest still casting an ethereal shine. He’s holding a fresh glass of water. Your dehydrated body salivates. He’s not a mirage in a desert, though. His shirt is still on your floor with yours. 

You scowl at him, drawing a confused look from him. 

“Something wrong, cariño?” he asks pointedly. 

“No.” 

He sets the water down but doesn’t move closer. He gives you a look. Like he knows your ‘no’ was bullshit. How would he know? He doesn’t know you. Irritation creeps in, replacing the suffocating emptiness. He places a hand softly on your thigh. Gentle so you don’t bolt and run into the street to get hit by an unsuspecting driver in the dark, unable to see you until their headlights flood your eyes and reflect. 

“Thought you’d left,” you answer quietly but honestly. You don’t know him. Why do you care if he thinks you look pathetic? 

“That fast? Without a shirt?” 

You shrug. 

“You want me gone?” He asks, revealing nothing about his own desires. Stoic and frozen to avoid bias. 

“No,” you shake your head, grab the water, swallowing and swallowing. It's so cold it hurts. You hope it never runs out. He can’t see who you really are if you’re hiding behind a glass. Despite your wishes, the glass runs dry. Javi takes it from you and sets it down. 

You look at the man in front of you with sober eyes. He’s incredibly handsome. Without being fueled by blind rage, alcohol, or a contagious horny fever, you aren’t quite as confident. In fact, you suddenly feel overcome with vulnerability. A cord of insecurity wraps around your throat, constricting. You reach for another cigarette to escape the sensation, but Javi intercepts. He takes your hand in his, pulling you towards him until he gets you out of bed and standing before him. He pulls you towards his broad frame and holds you tightly. Pressed against him, chest to chest, you listen to his deep, slow breathing. Skin to skin, he co-regulates you like a baby, fragile in his arms. 

You fight against it. Feeling pathetic. Unable to bare your fangs. Unable to slash with your claws and push him away. He holds you too tight. A heavy lump in your throat renders you unable to speak. Too raw. You’re lost at sea. Circling a whirlpool of dark thoughts. You wait for his rejection. An excuse. A line. A wink and a slap on the ass. A reason to stop fighting and drown. You shouldn’t care if he leaves or ruminate on what he says. He was a distraction. A hot, talented, unforgettable distraction. Another cigarette to burn down to your fingertips and discard in the pile of ash. 

As if, once again, he could hear your hurricane of thoughts bellowing and howling for your attention, Javi shushes you. 

“Quiet.” He runs his fingers up and down your spine. A little light shimmers behind your ribcage. His touch is soothing, and his voice is grounding as he hums into your ear about how soft your skin is. You inhale, your face pressed against his body. He’s spicy, earthy, and smoky. You bite and lick at the flesh you can reach. A barely there noise rumbles in his throat, only for you, only for the ear flush against him, flesh and blood. 

“Shhhh,” he murmurs, “enough.” The light in your chest flickers again. It’s dim, but still, it could guide someone through the dark forest of viscera in your chest cavity to your heart. You shudder. Letting someone follow that beacon through the labyrinth to your jagged, glowing soul? No. What if they see the ugly shape, naked and scarred and bruised? What if they know what you need? What if they give it to you altruistically. 

A stony scowl sets in place. Corners of your mouth weighed down and brows drawn tight. You break out of his hold. Rough and harsh against the warmth between your bodies. 

“How do you know?” You demand an answer. 

“Know what?” 

“Why are you shushing me?” 

“Too loud up here,” he taps the pad of his finger to your temple. A fissure streaking down your stone barricade.

“How do you know?” 

“You have tells.” 

“You don’t know me like that,” you jab a finger at his chest. Hostile and baiting. 

“I’m observant,” he says like it’s a reasonable explanation, unperturbed by your bristling. You stare at him expectantly, waiting for more. Might as well cross your arms and tap your foot. Observant? What the fuck does that mean? 

His hands flex at his sides, his mouth twitches, and then he rolls his shoulders, staying loose and relaxed. Like some thought just rolled through his whole body. “I’m not a good guy,” he says like it’s a fact. Not a threat or self-deprecating. Neutral. 

“But, I know what I’m good at,” he continues, “you clench your jaw, start breathing shallowly, and your eyes–” 

“Got it. I’m a walking billboard,” you cut him off sharply. 

“No.”

You stare back at his face. Unreadable. You wonder what his tells are. 

“I’m observant,” he repeats. You raise an eyebrow at him. “And,” he pauses, “I may have some special training and experience.” 

“In …observing?” 

“Something like that.” 

“What are you Javi? A PI? Secret agent man? FBI?”

“DEA.” 

“DEA?” 

“Formerly.” 

“Formerly? Did you get fired? Caught on the take? Testing the product?” 

He snorts at you. You cracked a smile out of him. It softens you. A playful ease reemerging.  

“Retired.” 

He’s a man of few words, it seems. His walls have a strong foundation. You scrutinize his face and body swiftly and blatantly. 

“You either have some freakish age-defying genetics, or the DEA retirement age is earlier than I thought,” you muse, earning a little huff of air that sounds like a stifled laugh from him. 

“Chose an early retirement; resigned.” Something else is on the edge of his tongue. It doesn’t formulate. 

“Did you like it?” You ask with sincerity. He blinks. Unprepared for that question. Shit, was that the wrong thing to ask? You notice the lines in his face. He runs his thumb across his bottom lip in thought. You wonder if that’s one of his tells. It’s kind of a slutty one, you think to yourself, suppressing a smile as you focus on his mouth. His lips. Soft and plush. The way they fit against yours– 

“I don’t think so,” he decides, “maybe early on.” 

You smile up at him, “s’good that you’re out of it then,” you say with an assertive nod. 

He nods back with a deep exhale. Release. Like he’s letting go of something, but his eyes seem unfocused now. Another tell? Maybe you need special training to know. He seems far away in his head. Withdrawing. No, you want him to stay present with you. You liked how it felt when he appeared connected. Here. With you. You liked his confidence. The chemistry egged you on like you both were in on a secret. You think you might know how to bring him back. Plus, he needs it, you decide. You aren’t done with him, and he hasn’t disappeared completely. You readjust internally. More. You’re still smiling, but with an edge he hasn’t caught yet. 

“Hey, Javi?” You purr. 

“Hmm?” Still faraway. 

You pick up one of his hands in both of yours and kiss each finger. Watching his face. Looking for the light behind his eyes. The tactile sensation draws it out like a stagelight, he’s fixed on your mouth. The size of your hands around his. The hunger in your eyes when you look through your lashes at him. 

“What else are you good at?” You drop your voice. Your demons chitter and flap around the room. Maybe they’re chasing his. You drag his fingers down your body. Slowly. Both your heads droop, chin to chest, watching the private show. Just for you, except it’s for him. Between your breasts, down your soft belly. Lower and lower. Breathing your shared hot air. All you can hear is the fan in the airconditioner and your pulse. Time weighted down by the tension. You pause. His hand is heavy, dead weight in yours, letting you have him. You reverse, tracing back up, the same path, until you’re about to kiss his fingers again, but instead you wrap your lips around one and suck. 

“Fuck,” his eyes widen briefly, and his jaw hangs slack. You pull off his finger wetly. Alluring. You don’t have to act. The expression forming on his face brings out your devious seductress. Smiling, wide. You bite your lip, toning it down. Batting your lashes at him. You’re like an image from a dream he’s been having since he was a teenager. He hopes he doesn’t wake up from it. 

“Javi?”

“Yes.” 

“What else are you good at?” you repeat. Tolerant of his lapse in responding. For now. 

The switch flicks. He regains autonomous control of his limbs. Hands curl around your form, until one rests along the back of your neck, fingers slid into the hair at the base of your skull. The other wedges between your legs. Hot against the sticky mess you’d been forcing yourself to ignore since he first got out of your bed. He’s here, back. 

“Good at making a mess of this pretty little pussy.” 

“Mmm,” you agree. His voice unlocks something ravenous. 

“Good at making you come wrapped around these fingers,” he slips and swirls them through the mess between your legs. Obscene. 

“Mmm.”

“Good at filling you with this cock until you forget how to say anything ‘cept for ‘please, Javi’,” he declares as his other hand wraps yours around his growing length. 

“Yes.” 

“Good at giving you something to feel,” he continues on. He is no longer a man of few words; he’s not a laconic lover. A filthy little devil dances on his tongue. He’s a willing vessel. Tugging at your hair and slipping through your folds. 

You giggle airily, and he pauses his running list of sex skills, waiting for an explanation. What could possibly be funny to you right now. 

“Giving me something to feel,” you slip between another giggle. “Right now,” you pull at his wrist, “I feel like we could use a shower before we keep going. We’re messy.” 

He laughs with you, and you adore how his eyes crinkle when he smiles wide. 

You wash each other in the shower with care. Roles reversed from the cab of his truck, you sternly demand he behaves in the shower, citing an unreliable hot water tank. It’s hard to resist fooling around covered in soap, but he holds up his hands in surrender. He promises to behave. But his cock refuses. It pokes and prods at your soft belly and lower back. Teasing. Begging to be scolded for disobeying. Protesting in opposition to Javier’s earnest affection. He’s gentle washing your back. Vulnerable letting you wash his. It’s rejuvenating. He cleared your mind earlier, and gave you something to feel, with care and attention. You commit yourself to returning the favor. You’ll give him a break from whatever led him to brooding on a barstool. 

