#me when I'm not over their fantasy get up

[wendichester]

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ one too many,

summary. you drunk-diall dean. he immediately rushes to you.-

pairing. dean winchester x drunk!reader genre. fluff-ish

wordcount. 679

notes / warnings. mild alcohol use, tipsy rambling, suggestive tension, dean being soft but lowkey feral, unfiltered feelings

Your thumb hovers over his name like it’s a trigger. You're swaying slightly in the shitty motel kitchenette, phone hot in your hand, brain swimming in cheap tequila and worse decisions. You know you shouldn’t call him. You definitely shouldn’t call him at two-freaking-thirty in the morning. But your lips are already forming the words before your common sense can scream loud enough.

"Deeeean," you slur the second he picks up, voice soft and singsongy, "hey, hot stuff."

There's a pause. Long enough to make you giggle and imagine him half-naked and blinking at the caller ID like it's a bad dream.

"...You drunk?"

"Maaaaybe."

He exhales. It’s a sharp sound, like he’s pinching the bridge of his nose. "Where the hell are you?"

"Room twelve, back of the motel. I think the wall’s moving. Or maybe I'm moving. Wait—" You press your palm to the wall and laugh when you almost fall. "Yup. Definitely me."

You hear rustling, keys, the thump of boots.

"Stay put," Dean grits. “Don’t go anywhere.”

"As if I could,” you say, collapsing onto the bed like a melting popsicle. “Your voice is soooo serious. You sound hot when you’re mad. Did you know that?"

Dean groans. “Jesus Christ.”

The knock comes fast—he must’ve sprinted over. You scramble to the door, unlock it with more difficulty than necessary, and nearly fall into his chest when it swings open.

He catches you, big hands bracing your arms, and holy hell—he’s in a henley and jeans and looking like the dictionary definition of rugged savior fantasy.

"You're wearing your Dean shirt," you mumble, swaying against him.

His brow furrows. "My what?"

"You know, the one that hugs your arms and makes girls forget how to breathe."

His jaw clenches. His hands tighten slightly. "You’re impossible when you drink."

You beam. “You love me anyway.”

The words slip out too fast.

Dean stills.

You slap a hand over your mouth and stagger back, eyes wide. “I—I mean like... friendly love. Bro love. Hunter love. Not the wanna rip your clothes off and ride your face kind. Haha.”

Dean’s eyes blaze. “That’s a kind?”

“Shut up.”

He steps in. Shuts the door behind him. It clicks too loudly in the silence that’s suddenly way too full.

"You shouldn’t drink alone,” he says quietly, voice low, rough. He moves to steady you again as you flop gracelessly onto the bed. “You never hold your liquor.”

“Who said I was alone?” Too cheeky. You giggle but quickly stop at the frown that adorns his features. You pout. “'Sides, I was thinkin’ about you.”

His eyes flick to yours.

"Yeah?"

“Mhm,” you hum. "You’re in my head all the time lately. Makes sleep kinda hard.”

Dean swallows. He’s standing awkwardly near the edge of the bed, torn between pulling you into his lap or bolting straight through the damn drywall.

"Did I say that out loud?" you blink.

"Yeah,” he says hoarsely.

“Well, maybe I meant to,” you murmur. “Maybe I call you at two a.m. 'cause you’re the only person I think about when I’m messy like this. When I feel stupid and needy and soft and… I dunno. Honest.”

Dean exhales slowly. Like he’s trying to breathe through fire.

“Fuck.”

You blink up at him, vulnerable and tipsy and entirely too real. “You gonna yell at me now?”

He kneels in front of the bed, resting his hands on your knees like it’s the only way to keep from shaking.

“No,” he says. “I’m gonna make sure you drink water, get in bed, and sleep this off. And then, tomorrow… you and I are gonna talk.”

“About how I wanna ride your—”

“Sleep it off, sweetheart,” he says sharply, cheeks flushed. “Please.”

You snort, flopping back on the bed. “Okay, okay, killjoy. But hey…”

Dean leans in to pull the blanket over you.

You grab his wrist.

“Thanks for coming.”

His voice is barely a whisper. “Always.”

And even though he doesn’t kiss you—not yet—his fingers linger against your skin, like he’s memorizing something he’s too scared to claim.

ꔛ. navigation 𓂃˖ ࣪ all drabbles ; compatibility readings ; support my work .ᐟ

[gay-dorito-dust]

Can I request establish relationship with The Void (reader is also dating Bob) where it’s like, soft moments Void has with sunshine reader, please and thank you!!

#1

‘You trust in those belligerent fools continues to baffle me.’ The Void says as he watched Walker, Yelena, Ava and Alexi with suspicion and skepticism. He knew your heart was pure as gold, much like Bob’s which was one of the main reasons for your relationship being as beautiful and effortlessly filled with light and life, you both held similar values then you and The void did.

And yet you loved The Void all the same as you saw no point loving one part of a man without loving his darkness also, something The Void had once said you were extremely foolish for before finding himself where he was currently in being cuddled up in your arms, with you running your fingers through his hair and giving him kisses on occasions.

‘I can’t help it, they’ve saved me more times I can count.’ You replied softly, keenly aware of Void’s protectiveness over you with how hesitant he was to allow you closer contact with the Thunderbolts, not for any particular reason other then they were getting too close to what was his and Bob’s. The Void acted like your second shadow, always lurking close by, making sure that the message was clear to anyone who seemingly didn’t get it the first time; you were off limits and were not to be taken away from him should they wish a reckoning unlike another, and thankfully many understood when when they were biting off more then they could chew with The Void and left you both be for the majority.

‘Are you saying my protection isn’t enough?’ The void asked and you were quick to press a kiss to where you believed his cheek to be, his form was a hard one to navigate but after countlessly tracing your fingers across bob’s face, you believed yourself to be well aware enough to know where your kisses landed on The Void as his white pinprick eyes watched you unsettlingly.

‘I’m never saying that silly.’ You told him as you pressed another kiss to his cheek. ‘Your protecting of me is sweet and reminds me of that of dragons of fantasy books and movies I would always watch, ones where they’d fiercely protect their horde of gold and other riches with fire and annihilation.’ you add as you felt Void shuffle himself further into your arms, wanting to hear more of your words while hogging your warmth that seemed to be the only thing calm him down whenever one of the Thunderbolts step out of line in his eyes.

'Do you like these horde obsessed dragons who'd go to war for what's theirs?' The Void asked, his white pinprick eyes looking deeply into your own, much like two stars in the night that were for you and only you. While others might find them unsettiling and creepy, like they're being seen through and being disected to their foundations, yet to you it was anything but those things knowing that this powerful being was more then willing to wage war to keep you with him.

'i do.' you replied as you press your forehead against his, feeling nothing but protected, safe and weridly at ease because you knew that while you were within the presence of the Void, you could feel Bob with you as you felt Void raise his hand and caress your face with gentleness as you melted into hi touch with a smile.

'It makes me feel special, like i'm worth hoarding and keeping out of the hands of others, even if some people see it in a possessive light.' you added, knowing that many people saw your relationsip with The Void as posessive, but to you it was one where he did everything in his power to keep you safe and show a side of himself that went against everything you thought you knew about him. Yet you didn't mind it one bit as you knew that The Void was more then originally conceived, especially when he's nothing more then putty in your hand and asking deep and thought provoking questions.

Void brings his other hand to hold your other cheek softly as though he was handeling a feather, something delicate that he knew he shouldn't use his full strength on, unless he wishes to destroy that delicate feather entierly. 'Then i shall strive to keep you as protected, as safe within my care as i can and will wage war should i ever find that you were ever hurt or brought to harm, for i cannot exisit without my light to my darkness as we are equal beings on par with no one but each other.' Void finished as he kisses your eyelids, forehead and brim of your nose before snatching a final kiss ffom your lips, making you smile against his lips.