You have a feeling he doesn’t give up control very often. He’s such an attentive listener, though. He’ll do great, you decide. 

He knows something has changed. Wretched observant thing he is. 

You are busy thinking, but you don’t have the same look on your face as you did at the bar or when he came back to your bedroom after getting more water. Your mind is racing, but with vigor. It radiates through the hot steam. A sparkle in your eye. Fluid movement. As if it were all premeditated, you dry off and direct him. 

He’s bewitched by the riddle of you. Bold and quick witted, but raw and honest. It’s easy to notice when you’re lost in your head, but he can’t predict you. Time speeds up and slows down in your presence. Like he was knocked out cold, face to pavement. Then thrown in the backseat of a speeding car, but it’s on a cross country trip. When he makes eye contact with you in the rearview mirror from the backseat it’s unnerving. Is he your hostage? Were you the getaway driver? 

You catch him drifting away. Naked and wet in your too bright bathroom, exposed like he’s on an operating table under the bright fluorescent lights. You watch as he towels off on autopilot. 

He realizes he wants to stay longer, not because he knows the broken look from your face earlier, but because something else already stitches you together. You’re peculiar. Direct. Expressive. His speed. Some unspoken understanding, resolute and vibrant. Cutting through the void of the unknown. Real. He can read when you disappaer, but he can’t predict you. 

Javi shakes his head to himself, lost in this train of thought. You’ve known her for a few hours. A couple drinks, sex, and a shower, he reminds himself. He also knows how you taste and how you feel wrapped around his cock, whining please, and that thought fans the flames. 

Enough. You decide. He needs this. 

He smells fresh and sweet from your body wash as you lead him back to your bedroom. He pulls your back into his damp chest, running his hands along your body and nearly purring in your ear. Good.

You whip around and take a step back, surprising him. He hesitates. You’re analyzing. Calculating. Your eyes drag over his body. His big brown eyes and kiss-swollen lips register that you pulled away from him. His hands flex like a predator, ready to grab and pull you back to him, but restrained. His cock reaches out towards you unabashedly, shouting for your attention. 

You can’t help but feel the smile you feel pulling at the corners of your mouth. 

“Javi?”

“Yes?”

“Are you good at following orders?”

“Nope.” 

You laugh, surprised by his quick honesty. 

“Kind of oxymoronic,” you ponder. 

“How?” 

“Well, now I don’t know if you should earn my favor for answering honestly or if I should prepare a punishment if you’re going to misbehave.”

Something flickers across his face. He swallows it. 

“Let me try again.” You move closer and cup his cheek in your palm like he did to you when you first sat on your bed for him. You look into his eyes and speak softly, “You gave me what I needed earlier. Made me feel so good I forgot everything else.” He waits for you to continue, but you feel his chest puff with pride. “I’d like to give you what you need now, Javi.” He swallows again. You wondered if he’d have a quip for that, but he looks so serious. Focused. 

“But first, I need to know if you’ll be good for me, Javi. Can you do that? Can you be good for me?” 

You feel him melt slightly, into your palm, nearly imperceptible the weight shifting into your hold. 

More. The wildfire within you is lit. Blazing. 

“Yes,” he nearly whispers. A flush of heat crawls up his chest. 

“Can you follow my orders?” 

“Yes, mi reina,” he said, consenting. That’s new. 

“Mmm,” you purr at him. 

“Does your pretty cock know that?” 

He blinks with a thin veil of confusion at you. Uncertain. 

“Yes,” he confirms. 

“Look at me,” you order. 

You sink to your knees in front of him. You ego does flips in your stomach. He looms over you, but you hold the reins. You pepper little kitten licks up the underside of his shaft, holding his eye contact and pausing. You rest your soft cheek against his thigh. He’s tense. Waiting to know the rules. 

“Does he look greedy to you?” You study the precome weeping from the head of his cock inches from your face. 

“No, mi reina.” 

“No?”

You avoid his crying erection and impishly toy with his balls. Lazily, you kiss and lick and suckle at them for your own enjoyment. And when you stop, you feel the weight of his gaze, and his unanswered questions, the payback. 

“So good for me watching and not touching,” you praise. “But, baby, look. He’s drooling like a rabid dog.”

You swipe up a trail of the glistening fluid with precision, doing nothing to relieve him. He swallows tightly, his body buzzing with tension like a livewire. He finds it easy to dole out pleasure, direct his energy towards someone else, drown in unraveling a woman’s desires. But your knowing look at him is unnerving. Rattling his bravado. You move with precision, intensely. 

“Tell me, Javi,” you peer up at his face, “do you have a greedy cock?” 

You’re going to ruin him. 

“Yes,” he relents through an exhale. You’ve found it. Kept locked in a cage. Leashed in the dark. How did you find it? Did he lead you there? 

You tilt your head at him. 

“Yes, mi reina,” he adds. 

“Say it for me, baby,” you push. 

He takes a shallow breath. You grin at him like a Cheshire Cat. 

“I have a greedy cock, mi reina, a greedy disobedient cock.” Unlocked, you pocket the key. You’ve unleashed something within him. His feels a swirl of sick pleasure twisting in his core. 

“Yes,” you exclaim with a bright look that gives him a rush. He wants to keep making you look like that. 

“You can touch.” You reward him. Too easy. 

He reaches for you, and you swat at his hand. 

“No, baby, you can touch your greedy cock, not me.” 

A whiny little groan comes out of him, prickling with need. 

“Slowly,” you add, watching as he obeys. His hand pumps slowly. You can’t resist. Holding out your tongue, you move close enough that his rosy head taps against your wet tongue just long enough to get a taste. You hum. Pleased with his obedience and the taste of him. 

“Fuck,” he whispers, closing his eyes tightly. 

“Your eyes stay on me, though,” you remind him gently, with leniency for his current state of executive functioning. 

“Would you like to know a secret?” You tease as you stand up and lean into his ear. 

“Yes,” he pants. Breathy and gravelly. Delight coats your expression, you 

“I like your big greedy cock,” you lilt. 

A soft whine is pulled from his throat. You frown dramatically at him. Causing him to pause his tense strokes and his brow to furrow. You love the intoxicating feeling of having him at your mercy. 

“But you already knew that,” you admonish, shaking your head at him. 

“Already knew that,” he repeats. You’re not sure he could tell you what he just agreed to know. 

“Not a very good secret then, I guess,” you think aloud. You’re light and lucid, bouncing around him as he’s anchored in the quicksand of your spell. 

“But do you know,” circling behind him, you press your soft tits into his back, and you continue to rasp towards his ear, “how wet my pussy is now? Just from the idea of taking your cock down my throat? She’s about to drip down my legs.” 

“Fuck,” he pants again and stops moving. You feel like the sun. You urge him to turn towards you as you crawl onto your bed and lay in the center. His eyes flick all over you, wanting to see everything. 

He’s fighting to figure out where to lock his eyes. It feels euphoric to see how openly aroused he is by you. 

“Did you know that?” You repeat. 

“No.” 

“S’what I thought,” you reposition yourself, “you wanna see for yourself?” 

“Yes,” he answers rapidly. Eager. 

You show him. Parting your legs to display the evidence. So wet and tender for him. 

You’re locked in a timeloop. When you see his eyes flood with lust, and his body tenses, your desire swells in your core, flooding your glossy folds. When he sees your glistening sex fluttering and pulsing, it nearly brings him to his knees. A horny sisyphian wet dream. Turning each other on. But, crucially, you know how to break free. 

“You wanna taste?” You ask. 

“Yes, please.” Good manners. 

He starts to move towards you, and you press him back. 

“No, baby, lay right here, and I’ll give you a taste.” 

He’s obedient. Settling next to you. For a moment, he has the urge to drag you by the hips to sit on his face. To take you for himself, no games. But then he hears your sweet voice praising him and feels overcome with a dizzying sense of validation. 

“So perfect, baby, look at you,” you continue showering him with adoration. You’re mesmerizing with your sweet scent, wet lips, and your glassy eyes. Too good for him. He doesn’t deserve your attention like this. 

You see the crease between his brows as he starts to overthink. Enough. You bite sharply at his nipple, and he yelps and gapes at you. You straddle his waist and give him a stern look. 

“Stay here with me, Javi,” you order, ”don’t disappear in there.” You tap a finger lightly against his temple. He nods. 

You hover over him and slip his swollen head through your folds, easily coating his length. He shudders and groans. So openly vocal and responsive to you. That’s good. I like to hear you, baby. You use him as you please, like a toy circling your clit. But it’s everything about him that saturates you in pleasure. 

“Feel so fucking good,” you praise before pulling back and shifting down between his legs. 

You lick and suck your arousal off of him. Loud and messy. You climb towards his face. “Open,” you place your hand under his jaw, “taste,” you murmur before feeding your tongue into his mouth. Kissing hungrily he lets out desperate, deep groans. Relaxing into your movements he simply accepts what you give and lets you feel his uninhibited reactions. 

He finds you vexing and tantalizing. Letting him touch and taste, but not directly. He’d have half a mind to argue with you—despite having tormented you just the same—but how you light up and laugh when you best him fills him with a more profound desire. He likes how you look when you’re in charge. He likes that he just has to keep up. He likes being all consumed by the present moment, so caught up in you he can’t think about anything else. 

You break away, seemingly satisfied with his participation thus far. You’re ethereal and glowing above him. 