'sap.' you muttered playfully.

'only for you my light.' Void responded without heistation.

#2

'do i scare you?' Void asks.

You furrowed your brows as you looked at him, sure you had been made aware of the type of being the Void was by Bob, but now that you were seeing him yourself your feelings hasn't changed much regarding him.

'No.' you replied as you moved over towards him, reaching out to hold his face, pausing briefly when it seemed as though The Void flinched before allowing you to hold his face, letting out a sigh he seemed to have been holding ever since asking the question. 'why? should i be afraid of you?'

'No.' The Void anwsered as though your questioned had personally hurt him.

'Do you want me to be afraid of you?' you continued to ask, wanting to know why he was thinking like this, what was the reason behind it and considering how The Void usually holds himself, this only made you worry that something had gotten under his skin.

'Never.' The Void steps closer to you, hands holding you in place by the small of your back, making sure you were always within reach of him and never too close where he felt as though you'd feel suffocated.

'Then why ask if you knew the answer all along?' you spoke softly as your thumbs caress his cheeks while you tried to look for the anwsers you seeked within his pinprick eyes that reminded you of two lonely stars, together yet so isolated within the mass expanse of darkness, only within the company of the other for all time always; but there was beauty in that and you liked to think that you and Bob/The Void were those pinpricks that make up his eyes.

'For the reason why any other human would ask such questions, fear of one day that those fears will be realised and used against me.' Void tells you as he reassures himself in your existence by focusing on your hands upon his face and you just being in front of him, focusing on your breathing and the calm that you brought him as the fog within his head slowly disipates and gives way to clarity and content.

'i'd be more scared for the people who wronged you, the people who overstep the line with you, and those who were too confident that they could ever harm you.' You tell him as he remained silent and still as an unmoving shadow, waiting for you to say more should there be more for you to say, displaying his unwavering patience towards you.

'i could never be scared of your power when you use it to keep me safe, to keep me secure becuase the day i'm scared of you is the day i know i have lost the man i love forever.' You brings your hands down to his shoulders and massage the tenseness you felt there at a slow pace, encourging him to unclench his jaw and relax his shoulders for he was in no situation where he should feel on edge, or backed into a corner for that matter.

'And i have never yet felt that way and i know i never will. because i love you so blindingly, so unwaveringly that no matter what happens to us there will always still be an us when the dust settles.' you finished just as his shoulders fully give way and relax under your touch, his hands on the small of your waist tightening their grip before easing slightly as though he was checking that you were real, that you were here with him to calm him and reassure him that you could never seen him as anything but your protector and safehaven.

The Void tugs you closer to him until you were flush to his chest as his hands grew bored of being stationary and began to rub up and down your back. 'You took the words right out of my mouth my love, thank you for being the calm to my chaos, the peace to my destruction, but now it's time for rest don't you think?'

You smiled as you kissed his jaw. 'As long as you're there with me.' you said.

'of course.' The Void says softly as he leads you to bed, where he holds you closely for the duration of the night.

[bunny-jpeg]

john price loved having his reading time with you. rainy afternoon out in the countryside, grey heavy clouds and heavy rain drops on the window.

you were cuddled up to price's fuzzy chest. your cheek pressed against it while he kept a strong arm around you and held onto his book. you weren't too interested in the book however, a hefty high fantasy hardcover. a door stop, you called it. which earned a nice lick across the ass from price's large hand.

"daddy." you said softly as you looked up to his blue eyes. he looked away from his book to you.

"yes, petal?"

you tucked your face into the collar of the grey sweatshirt you were wearing. it was price's, but had made home in your weekly rotation, especially one days like today. price pulled the sweater away from your face and looked at you a bit more sternly.

"use your words."

"i'm bored."

price broke into a grin and said, "well, i guess this book isn't exactly your cup of tea. but that's alright." he put a mark in it to save the page before it found home back on the nightstand.

you were dressed in panties and his sweater with nothing else underneath. the peak of comfortable you could get. so it wasn't hard to get you on your back with your lumbering lover between your soft thighs.

"pretty little thing." he purred, "maybe next time i'll find other ways to keep ya entertained while i'm tryin' to read." he hiked up your hips till your clothed pussy was rubbed against his clothed cock, "needy got like ya needs to keep busy. or else you get bored."

you swallowed, "daddy."

he replied, "i know, i know. the worst thing in the world is for a pretty little thing to be bored." he rubbed himself up against you, "don't worry, i'll find something for you to do. maybe next time i'll get ya to suck my cock, or make ya ride that pretty little toy you have."

you shuddered with sexual desire and he chuckled lowly, how cute.

"i think you'd love that, wouldn't ya?" he asked before he dropped your hips to get your out of your panties, "i own this. own this cute little pussy just like i own that book on the nightstand. just like the house you live in and the clothes you wear. it's all mine, petal."

you nodded and then swallowed when you watched him get his cock out of his sweatpants. he was always so big, the biggest you could possibly have. any bigger and it wouldn't fit. price liked that you were a small little thing, it wasn't your fault. even with your soft stomach, thick thighs and round little face, you were still his little angel. all his.

"daddy loves when you're so needy for me. i love how soft ya are. no proper woman should have a thigh gap. not natural." he chuckled, "more room to cum on them." he said as he eyed you up and down once more.

you giggled. you weren't petite, but that only made price love you more. he said that too much of his life he had denied himself pretty things, so he'd make sure to never deny himself you. the prettiest thing he could ever have.

he gripped your hips once more, just right. he hiked them up and made sure your legs were wrapped around his waist. he said, "daddy loves when you behave so well. taught ya everythin you should know." he said with affection in his tone, "fuck, petal."

then slowly he sank his cock into you. he eyed your form and licked his lips. everything about him screamed a certain kind of traditional masculine that made you excited all over.

"mine."

the heaven was immediate, there was something about how your older lover took you that made you run so very hot, he leaned in to kiss you on the lips. his kiss was hot and you reached for him to hold him tightly on the shoulders. you moaned into the kiss and felt the lust kick up inside of you.

you swore under your breath as your lover moved against you, his thrusts were strong and they made your toes curl with sexual need for him. it felt amazing, you loved it. you loved him.

"look at you my love." he said almost dreamily, "the sight of you is to die for. the love i have for you is something that i need. i need you and you need daddy." he felt you tense up around him and he licked his lips. a beautiful a sight, a gorgeous woman under him as he made love to you.

he watched the sight of your breasts move with each heavy thrusts. a full figure is what drove him made. your soft thighs wrapped around his waist as he fucked himself into you. almost folding you in to a mating press as he worked his hard cock inside of you.

your pussy felt immaculate, the feeling of our wetness coating his cock all the way down to his balls. always such a messy girl, but price loved it, he yearned for it.

as the rain came down on the window, he continued to fuck you, praise you with the low rumble of his voice. you felt your mind feel a little blank from the intensity of his praise. your pulse was in your throat as he thrusted heavily. this was all his, always his.

he went in for another searing kiss, another hot one against your lips and you arched your hips a little bit. you moaned against his lips. you swore under your breath and price enjoyed the feeling.

"my petal."

"daddy."

"always say my name so lovely." he purred as he fulled pressed you into a mating press and continued to fuck you with the passion he had. your knees to your ears as he worked himself against you, his thrusts were heavy and you could feel his heavy balls against you.

everything screamed hairy daddy and it made you get lost in the pleasure of it all. you moaned and held onto the back of your knees. you whined a little louder and price drank in the noises. you sounded beautiful. a needy little thing for him, his precious petal. delicate, and warm like you soaked up the sun. it made price more hungry for you. a deep thrum of yearning in his core. his. his. his.

you held on tightly, you arched your back. the kisses continued. he pressed into you further. the warmth ran through you, along with the intense heat of pleasure. you looked into his blue eyes, perfect. all perfect. you were everything to him and the notion muddled you brain with ecstasy.

"that's my girl." he said lowly, "all mine."

his words felt like gospel and it made your core shiver. the feeling of him on top of you was intense, this was your lover. this was your everything. you needed him like you needed water.

"ah, daddy!"

"sounds so right on your lips." he purred and you shifted under him. he admired you as he brought you closer to orgasm.

you held on tightly, soon you came around his cock. you were pressed further into the bed while price worked his hips against yours. you tensed up, the pleasure washed through your body as you came. you let out a delicate whine and price licked his lips.

"that's it, that's my girl." he purred as he came inside of you while you were in the height of your pleasure, "all for daddy."

"mmm, fuck." you whined.

he continued to fuck you through his climax, only soon after slowed to a stop before he made out with you messily once more. you moaned into the kiss and held onto his shoulders tightly as the two of you continued to make out on the bed.

he pulled out and got next to you, before he pulled you in his arms once more and picked up his discarded book. you were a lot less whiny now, curled up with your lover and letting him read in peace. he kissed the top of your head, that's alright though. if you need too loud again, your daddy was more than happy to finish another load in you <3

[moonlight-fox]

I get I'm preaching to the choir here, but...

a) I always try to build a character that fits the game's (or campaign's) premise. And this idea that it is "overly controlling" (as I've seen said) for a GM to restrict player options is... An anathema to that concept to me. If the campaign or adventure would require soemthing specific, I'm doing my damdest to make them fit. All circus performers? I'm figuring out my act even if I'm not asked for that. All pirates? Yar matey, I be playin a pirate for this here campaign. All elf? That's going to need a very good pitch but if you pull it off I'll play a goddamn elf.

a i) Granted I might be biased by having done a bunch of freeform roleplay in my youth and seeing how... Gonzo... my creative instincts can be if not reigned in. I have played souls trapped in crystaline structures that they can levitate above the ground and which use telekinesis to interact with the world and can manipulate the refraction of light for various effects (some harmful). That was the second, more grounded, character after my first didn't work - A character who, for all intents and purposes, was a floating disco ball was the grounded option that didn't annoy both me and the GM.

a i a) ...I should remake that disco ball as an Animon for Animon Story sometime, either as an NPC or partner animon. Nightmare Light, probably. Maybe Other but 'soul who died by being impaled on crystal' means he's a ghost and ghosts feel nightmare per that system's classification.

a ii) I know I've seen GMs who "I want to accomodate my players to play whatever they want" but... Unless we're doing world creation as a group in session 0 or beforehand, either via a formal system such as Lexicon or Microscope or an informal chat, what I want is for you to help me make a character who fits into your world and campaign concept. Don't risk me inflicting a sapient disco ball on your campaign.

a ii a) Although I am self aware enough to deliberately try to go with more 'normal' options as presented by books the first time I play with a new GM. Sticking with options found in the core book (if there are multiple) the first time I play a system unless told differently. The more unusual options within that book, often - I know without reading the system that I'd go with the duck option in Dragonbane - but something that the book presents as "this is the range of normalacy in this game for PCs"

a iii) Although something I've found over the past year or so is that I actually quite enjoy being given systems to randomise aspects of my character and then figuring out who my character is from what I randomly selected and building out from that. One shots of CoC and Mausritter, with that method of character creation being the default, led me to doing it on my own behest sometimes for my solo gaming if I didn't have something specific in mind when coming up with the campaign.

b) Sometimes reluctant heroes can work. But only if part of the campaign pitch forces these characters to... Whatever we're here to play. Having someone who isn't inclined to do adventure for a game with the premise of "As part of Session 1 you'll all find yourselves in Hell, and the campaign will be based on finding your way out of it." is a very different prospect to one where "You're going to be heroes for hire in an epic fantasy world". In the former, a character who would rather be at home growing potatoes works, because they have to have adventure in order to go back to growing potatoes. In the second, why would you ever make a character who would rather be at home growing potatoes?

b i) I try and nest reasons for my character to go with whatever the adventure is into them, particularly for stuff that isn't one shots or hyper specific in what's going to happen. This is easier if the pitch is that we all know each other before hand - Protective of friends. Easy for friends to talk into shenanigans that are against their better judgement - but 'reward motivated' is usually a reliable one for adventure fantasy to make work.

c) Flipping the script, something I often like to do when running a one shot - Or sometimes campaign - is to have a broader idea and for the players to tell me during character creation why it is they're doing what they're doing. Obviously some games like Escape From Dino Island bake this into the game's structure, and then bake that reason into the adventure I'd either already planned or am improvising. Again, this requires the PCs to know each other before hand.

d) Does anyone know how to indent bullet points in tumblr so if I'm doing a post like this again I don't need to be doing a) b) b i) b ii) b ii a) style stuf?

I mean, it's at least little bit funny how Hasbro's efforts to position Dungeons & Dragons as a universal entry-level game have managed to undo thirty years of development in D&D's culture of play and we're back to litigating whether "you should create characters who actually have a reason to go on adventures rather than expecting the GM to do backflips to justify their presence" is unreasonably imposing upon the player's creative freedom like it's fucking 1994.

[tinylilacbun]

f u t i l e e s c a p e . ݁ ₊ ⊹ . ݁ ˖ . ݁

You've fed his fantasies for long enough, pretending to be his perfect girl in order to earn his trust and let his guard down, waiting for the perfect time for him to make a mistake, which luckily happened to be sooner than you thought.

You lay curled up on the dingy mattress, not being able to sleep but pretended to have fallen asleep earlier when JJ came to tuck you in and waited for you to close your eyes, knowing that if you didn't he would give you a spiked cup of milk.

Suddenly you can't seem to remember if you heard the familiar sound of the lock clicking in place or not, he couldn't have forgotten it, right?

Eventually you get up, trying to make no noise as you pad towards the door, taking a deep breath before grabbing the doorknob, turning it slowly.

To your surprise, it's open, he actually forgot to lock it earlier, that's your chance to escape and return back home.

You can't rush this though, the second JJ finds out what you're up to you know you're in for it, quietly stepping out into the hallway and quickly spot the door to the backyard.

Your feet automatically carry you towards the possibility of freedom, your hands shaking as you unlock the door and step outside, your socked-clad feet touching grass for the first time in weeks.

Not being able to handle it anymore, you run.

Unbeknownst to you, a certain pair of blue eyes narrow in on you as he takes one last drag from his cigarette, flicking it onto the ground and exhales, shaking his head in disappointment.

He quickly went after you, already thinking about how to punish you for this stunt as he really felt betrayed by your move, thinking that you finally understood that your place is with him.

Eventually you trip over a branch that is hidden under some leafs, a yelp leaving your lips as you fall onto the dirty ground, scraping your knees in the process.

Just as you're about to push yourself up again you feel a shoe press on your back, pushing you back into the ground as you whimper.

"You really thought you could run without me noticing? I told you, I'm watching your every move, always have, always will." JJ's low voice has you freezing in place. "I gotta say, I'm hurt. I do everything for you to feel comfortable and safe, giving you everything I have to offer and working my ass off, and this is how you thank me?"

The tears flow before you can stop them, not knowing if it's because he caught you or because of the way he sounds so disappointed in you.