You slide down and return to your retribution. Teasing by lightly drawing your fingers around his leaking cock as it lies against his lower abdomen. You revel in delight over his muscles tensing and flexing, and he huffs impatiently as you increase the intensity of your vengeance. You trace the same outline with your tongue; you use his moves from earlier, breathing warm and cool air over his length and watching it twitch. 

You stare up at him as you run the flat of your tongue from his balls up to his tip. He looks wrecked, staring back at you, and you feel powerful, holding his attention.  

He catches the flash of a smirk before you slip your mouth around his tip and nearly overwhelm him with the warm slip of your tongue and the pressure of your mouth wrapped around him. 

“Fuck,” he rasps. 

You don’t let up, swiftly taking him further down. You focus on breathing and working him into the back of your throat, then back to just the tip. Your saliva drips and coats him as your hands work in time with your bobbing head. It’s messy, and the noises are pornographic as you pour your enthusiasm onto him. He’s cursing and groaning while you continue on, and you can’t take the sight of him anymore. You pull off him and crawl up the bed on your hands and knees. You sit up and pick up one of his hands. 

“Javi, I have a problem,”

“Shit, what?” 

“When your cock is in my mouth, my pussy gets jealous. She’s too empty,” before he can respond, you drag his hand through your obscenely wet folds. 

“Fuck,” he chokes out. It must be his favorite word. 

“Mhmm,” you agree. 

“Use me,” he says in a hoarse voice. 

“I intend to,” you reply. 

And you do. You ride him with an unrestrained vigor. You start bouncing up and down, tossing your head back to give him a little show. You drive him into a frenzy as you freely describe how good he makes you feel. And when he looks wholly fucked out, you taunt him for looking so pleased when his body is yours to use. 

When he breaks, you feel his hands caress your body greedily. He squeezes at your hips, and he gapes with stars in his eyes at your tits perfectly filling his hands. He gropes at your ass and digs his fingers into your plush skin, pulling you down harder onto him with each bounce.

You consider how you might torture him further for touching without asking, but decide you just need to see him come undone. A single thought crosses your mind like a brilliant marquee on an empty boulevard.

He remains happy to obey as you instruct him to swap positions. 

“You’re going to keep fucking me hard and deep while I come on your cock,” you order as you trail your hand down to your clit to your liking. 

“Yes,” he agrees. “Come. Come on my cock.” He chants raggedly as you do. Your orgasm ripples across your body until the oversensitivity hits, and you press your hand into Javi’s chest. He pauses, hovering over you. You breathe as you come down and observe the exertion written across his features. 

“Again,” you state, and he slides back into you. “I need it now, Javi,” you continue. “I need you to come. Fill me up. Just like you promised.” 

You can’t get there with him again fast enough, but don’t need to. You just want to feel him deep inside you, releasing everything he’s got. And he’s more than willing to follow orders. He thrusts into you deeply until his hips jerk, and you can feel him pulsing inside of you as he comes. 

“Please, take it.” You make out in between words that he smothers in your skin.  

When he collapses on top of you, and your fingers rake through his hair, it’s as if he turns to liquid, and your soul absorbs him up. 

You hum contentedly at him and push until he rolls off. 

You order him to stay in bed before you’re off to clean up, bring him a towel, and of course, refill water glasses for both of you. As you walk into the kitchen, you see the flashing light on your answering machine. You didn’t notice it when you got home earlier, but it reminds you of the reality of the night. You know it’s a scathing message from your ex for walking away hours ago. 

You feel a thread of annoyance, but it doesn’t escalate as you return to your bedroom. 

Javi is where you left him and watches you with a funny look in his eyes as you carry on about your tasks until you return to his side. He likes seeing you move about your space, naked and unhurried. How insistint you are about taking care of him, it feels natural. 

“What?” you grill him for staring. 

“Nothing, nothing,” he assuages, raising his hands in defense. 

You like how he looks in your bed with his dewy skin and mussed hair. 

“Seems like you can be good at following orders,” you note.  

“Depends on who’s doing the ordering, I guess” he shrugs, and you roll your eyes. 

You offer him a cigarette and notice the time on the clock on your nightstand. 

“It’s late,” you state, and he nods, taking a long drag. 

“Stay,” you suggest, hoping it doesn’t sound needy. 

“That an order, mi reina?” 

You didn’t expect to hear that endearment outside of sex. It makes you float. 

“Yes.” 

“Good.”

He’s there. In the morning when you wake up. Taking up too much space in your bed, sprawled on his stomach. Trapping you under a heavy arm. Snoring hot air into your shoulder. His body is a furnace, the sheet balled up towards your feet, leaving his bare skin exposed to the morning light. His smooth back and the curve of his ass are candid and honest next to you. You figured he would’ve disappeared before you woke up. Like a cryptid. You thought you’d be searching for any trace that he was real. Fortunately, you are surrounded by evidence. He is real, and unguarded. And somehow weighing your whole body down with just one arm. You squirm trying to check the time and he stirs. You still. 

“Morning,” he grumbles. Of course his morning voice is sexier than you could’ve imagined. 

“Morning.” 

He peels his arm from your skin, releasing you. Free to stretch you reveal the ache in your shoulders from sleeping in that position with a groan. The room smells like sweat and sex, with faint notes of your shampoo and his aftershave lingering on your pillows. You instantly miss his touch, despite the fact that you were overheating from his warmth. You wait for a clue. What happens next? He was supposed to be temporary. A high you chased. Just a distraction, help you avoid reality and your emotions. But you like having him spread out on your mattress in the morning. You’d like to hear more of his voice. 

He flips onto his back and scoops you under his arm. Oh. Head on his chest. You hear the strong beat of his heart in his chest. You might as well try. 

“You want–” “Can I–” 

You both laugh, your head bumping into his chest. You urge him to go first. Reveal his hand. 

“Can I take you to breakfast?” he asks, “maybe after another shower,” he adds considering whatever fluids are still pasted to his skin. 

You couldn’t have resisted the smile spreading on your face if you’d been warned ahead of time. You know he feels it pressed against his skin. 

“I was going to offer to make coffee, but that does sound better.” 

“Good.”

“Plus, I could use a ride back to my car. It’s still outside the bar.” 

“A ride, hm?” His voice melts over the top of your head. You’re not listening to the words. Floating in a cloud. Just the baritone of his voice keeping you in the air. “C’mere, I’ve got a ride for you, cariño,” he growls into your hair before pulling you all the way on top of him. You shake with airy laughter, sitting up. Your laugh lights up his eyes. He looks at you like he wants more. 

It’s enough. 

[hyperactively-me]

Ok, humor me plz. Princess!reader finally gets fed up with shit and out of frustration slaps king!ghost in the face. The need to slap a bitch in this fic is increasing by the day lmao. I can imagine he like grabs her arm when she is walking away from him while he is talking to her and she reflexively just slaps him. On the inside she is like "aw fuck" but the outside she just has fire in her eyes.

wow oh wow, yeah, this would 100% happen. love to see it. love this, thank you, anon!

You were on your second to last day of travel. Tomorrow, you will reach Kastron and officially begin your new life. Lovely.

It was the evening, sun low in the sky. Pinks and oranges fall in between the cracks of the trees, casting golden shadows all around. Honestly, you loved the forest. 

You take one look back at the hustle and bustle of the servants setting up camp. When was the last time this whole journey you had a moment to yourself? Taking a breath, you turn and start exploring the forest around you. The leaves beneath your feet made a comforting, rhythmic crunching sound merging with the distant symphony of singing birds and the gentle rustling of leaves in the air. The air was filled with a soothing earthy aroma, a reminder of your garden's numerous plants and flowers. You couldn't help but notice how the sunlight filtered through the leaves above, creating intricate patterns of light and shadow on the forest floor.

You bask in the sunlight for a moment longer. The sun is starting to dip lower on the horizon, a chilly wind picking up, blowing your hair. Taking a long, deep breath in, you make your way back to camp. 

That’s when you catch a glint in the corner of your eye. Armor. Helmetless, yet a balaclava still covers his idiotic face. Not that you’ve seen it before. And there Ghost is.

He's standing in a clearing, practically marching toward you like a soldier heading into battle. The intensity of his anger is palpable, radiating off him like heat from a furnace. He strides forward purposefully, like a soldier going into battle, each step echoing with frustration and resentment. 

The sight stops you in your tracks, sending goosebumps up your arms. His demeanor is unwavering, his countenance a blend of rage and exasperation. It's as if his entire being is consumed by the storm of emotions brewing within him, and you can practically feel the crackling tension in the air.

Your heart begins to race as he gets closer, the sound of your own pulse pounding in your ears. You're split between the impulse to flee and the realization that running will only make matters worse. So you hold your ground, your breath seizing in your throat as he approaches.

As he comes to a stop just a few paces away, a charged silence hangs between you. His chest rises and falls rapidly, his eyes locked onto yours with a mixture of fire and frustration. You can almost taste the words that are poised to spill from his lips, words that could either alleviate the tension or ignite an even more explosive reaction.

You search for words, for some explanation or apology that might defuse the impending confrontation, but your mind feels blank, all thoughts evaporated.

“What were you thinking?” he's seething.

“I—”

“What were you thinking?” 

His hands flex at his sides. 

Your mouth flounders, trying to find an explanation.

“What, you thought I ran off?” 