He moves his foot from your back and you scramble to your knees, shuffling to face him as you sniffle. "N-No, I-I'm sorry-"

"Sorry?" He scoffs, crossing his arms, not giving in to your crocodile tears. "If you're so sorry, then why did you run in the first place, huh? HUH!"

You flinch as he raises his voice, knowing you've really fucked it up since he shows you no ounce of gentleness like he used to whenever you screamed at him to let you go or threw anything you got your hands on across the room he kept you locked in.

You shake your head desperately, reaching out for him but sob when he takes a step back from you and his sudden rejection somehow makes your chest tighten, feeling the strong urge to gain his favor again.

"Ple- pwease..." You weep, wincing as you shuffle on your scraped knees closer to him, grabbing onto his jeans so he can't move away again. "Didn' mean to! Jus- Jus' wanted some air."

He hums as in thought, uncrossing his arms to rest his hands on his hips. "Just some air. Better not get used to it 'cause you won't get some for a while."

You look up at him with wide eyes, nodding your head, trying anything to get on his good side again. "M-M'sorry papa..."

Finally, he starts to smile, his dimple showing as he places his hand on top of your head, patting it in a condescending way. "There you go. C'mere, sugar." He coos, grabbing one of your hands that are still clutching at his leg to help you up, tsking at your bruised knees. "Look at what you did to yourself."

He swiftly lifts you into his arms, carrying you back towards the cabin that you should start seeing as your new life now as you can't seem to escape it, even if you tried.

[guardian-angle22]

Do you have any hurt/comfort or angsty tarlos fic recs? I love some tk whump and just recently finished the show!

These two are the sweetest and i keep thinkin of all tk went thru as such a young addict and the things ppl will do for the next hit and i cry a lil just from the details we don't get in the show that allow my brain to wander

Hello! Welcome to the fandom, first of all! There's so many good fics for you to discover and read for the first time. Especially if you're looking for angsty tarlos and TK whump fics.

The AO3 tag for Hurt TK Strand has over 1,000 fics in it! 🤯

(pls enjoy this fic rec banner I had saved from back when we did fic rec fridays but I could never do things on time 🤭)

I personally would direct you to start with the following...

Any fic by vaguenotion, but in particular: You Keep Coming Back With A Bird in Your Teeth

Any fic by @morganaspendragonss but I think this fic in particular fits well with what you're looking for: lately you've been searching for a darker place to hide

@marjansmarwani has a lot of really good angsty fics as well. I highly recommend: If I die before I wake (and also a fun AU that also has some hurt TK: I am not what you planned)

The author angstk lives up to their username! They have a lot of fic you'd probably enjoy.

Any fic by @henrygrass will not disappoint! I highly recommend: Weep Not For Me

@littlemissmarianna has a lot of amazing fic I'd recommend you read! This is one of my faves: Along Came Shep

@decafdino has some great angst in his fics, a lot of them also incorporate some fun fantasy elements! But for you, I'd specifically rec: Not the Picture That Comes with the Frame

There are SO MANY more fics that would fit what you're looking for that I'm sure are beloved by me that I just can't think of right now. If anyone else has some they'd like to add, please do!

[notatzimisce]

This is one of the reasons we think whatever I have going on is probably pure-neurological, and probably a different brain disease than what's plaguing most depressed people -- there isn't actually a thought pattern underlying it. For me, it was always more like being mind controlled. Or even like being in physical pain. Like there was something external to my thought processes making me miserable against my will, and I didn't understand why. I'd introspect and figure out what I was ruminating on (if anything -- often nothing whatsoever) and try to talk myself through it. And it almost never worked. But as soon as I started getting neurostim, talking myself through situations and feelings started working literally immediately.

This is also why therapy never helped. One time I took a therapist's suggestion to leave a note next to my bed about something good and read it when I got up. Also, if I found myself starting to ruminate, I should immediately think about something else. This made perfect sense for derailing bad thought-patterns, so I tried it.

On iirc the second day of this strategy, I felt a bad mood coming on from the moment I woke up. I read my nice note and successfully shut down the beginnings of miserable thoughts and tried going about my day, and it just didn't work. It felt like some part of my brain was actively fighting me to try to find and latch onto something, literally anything it could despair spiral about, and when I discarded one thing it'd look for something else.

It took hours for me to slip up and fall into it, but even until that point, there was this vague, nasty feeling of malaise hanging over everything and it just wouldn't go away. It felt like from the moment I woke up, there was a storm brewing inside my head. It felt like there was something dark on the horizon slowly sweeping in, and sooner or later it was going to break.

There was another time I thought I should figure out what it'd take to make me happy, and if I did that, surely I would identify some obvious problems I needed to take care of. The result of that thought experiment was the realization that in the wildest fantasy world I could imagine, where nobody ever had to suffer again and everybody had everything they want forever somehow, I still wouldn't be happy, for no reason whatsoever. It just seemed like I was incapable of it, physically.

Presumably there's an unknown amount of other depressed people who also have whatever this particular neurological problem is, but it's really hard to say how many when we don't yet know what it is or how to test for it. I think the study I'm in judges in large part by what kind of response someone has to failed ECT, because when they were screening me they wanted me to get really specific about that.

Rhetoric against the depressive mindset is usually tedious saccharine opium bullshit but unfortunately this makes bearers of the depressive mindset (among whose ranks I sometimes find myself) feel way more justified than they/we have any right to. Like...the depressive mindset is ALSO tedious and stupid. There's an urge for managing your own mind to be all carrot or all stick. It's simpler that way. But it's stupid! It doesn't work! You have to judiciously apply the carrot and the stick at the right times in the right proportions, it's a huge pain in the ass

[mieldreams]

Pure Imagination

Summary: Come with me and you'll be in a world of pure imagination

or where Vader delivers sweet torture in cruel dreams

pairing: Darth Vader x reader

word count: 4,912

warnings: smut smut smut, minors DNI (as the title suggests, dream stuff and I'm not too sure abt how comprehensible this is ngl), inappropriate use of the force etc.

a/n: 5k of pure filth, wasn't actually planning on releasing this cuz I wrote it so long ago but...oh well. it's the first time I wrote a full fledged smut fic, hope y'all like

You're in a rare deep slumber when you hear it, the unmistakable mechanical inhales and exhales coming from a dark silhouette in your mind. “You again.” That almost droid-like voice is hard to misidentify and all your senses freeze at once. Panic builds inside you but on the outside, you somehow remain asleep. “Vader? What the fuck?” You weren't exactly unfamiliar with the infamous Sith lord, having run into him on more occasions than you'd like, which established you on at least a ‘he can recognise me by face’ basis – much to your displeasure. But why in the kriffing hell were you hearing his voice in your mind right now? Hadn't you just gone to sleep? Fuck, had Vader found your secret base and infiltrated it? Had he taken you hostage and was he planning on torturing you through his weird mind fuckery? “Your inability to comprehend the ways of the Force does not make it absurd or a deception.” His hoarse voice echoes in your mind once again and you scoff. “Do not patronize me in my own mind. What the fuck do you want? Why are you here?” “You tell me, Rebel.” He spits out the word like it's venomous and putrid. You're losing patience, you're not sure what is happening – last time you checked you were supposed to be asleep in your room, so how was Vader manipulating your mind? “Your mind could be penetrated in my sleep, though I doubt I'd find anything of use.” His voice booms, emotionless as always, “However, it seems you have something rather interesting to show me.” You're starting to get pissed off by this giant fucking leather-wrapped tin can. “Hmmm, your tongue is sharp. If only the same could be said about your intellect.” He spits out, “After all, which perfect little rebel would want something like this.” Suddenly, an image flashes in your mind and your face immediately pales, appalled by what appears before you. In a quick flash you see yourself, lying on your back, goosebumps spreading across your skin as your bare breasts stiffen in the air. You hear your laboured breathing; see the way your chest heaves up and down. And then, you see him. The Darth Vader – in between your legs. His head over your most intimate area. You don't see his face, and the image cuts off right below his shoulders, but the way you're clutching him, pulling him in, and the way his head moves, the way your legs quiver and the way your mouth remains dropped open in pleasure very well lets you know what is going on. You gasp, your own horrified voice echoing in your mind, “What the fuck is this? What the fuck are you doing to me?” His tone would be teasing if he were speaking with his natural voice, “Would you like me to give a descriptive narration?” You growl, “What are you trying to do? Some new perverted mind trick your kind have come up with?” Despite the angry words thrown at him, on the inside you feel terrified. Because where even is this ‘him’? You're shouting at him in your mind but he isn't appearing to you. Just his hollow voice echoing endlessly in your brain with seemingly no origin. “Do not forget your place, Rebel.” It seems you have pissed him off now, or whatever weird body-less voice version of him at least, great. “These fantasies are a creation of your mind. Not so much a perfect rebel now, are we?” You're not going to just let him bullshit his way into your mind no matter what. “Your lies won't work on me.” “You think this is a lie?” He flashes the same image in your head again. This time you appear even more desperate in the filthy act he shows you, hips moving wildly as you moan and pull his head closer to your cunt. “A pity you fight against the want. Your subconscious betrays you.” “You're a kriffing liar!”