The words slip out before you can think twice, your own frustration rising to meet his anger. His eyes narrow, a mixture of surprise and something else you can't quite decipher flickering across his face. The tension is so thick you could cut it with a knife, and you're both caught in a standoff, emotions swirling like a whirlpool between you.

“Something could’ve happened—”

“Nothing happened!”

“You could’ve been hurt. Or lost. Or kidnapped. Or killed.” 

You scoff, throwing your hands up in the air animatedly. 

“Yeah, you only care about your little fiance running off because you can’t control her every move, her every—”

“No, that’s not—”

“Oh, I’m sorry, your majesty, did I step out of line? 

“Stop.”

“Oh, please, forgive me, your majesty, I forgot that I’m supposed to be the perfect little wife—”

“Enough.” His voice is sharp, cutting through the air like a blade.

The forest seems to bear witness to this clash, the rustling leaves and the evening sounds seeming to echo the turmoil of your exchange. He takes a step closer, his frustration still evident but tempered by something else. His chest rises and falls with his breaths, his gaze locked onto yours. 

You wait for him to say something. When he doesn’t, you scoff, not even bothering to look at him as you push past him, knocking your shoulder on his chestplate. Immediately upon passing him, he seizes your wrist to halt your movement, his grip iron-tight, whipping you around to face him. In response, before you can even think about what you’re doing, your hand instinctively meets his cheek with a forceful slap, right across Ghost’s face. 

The sound of the slap is followed by a stunned silence. He doesn’t let go of your wrist, but his eyes widen in shock. His free hand comes up to touch his cheek where the sting of the slap lingers. You’re breathing hard, trying to yank your wrist out of his grip. Suddenly he drops your wrist, watching you stumble back from the force, giving you space.

His expression is a mix of offense and regret. He rolls out his jaw, tugs his balaclava more securely on his face, hands flexing at his sides. The last of the days sunlight filters through the trees, casting a gentle glow over his armor. For a moment, you don’t regret it. Hell, he’s been nothing short of overbearing and a nuisance since you met. But, for some reason, a small part of you feels bad. Maybe his anger had its roots in concern, but the way he expressed it had only fueled your own frustration. 

“I’m tired of feeling like my every move has to be scrutinized,” you admit, your voice carrying a touch of weariness. “I can take care of myself.” 

“Yeah, well, you’re gonna have to prove that to me, sweetheart.”

“I’ve got plenty of time,” you say quietly.

He sidesteps you, a range of emotions flickering across his face. 

“Don’t run off like that again,” he murmurs. “Fuckin’ hell.” 

You nod slowly, wringing your hands. 

“I’m sorry.”

“Go,” he commands, hand resting on his hilt. 

You look up at him, his foot tapping, waiting for you to go. With that, you turn on your heel and make your back up to camp. He follows on a few feet behind you, his shadow cast over you as you head back.

- - - - -

(masterlist)

[midnight-bay-if]

Hi! Love the demo! Can't wait for more!

But do write at your own pace, would hate to see another author with great potential burnt themselves out. ♥️

Just saw the ROs dying in MC's arm ask, and can't help but think my MC probably won't be able to move on lol

So if the ROs somehow turned to a ghost or like having other consciousness that makes them able to see the MC. Seeing the MC having a real tough time dealing with the loss, or not dealing with them at all, slowly ruining themself both physically and mentally. What are the ROs thoughts/reacts/feels?

(Hi, anon! Thank you so much ❤️ Sorry this took so long.)

S: They stand guard as a spectral sentinel through an endless abyss, watching but unable to interfere. It is torture. Every time a stray tear slips down your cheek or a cry of frustration tears through your throat, they yearn to reach out as they once did, to rest their forehead against your own and whisper, "I'm here". But they can't. They utter words of reassurance into your ear, knowing you will not hear, whilst in the same breath chastising themselves for leaving you.

Even if you will never know the truth, they will stay. They will guard. And they will pray for the day you set them aside.

Rain: They hear your cries even when they have ceased; they replay inside their mind, encasing them in a hurricane of regret. They are trapped inside a whirlpool of their own making, destined to watch your sorrow behind the veil that separates life from death. In your darkest hours, they curl up next to you and place a comforting hand on yours, despite the fact neither of you can feel it.

A part of them hopes that one day, by some miracle, you will. "I never left. I never will."

Taj: This isn't what they wanted. It is a rare individual who prepares readily for death, but Taj tried. Their entire life has been a set of new contingencies, readying themselves for sacrifice. Even after meeting you, they bruised you with pommelling words and fracturing remarks so you could learn to raise your head above them. They hoped to have taught you enough that your strength would keep your head high even after they were gone.

Only now do they realise they were planning for the wrong thing. They should have fought to stay alive and remain by your side instead. "I'm sorry, Koel," they whisper into the endless space between you, "I failed you."

N: They have never been one to sit idle. At first, they allowed themselves to be consumed by the weight of your grief, basking in it even in death. Before meeting you, death was not even a passing thought in their consciousness. Death was something they brought to others, not the other way around. You changed everything. For the first time, N feared death but, in the same breath, became overjoyed with the notion that someone might miss them after they were gone.

Bearing witness now to what that means is much more crushing than they ever anticipated.

So, they do what they do best. They plot. If it is possible to find a way to reach you, to find their way back through the endless nothing, they will. Even if it takes the rest of your life. And should they fail, they will be the first to take your hand and welcome you to eternity.

Umbra: It feels familiar. But also different. The weightlessness of death encompasses them like an old friend, but it feels emptier than ever before. Perhaps because you are no longer within reach. They took it for granted, the time that you had. A lifetime would not have been enough for them, so how do they come to terms with less?

They see your struggle, and they know you feel it, too. Both of you, two sides of the same coin, tugging at the cut string of fate, hoping it will weave itself back together. It doesn't. But that does not mean there is nothing to be done. They have been here before, suffering a crushing isolation to keep watching from the shadows. They are the shadows. Every time a shadow seems darker than black, that is where they are.

They were promised a lifetime with you; they intend to check that in.

"I'm not going anywhere," they whisper, standing guard for your grief. "Not again."

[cuppajj]

Who would win in a fight, BAAU Hollyberry Cookie or Black Pearl Cookie?

Cuz if Holly is interested in fighting dragons and stuff, then I wonder if she would investigate the Duskgloom Sea after hearing the stories of a ferocious sea monster apparently dwelling there.

FUN question!! Black Pearl is formidable, massive, pretty much dwarfing Dragonberry in many aspects, but Dragonberry is far from afraid, let alone intimidated. Fighting Black Pearl would be such an exciting thing for sure; I could see her going out there thinking that the sea monster might be a dragon, only to come across the duskgloom sovereign instead. Not what the Beast was expecting, but certainly welcomed!

The fight would be brutal tbh. If Dragonberry brought a battalion out to the sea, ships would start sinking as the fight begins, Black Pearl attempting to sink her with the rest of them; but Dragonberry’s invigorated enough to use the wreckage as leverage. I can see images of Pearl swatting and slashing at Dragonberry with her trident, sinking her with a whirlpool, making the waves high and gales intolerable to throw her off, but the Beast stands strong even as everyone around her struggles to stay alive. And then she launches herself and tackles the mermaid straight into the water, her tiny size incomparable to her godlike strength. One of them scowls with hatred and frustration, the other grins like she’s having the time of her life.

Even though Black Pearl is massive, she’s facing someone who single-handedly brought down the Red Dragon and other giant monsters countless times before. She may be strong, but in Dragonberry’s eyes, she’s just another challenge.

Honestly I wanna sketch stuff for this hypothetical fight… hypothetical?? It could happen if it lines up with Dragonberry’s story tbh. Either way girlboss fight and everyone around them has a bad time. LOVELY ask anon

[sitp-recs]

liv hi!!!! so. my mfl is 20 pages currently. that’s like. 400 fics. and most of them are from your recs! but i shan’t stop i am filled with endless drarry greed and i’ve come to ask you for more 🤲

since it’s summer, i’ve been really craving stories set by the seaside! tbh any body of water will do, lakes/oceans/waterfalls/muddy puddles in concrete?? let’s say water-centric!

if you or your followers have any recs for me i’d be sooo delighted ☀️🌊 sending love & my eternal thanks

Hi anon! Omg sounds like you’ve got a lot on your plate and I love that you’re looking for even more reads 😂 I miss the good old days, now I’m in the eternal “so much to read, so little time” loop :(

thank you for the great ask, I hope you enjoy these fics!

Beautiful Madness by @phdmama (E, 3k)

When Harry joins Draco and his friends on vacation in Grenada, fresh off of a year in America, he's a changed man, and Draco doesn't quite know how to react. React appropriately, that is.

On The Shore by @skeptiquewrites (T, 3k)

Draco takes up wild swimming. Harry joins him.

Sun Stroke by @peachpety (E, 4k)

Draco, Harry, and a handful of friends take a summer holiday at the beach. With the help of a sultry sea setting, encouraging friends, and a fisherman’s jumper, Harry and Draco's mutual attraction swells and things get hot on a salty summer night.

Sun, Sand and Sambuca by JulietsEmoPhase (E, 6k)

Holiday romance where Harry and Draco are best men for their respective stag dos, but still want to find time to sneak a moment for themselves. Muggle AU Drarry.