“Silence!” His voice booms in your head and you flinch. “A lie? You think I am lying? What about this?” Quickly the image changes, this time showing a close-up of your most intimate parts. Heat pours into your cheeks while anger burns through your veins. A black gloved hand comes into the frame, teasingly snaking up your thigh to caress your folds. You watch, frozen in horror, as it catches your clit, rubbing circles on the nub before dipping lower to tease at the slit. It does this a bunch of times till your empty hole is pulsating in demand, all the while your desperate little pants and whines colour the background. “Vader– want you inside me, please...” Your voice echoes through the dream. The hand, his hand, gently smacks your cunt to silence you before two of his long, gloved fingers enter you. Even through the image you can tell that they are thick, and to your surprise they move slowly at first, yet expertly, delivering deep thrusts that send shivers up your spine. “Stop this! Stop it! Why are you doing this?” You scream at him and his angry voice answers, “Why? Isn't this what you want? Isn't this what your body craves? Or do you still think this is a lie?” The image before you quickly shifts again, this time showing his fingers moving fast and hard inside you. He removes them to rub and pinch at your clit, before pressing on your slit again, this time with three fingers. “What do you want from me? Stop this! You're lying!” “Is that so?” The three fingers swiftly plunge into you, this time your loud moan sounds and your own hand comes into the picture, grabbing his wrist, holding him there. Vader's voice taunts you in your mind, “So this isn't what you want?” You watch as his hand quickly shakes yours off and the same hand that was inside you delivers a loud slap to your cunt, your hips jerking up in reaction but Vader's other hand pins them down. He delivers another wet slap to your cunt, then another and another, each one getting messier and messier as you get wetter and wetter. His fingers finally enter you again and it doesn't take long before you're gushing your release all over his hand. He prolongs your high by rubbing on your already sensitive clit and it has the dream-you begging, “Vader, please...” You shout in your head once again, “What the fuck is wrong with you? Stop this! Get out of my head!” “Do not assume that I am here by pleasure,” he clearly means to taunt you more, alluding to the embarrassing state you just saw yourself in, “it is your mind projecting this.” If you could, you would stab him. “So tell me, Rebel, am I to believe this is not something you want?” “I don't care what the fuck you believe. Get. out. of my fucking head.” He continues, “So you wouldn't want me to do this?” Out of nowhere, you feel a small pressure on your neck, one that steadily grows, as if someone were holding you by the throat. You panic – you had heard about the Sith Lord's preferred method of quickly disposing of his enemies – choking the life out of them as their flailing bodies struggled to get enough oxygen, limbs convulsing and face paling till they eventually died. He was going to kill you in your sleep. Your mind is on high alert, yet your body remains unconscious in bed. (But to your surprise the warm pressure slowly moves down south, running down your throat and over your breasts before burrowing under your pants. Your mind is on high alert, yet your body remains unconscious in bed. You barely have time to say something before a whimper escapes you. You think to yourself that you're glad you sleep in separate quarters, though quickly stopping that line of thought in case Vader finds something about your location. You feel the same caressing movement you saw in the image in real life, running up and down your slit a couple times before stopping on your clit.) “Tell me, Princess, what does your body tell you.” “—If you think that is not enough, what about this?”

The next image he projects in your mind absolutely destroys you. You see your bare back facing you in the fantasy, though your torso is not enough to hide Vader's wide built silhouette in front of you. You are straddling him, but this time too the image is cut off just below your waist. However it doesn't take a genius to figure out what is going on when you can so clearly see the way your body moves on top of his, swivelling your hips sensually as you move up and down. The way your back arches, the way you cling to him, nails digging into the leather over his chest, the breathy moans that escape you. The you in the image grabs Vader's gloved hand and places it on your throat and the real you – or at least your consciousness in your mind gasps in mortification. “How scandalous. The proper princess of the rebellion wants me.” He mocks, “worse, she wants me to want her.” This whole time you had been angry, mad at the evil Sith Lord for showing you these lies – these perverted images that you don't understand the purpose of. What is he trying to achieve? Does he hope to shame you? Provoke you? Therefore weaken your mind's resolve and obtain some information from you? But then you watch yourself in the fantasy – your hips quickening their pace as your breathy moans become raspier and louder, Vader's huge hand roams your naked back, running the middle finger of his gloved palm down your spine before moving to your front again. He caresses your breasts, toying with them and it makes the dream-you mewl. Suddenly the Vader in the projection grabs your hips, stopping your movements entirely, making you whine. He lands a stern slap on your ass in warning before pulling you in by your waist, guiding your arms from his chest to lay over his shoulders.

You can only stare in horror and regretfully–arousal, as Vader takes full control, thrusting up into you with such precision it has you screaming. You still cannot see anything below your waists and yet the lewd sounds that now echo in your mind, mixed with your own traitorous mouth chanting his name in pleasure, asking him, begging him to make you cum, has a certain humiliating warmth pooling in your centre. You want to look away, you want him to stop showing you these cursed dreams – but you have no idea how. The images are directly showing in your head and Vader doesn't seem to actually be in your room. So how do you stop this? Before you get to shout at him again, the previous pressure on your neck, one that you had nearly forgotten about, grows stronger again, pressing more on your throat till you can hear your own heartbeat echoing in your head. You realise then that the pressure on your throat is definitely not something imagined and that somehow, Vader was actually choking you physically in your sleep. Were you wrong about your assumptions? Had Vader really somehow broken into your quarters? But the others would know. They'd wake you – they'd try to stop him. Wouldn't they? Or had they all already tried – and failed to stop him. Is that why you could physically feel his hands on your throat? “You think too much.” His voice echoes after a long time, “Tell me, Princess – after everything I've shown you – do you still dare to think of this as a deception?” You don't know what to say, you have always wished for Darth Vader's defeat in every battle you have been a part of, always hoped that the tyrannical rule he was a part of would end. And yet you also knew that there was something weird– something wrong here. Every time you had encountered the Sith Lord you had felt an odd sort of feeling in your mind, as if something was amiss. You had always been wary of the force-users and weren't entirely convinced of its powers– or better yet, its presence in the universe. Yet every time you ran into Vader, you had always felt a certain presence in your being – like a pull, a connection that wasn't quite complete. Like two wires of a running circuit that occasionally rubbed together and created sparks. But what does it mean? What does any of this mean? You still cannot believe that whatever Vader showed you was some sort of prediction of the future. However, he told you that it was your mind that projected this.

But can you believe him? You would scream and fight and argue that he's a cruel perverted liar and that none of this is true. But then why is there a part of you that suddenly feels heavy with need? You almost want to strangle yourself when you realise the wetness in your pants. And you suppose you really should just jump off a cliff when you realise that Vader can and probably is reading your mind right now. “I do not need to read your mind to know your desperation, Rebel.” Or maybe you could throw him off one instead. “While it would surely be amusing to see you attempt, right now, Princess, tell me – are you still convinced that all I've shown you is a deception?” With his words he slowly moves the pressure down your neck, tracing your collarbones to your breasts, cupping them as if they were naked. He fondles them, pinching and pulling and you whimper. “—that you don't want this?” His hands ghost down your torso, caressing your hips before moving further south. You freeze when you feel him slip below the waistband of your pants, going lower and lower before stopping right at your slit – the same way he had in the vision he showed you. He mimics the same actions from the fantasy on your body – running his fingers up and down teasingly before pausing on your clit to rub slow circles. “Tell me to stop, Princess.” He slips his fingers lower again to put pressure on your slit without actually slipping inside and you're not sure how to answer him. You want him to stop because this cannot be right – you already don't know how he's even doing this, and surely you don't want to fuck Vader? But then you don't want him to stop because the expertise with which he's teasing your tits and rubbing your clit is making it hard to think. Vader can tell that you're at the edge of your limits. He flashes all the images he's shown you once again, repeating them in your head as he lures you, “Look,” he can tell that you're trying to fight him, trying to break off his connection and stop him from showing you these visions. Too bad he's a Sith Lord and much better at controlling. Brats like you really need to be tamed. “I said look.” The images flash much quicker now, all of them with you naked and begging for Vader to take you. He uses the force to toy with your body once again – phantom lips kiss their way from the corner of your mouth and up your jaw to nibble at the sensitive spot right under your ear. He shows you your own face in the visions where you climax in his mouth, on his fingers, on his cock – your mouth dropped, brows scrunched and naked chest heaving as you whine and moan. He makes you listen to your own screams of pleasure, of begging – begging to give you his cock, to let you cum, to do it all over again.

The real Vader puts a steady thrumming pressure on your clit, one that would've had you immediately buckling at the knees if you weren't still asleep in your bed. You can't help the whimper that escapes you. “Vader, please...” You feel ashamed when you find yourself repeating the words from the dream, though you're not sure if you're pleading him to stop or asking for more. “What's the matter, Princess? Surely a proud rebel like yourself wouldn't want a Sith Lord?” His voice continues mocking you as the humming pressure turns into full vibrations over your clit and that combined with the way he pinches your nipples has you melting against your own wishes. Or is it? Is this really against your own wishes? You can lie to him, but can you really lie to yourself? And it seems Vader's presence in your mind is as attentive as ever as he soon questions. “Tell me to stop. You said I was lying – so why aren't you stopping me?” Vader can feel the steady build of a climax in you, you are right at the brink and he can tell that all it would take is one push to send you over the edge. Suddenly, he stops all his actions. Every way he was touching you–it all disappears in a second. It happens so quickly it's like your body gets whiplash. You feel naked despite the fact that your body is still fully clothed and tucked in bed. You sob, “Vader—” “What is it, Princess?” When your own inner turmoil keeps you silent he continues his provocation, “Surely, you do not want me–a Sith Lord, to fuck you?” He mocks with a surprised tone. “Surely you do not want something like this,” he once again flashes another image in your head. This time you're on your back again, fully naked, but the sight doesn't shock you after all that you have seen in the past few minutes. Your hair is strewn over the surface, nipples hard as your half-lidded eyes twinkle up at him, a teasing smile pulls on your lips as your nails dig into Vader's stomach, dragging them up before spreading your palms over his chest. You tug him to you, and Vader's wide frame covers your body.

He is still clothed and his cloak falls over his shoulders to drape over the two of you. You watch as he squeezes your throat, but unlike the panic that grows in you every time you feel Vader's hands over your neck, the you in the dream smiles. She smiles and puts her hand over his as if encouraging him and fuck that shouldn't make you drip even more but it does. Vader shuffles back a little and for the first time in all of the visions he's shown you do you get to see any part of him. The real parts. And it's his cock – thick and long, slightly curved–and heavy. Heavy as you watch yourself take him in your palms, heavy as Vader slips his hand under yours to pin your wrists above you before thumping his cock on your button, making you whimper. Heavy as he runs it up and down your slit before he hooks the fat head in your hole. The dream you hums in pleasure as Vader's thick cock parts your walls, except suddenly he stops. He stops halfway in, running his possessive hands up and down your hips and legs. The pause makes you whine, instinctually clenching around him to pull him deeper and it almost knocks the breath out of Vader. He leaves a stinging hand print on your ass as a reminder to behave before one of his hands comes down to where the two of you are joined. Watching his hands–it makes you think. Even during such an intimate act Vader never takes off his gloves, in fact he doesn't even take off his clothes. In every dream you have seen tonight he is always fully clothed and it almost makes you yearn to see what he actually looks like. The dream you was always busy being fucked senseless by Vader but you couldn't stop wondering about how he was underneath all that leather. How would it feel if he were to touch you, really touch you. Would his hands be warm to touch? Or would they be as cold as his voice? Your contemplation doesn't last long as that same vibrating pressure grows stronger on your clit, just as the pleasure blooms in your core. Every time Vader touches you, really touches you–with whatever weird sexual Force abilities he possesses, your mind goes entirely blank. It's like he quickly takes over every string controlling your body and all you can do is give in. You give in as Vader cups your sex and palms your throat–it's as if he's right there behind you, broad chest to your back, slow and deep breaths exhaled right next to your ear, tickling you and somehow arousing you further. When you start getting fussy he tightens his grip on your throat, “Watch.” He commands before directing your attention to what he's projecting in your mind. You stare in embarrassment and arousal as the dream Vader first makes you come on his tip, using his fingers to pinch and pull and rub on your clit, pushing you to your high till you're pulsing around the head of his cock. It makes him dig his nails into your plush thighs, slick fingers moving up to grip your ass and lift your hips up to use for his pleasure. Vader pulls out of you to tease you again. You had been whining the entire time he was playing with your body and it entirely distracted you from the way Vader was actually toying with you in reality. Or was this all a dream too?

Your thoughts are cut off as Vader lines his thick fingers to your slit, circling and circling till you're dripping and surely staining your pants. Your hips move on their own to get him to finally push inside. You're embarrassed but also glad that you have separate quarters and that you sleep alone. “You want it that bad, Princess?” His deep voice rumbles in your mind. Wasn't the bastard supposed to be able to read your mind? You don't answer, instead, you try to reach out to whatever it was Vader was using to toy with you, focusing in your mind on that odd sensation that seems to be the source of all this. Maybe it's Vader's own distracted nature that allows you to sense his presence so quickly in the Force, especially when he doesn't do anything to stop you as you reach out to him, to the feeling of him. You connect to his presence, as if gently caressing the very fabric of his being. It feels somewhat weird; you've never done anything like it before. It feels like you're weaving yourself into him as you concentrate on the feeling of him in your mind. Even his presence feels intimidating–strong and dark, imposing and fearful. Yet, you reach out, gently, a little unsure but determined to get him to do something, anything.