But no Man moved Me – till the Tide by @aibidil (E, 7k)

Harry bursts into Draco's office one morning and drags him away for an impromptu beach holiday. Draco knows something's happened, and wonders if Harry will open up to him. Featuring a Muggle bed and breakfast, wizards at the beach, Draco's house-elf who loves Harry, Muggle paperbacks, and the scary and exhilarating feeling of complete freedom and possibility.

Saltwater Stain by @the-starryknight (M, 9k)

Seven days stuck on a boat investigating a rogue ghost wouldn't be so bad if Harry didn't want Draco so much. Draco has his rules and Harry's content to follow them, but the air feels different away from the shore. Is it possible that the sea could offer Harry something impossible on land?

Maelstrom, the water told me by onbeinganangel (E, 11k)

Maelstrom (noun, /ˈmeɪl.strɒm/, from the Dutch maalstroom): 1. a large powerful whirlpool 2. a turbulent tidal current 3. an agitated and/or confusing situation or state of mind 4. a magical core disturbance occurring on an adult, not directly caused by trauma

the way you make me glow by softlystarstruck (M, 11k)

In a cottage next to the sea, love blossoms. Or perhaps it’s been there all along.

The Isle of Ogygia by @citrusses (E, 13k)

There is an island, far out in the sea.

Take My Hand by daisymondays (E, 13k)

Draco has long resigned himself to pining after Harry... that is until an invite on the annual Ministry holiday gives him a chance to change everything.

what the body wants is coolness by lastontheboat (T, 13k)

Draco and Harry have been seeing each other for months, and Harry decides the best way to tell their friends is to bring Draco to a group beach outing. Draco's given up enumerating all the ways this plan could go wrong.

The Oceans They Did Rise by disapparater (M, 18k)

Finding post-war life more difficult than he'd imagined, Harry travels halfway around the world to find some peace. He also finds Malfoy, art, adventure, the ocean, and himself. (Not necessarily in that order.)

The Isle of Discussion by @shealwaysreads (E, 22k)

Harry and Draco arrive at the shores of Loch Leven to record the magical history of the land. They’re friends now, but up there in the Highlands, amidst the trees and sky and that wild expanse of water their own past is more present than ever; a gap they still can’t bridge. Magic illuminates the truth, but it is Harry and Draco who have to speak it. Happily, it turns out that honesty is, in fact, the best policy.

What Shall Not Be Unearthed by @iero0 (E, 49k)

At the northernmost point of Shetland, surrounded by pointed cliffs, towers the Ootsta Lighthouse on a small isle in the middle of the open sea. Little does Harry know that he's not the only new lighthouse keeper. Draco Malfoy is as obnoxious as he always was, with his posh tone of voice and his luxury yacht jumpers. Harry tries his best to avoid the git—who knows what he's up to anyway?

Everybody Hates a Tourist by @wolfpants (E, 51k)

On a stag do in sunny Brighton with the Gryffindor lads, the last person Harry expects to run into is Draco Malfoy. After a glimpse of Malfoy’s Muggle life in Britain’s gay capital, Harry’s curiosity gets the better of him and he finds himself returning to the seaside again and again, drawn to the city, drawn to this new version of Malfoy that Harry barely recognises from school.

Naked by @bixgirl1 (E, 57k)

Harry and Draco are sent on an undercover assignment to catch a Dark wizard — which might not be so bad if it weren't at a Muggle nudist resort.

I Am Not Who I Became by mab_di (E, 93k)

Draco left England after the trials and has travelled the world meeting wizards and Muggles from different cultures and with vastly different relationships to magic, each other, and the natural world. Now he's a fisherman in Finland on commercial vessels. Harry has been struggling since the war and has become a recluse while trying to write his autobiography.

[sashi-ya]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ 𝑨𝑪𝑻 𝑰: 𝑶𝑩𝑺𝑬𝑺𝑺𝑰𝑶𝑵ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ january free requestsㅤ ㅤ ㅤ okkotsu yuta x f! reader

synapsis. Okkotsu sensei, a professor from the tokyo metropolitan curse technical college, discovers his unstoppable obsession for his young assessor... a recently graduated student he used to teach just up until last year.

🕊️ request: anon ⋆｡˚ Sashi could you write some dark smut for Yuta for your new event? if so, I'd like to request with a fem reader. Thank you. Have a good day! 🍑 🕊️ tw: mdni. dead dove. even if it's all in Yuta's mind, be aware of non con topics. age difference. masturbation. ideas of corruption. wc: 350 🕊️ a/n: tell me, should I keep writing ACT II? would you like me to go darker? 🎀 🕊️ masterlist

Behind tired eyes, and sweet façade the darkest energy, even darker desires for that young, sweet angel.

Innocence is gone? No. It has never been there. “I’m obsessed with you, obsessed, obsessed! Your breasts, so turgent and beautiful. Your lips, pouty and delicious. Your hips… Your ass”

Lying in bed, hitting his head. A horrifying image got stuck on his mind, and it makes him hard, hard, and troubled.

“Don’t… please!”  “Stop!” “Yuta sensei, I don’t want to!”

His cheeks, tinted in pure reddish desperation, burn with the idea of having her even against her own desires. His hand, with veins protruding, surrounding his shaft. Up and down. Up and down. Strongly, violently, trying to turn his own palm into the warmth of your walls.

Biting his lower lip, trying to remain silent, even if the sound of his panting  becomes loud enough to be heard. “Spread, don’t resist yourself” he murmurs, imagining the way your nails would attempt to rip the skin of his back, the flesh and his muscles… oh, how delightful.

Falling into a whirlpool of darkness, there is where Yuta drowns. Your tears blurring your vision, all he wants to see… and maybe to taste, to lick off your cheeks.

One, two, three more pumps. He doesn’t even recognize what climax really is to him anymore… is it his own orgasm? is it him releasing his own seed inside of your womb? is it the way he would love to force you to take it? She is younger, she is innocent… and I wanna corrupt her, I wanna…

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ Curse her…

“Okkotsu Sensei!” your voice resonates behind the walls of his room. The room of the sweet, strong sorcerer that teaches at the same school you have just graduated from last year. The sweet strong sorcerer that gladly works with you, that has hired you as his personal assistant… the man you die for, the man you’ve been waiting for… but he was your professor, and now your boss. It is wrong. So wrong.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ. . .

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ“Please, (Name)-chan… come inside, would you?”

END OF ACT I .-

[karniss-bg3]

Gods and Goddesses usually have some type of portfolios attached to them. I love the idea that last anon had with your femme!Tav helping out Kar'niss molting... What about any events after that moment? What kind of Goddess do you think he would see Tav as? It's interesting too how every deity he has worshipped has also been feminine coded---if Lolth demanded cyclical strife and the Absolute demanded utter subjugation to feel her embrace...

What would he see that good-aligned Tav as? A goddess of mercy? A martyr? A saviour?

OoOOoo y'all out here feeding me filet mignon. *rubs hands together*

A good-aligned female Tav would be a radiant force, a beacon of brilliant light shining across a dark and stormy sea. Kar’niss is trapped in a violent monsoon, assaulted by ferocious gales and unforgiving rains, scarcely treading the water that holds him hostage. Kar'niss has no shortage of dark clouds brewing above, a swirling miasma of trauma and abuse that follow him around anywhere he goes. At first she would struggle, running into invisible walls at every turn. She may even witness Kar'niss being swept away by the tides of his own self-loathing, bashed against the jagged rocks of the shoreline, so close to salvation yet always just out of reach.

She would be the only one who could provide a lifeline to prevent him from being swept out to sea by the torrential waves slated to drown him at a moments notice. Little by little she would pull him closer to safety until the line inevitably comes under pressure and snaps, yanking Kar'niss away mere inches from grabbing her outstretched hand. This push and pull would be a constant point of contention between the pair. It would become easier to find compromise as Kar'niss learned to trust her incandescence to be a good thing rather than another woman poised to strap a yoke around his neck.

Until one day after months of strife and struggle, Kar'niss breaks free from the cyclone of doubt and conjures every ounce of strength he has left to reach for that hand of mercy. His palm claps into her own to hold on for dear life, the sea threatening to take him back at every turn. She yanks him away from the whirlpool he'd been trapped in for so long, dragging him to sandy shores where he might know true respite. The thunderous clouds that had suffocated his vision for eons finally part and reveal a beautiful landscape once obscured from his sights. Rolling hills of green, lush fields of wildflowers, towering oak trees thick with supple leaves, things that had been there all along but he could never see. Exhausted, worn down yet relieved, he finds the courage to look up at his savior, the one who never gave up on him even when all hope seemed lost.

From his lowered position on the sand he sees her. She is not shrouded by the crimson tendrils of Lolth, nor is she consumed by the dark violet fog of the Absolute. Rather, she is bathed in golden light, aided by the rising sun over the horizon. Her expression is warm and inviting, her touch is delicate and gentle, her honeyed voice akin to an angelic choir, unworthy for the ears of mortal men. She is salvation incarnate, mercy untold, love everlasting. Her very aura radiates warmth and security, hypnotizing him, drawing him to her like a moth to the flame. Her glowing silhouette burns into his retinas to cement her as his new Goddess, his only path to ascension and acceptance.

She has done the one thing neither Lolth nor the Absolute dared to—love him. She loved him without strings, she loved him without the demand for subservience, she loved him regardless of his misshapen form, she loved him through his trauma, and she loved him when the storm was at it’s worst. Her beacon never flickered, never waned, never threatened to extinguish even through the heaviest downpour. Her strength motivated Kar’niss to find his own, to pull himself from the riptide that thrashed him around his entire life. Kar’niss would follow her to the ends of the earth and back again. His sweet nightingale of benevolence and truth.

His Majesty.

[selfship-confession-box]

★ Hello my fellow selfshippers! ★

PR0SHIP/C0MSHIP/TERFS/ZI0NISTS/ETC DNI. THIS IS NOT A SAFE PLACE FOR YOU.

Box Status: open (CURRENTLY ON HIATUS, CONFESSIONS WILL NOT BE POSTED FOR A WHILE)

Confessions are queued, may take a while to post ^^

This blog is for selfship confessions of almost any kind. Whatever reason you don't wanna post it on your blog, or if you just wanna put a confession here for fun, you're welcome here! Selfship art is welcome as well ^^

Whether your f/o(s) is/are obscure, non-human, etc, this blog is welcome to all kinds.

Similar blogs (not owned by me!): @/selfship-vent-confessions , @/nsft-selfship-confessions

"How do the f/o tags work here if I want to filter them?"

I tag them as "f/o (character here)!" It sometimes depends if the user who submitted the ask included a last name/full name/etc, as I usually do not know which characters the user is talking about 0_o (hence why i don't put fandoms)

Feel free to tag me in your selfship art of you want me to reblog it! I know a lot of people don't get much attention on their art posts, so I'd like to help out with that :)

Do not use the word "simp" here, as the word is appropriated AAVE. Do not use slurs either, I think that should be common sense.

Blacklist/Banned Topics:

Character.ai / Ai things

The topic of aging up characters

Anything Harry P0tter related

Anything Hazb1n H0tel related

Anything D4ndy's Wor1d related

FNAFcraze19912

Fomybeloved or whatever they go by right now

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[b000mbayah]

yandere aespa reaction to you confessing to them?👁👁

Sure thing anon :)

✎𝚈𝚘𝚞?﹏﹏﹏﹏𝙻𝚘𝚟𝚎?﹏﹏﹏﹏𝙼𝚎?﹏﹏﹏﹏

Requested: Yes

Word count: 4,309

Warnings: None?

✎𝚈𝚘𝚞?﹏﹏﹏﹏𝙻𝚘𝚟𝚎?﹏﹏﹏﹏𝙼𝚎?﹏﹏﹏﹏

Karina

Karina has spent the last eight months contemplating your relationship status. Sure, you are far closer than she could have ever comprehended the first time she saw you- but now that all just seems like some distant dream she has already surpassed. She very clearly remembers how beautiful you looked the first time you met as friends, how kind you were to her- all of these only fueled the fire she had already started for herself and eventually, that small fire on the tip of her match stick had grown into a full on bonfire. That day she'll treasure forever, like a sacred secret.

But now, seeing you standing at her front door through the small peep hole, she's more confused than ever- despite the overwhelming feeling of lush swirling around inside of her like a whirlpool. Without hesitation, she unlocked her front door, reeling the slab back from the frame to reveal a very bashful you. You shifted uncomfortably, shifting from one leg to the other with your hands held out in front of you. If Karina didn’t know you- and she thanks the lords that she does every day- then she would’ve guessed you were some shy girl scout… just without the uniform.

“Y/n? What are you doing?” She inquired, feeling somewhat conflicted by your sudden appearance. Your mouth only opened and closed though, resembling that of a fish. You looked lost, confused, but most concerning of all, you looked troubled.

"Come in, please" Stepping aside, she opened the door further. When you walked past her, she could basically feel the uncertainty radiating from you like a batch of heavy nuclear waste. To this, she frowned, following after you with many thoughts racing through her mind.

Once you both found a comfortable seat in her living room, she'd smile lightly as you only breathed in a sequence to calm yourself down.

"We need to talk"

Karina had almost instantly gulped, feeling a thick lump form in her throat at the sound of your roughed voice. It felt heavy, yet light, much like a buoy that just sat stationary within her tightening throat. She'd eye you carefully, noticing the poorly covered bags under your eyes and the small shake of your hands. Have you not slept?

"What's wrong? You look like you haven't slept, no offence"

Then it was your turn to pause as you looked down into your lap, bouncing your knee nervously. "That's because I haven't," you dryly admitted as Karina had cautiously moved closer, scooting over to your side. Her eyes felt heavy upon your skin, dangerous almost, like a wolf in sheep's clothing. "I've been thinking about someone… someone really close to me and I think I've come to the realisation that I- that I like them...?"

Karina leaned back lightly, feeling her world shatter in more ways than one. Her heart had plummeted into a pit of self-pity and jealousy while her brain worked hard at your words. You like someone? She's not an idiot, you could've said love. Or are you uncertain? Is there still that small slither of hope for her? She'll make the cut, she'll just have to expand the horizon no matter the cost if it means being with you.

"You like them?" Karina repeated half your words, throat still tight like a squeezed towel. You only sheepishly nodded though, eyes fixated on her and her reaction, and what you got was far from what you expected. You expected a little support for your love life, for her to seem genuinely happy about your choice, but how could you see that when you hadn't told her who "they" were.

"Yeah, very much so"

"Who are they?" Upon hearing her words, you flinch. It was so quick you were certain she hadn't noticed it, but she did and her dark eyebrows shot together, slightly creasing the skin between them.

"They're the most amazing person. They're cute, they're responsible, and they have manners like no other gentlewoman I've ever met" you silently bite at your lower lip, feeling your teeth sink painfully into the skin, but you needed a distraction from the jaded look on Karina's face and pain was the perfect volunteer.

"They sound nice" Karina resorted, gazing down to her own hands as they shook under the extreme condition of jealousy and fitted rage. "Their name?"

You gulped, fidgeting uncomfortably in your seat. Her reaction wasn't sitting well with you and your heart. She seemed almost violent with her wording, and you could tell she was ready to punch a hole through the wall if needed.

"Their name?"

You and Karina were close, friendship wise and physically. Your knees were close to brushing each other, and your shoulders so close you could feel the warmth emitting from her body. But what you have with her is special, like a shared star. It's the most precious and dearest thing you've ever had a grasp on and you're afraid if you say the wrong words- or do the wrong thing- she'll be out of your life forever. That star would then be a fragment of what once was a beating heart, now set to rest like a fatal pet upon its funeral bed.

But you have to take that leap in life sometimes. That's what makes life, life.

With one deep breath, you open your mouth, and the name almost falls crooked upon your tongue. You could feel your mouth go stale as your body tensed up. Never have you felt more afraid of rejection than you do right now.

"Karina"

But then the name crawled into her ears for her brain to process and her heart to examine. Her brain had broken the name up for a thorough inspection, diving deep for further inspections in the name and if it were truly hers or some misheard piece of information. So she needed clarification.

"Karina?"

You bit your lip even harder, finally drawing a drizzle of shiny blood as you nodded, repeating yourself.

"Karina"

It was spontaneous, the way she gripped your shoulders and kissed you hard. Yet, despite the kiss being needy, it felt far from it. The kiss you shared was passionate and most certainly possessive on her behalf.

There was a dominance in the way she pulled you impossibly closer till you were just mesh in her lap, moulding clay within her fingers.

And then she pulled away, cheeks flushed and eyes darting around your strawberry face.

"I like you too"

Giselle

You had ironically met at a coffee shop, like all cliché love stories. Giselle was a first-time customer who quickly grew accustomed to the heavy scent of coffee grains and the sight of natural hues. Wooden planks lined dividers and eco-friendly plants lined certain countertops.

But the place was deceiving.

The welcoming atmosphere was the polar opposite to what actually awaited her at the counter. You were calm and collected, just like the building itself. But what had made you so different was the way you made her feel.

Because while the building made her feel at home, you made her feel… different. You made her feel as if a dozen batches of nestled butterflies were hatching, making her insides flutter and tingle in a delectable way. You made her feel as if she was the only person in the room, that you were solely here for just her and her order. And so, because of this, she freshened her face with the brightest smile she could conduct before she set for the lingering line.

Giselle distinctively remembers how long the queue time felt. She remembers how she prayed that you would be the one to take her order with your monotone apron and pinned back hair. You looked stunning, even with the restricted view created by the heads of the incompetent infront of her.

There was just something fulfilling in the way you dashed around the area, informing your coworkers of the orders being made as transactions went through. You were just stunning.

So, it was no surprise that when you called upon the next customer in line, Giselle had practically thrown herself a small celebration within her mind. And of course, your voice was tender, and of course, you were polite. But your eyes? They seemed to be the most desirable feature upon you. They sparkled under the fluorescent lights, shining like a clean mirror as Giselle could practically see her giddy reflection within them. Your eyes seemingly controlled Giselle in ways she never thought to be possible.

When you finally called her name for her collection, Giselle had never been so in love with her own name. There was just something in the way you said it- how it lightly trespassed upon your tongue like a sin.

The cup felt warm between her fingers and palm, warming the appendages as she read over her own name repeatedly while taking small sips and obvious glances your way. It would be an absolute dream if you just locked eyes one more time.

And so she visited more often than not. Giselle would make an appearance before work, during her lunch breaks, after work. It was as if a day was never truly complete without visiting you- without stalking you.

Eventually, however, the font of her name was accompanied by the small doodle of whatever you pleased: a star, a smiley face… a heart… These made her smile like some love-drunk teenager all over again.