You wonder why Vader isn't doing anything to stop you, especially when you know he can, being all-powerful and all that. Did he want this just as much as you? Your contemplation is cut short as you feel a steady pressure on your entrance and you throw your head back, thinking fucking finally. You think you hear something like a deep chuckle echoing in your mind before the same dream from before flashes at the forefront again. This time, dream Vader lines his cock up with your hole just as you feel the force touch grow stronger on your cunt, and simultaneously you watch as Vader's cock swiftly enters you and you feel a thick length bury deep inside. A loud moan echoes in your mind and you can't tell if it was the dream you or you. This time Vader doesn't waste a second before he starts thrusting, both in the dream and inside you. You watch as Vader fucks you fast and hard and feel as the heavy girth parts your walls, before pulling back to deliver sharp and precise thrusts, making you feel so full that it steals your breath and renders you speechless. “Hmm, nothing to say now, Princess? No accusations of lies or deception?” When you say nothing Vader slows down his pace, again both in the dream and in you, and this time even if the dream you says anything it goes completely unheard as you whine out. After watching yourself come apart so many times, hearing your whines and begs, the lewd sounds of fucking, you were downright aching, desperate to have your want fulfilled and your cunt stuffed. “Tsk, tsk tsk, such filthy wants you have, Princess.” His mocking voice booms, “and here I thought you wanted me defeated and dead.” You did, you swear you did, just....after you were done with whatever this was. Because fuck Vader feels so good inside you, so big and so deep, especially as he grinds into you without pulling out. In the haze of your pleasure you barely notice Vader picking up pace again and in retaliation he delivers a slap to your ass and it's so much worse. It's so much worse because it feels so so good, your hole pulsating around nothing desperately. “Watch.” He echoes the same word again as he forces you to concentrate on the dream he's showing you. It's a struggle to focus as Vader expertly fucks you into the mattress, pleasure coursing through your veins as he hits that deep spot inside you again and again. It becomes so much more difficult when he makes you watch the way he fucks you, the way his broad frame covers you entirely, practically dwarfing you, the way you greedily swallow him, stretched to your limits as his thick cock thrusts into you – hard and fast, not showing any mercy. Holy shit, you realise, Vader was showing you how he would fuck you, and he's making you feel how he would fuck you. All without fucking you at all.

He's ruining you, absolutely ruining you as the lewd sounds of him thrusting hard and deep into your wet pussy echo in your mind. As sweat runs down your forehead, as your chest heaves, and as your cunt leaks and leaks, surely ruining your sleepwear. As you sob in pleasure and you can’t even tell if it’s from the dream or you.

You feel the pressure on your neck return and it makes you heady, your eyes roll to the back of your head as Vader toys with your clit again, not faltering in his pace of fucking you.

You’re barrelling towards the edge at record speed, but you would never admit to Vader that no one’s ever fucked you this good, not even the best sex of your real life came close to whatever Vader was doing to you now.

Did you feel guilty about it? Immeasurably so. But it wasn’t at the front of your mind when you could also feel the way you were so close. So so close – just one more deep thrust, just one more flick of your button, just one squeeze of your throat and you’d be—

Suddenly every bit of touch disappears from your body.

The long length inside you is no longer there, the wide palm on your bare throat has vanished and the thrumming pressure on your clit has faded into nothing.

You can’t help the cry that escapes you, calling out his name in desperation.

There is no reply. You writhe on the bed, your desperation showing in the way your knuckles protrude as you fist the bedsheet, your hips squirming and cunt pulsing in need for what was so cruelly stolen from you.

You quickly sit up as your mind awakes and your eyes shoot open. Your quick pants are the only sound you can hear in the pin drop silence of your separate quarters.

Your voice is shaky as you call out, “V-Vader?”

Still no reply. You let your head fall into your hands, a silent sob escaping you as you come down from the high. Your cheeks feel warm, in fact, your whole body feels on fire and you just can’t seem to get enough air into your lungs.

The tears that slip down your face, dry and cool your heated skin but it’s not enough.

Every encounter with Vader always made you feel like something was missing, and tonight that feeling’s stronger than ever, carving out a chunk of your being and wringing your stomach into knots.

You feel hollow. Unsure. Unsafe. And yet you want to forget all of this. There is no physical evidence of anything other than your ruined underwear that you’re more than willing to ignore. Maybe this was all just a dream. A very very bad dream. Nothing more.

Just as you’re about to chalk this all up to some weird way of the universe fucking with you, a deep inhale echoes in your mind.

“The temple is where our business will be finished.”

And just like that you’re once again left alone in the silent darkness of the room.

a/n: welp folks, here we have it. weird way to say it ig but happy star wars day! may the force be with you

(ignore that this is a day late and also absolutely not proofread, both becuz tumblr was being a bitch and I lost this fic like 6 times and I almost don't care anymore lol)

[bluerose5]

A Moment of Peace

A short, sweet scene inspired by @yellingaboutmasseffect's tags on my Davrin/Wyll post. Of course I had to write something for this while inspiration struck, so a gift for you!

“Don't!” Wyll warned, his heart all but pounding out of his chest. He ducked farther behind the tree, careful to keep his wings and tail tucked in close against him. His voice trembled when he spoke, his eye burning with the beginning of unshed tears. “D–Don't come any closer!”

How quickly he felt like a young lad again, faced with the thought of rejection, but this was no mere crush he was dealing with either.

This was Davrin, and that made all the difference in the world.

Abruptly, Davrin stopped in his tracks, frowning while Wyll hid from him, but he didn't push the matter. He did as he was told, not taking another step, lest he risk losing the one chance at another shot with him that he'd been waiting years for.

Both of them remained silent, stuck at an impasse until Davrin swallowed past the lump in his throat, speaking up when he could bear the distance between them no longer.

He recalled this silly chant they used to call out as kids, back when fighting monsters was only a fantasy to them.

Perhaps it was a bit cheesy, but the words returned to him, clear as day.

“Little prince, little prince,” he said, sparing him a wistful smile, “would you tell me if you ran?”

From behind the tree, Wyll rested his forehead against its trunk with a deep breath. In the distance, he could hear the roar of the circus still raging on, but it was nothing more than background noise to them now.

Everything around them paled in comparison to each other.

Wyll laughed through a sob, clutching at his chest.

“Brave knight, brave knight,” he responded, “catch me if you can.”

It was at that point when Davrin usually gave chase, both of them laughing and squealing in a game of tag that felt like it could go on forever. Time always did work funny there at the circus, but Davrin didn't make a move towards Wyll. Not yet, at least.

Instead, Davrin held a hand out in his direction, reciting the words they used when the chase was over. 

“Little prince, little prince, take me by the hand?” he breathed, more of a question than the statement it was supposed to be.

Wyll felt his lower lip wobble.

“Brave knight, brave knight.” He peeked out around the tree, watching Davrin take in the sight of his glowing, red eye. “Would you lead me from this land?”

Any other day, they'd leave it at that, Davrin taking Wyll by the hand and dragging him off to whatever else they had planned, but this wasn't “any other day” to them.

Even then, even getting a glimpse of what he was, Davrin didn't hesitate to say, “If only you'd give me the chance.”

Wyll's face fell.

“Dav,” he choked out, shaking his head at him. “I'm not the same Wyll that you remember.”

“Yeah, well…” Davrin chuckled bleakly. “I'm probably not the same Davrin you remember either.” He shrugged. “I still would like to see you, though, if it's all the same to you.”

Wyll paused, his voice small when he spoke.

“And if the little prince of your childhood has become one of the very monsters you've sworn to hunt?”

Davrin furrowed his brow at him.

“Monsters come in all shapes and sizes, Wyll. I think we both know that,” he said. “They are just as likely to look like the village baker as they are to look like the beasts from our storybooks, but perhaps similar could be said about our heroes as well.” When Wyll didn't respond, he pressed the matter. “Don't let doubt be what drives the wedge between us now. I've waited so long to be able to see you again, and something is telling me that you've been waiting for this moment as well.”