And not before long, you added another something else, changing everything all together as you instead put a small note, each one differing from the last. They were only little sentences like "How are you?" Or "Have a good day!". But each one held a firmer grip on her heart, and soon enough, it became far more addictive than any type of alcohol or drug or coffee, for you were her new addiction.

However, there was one issue. You've never actually exchanged any other words except for "the usual?" And "please". She could sense the mutual respect as one of the establishments highest paying customers at this point. But surely you weren't doing it just because of that? She's never seen you write on anyone else's cup the way you do for her. She's never seen you even remotely smile at any other customer the way you do for her.

So why must she feel so glum when she received a cup with nothing? There was just a blank spot on the sticker where her name- her doodle- her note was supposed to be? She would've taken anything, but nothing? That just seems too harsh to just suddenly stop.

Her head was too far up in the clouds to realise the shitty customer pestering you the entire time you were making her usual drink. So when she finally screwed her head back into place and took into account the situation, to say she was ready for murder was an understatement.

Giselle would unknowingly want this lady to bleed, to cry at her lack of mercy as she'd just slowly edge her towards death before aiding her to health, only to do it all again.

It was sick, but Giselle quite frankly couldn't care less about that. She cared more about getting her note and dealing with that woman (albeit at a later date).

So, with her bag flung over her barely exposed shoulder, she strode towards the till, where you were being harassed and humiliated for your "mistake" of an order.

It wasn't until she was basically standing side by side with the woman of many problems that you had noticed Giselle, turning to look at her apologetically as she just gave you a reassuring smile.

"Excuse me?" Giselle begins, interrupting the rampaging bull beside her as she squeezed into the conversation like it was a heated hot tub. "You uh- you forgot my note" She sheepishly held up her cup of steaming contents, her fingers wrapped around its curved frame delicately.

You only blinked at her, face slightly scrunched, but soon a smile grew before her eyes. She did that? Giselle had actually made you smile? If only you knew how many fantasies you were making come true with just the smile and light eye contact. "Ouh, I did? I'm sorry. Please, let me fix that?"

You held your hand out, sleeves rolled up to your elbows as your hand flexed slightly. To this, Giselle only blushed, handing you her cup as the woman before her scoffed in annoyance.

"So she gets a replacement!?"

"Oh, I'm not getting a replacement" Giselle smiled a crooked grin at the woman beside her.

"Here you go," you smiled, placing the black marker pen back down on the counter as you handed Giselle her drink once again. "Please enjoy" You gave her a half smile this time, blushing lightly as your fingers brushed against each other- there was no way you hadn't felt that too!

But deciding to question it later, Giselle took one last look at the rude customer, eyeing her up and down to get one last good look at her before turning on her heel to sit down at her designated booth once again.

With a hopeful sigh, Giselle took a small sip of her drink, finally deciding to look down and read the note you had just put on there.

There laid the arrangement of four simple words. Each one held value within the context of the small note, but the overall value was enough to send her heart flipping and somersaulting in pure ecstasy.

"Go out with me?"

Winter

It was destined from the very beginning- or so that's what Winter told herself every night. Every night, she spent alone in her room, cramped up into the corner of her bed- draped in different sheets and blankets as she just drew all things to do with you.

She'd draw your name in pretty pinks and emboid the empty surroundings with carefully drawn-out hearts and clouds. There would often be pages found with repetitive contents. Like pages of both your initials, conjoint by a single plus symbol.

But these were just silly little drawings, things little children would do to pair themselves up with their crushes within their innocent minds. But Winter wasn't a child anymore. She's an adult with "normal" adult thoughts and desires. And so she had a special book, one of carefully executed photos of you to accompany a timeline of your day. She'd have notes of all your dislikes and likes, all your hobbies and fears, all your friends and enemies. The list extends past half the book with information written in extreme detail.

Darkness seemingly seeps into the material of the pages as the photographs and facts near the back pages. She'd have pictures of you with your friends. She'd have you surrounded in hearts while all your friends have ink scribbled across them in ways that represent the fate they'll meet one day.

One friend would have no eyes, while another had their mouth slit to the tip of their cheek bones. One has their stomach ripped open with drawn on organs, and the other simply had a cloud of ink engulfing the entirety of their head.

However, these photos never did her any justice, they were just little flashy tropes she could hug at night- pretending you were there with her instead of a book she cherishes as if it were you.

Winter would often find herself waking up in a sour mood because of this, eventually leading to her doing even more stalking.

How could something go from being so sweet and childish-like, to morbid and sadistic? The answer? Winter. Winter was exactly that.

When you first met a few months back, it was by complete accident. You had body slammed her while playing a game of complex frisbee with your friends in the park.

She remembers so clearly how cute you looked- all dumbfounded with your mouth hung ajar. Your eyebrows were furrowed into a straight line, eyes slightly widened as your face changed to the hue of roses.

You looked perfect.

So flushed for her and her only. Now she wants that again, and she wants that forever. She knew there was no way this was a coincidence. It was destiny to her.

So she made it her duty to follow you, "coincidently" meeting you in random locations till you were close enough to actually just talk like friends, and eventually, you considered her one.

She was invited to your outings, but she only went for you- acting as if she was happy to be company for your other friends as well.

She'd hesitantly put on a laugh and smile for the sake of being close to you, pretending to care when one of your friends get broken up with- or when one of them gets fired from their job

Fortunately, though, it eventually paid off. Eventually, you had invited her to a day out with just the two of you.

And obviously, she couldn't reject the opportunity.

So she found herself here, sitting on a bench in the middle of the exact same park you first met as you simply enjoy the silence with each other.

She stares at you while you stare at the natural surroundings that greet you in a whimsical trance. The birds sing happily, and the distant disturbing hum of a car makes itself present.

It was explosive, how you quickly slurred out words, but Winter understood. "You see that spot?' You ask, raising a finger to an empty patch on the field with a small smile gracing your lips.

"Yeah?"

"It's where we met," you add, looking at Winter as she just grins. You remembered? You cared enough to pay attention? She just assumed you were so caught up in looking at her that you wouldn't have noticed.

"Yeah, I suppose it is," Winter nodded, looking back over to the patch of grass.

"I prefer this so much more," you happily sighed out, relaxing into the bench's structure as your hands delved deep into your hoodie pockets.

"Prefer what so much more?"

"I prefer this, just hanging out with you and not being in a group twenty-four seven"

To this, Winter silently questioned why, thoughts of all sorts rushing through her already congested mind. "Any particular reason why?" You almost crippled into a ball at her words, but she was eager to know, and her heart got the best of her tongue.

"What do you mean? How could I not enjoy hanging out with the kindest person I know. And on top of that, she's smart and so, so attractive," you goofily smile, earning a small push out of both embarrassment and overall shyness.

"Anyone would be lucky to date you," you almost whisper, frowning slightly to yourself. But Winter caught that, now mirroring your saddened expression with a hollowed heart.

"Why would you think that, Y/n?"

"Because you're this amazing person. You're far too extraordinary to just be some fling or a one-time purpose girlfriend - you're you! You're understanding, you're responsible, you're lovable. Do you understand how hard it is to come across someone like you in this modern society we've constructed? It's like a septillion to one!"

"Y/n?" Winter reached out, holding your wrist to help calm you down.

"I love you!" You suddenly blurt out amongst the waffling of your rambles, causing you to slam your mouth shut, now embarrassed and fearful for the outcome.

However, the outcome was far from what you expected when you saw that same stupid grin again- the one she does without any particular reason.

"I- I"

"You love me?" Winter grumbled, eying you half suspiciously, but she couldn't stop the smokey pink from spreading across her now flushed face.

It seems that Winter was the one to trip and stumble this time, figuratively body slamming you this time with that flushed look.

"You don't have to love me back. That was a mistake"

"No, you said it for a reason, and I refuse to let that slide as some mistake. Y/n, I love you too. I just didn't know how to say it before. And we were always just around your friends"

"Then I'll fix that. If you're uncomfortable, then I'll do more dates like these ones with just us"

"Dates? This is a date"

You hum. "No! I mean, I wouldn't object to the idea at all, but I feel like I could do better than this for a first date, can I show you?"

Ningning

Your first encounter wasn't exactly the most ideal, but it was perfect for Ningning. She felt as if you had stolen her heart when you walked out the shop, committing a crime that she honestly didn't care much about- but that never stopped her from playing cops and robbers with you.

She'd happily gather intel on you, noting it all down as she dreamily stared at you through your open window or from another booth in a café you visit on the regular.

She'd be so far in her state of delusional mind that her quickly developed obsession would stem out into a more physical form. She'd have an "evidence" board with pictures of you pinned up, reasons, and witness statements from herself to "help" her case.

This was either just some wacky fantasy, or she genuinely believed this to keep herself away from the truth of her yandere-like behaviour.

Either way, it wasn't exactly the most efficient way of "gathering intel" so she went undercover as the girl you met just the other week and not this fake cop she's made herself to be.

However, one thing leads to another, and months later, she's found laying on your bed with you. Despite the countless encounters you've both had since that "undercover" mission. She has yet to make any further status updates as all she's been able to think about was how attractive you look no matter the circumstance.

Her feelings had gotten the best of her and the whole "Cop Vs. Criminal" plot had fallen through the floor at this point. Over the course of your time spent together, she's come more and more to terms with her ways, understanding what's happening.

But it's not like she can stop it, she's far past that point, so the only thing she can do is continue to just be your friend. She'd have to sit by your side as you enjoy silly little dates that aren't with her, go on stunning vacations around the world with someone who's not her and grow old with some other person who's not her.

Wait.

She still has a fight in her, though, so why was she thinking these things to herself? Why was she suddenly so defeated in the name of love- something she feels so strongly about?

Maybe it was the way you complained about love, like it would never come your way, like Ningning hadn't in front of you this whole time?

Whatever it was, it was diminishing her own perspective- and her ability to push through a tough crowd because she knew you'd never feel the same- even if she had kidnapped you and forced you to at least try and love her.

"Do you love anyone?"

Ningning choked on her pringles, eyes tightly closing as she coughed furiously into her fisted palm.

Does she love anyone?

When your hand made contact with her back, she felt that same shock of ecstatic she normally does as you try your hardest to fix the issue you have created. After some time, her coughing subsides, and the only thing left between you is the haunting word of "love"

"Do I love someone?" Ningning asked, almost unsure if her ears were deceiving her, but your nod told her enough. "I uhm.." she hesitated, scared to reveal anymore than she already had, thinking back to her makeshift evidence board and old high-school files she had stolen.

Now love just seems like too vague of a word… obsessed is a better suited pick.

"I do," her voice was meek out of fear as she searched your eyes, throat scratched and burning from the choke you unwillingly placed upon her.

One eyebrow rose above the other as a grin quickly spread its way across your face, your look almost demanding "Who"

"I'm not telling you that!" she laughed, still eyeing you cautiously in fear of exposing herself. "Do you have a crush, Y/n?"

"I do indeed" your grin only seems to widen as a pit suddenly spawns inside of Ningnings stomach. "I have an idea! If you tell me yours, I'll tell you mine?"

"No way!" You roll your eyes at the girl, shaking your head as your grin slips away. "How about you tell me yours, then I'll tell you mine," Ningning requested, flipping the entirety of your offer to benefit and favour her.

You hummed. And then you spoke.

"Sure, why not?" You shrugged, leaning in closer to the smaller girl, leaving an excruciatingly painful gap between you both.

"Ningning"

"Yeah?"

"I love you"

Ningning tensed up like a cat in fear, her back stiffened, and her eyes locked onto your own as the words bounced around inside of her head. "You love me?" She repeated, sounding unsure before repeating it again and again until the words just felt natural and light upon her tongue.

"Is this real?"

You only laughed, smacking her shoulder lightly "one hundred and one percent." You smiled as Ningning only swooned, giving you a quick peck on the lips.

"I love you too!"

[sophiethewitch1]

hiii sophie, ur batfam: www fic is amazing omg,, 😭🩷 I like the way u write the mc so much tqtqtq and the way u write the bats and their very subtle yan tendencies too 🙆🏻‍♀️🙆🏻‍♀️ it isn't that blatantly obvious but the underlining? (chefs kiss), really gets my mind running in laps hehe... thank u for the food

(tim drake, the man u are...zzz)

- 🍒 anon

aw shucks thank you!!! i love writing my slowburn/subtle yans and like... the whirlpool vortex that falling into their obsession is. slow and pulling and then all of a sudden you're drowning in it <3 <3 (tim drake the man that he is... i hate him i love him i will kill him and he will kill me)

[braisedhoney]

i love ur narrator design sm that i want to hit him with a car <33

aw, anon, that's just too sweet <3 thus we must throw him into a whirlpool. he collects those after all.

[disparate-traveller]

Hello there internet people!

I'm Diamond Fox. I'm what I believe this website calls a "faller" though I think of myself more as a "jumper". If you know what that means we may have to have a conversation-

I'm roughly 20 ish, though I'm not sure it matters when I've been going through several time loops throughout my existence-

If you've heard from me before and I don't remember you- that's just how things go I'm afraid. Either I forgot cause I have shitty memory or I forgot because I died again.

...oh yeah that's something you'll figure out later I think.

Eh whatever.

I've taken up residence in an abandoned facility somewhere called the "Whirlpool Islands" I'm not entirely sure why it's abandoned but. It's nice and quiet- though there's a lot of storms around here. I know why it's abandoned now. There's a big fucking pigeon in the caves and it cursed me or something. I now aim to get my revenge.

I have a pokemon called Cyn with me. They're a little... Weird. But take the form of the Johto starting pokemon usually.

I now have a Minccino with me called Mini. She's pretty cute

A Gastly I've taken to calling Ginger follows me around

I've also had a Frostik (apparently some kind of regional Joltik? Idk) decide it's my friend now so. I'm naming him Space Heater

I made a friend in the ocean that I've named Teeny, she's some kinda Feebas-Dragonair hybrid :]

Magic Anons: Open

Pelipper Mail: Open

((Ooc under the cut!))

Hi, this is a blog by Tori, if you're interested in my other blogs please check out @twodragons-blooper-reel

Or rather- it's a soft reboot of the original Barren Lands AU blog I was doing beforehand (the posts are still here, cause I do love them, I just felt the need to move on since I was the only one really active in the au)

Diamond is still in their death loop shenanigans- but they know a little more about who they are now at least.

[phykios]

Hi phykios! I love you, your writing are so amazing. The Marble King is one of the best pieces on ao3, hands down. Really. One. Of. The. BEST. FICS. EVER. The worldbuilding, the dialogue, the history, the angst. SO. GOOD. Omg I die a happy death every time I read it (I have done so multiple times). Thank you for doing what you do!!!!!! If it is possible, may I ask for a bit of the shipwreck fellowship Thalassa story or the one where Sophia is born during (during?!) Percy's dissertation defense?

🥰 tysm anon!! marble king really does hold a special place in my heart and i'm glad ppl are still vibing with it

as requested, a bit of shipwreck hunting to whet the appetite 💖

Annabeth frowns. “That’s the embassy?” 

Percy nods. “Uh huh.” 

“But it’s so… nothing.” 

He shrugs, readjusting his backpack, gripping the strap before it slides off his shoulder onto the wet pavement. In his other hand is his eldest daughter’s, squeezing it tight as she twirls around, her sneakers making little whirlpools beneath her feet. “That’s what I thought.” 

Now, technically, it is a Tuesday, and Junie should have been in pre-k, wowing all her teachers and outperforming all the other kids by a mile. But, well… turns out the genes run a little bit deeper than just looks. The teacher had not been exactly sure how Junie had managed to flood the classroom via the little sink in the corner. But it seemed pretty clear that she had. She hadn’t been expelled, exactly. But it had been suggested she seek education and enrichment somewhere else. Honestly, Percy and Annabeth were a little charmed by it. Apples and trees and all of that. But they did worry that it heralded things to come. 

“I mean, there’s nothing,” Annabeth says again, craning her neck upwards. “No decoration, no sculpture… There’s nothing there!” 

“Nothing but pilasters.” 

She gags. 

“At least the one in Boston is next to the bar from Cheers.” 

She blinks at him, uncomprehending, and Percy makes a note to himself. 

“So how long do you think this will take?” she asks. 

“Dunno.”

“Because if it’s not that long we can just wait out here for you.” 

He shakes his head, kissing her on the cheek. “Don’t waste the rest of your lunch break on me.” Besides, his back itches in the way that means it’s probably going to rain soon. “I’ll pick up Lucie from my mom’s place, and I’ll have dinner ready by the time you get home.” 

Percy is long-since immune to the domesticity of such a statement. Or at least he thought he was, because the way Annabeth grins at him, leaning forward to capture his lips in a stronger kiss, makes him want to do a little jig with Junie, right here on the sidewalk. 

His daughter certainly seems to agree, if the way she spins faster is any indication. 

Annabeth slides her own bag off her shoulder, and pulls out a bulky file folder, handing it to him. “One last check?” 

“Hit me.” 

“Award letter?” 

“Check,” he says, thumbing through the pages. 

“Proof of insurance?” 

“Check.” 

“Background check?” 

“With fingerprints, and without allegations of underage terrorism.” 

That had been a fun and nerve-wracking experience, getting his fingerprints taken. He had been sweating bullets for a week, expecting his brief bout of monument-related arson to have the FBI kicking his door down. 

“Visa application?” 

“Plus immunization forms, birth certificate with apostille, and two hundred dollars cash.” 

“Passport?” 

He blinks. “I thought you had it.”

Annabeth snaps her gaze to him, eyes blazing. “Are you serious?”

“Kidding!” Reaching into the folder, he pulls out his shiny new passport, flapping it in the air. “Kidding.” 

She swats at him. “Seaweed brain…” 

“Sorry, sorry,” he laughs, kissing her again. “It’s all good, promise.” 

“Don’t be an idiot in front of the ambassadors, or whoever it is you meet in there, okay? Save your dumbassery for something less high-stakes.” 

Scoffing, he slips the passport back into the folder. “Excuse you, my dumbassery is only reserved for the lowest of low-stakes operations.” 

“Just go in and get your stupid visa.” 

Try as she might, her shortness is only undercut by the final kiss she leaves him with. “Love you, too.” 

Percy crouches down. “See you soon, Honey Dew,” he says, kissing her forehead. “Go have fun with mommy!” 

Junie’s only response is to kick water in his direction.

Yes, he stands and watches them leave, smothering a laugh, even as it begins to drizzle on him, until they turn the corner.