“Of course I have!” Wyll insisted, his hand gripping tightly at the tree's side, claws digging into the wood. “I've missed you as the wilting flower misses its sunlight. Like the snow-stricken grass misses the warmth of springtime.”

“Heh. That's my boy.” The words slipped free before he could second guess himself. “Always the romantic.”

Wyll scoffed, but Davrin swore that he saw a familiar smile take shape, followed by a flash of fangs.

“Like you're one to talk.”

Bracing himself, Davrin dared to take a slow step forward, careful not to startle him. He kept his hand still extended, encouraging Wyll closer with a curl of his fingers.

“Let me see you, Wyll.”

“Even in this cursed form? Forced upon me for doing what was right.”

That only raised more questions than answers, but Davrin didn't once falter. 

“Even then.”

After all, he didn't get to where he was without learning to wield the darker forces inside himself. Being a Warden meant accepting others from all walks of life, everyone from the lowest criminals to the highest nobility. It meant accepting that sometimes one had to become the monster in order to fight it best.

Whatever transformation Wyll had undergone, Davrin didn't fear him.

Of that, he was certain.

Wyll hesitated, then stepped forward into the light.

There were certainly parts of him that were different from what Davrin remembered. Aside from the claws and the fangs, Davrin watched a new set of wings unfold behind him, a tail whipping restlessly back and forth through the air. Horns curled up from his head like a pair of tusks, yet none of that was what stood out to him the most.

It was his eye, now gone, a patch covering the area where it once was.

All Davrin could think about was what suffering Wyll could have undergone in the time they'd been apart to leave him in such a state; although, while his heart broke for him, Davrin didn't think any less of him for it. He must have survived so much, since his exile. It would take time to get used to his new appearance, sure, but Davrin's feelings for him hadn't changed.

When Wyll slipped his hand into his, Davrin reeled him in closer, as he did the last time they saw each other.

Wyll's eye instinctively darted downwards, and both of them leaned in to close the distance between them, sealing their lips into a passionate, desperate kiss.

It had been too long.

Too long since they last saw each other.

Too long since they made their promise to one another.

Both of them melted into their embrace. Wyll's wings wrapped around them like a cocoon, his tail coiled around Davrin's waist. Davrin didn't even hesitate to deepen the kiss when given the chance, parting Wyll's lips with his own, coaxing a needy whimper from him as they clung to each other like their very lives depended on it.

And although they still had plenty to talk about, that particular discussion could wait for the time being.

After all those years of anticipation, after all those years of trials and loneliness and hardship, it was safe to assume that they had earned themselves this moment of peace.

[viveela]

They can't stay in character

[isles-of-man]

Erik's eyes widened, his breath catching in his throat as he felt Emily's warm, wet mouth envelop him beneath the table. He clenched his jaw, fighting to maintain his composure as her tongue swirled expertly around his throbbing head. The restaurant continued its ambient chatter around them, completely unaware of what was happening just inches below the pristine white tablecloth.

"Jesus," he whispered. he shifted slightly in his seat, spreading his legs wider to give her better access while his other hand remained visible above the table, casually holding his wine glass. The contrast between his calm exterior and the electric pleasure coursing through his veins was intoxicating.

"When I get you home," he murmured, just loud enough for only her to hear, "I'm going to fulfill every single one of those fantasies. I'll bend you over and film every second of it, just like you want."

Erik felt her moan vibrate against his cock, sending shockwaves of pleasure up his spine. He took a sip of wine to mask his reaction, his eyes darting around to ensure they weren't drawing attention.

"I'll make you my little maid, alright," he continued, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "

The restaurant's ambient noise faded to a dull hum in his ears. He maintained his composure with herculean effort, his face a careful mask of normalcy while pleasure surged through his body.

"Everything alright, sir?" The waiter approached, notepad in hand.

"Just fine," Erik managed, his voice strained but controlled. "We'll take the check when you have a moment." He could feel Emily's hand fondling around his balls as she played with him, her skilled fingers nearly causing him to groan aloud.

As the waiter walked away, Erik leaned forward slightly, whispering down toward the tablecloth. “I’m going to reward you for this later, baby. 

"I'll tie your hands behind your back," he continued in a hushed tone. "Make you watch yourself in the mirror while I breed you. I’ll tie you to the headboard and fuck you so hard you’ll feel me for days. We’ll record all of it. Make all the bloody videos you want.” 

emily smiled at erik, a warm and sensual smile. she knew that this was a dangerous situation, one where they could be possibly caught. but loved it, she loved this instant danger and feeling him enjoying this foot rub under the table.

feeling now his pants opening, her foot pressing on his boxers, emily bit her lip as she fought the urge of going under the table. she truly wanted to be already home, already lying in his bed and being at his mercy. already being filled by him over and over again.

"oh, baby. i want you." she whispered under her breath, finding him so sexy. she loved how he adjusted under the table so no one would witness his hard cock. emily never thought that by waking up on this morning, her whole life would've changed. she would've simply thought that her daily life, working at the library and going home alone would've happened.

"don't say those things, you are tempting me." emily whispered, wishing he could take her already. she was now sure that she was completely soaked. her dress was soaked and the chair under her was also.

feeling his hand now reaching her leg, making circular motion, the woman bit her lip as she just knew that if he went further, he would feel how wet she was. how much she wanted him.

at the mention of the stories, the woman bit her lip. "yeah? would you let me be your maid, caught in this whole situation and being at your service? being bred every single night over and over again?" she smirked before adding. "one of my other biggest kinks is filming all of this. making my own little movie so i can watch later... i wish we could've filmed this morning.." she now provoked him her green hues showing lust.

unable to contain herself anymore, hearing his words, emily sighed. "i love this babe. i love it so much." she pushed her fork and made it fall on the floor. "oops..." she slowly moved her leg and looked around herself before sliding under the table to pick her fork up. however, as the tablecloth covered the whole surface, emily approached erik's crotch.

she could see his boxers being so tight, the tip of his cock screaming for air. gently pulling it lower, emily let his cock and balls out, her tongue instantly licking the tip of his cock. her hand was already playing with his balls while she wrapped her lips around his shaft and pushed her head to give him a blow job. all of this while trying to stay discreet.

[likeabxrdinflight]

tired of early 20-somethings acting like harry potter was never good or had no value in its day like shut the fuck up half of you weren't even there when it peaked

[not-brionnnne]

hey has anyone ever considered doing shinjiro smut for after the fade to black but he lays you across his lap, like has anyone ever considered the canon praise kink with him more—shinjiro who scolds you, calls you trouble and tells you to stay close to him like a "good girl", shinjiro who acts tough, pretends to be fed up with you pushing him around (he loves it, but that doesn't mean you're not gonna hear about it), ignoring what he wants, so two can play that game, and you think, god, he's not holding back anymore, he's going to kiss me, finally, we're going to— but no, he settles on his bed and pats his lap and tells you that you need to "take responsibility" for teasing him like that, messing with his feelings — "be a good girl." remember, you started this.

[moment-live]

By my guiding hand, perfected it stands.

[shawcl]

hate everything that comes out of natlan fr

[thessaralka]

men fall in love so fast it's crazy. women have to be pickier bc duh biology. babies. etc. it's kinda funny seeing men fall in love hard and then realize a woman is insane, like yeah could have told u that but i took the time to get to know her several months before making a judgment about her character. or if u'd waited 6 months you'd have seen it. or if u had higher standards. but nooo by date 2 he's either like "wedding bells" or "next".